The Ruins of Car-Thum: Adventures of Zakil Nagim, #1

By Evan Dave

Zakil Nagim, scholar of Daru-Salaam, must complete his thesis by venturing into the haunted ruins of Car-Thum. Once a great mountain kingdom, Car-Thum was overrun by hordes of bloodthirsty goblins long ago, led by a fire demon. To study this city, he joins a Celaronian lady, Cara, who leads a team to rescue her sister from the mountain. And along the way he learns more about the fearsome goblins of Car-Thum. 

Upon entering the ruined city, however, Zakil is captured by the goblins, and discovers nothing is as it seems. The demon may or may not be real, and the goblins he has learned to fear are in fact fighting for survival against the Celaronians, who enslaved them in ages prior. With the shocking discovery splitting his party down the middle, Zakil finds himself thrust into a struggle in the gloom between the fierce goblins and the ruthless human invaders in the darkness, all while hoping to discover the truth about the ancient kingdom...

"With snappy dialogue, lively description, colorful characters and thoughtful worldbuilding, Evan Dave tells a familiar and yet very unusual story, one that challenges preconceptions, defies expectations, and entertains above all."
-Jonah Lobe, Bethesda Artist

"Evan Dave's debut novel, Car-Thum, explores a rich fantasy world incorporating contemporary themes that shake up the genre.  Borrowing elements from The Lord of the Rings, The Witcher, and Game of Thrones, Dave offers a unique perspective on the war between Goblins and Humans. Action, suspense, and carnage ensue in this thrilling adventure!"
-Chris Abbott, YouTube Creator "Starrapter"

• Language: English
• Publisher: Evan Dave
• Release date: Mar 6, 2021
• ISBN: 9781393521020

Book preview

ZAKIL:

WARRIOR SCHOLAR

BOOK 1: THE RUINS OF CAR-THUM

By Evan Dave

Zakil: Warrior Scholar

THE RUINS OF CAR-THUM

Copyright © 2021 by Evan Dave

All Rights Reserved

by Evan Dave

No parts of this publication may be reproduced, stored or transmitted in any form by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, scanning, or otherwise without written permission from the publisher. It is illegal to copy this book, post it to a website, or distribute it by any other means without permission.

This is a work of fiction. All characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

First Edition: March 2021

Cover Art by Alexey Rudikov

Animation by Morgan Wright.

Table of Contents

PROLOGUE

1. ZAKIL

2. CARA

3. ALBERT

4. ZAKIL

5. CARA

6. ALBERT

7. ZAKIL

8. CARA

9. ZAKIL

10. CARA

11. ALBERT

12. ZAKIL

13. CARA

14. ZAKIL

15. CARA

16. ZAKIL

17. CARA

18. ZAKIL

19. ALBERT

20. JABORIS

21. OLGA

22. ZAKIL

23. JABORIS

24. CARA

25. ZAKIL

26. MORG

27. ZAKIL

28. PALARN

29. ZAKIL

30. JABORIS

31. ZAKIL

32. MORG

33. PALARN

34. MORG

35. ALBERT

36. PALARN

37. OLGA

38. PALARN

39. ZAKIL

40. JABORIS

41. ZAKIL

42. PALARN

43. JABORIS

44. MORG

45. JABORIS

46. PALARN

47: ZAKIL

EPILOGUE

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

PROLOGUE

I NVADERS ON THE SOUTH SIDE! Vas shouted as she scrambled into the barracks.

Morg jumped up in alarm. How many? If it was two or three, they could easily handle them. A dozen or so was difficult but doable-

Hundreds! Vas snapped, her ears perked back. She was one of the new serjeants in the Border Battalion. Smart one, too. But prone to exaggeration?

Hundreds, are you sure? Morg demanded.

Come and see! Vas waved, and bolted away.

Ready yourselves! Morg ordered the others, then rushed after her. As commander of the Border Battalion, Morg oversaw the first line of defense for the realm of Car-Thum and its people. But they mainly trained to handle small bands of marauders, not invasion forces. If this was simply a large expedition, they could probably muster volunteers to kill the foes. But if this is an even larger force, if there are hundreds, or worse yet thousands of humans...If they were invading again, the entire nation must come to arms. The humans had come in such numbers in years past before his birth, and each time they were repelled-at the cost of thousands of lives.

