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 3rd,
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.
