Gods and Guardians

Chapter 18: Leaving Simsee

Nimrod and Damian were clad in hooded cloaks, disguised with phony moustaches and beards, and Nimrod, in particular, seemed forever fascinated with his own feet. They sat comfortably behind the other two escorts, exchanging little conversation. Nimrod mostly spoke by quoting scriptures, forcing Zola to smile often.

For a while, Zola engrossed himself with the message cylinder. This is the message to King Sairus of Meinz. Reliefs stood as buttons in a scattered pattern around the cylinder's length. Pressing any one of the buttons will lock it in place. Whether the cylinder will ever open again or the message will be burnt inside depended on the order. If the order was right, the ends of the cylinder would spring open, and the centre can be opened along its length. On the other hand, a wrong order would strike the flints arranged in the cylinder. It wasn't airtight, and holes were arranged so that the scroll would be burnt completely. Zola didn't know the order. Even if he did, his training prevented him from trying to open it; otherwise, it would be his last assignment... alive.

Nimrod stole furtive glances at him as he studied the cylinder's design. The dryness of autumn became more pronounced as they reached the outskirts of the main city. The land rolled upwards on each side with a savannah aspect of scanty trees and dry grasses.

Traph horses were of two general breeds. The wagon breeds were massive, measuring about 8 aces to the withers. They were characterized by broad lion-like chests and a dense mane. The second, carriage horses, were smaller, almost like soldier horses measuring almost 7 aces to the withers, but with the chesty features of endurance characteristic of their breed. Traph horses had leaner fetlocks and were generally less agile than soldier horses. But their endurance and strength suited them for their purpose. The horses trudged on till evening came.

They could hear the cue sound ten times. They set up camp on a site hidden by the rocks that loomed high up the outskirts of Simsee. Nimrod and Damian set up with Zola, still maintaining little communication with the others. Zola had a secluded dinner with the two plymock escorts. Nimrod's eyes popped suddenly when he remembered something. Zola could see something like shock, terror or was it horror?

'What is the problem?' Damian asked.

'I think I made a mistake with the letter.'

'A mistake? How?' Nimrod squeezed the loaf tighter. 'How did I make this mistake?'

Zola just looked from one person to another. It occurred to Nimrod now that he may have left the wrong letter in the open, a letter he had written out of anger. The first letter was tied in a roll. The second wasn't. He never had the time before Kiyanna burst in. And it was Kiyanna still who found the letter first.

She was reading:

Dear Kiyanna,

I left because I could not stand Massey anymore. I'm doing something that requires some space and respite, not the hounding and overbearing nature he regards and treats me. When I return, it would be fine. Do not tell him anything. And please, if father asks after me, tell him something soothing. I'm counting on you. He'll be happier when I return, I can almost promise that.

See you soon sister.

I love you.

Kiyanna could not control the rage however she tried. Massey, what did you do? She couldn't tell father something soothing. Nimrod was wrong. She took the letter to Dasirus who summoned Massey immediately. A flustered Massey appeared at the hallway.

'Massey, where is Nimrod?' the king's voice was husky and intimidating.

Massey tried to understand the meaning of the question from the faces of Haneya and Kiyanna. He couldn't make much from the queen's eyes. And he was sure he saw something like anger in Kiyanna's.