Morg hurried after the serjeant as she wove south through the shadowy mountain passageways toward one of the overlooks. Periodically they darted by dim torches which flickered as they passed. When the pair reached the exit, Morg slipped on his goggles to protect his eyes from the blinding noon sun, and everything darkened. Vas fastened her eye shield; a thin-slitted wooden eye covering that protected against the sun’s glare. She opened the hatch above and scrambled up the stairs into the light, Morg fast behind.

The first thing that struck Morg was how stifling the outside air was compared to the cool of the tunnels. And the vastness of the open sky never ceased to amaze the cave-dwelling goblins. Overhead towered distant wispy clouds, higher than even the mountain he called home.

Vas gaped for a second, but Morg snapped her back to reality. Vas, the humans?! Vas paled, and gestured for him to follow. The two scrambled down the rocks toward the cries of battle. Vas winced when they passed the first goblin body; slumped over, vacant eyes staring at two arrows sticking out of his chest. Morg grimaced; he’d seen more than his fair share of dead comrades, but it never got easier. An arrow whizzed wide over them as they passed several more corpses. They ducked when another zipped nearer overhead. Shit! That almost hit! The two ducked behind a rock overlooking the gate, where four other defenders cowered, wringing bows with pale green hands.

Morg crept toward the cliff edge and peered down. To his horror, hundreds of humans swarmed toward the South Gate below. Many wore full armor bearing the Celaronian crest, though their archers wore lighter garb. I’ve never seen so many in my life! Everyone winced as trumpets blared, dreading the noise. Oh, shit! What are they doing here?! Most human invaders came from the north, where their lands were. Occasionally they slipped in between the outlying outposts, but never so many-

Abruptly an arrow zipped at him. Morg leapt back behind the rock as the projectile bounced off it inches from his face. He glanced down at his dark red gambeson. It was an excellent indicator of rank when rallying goblins within Car-Thum itself. Yet it proved poor camouflage on the mountainside exterior when compared to the other goblins’ blue-gray gambesons.

What do we do, boss? Asked Arkie, one of the survivors, as he nocked an arrow. Another white-feathered shaft clattered off the rocks to land at Morg’s feet. Morg glared at it; the goblins used shorter brown feathers from mountain hawks. They lacked the range of human arrows, considering the goblins had lesser strength and shorter arms. But in Car-Thum’s confines, that mattered little.

Warn Grok, get reinforcements! Morg ordered. I’ll rally whoever’s left, and stop the invaders from going further.

But they’re at the South Gate! Arkie snapped, then loosed a shaft before bucking back. Morg could see the fear in his eyes as the young goblin reluctantly drew another arrow.

That doesn’t matter, said Morg. We must stop them, and we will! This was his home; Morg wasn’t going to let any of those people come in and kill him and his family. He had seven children living within Car-Thum, five of whom were of fighting age-

Abruptly, a sphere of flame burst from the human ranks and barreled toward them. Morg dropped to the ground with everyone else, terrified by the bright, burning ball. The second sun shot overhead, radiating heat. Morg flinched, glancing at the other goblins pressed against the mountainside. To everyone’s relief, the flaming orb smashed into the mountainside more than a hundred paces away. It exploded, leaving only scorch marks.

Arkie rose first, and peaked out behind the rock. Shit, they got mages! Morg froze. He had faced countless of these tall, hairy creatures with pink-tinted skin, tiny ears and smushed noses, but none scared him as much as mages. Human mages were thankfully rare, but they could do far more with magic than goblins. He recalled the terror of the last mage, five years ago during a raid. Fearful memories of lightning and screaming goblins flashed through his mind. But I defeated her. And I can defeat these bastards too.

Should we order everyone underground? asked Vas. Ambush them below?

Morg grinned. Smart thinking. Let’s go! He hurried toward Arkie, who had just opened a wooden hatch painted a blue-gray similar to the mountain. As soon as Arkie disappeared down it, Morg followed him into the comforting cool of the tunnels. He yanked off his goggles. Arkie rushed away to warn Grok, slit goggles bouncing against his neck. Morg turned left into another corridor. There, several openings flanked by arrowslits overlooked the gate. A few goblins were already taking positions and drawing arrows.

Morg rushed down the stairs to the gatehouse below. There stood great wooden slabs reinforced by steel mounted on wheels. Already the goblins were rolling both these gates into place. Vas appeared behind him, worried.

