Gurps: Battle with Jaicho

 

Burhy ibn Qat’ma Al-Ma, and the Adventure of the Last Gate!

...I returned from my desert ride to Lady Zarma’s fort to find a scene of utter chaos! Later I would learn its cause, but to my shock I found the gates flung open, and Mister Cole engaged in deadly battle with one of the Warmasters of the Yellow King. A cry of fury on my lips, I urged my corsair to charge the monster and aid Cole. Together, we felled the beast with stalwart blows, then turned our eyes to the battle raging on the parapets.

On the landing above, another of the Yellow King’s Warmasters fought savagely with Sir Hannibal, knight of Remagen. Cole rushed his own horse to Hannibal’s aid, but the assent up the steps proved too much, and his beast collapsed upon him. Sensing his imminent danger, I went to his aid. Meanwhile, the Ladies of the Company aided Sir Hannibal in dispatching the Warmaster with their subtle magicks. When the dust had settled, I was able to learn what had taken place whilst I was out riding to set my mind at ease and summon the poetic muses necessary to set down such fine tales as the one you are now reading.

The Master of Coin, Nazim, had come under flag of truce to Lady Zarma’s fort, asking for Parley. No sooner had he been sighted than it was revealed that this was a deadly trap! He and his fellows had terrible sorcery cast upon them, causing them to explode in balls of flame, while the brutish Warmasters rushed forth and drove my brave companions back. Even Captain Qatar, commander of a great force, was sore wounded in the battle. No doubt they would have all perished without the aid of my flashing blade, and so let the lesson be that when riding alone, one must always keep one’s Devil-Dicer handy.

The wise Imam Ummayad, mind-controlled by the deadly cult, was subdued in the fighting, and when the battle was done we learned much from him with the spell broken. We learned from the Imam that Jaiko the Accursed, servant of the Yellow King and architect of my imprisonment and the slaughter of my Caravan (which I related in “the Lament of Burhy ibn Qat’ma Al-Ma, his Captivity and Eventual Escape”, available now from the House of Qat’ma), had taken up residence in a cave near the fort known as South Watch. He informed us as well that a priest of the Yellow King was keeping the garrison ensorcelled with a magic flute. With no time to spare, we headed for South Watch.

There, it was decided that the Ladies of our Company, being Sister Nicole, Brave Ama the Cook, and Lady Morgan, would infiltrate the fort and attempt to find the priest. This they did, and promptly dispatched him whilst the Gentlemen of the Company stood guard 500 yards away, ready to spring to their aid should it be needed. Passing through South Watch, we found the camp of Captain Uldin. He too had been ensorcelled, though our arrival ended the spell and left him in a state of great confusion. Clearly Jaiko had used him only as a watchdog, a terrible fate for a man of his quality, and we deduced quickly that Jaiko must be nearby and plotting his escape.

We discovered an entrance to a hidden underground chamber beneath Captain Uldin’s tent. Within that hidden tomb was a massive Wind Tunnel, a most fantastical magical transportation device whose description I related in “The Adventure of the Cursed Temple” (the Second Scribing of which will soon be available at all fine repositories of books and scrolls). With this dread gate before us, we steeled ourselves for battle, for we knew that none but Jaiko himself must wait on the other side.

With Sister Nicole in the lead, we activated the Wind Tunnel, and were hurled hundreds of miles through space to that terrible Mesa known as the Devil’s Spike. It was from here that much evil had bubbled forth, and it was here that we found our nemesis at last.

Jaiko, a sorcerer of tremendous power matched only by his depthless evil, sat in a crude mockery of the court of a noble king. Attending him were not good lords and ladies, but cruel and cackling demons, his guards not stout knights and Janissaries, but the mutilated Hurlocks of the Yellow King. And his hunting hound was no keen-eyed friend, but a savage beast of slavering jaws and cruel aspect.

“Burhy! Treat with me, good man! I wish a Parley!” he cried, and I accepted, though rage filled my heart, for I was the most erudite of the Company and so naturally ought lead the negotiations.

