Salaahakaar
The Path to Glory
Monsoon season was well underway and everything was swimming. The wood swam, the garbage swam, and the people sometimes had to swim as well. It gave life to all around Zinat as she cut her way through the undergrowth. The rain fell steadily and heavy. Some of the drops felt like bird droppings, a feeling Zinat had known all to well, unfortunately. She was often ridiculed for the fact that birds seemed to home in on her head.
The green of the tropical underbrush around her was lush and colourful, in all hues imaginable. Emerald green, algae green, the dark green that was surrounded by hues of lighters green. The plants seemed to breathe with every drop, and breath out every time the rain stopped for a moment, if ever so short. Her voyage could not be stopped by any plants, and so if any put themselves in her way attempting to stop her progress, she would cut them down mercilessly. A swift cut from her scimitar and she continued on her way.
Every once in a while she would look at the device the merchant in Kandahar gave her. After she had fulfilled his request to bring to him the paw of a white bear, he gave her the device that would lead her to the prophet. It glowed in a semi-ochre, semi-sienna colour. The arrow upon it was thin and pointed from the centre towards one direction. It had lost it’s direction at times, and the size of the arrow seemed to grow if Zinat went away from the direction she was supposed to go.
It couldn’t be helped sometimes, of course. A man’s stolen horse had to be retrieved, or a thief caught. Zinat felt she was too helpful, too generous at times. She should let others lead their lives, but on the other hand, she had the power to help people. So she would.
Zinat carried on towards the direction of the arrow and made her way through the thick underbrush and dense forest. The animals she encountered avoided her for the most part, perhaps a frog or lizard would cross her way, but they hurried along once they felt the presence of Zinat and the importance of her endeavour. Her skin was covered with tiny droplets of rain and sweat, it was hard to tell what was what, and her hair laid heavy upon her as she carried onward.
After thrashing away some vines, she came upon a clearing. There was a small moat. Past the moat was a small hut of bamboo, and around it were bamboo fences. Some parts seemed to be divided into parcels for farming, others just grew wild, so it seemed. Bamboo grew all throughout and behind the bamboo hut was a grand tree. Zinat had heard of the tree of knowledge, it was monstrously large. It had a grand, thick, trunk that seemed to be a mountain wide — from a far distance of course. The trunk itself stretched high up and Zinat was surprised she did not notice it before, nor had seen it from a distance.
Did she travel this far? The days and nights at times became intertwined in this journey for truth. Some days seemed nights, when the thickness of the leaves above was so great that barely a sliver of light could shine through. Other nights seemed like days when the colours of trees and the luminescent insects that swarmed out would make it bright as day.
However, she could not be certain that it had been days, but instead weeks. But once she could see this absolutely epic tree, she knew everything was worth it.
From the hut to a patch of land was a little bridge. It was to another side of the moat, so Zinat had to go around the moat which did not seem deep, but she rather not risk what might be underneath the greenish-blue and murky waters.
The sound of a small explosion came from inside the hut and Zinat could hear a “Woo hoo hoo!” wooping sound coming from within. Perplexed she looked back down at the line on the amulet that indicated the way. It was almost a dot. She turned around 360° and it continued to point towards the hut. Another small explosion and a puff of smoke came out of the hut and Zinat sighed. Yes, this is it. This is where she had to be.
She made her way towards the bridge of bamboo that separated the mainland from the hut of the… wizard she had to see. She assumed it was a wizard. It could, of course, also be an alchemist but she was not sure yet. The explosions were a dead giveaway.
“Halt! Who goes there!” a peeping little voice shouted at her. Zinat looked around and could see nothing until her eyes went down to the floor of the bridge. There, a small spear in hand, stood a rat in little leather armor.
“I said who goes there!” it squeaked again, jabbing the spear ahead of it. Zinat smiled “I go here, Zinat, daughter of Zub and Iliana, Princess of Onvilles and heir to the throne.”
The rat, spear still outstretched towards Zinat, blinked “That means nothing to me…” Zinat stared back at the rat and blinked as well. An awkward silence descended upon both as the rat stood upright and kept the spear at his side.
“Master never said anything about Princesses. He said: ‘no toads, no bears, no raccoons, no orcs, no beggars, only one homeless man’ that is Girugams, he lives just a hawks flight away. He isn’t really homeless you see, he just-”
Zinat interrupted the rat’s monologue “Look, I need to see your master. I was sent here to meet the prophet. The lands of Onvilles are in dire need of support, and the prophet is told to have the solution!”
The rat frowned at her “Excuse me? Did you just interrupt me?!” the small guard rat stomped his spear down on the ground three times, and behind her a gathering of tens, perhaps almost a hundred, armed rats gathered at the other side of the bridge.
Damned it all, this would be the first fight since the city of Thou. She put a hand on her scimitar and was prepared to unsheathe it when a voice came from the hut. “Rupert! It’s fine, let her pass…” Zinat looked up to the doorway and saw the face of the prophet. It was… wrinkly, and very old. Burnt by the sun and seemingly folding upon itself many times, with a wisp of smoke going upwards from his head.
The rats dispersed immediately and Rupert squeaked “I have my eye on you, Tallian!” Zinat scoffed but refrained from another comment so as not to anger… a rat? She was confused at her own thinking, but continued towards the hut. The door was a collection of beads hanging from the roof of the hut. As she entered the hut, she realized that it was a clever spell that was cast upon it.
The prophet noticed her wide eyes “Ah, I see you are confused! It is all a ploy to keep greedy hands and ignorant minds out of the way. Come, come…” the prophet began descending a set of stairs that were set into the floor of the hut that turned out to be made of stone. Within the first entrance room was a small alchemist’s corner, where smoke was still rising upwards from the recent explosions she heard.
As they descended the stairs candles lit and went off depending on how far down they went. “Protection, you can never be too sure!” the prophet went on, his voice seemed altered as they descended further down. Eventually, after what seemed like the time a cloud needs to transform, they reached the bottom of the stairs.
Once there, many candles lit up, one after the another, illuminating a grand room full of bookcases, desks, chairs, and parchments strewn here, there, and practically everywhere. The old, wrinkly man’s hunched walk changed and so did his appearance. He, became a she, and she had long blond hair, wore an elegant and long robe of intricate colours, purple with ornamental designs, and her arms seemed full of bracelets.
“Zinat, my dear, I have been waiting for you…” the sorceress smiled, her green eyes glinting in the light of the candles. Zinat smiled and her eyes lit up, she had found the prophet…was she a prophet?