You get everyone inside? Morg asked.

Vas nodded. "They’re sending rams, covered with hides. Do you think the gates will hold against them and the mages?"

Morg flinched; hide-covered rams were impenetrable to arrows, and difficult to set ablaze. No. But those gates’ll buy us some time to set up defenses! The humans were here, in far too great numbers to stop. All Morg and the Border Battalion could do now was slow them down while the other goblins rallied.

War was coming to Car-Thum, much to Morg’s dismay. He had fought hundreds of humans who had ventured into the mountain, whether they be looking for treasure or glory or just to kill goblins. But that was only small bands, not in their thousands.

Nonetheless, Morg would do his duty for King Grok, and hold as best he could. The city was vast, so the humans could easily lose their way. The goblins knew Car-Thum much better, and they had numerous secret passages too small for them to follow. Most importantly, they could see in darkness, unlike their enemy.

And if all else fails, we have one more surprise for these humans...

1: ZAKIL

Zakil Nagim asked himself once again whether it had been really necessary to travel several thousand leagues for his thesis. Of course it is. The further away from Daru-Salaam, the more exotic the destination will appear. And the more exotic, the more famous I will become with my thesis.

Are we there yet? One of his twin dwarf bodyguards, Yazana, sardonically grinned at him. Good companions, though. And more tolerant of my idiosyncrasies than most.

Not yet, Yazana, Zakil answered wearily as the trio tread down yet another dirt road. He was a swarthy tall man of twenty-four with jaw-length black hair and a thin beard, a brown haversack on his back and similar sand-colored robes to his guards. At his side hung a short sword in a red leather scabbard.

How much further to Relaith, then? Yazi, the other dwarf, asked. Like her sister, she was four feet tall with short black hair, and wore sand colored robes. Both dwarves bore brown quivers of grey-fletched arrows and half-strung bows on their backs. They leaned on their four-foot ash spears as they marched behind him.

Sometime today, replied Zakil.

And then we visit these Car-Thum ruins? questioned Yazi.

After we get to Relaith, said Zakil. Then we travel south for another week or so.

Another week? complained Yazana. But we’ve been traveling for two months!

Don’t worry, we won’t be alone, said Zakil. Remember what that knight said about Lady Cara needing warriors to protect her? Apparently, her younger sister had gone with her fiancé into the ruins on some expedition. I wonder if she’s as interested in ancient civilizations as me. Hopefully more interested than these two. Either way, this is a happy little coincidence that someone else planned an expedition to Car-Them at the same time as me.

I thought that was our job, Yazi smiled dryly. Protecting your hide from all those goblins in Car-Thum.

I figure you’d appreciate the help, Zakil smiled back. When he first met them, he feared their snark might drive him mad, but the more time they spent together, the more he got used to them. And of course, they’re going to help me become famous with these new findings about Car-Thum. The other scholars’ll talk about me the way they talk about the legendary Bomba of the West. He wondered if he would cross paths with that fabled Celaronian mage.

Yazana glanced around at the surrounding landscape of fields and orchards. I’m surprised to say this, but I’ve seen so much green here I’ve almost grown tired of it.

So have I, the sun’s colder than it is back home. Zakil said, then thunder echoed in the distance. Hopefully we can avoid this storm.

This is why we Orhemi like building underground, said Yazana. So we don’t have to deal with weather.

How many times have we been rained on? Yazi asked.

Five or six times in a month, replied Yazana.

If we could travel underground, we would, said Zakil. But I didn’t see any underground roads to Car-Thum or to Relaith. Did you? The dwarves shrugged.

Yazana piped up. What about that city in Mesamutra you were telling me about the other day, the underground one with all the canals going through it?

Okoyo? Zakil scoffed. That’s even further west than Car-Thum, by a few hundred leagues. We could go there, if you want to travel all the way back to Daru-Salaam, so I can change my thesis. Then we can come back here, and travel another-

Of course not, snorted Yazi.

Why the hell do you have to go all the way to Car-Thum anyways? grumbled Yazana. You couldn’t just read up more about it in Daru-Salaam and write your thesis from that?

Like I said earlier, there’s no guarantee it’d be good enough to give me a doctorate, replied Zakil. Besides, it’s a chance to see a part of the world few people have ventured to.