The Sorcerer spoke many blasphemies, ones I almost dare not put to the page. He cried that Man, and Man alone, might rule the earth. That it was the will of God that we reign and purge the world of all non-human thinking beings, from the highest Elven maidens down to the lowly Sea Kralls. More than that, he said that the Yellow King was God, and God was the Yellow King, and that all others served him. I was astounded at the sheer wickedness of this being, but I kept my thoughts guarded.

“You wish to make the world safe for Man, yet you make Men into the monsters which serve you. What God would will it thus?” I asked.

Jaiko sneered. He told me that sacrifice is always necessary, that the Warmasters mutilated themselves as part of his great work to make the world what the Yellow King wished.

I told him then that I knew not what God wished of me, but that I remembered my duties as a Merchant. For the first task said Cyrus the 3^rd, blessed be his name, is thus:

“The Master of the Caravan Must Keep the Caravan Safe.”

And he that cannot keep safe that which it is his duty to protect, must seek then at all costs to avenge it, even if it means he too shall perish.

I told him this, and that I prayed God would show him mercy, for I would surely not. Then battle was joined.

We used the last of the magnificent Sending Syrup to call upon every ally we had, but soon Jaiko’s servants crashed upon us in a great wave. Lady Morgan worked her spells like a weaver to her loom, Ser Sedelicious fired with great fury his magnificent Remagen hand gonnes, Ama’s Crossbow thrummed, Sister Nicole cast stones like an Angel of Vengeance, and Master Cole, Sir Hannibal, and I made a wall of steel with our swords, chief among them the great Bialminshar, the blade of whirling chains! Demon flesh was cleaved in twain, twisted cultists were blasted, and no small amount of the blood of the righteous was spilled.

Above it all, Jaiko cackled. Though he had no power to strike us within Lady Morgan’s wards, his servants he filled with a dark and terrible potence. Blows that might kill a man fazed them no more than an errant slap. They approached with all the fury of hell, but we held fast.

I say to you truly my readers, that upon that day when we faced that tide together, we were changed. We were not men and women, infidel and believer, civilized man and savage. Against Jaiko’s Horde, we were one. We were Life against the servants of Death. Light against Darkness.

Good, against Evil.

On and on they came, brutal, deadly. The sound of sword against steel was like the singing of the Blacksmith’s Hammer. Blood fell like drops of rain in a storm. And at the last, when we were sure our deaths were near, and steeled ourselves to rush once more into the breach and rage against Jaiko’s darkness… our cries for help were answered.

First the Narob, marvelous rabbit spirits from the West, descended upon Jaiko’s demons. Then Mister Grey, the Golem, whose strange and sorrowful tale I told and who crafted my miraculous helm, strode forth as if from the earth itself with his clay-forged brethren, a mighty crossbow in his hand. And from the sky came at last Brad of the Pitt and the silver dragons, and upon him rode the Sorceress of Geeb, in her true form. Last of all, that divine and terrible figure, the Lady of Blax and White rose from her ethereal domain to bear witness to this, our ultimate struggle.

They came not because they feared us, nor because we were their masters. They came because we had done for them as they now did for us. Because there are things more precious than gold and spice in this world, and those things are worth dying for.

Jaiko wailed in terror as Mr. Grey’s crossbow bolts pierced his side. In desperation, he summoned a dread Shoggoth, but that was a fool’s mistake! For Sister Nicole had in her possession a magic set of pipes, and had studied the song of the Shoggoth. With great artistry, she played the tune that seized control of the brute’s mind, and turned it against the wicked Sorcerer.

As its many tentacles enveloped Jaiko, I shouted to him thus:

“Jaiko, look about you now! Tell me, who is it that God favors?”

He raged at me, and Lady Morgan sought to still his mind and speed his death, but he defied her to the last. It was only with the combined will of her and the Sorceress of Geeb that at last, Jaiko’s body was stilled, and as was God’s will that day, the Shoggoth ripped him limb from limb before descending into the darkness from whence it came.