Yes, and you need this doctorate to become a great scholar, said Yazi. You’ve told us at least fifty times already.

Have you been counting? Zakil scowled.

Yazi shrugged. It’s just an educated guess.

I told you about Jerak, right? said Zakil, eager to discuss what he had learned back at Daru-Salaam.

The goblin king who repelled four different invasions, who we know little about? said Yazana. And that you know everything there is to know about him?

I never said I know everything about him! If I did, I wouldn’t be going to Car-Thum. Jerak had appeared a couple times in his reading, but for such an important figure,little was known about the goblin king.

As they marched along the road, they came to a crossroads where a wattle-and-daub inn sat. Two stories tall, with a vibrant sign out front displaying a brown pig sipping a mug of ale. What is it with these people and pigs? They had passed several inns this past month with pigs painted on them.

What does it say? Yazana pointed to the blue writing on one of the walls.

‘No beds, only beer,’ Zakil quickly translated.

What a shame, said Yazi. I was rather hoping for a nice bed.

Oh, come on, sister, said Yazana. It’s only noon.

Where there’s beer, there ought to be some food, said Zakil. Though it’s probably pork. He’d never seen so many swine before. Saradi like himself considered the animals too filthy to eat. And yet these Celaronians seem to relish eating them? They claimed the meat was delicious, but Zakil would never dare try it.

Weren’t you saying that some people like to eat horses? Asked Yazana.

Yes, but horses aren’t nearly as filthy as pigs. Zakil spat into the dirt.

How much further? Yazi asked as they passed the inn.

It’s right there, Zakil pointed to a castle looming in the distance. Cyan banners hung from the whitewashed walls surrounding the main keep. The castle overshadowed the farmlands sprawling in every direction, which were watered by irrigation ditches flowing from the moat.

Never figured people gave up this much space to grow food. Yazana gazed out at the laboring farmhands in the fields. And how much effort it took to grow it. All three were city dwellers who gave little thought to how food was grown, only how it arrived in Daru-Salaam’s markets.

So this is Relaith, Yazi gazed at the castle ahead.

Certainly whiter than the castles of Al-Sarad, just like the people here, quipped Yazana.

"Now, remember, let me do the talking when we get there," Zakil said.

Have you ever heard of this Cara Relare? Yazana said.

No, but I reckon she must be rather important, replied Zakil. Considering how much money she was offering.

Surprised no one else is taking up the offer of five thousand gold to join her, said Yazana.

I didn’t see a lot of warriors passing through, her sister added. Maybe they already went with this host to Car-Thum.

They passed over the oak drawbridge, under the castle gate, and into the yard. Immediately in front of them towered the keep. The redwood double doors creaked open, and a balding steward with a pot belly advanced to meet them. Well, well, it’s not every day we see your kind around here. He looked over all three with a mix of curiosity and suspicion.

Who may I be talking to? Zakil asked politely. Thankfully, he had seldom encountered intolerant people. Let’s hope this steward isn’t one.

The steward frowned. What’s your name?

I’m Zakil Nagim. What’s yours?

Arnout. And who are these dwarves?

Yazana and Yazi, my companions. We’re here about the notice. For Lady Cara and her expedition to Car-Thum. Zakil held it out.

The steward examined it, and nodded grimly. Hmm, very well. We’ll put you with the other foreigner. Follow me.

What about the dwarves?

They’re servants, no? They can bed down in the stables.

Excuse me? Yazi’s hand dropped to her shortsword.

Calm down! Zakil snapped, eager to avoid a fight, and turned to Arnout. There’s no rooms available for them? Yazana and Yazi had proven valuable companions. He certainly didn’t want them to have to sleep in the stables like animals.

There are some quarters, but those are reserved for noble guests, Arnout crossed his arms stubbornly, as if to add, And certainly not for foreign dwarves.

Zakil smiled. Perhaps you can make an exception for these two. Put them both in the same room, if needs be, but I’d prefer to have them close. Otherwise they can’t do their job. As a stranger in a strange land, Zakil would feel a lot more comfortable with the dwarves nearby.

No assassin would try to kill you here in Relaith. Ser Besatus and the rest of the garrison can keep you safe.

They’re not just bodyguards, they’re also assistants. Treat them as you would treat me. Or should I speak to Lady Cara about this? Only moments later did he realize he might get himself thrown out for such boldness.

Thankfully, Arnout instead only frowned. Fine, I’ll see what I can do. Follow me. He strode into the keep, and the three followed him. Just beyond the twin doors lay the keep’s entry hall, a large and open room of grey stone. On the north and south walls hung great tapestries; some depicted knights hunting wild boars and wolves, others of tourneys and battles. Behind the doors they past through hung cyan banners with an orange fireball, encircled by a snowy wreath, burning in the center. The Relaith colors. In front of them arched a grand staircase.

This place seems...so dreary compared to home, said Yazi, uneasy. And colorless.

Well, there is natural light, Zakil offered weakly. And look at these tapestries.

It’s not like home, countered Yazana as the four marched up the stairway.

Zakil glanced around uneasily. Much of Celaronia seemed so cold and lifeless compared to his homeland. And here, the differences were especially pronounced. You’re not the only ones asking themselves why they decided to come all the way to this strange land. But at least-

Um, excuse me, Ser Zakil, interrupted Arnout. If you would follow me.

I’m no ser, Zakil said. I’m just a scholar. But you mentioned another foreigner? Like me?

No, he is even darker. Arnout led them rightward.

Darker? So is he from Fastirka or Mesamutra?

Uh, I don’t know. Just follow me, please. The four marched down the hallway, and to an oak door. The steward peeked in, then opened it. Your room, sir.

Thank you. Zakil marched inside, and found himself in a nicely furnished bedchamber. Upon entering, the first thing to catch his eyes was the bed. With covers of green felt and a frame made from the same sturdy oak as the door, a welcome respite from sleeping by the road. Zakil walked up to examine the tapestry on the left wall, that of a knight riding through a forest. He glanced out the window at the castle’s outer wall, and the wheat fields ahead. A nice view. And of course, should this castle be besieged, a fine vantage point. His father had been a captain of the guard back home in Daru-Salaam, and taught him all about city defenses.

Finally, he settled on the bed, and grabbed a green-leather tome on Relaith’s history. After a couple hours’ rest and reading, Zakil pushed open the door, and decided to take a look around. It was then that he noticed a black man with flowing orange robes with patterns of black zig-zags and red circles striding toward him. The foreigner appeared a couple years older than he, with thick, bushy black hair and a small beard. At his side he bore a broad-bladed sword.

You are not from around here, the black man spoke in an accented voice.

Zakil looked him over. Neither are you.

Ah, the black man grinned. It is good that I am not the only strange man in these parts with a good head on his shoulders. I am Jaboris Shakata. What is your name?

Zakil Nagim. He offered his hand, and Jaboris shook it. I want to say you are from Fastirka? He was worried he and the dwarves might be the only brown folks in this strange land, but at least he had another companion. Not Saradi, but as much a stranger to the Celaronians as myself.

That I am! Jaboris’s grin widened. And you are from Al-Sarad.

Yes. Zakil gestured, and the two began walking down to the feast hall. Kanfarrah?

That is correct! said Jaboris. Are you prescient?

No, just very smart. Can you guess where I am from?

Nazar?

Uh, no. You are familiar with Daru-Salaam?

Jaboris scowled. Daru-Salaam? I have never heard of the place.

You have never heard of Daru-Salaam? asked Zakil, annoyed. The greatest city in all the world? Capital of culture and learning?

Jaboris scoffed. The greatest city in the world is Kanfarrah, the city of poets and culture. Everyone knows that.

Kanfarrah may be the greatest city of Fastirka, but Daru-Salaam is certainly the greatest city of Al-Sarad. said Zakil.

Jaboris frowned, then chuckled. You are well-spoken, young Zakil. Let’s leave it at that.

I’m not that young, Zakil scoffed. I’m twenty-four.

Younger than me, at least. I’m twenty-seven.

I’m not that much younger than you.

You’re not that as experienced as I am.

We’ll see. Zakil pushed open the door. Let’s go meet our host. Jaboris did seem a little strange, but Zakil was already taking a liking to him. Let’s hope the others are as tolerable.

2: CARA

W hich do you think will impress our guests more? Cara asked. Fire or ice?

Considering the fiery Beast of Car-Thum, my lady, Arnout looked her over, Ice would be more reassuring.