His servants collapsed dead, or fled to the shadows, no longer driven by his mad will. I confess, I felt I should fall to the ground and weep, as if I were a child that had been beaten. Yet, there was a task left to me that was far more pressing than my own lamentation.

Whilst the others sought the Hell Mouth, the Last Gate between our world and the endless Abyss which had wrought such sorrow and suffering, I went to the edge of the Plateau of the Devil’s Spike. I bowed to the East, where it is said God sets his eye. I asked God, humbly as I could, that he speak to the souls of my dead Caravan. I asked that he tell them I beg forgiveness, and that I hope with all my heart those who followed me into pain and death, are now at peace.

With that done, I rejoined my companions, who had found the dread Hell Mouth in a hidden chamber within the Earth. It was a massive, ruined edifice with a single gap within it, barely large enough for a dog to crawl through. From this pit had come all of Jaiko’s power, and all of the evil of the Yellow King.

Guarding it was a terrible Revenant: the skeleton of a great warrior, wearing armor of dread aspect. This being gazed at us with glowing, baleful eyes, and then turned to one of our company in particular. He spoke to Mister Cole, and called him two things: “Atreo of Ambris”, and then, more somberly, “Son.”

Cole spoke to the Revenant in his own crude way, as father and son reunited beyond the grave. His sire had been a warrior like him, coerced to serve the Yellow King. Like an Ox lashed, he had chafed at his master’s cruelty, until in a last heroic burst of defiance, he had stolen one of the Sons of the Sun’s terrible weapons and tried to destroy the Hell Gate. He failed, ultimately, but his sacrifice was not in vain. It would be many years before Jaiko regained the power to fuel his dark designs, and so it had fallen from father to son to finally finish this momentous task and stop Jaiko forever.

The Revenant asked Cole if Jaiko was dead, and he assured his father he was. I saw then, one of the most miraculous things of my life: for the skeletal figure softened. In defiance of nature, of time itself, I saw the blush of life return. Standing there was not a dead man, but a seasoned warrior, hardy and weather-worn. He was strong, a man of many years and many hard battles. He looked at Cole, his eyes filled with sorrow and love in equal measure.

He spoke no words, but fell gently into Cole’s arms. For the last time, he embraced his son. Then, his body faded to ash and bones. He died as all men must, be they villains, or cowards, or heroes.

With this done, Sister Nicole worked her earthen craft, and sealed up the Hell Mouth, closing the Last Gate between our world and the darkness of the abyss.

This done, I spoke with my companions awhile. The Yellow King’s Consort was still loose in the world, but it had been dealt a devastating blow. Lady Morgan, who had been the dark spirit’s host, swore to hunt it to the ends of the earth, and many of my companions swore to go with her. To my shock, Little Ama announced her intention to head to Cove, and claim her inheritance there as well. But for myself, my city awaited. I told them I could not join their quest, though in my heart of hearts I wished to. At long last, my duty had finally called me home.

I had avenged myself and my caravan, and helped put an end to Jaiko’s cruel reign. More than that, I had learned things: from Ama that bravery comes in many forms. From Lady Morgan that even the worst sins can be redeemed. From Sister Jackaline that cunning is stronger than a blade of finest steel. From the crew of the Sea Ghost that noble men are found not just in courts and castles, but wherever brotherhood and honor are recognized. From Sir Sedelicious and Sir Hannibal that a knight’s first duty is to fight for good, no matter what land he calls home. From Sister Nicole I learned that the kind must be strong, and from Cole that the strong must also be kind.

All these things I learned in my long journey, and more than might fill a thousand libraries. Most of all, I learned this: a man is nothing without his friends.

And so, dear reader, I end this tale. I have tried, as best as I can, to put it down honestly. May your journeys be swift and peaceful, and if they are not, then may God smile on you, and send you companions as I have had.

-Burhy ibn Qat’ma Al-Ma, Merchant and Traveller.