Cara strode out in a blue silk dress with fiery silver embroidery. Her chestnut hair was done up in a bun to accentuate her pointed features and pale skin. Upon her neck lay a brilliant sapphire necklace, and she bore one bejeweled ring on each ring finger, meant to enhance her powers. How do I look?

Very fine, as always, Lady Cara, Arnout nodded. You never cease to impress.

Thank you, Arnout, replied Cara, and marched from the room. Twenty-seven years old, she had inherited the mantle of Lady of Relaith after her father’s death eight years ago. Arnout had proven a great help, but you could only rely on the steward for so much. Especially as a woman. Celaronian society was notoriously patriarchal. Nonetheless, she was glad to have been born here, in the greatest nation the world had ever known. The Celaronians had taken the mantle of the Yuerons of old, and since then continued to advance civilization.

One thing you should know, Arnout fretted as he followed her. "Four more arrived to join us, two men and two women. But all were dark-skinned foreigners."

What were their names? Asked Cara, curious. She had met a couple Yukraydians once and a Foralander, but never anyone with dark skin.

Zaky and Jaborey, I think, Arnout frowned. In addition to two dwarves named Azana and Azi. Should I send them all away?

Did they come armed?

Yes.

Cara shook her head. Foreigners wouldn’t be her first choice, but she couldn’t be picky. We’ll need everyone we can for our mission to Car-Thum. She strode toward the feast hall. Once her childhood friends Armund Paguli and Lian Servin arrived, they would set out to rescue her sister Martha from Car-Thum. I thought I was the more adventurous one, and Martha was more content to stay home. But Martha and her fiancé, Ser Ingalon, were inseparable. And thus, when Ser Ingalon joined the Car-Thum expedition, Martha followed him.

Venturing into Car-Thum would be suicidal-if not for Cara being an accomplished mage. One in ten humans could wield magic to some degree. Furthermore, only one on ten of them could wield it to any significant degree. Cara was fortunate enough to be within that one in a hundred, and to have a magician tutor her in childhood.

The lady of Relaith stepped into the dining hall, where a fire roared in the hearth. A man and woman already sat at the oak table, speaking quietly. Ah, sorry to keep you waiting. Cara announced.

We wait on you, the woman answered coolly in a burly accent. She had short brown hair, and wore a green woolen dress. Her features were dull, as were her blue eyes.

You must be the Lady Cara Relare, the man added. He had short sandy-brown hair, and a matching short beard. His clothing consisted of brown linens, on which a sword was embroidered in silver thread.

You two must be Ser Albert Windstroke of Foraland and Lady Olga Voronsky of Yukraydia. Cara seated herself at the head of the table. My steward Arnout told me about you.

I’m no Lady, Olga corrected respectfully. Just another warrior, or druzhina. I guess you could say I’m a knight in my country.

Are warrior women common in your homeland? Asked Cara.

They aren’t uncommon, Olga shrugged. How about you? Can you defend yourself?

Cara suddenly unleashed a bolt of fire from her hand and over their heads. She followed the display seconds later with a similar shot of ice. Both struck each other seconds before they could smash collide with a tapestry of a tourney. Does that answer your question? Cara smiled. The two looked where the shots had connected.

Impressive, my lady, nodded Ser Albert, satisfied. Do you practice battle magic a lot?

Sometimes, said Cara. Most of the magic I use is for healing, or helping crops grow. Other times, it’s for entertaining peasants.

Have you killed before?

Sometimes, Cara shook her head. I-I never liked it. It was against some bandits.

Killing is rarely enjoyable, Olga nodded. Except in certain circumstances.

What do you mean?

There was one man I slew, a bandit and a serial rapist, said Olga. I do not want to recall what he did to the women, but I ensured his end was painful.

Ah. Anyways, what brings you this far south?

Not by choice, Olga said. Same with Albert.

So you two both know each other? Cara asked.

Uh, no, said Albert. We were just talking briefly. About our pasts.

Oh, really? Cara said with curiosity.

We’ve both served unjust lords, said Olga. We were hoping you aren’t one of them.

I don’t believe so. I’ve always tried to be fair in my judgements. Occasionally I’ve made mistakes, but I have gone out and helped peasants; sometimes by myself, sometimes with the aid of Ser Lian and Ser Armund.

Who are they? asked Olga.

Childhood friends, smiled Cara. Who will be joining us in venturing into Car-Thum. Both are experienced fighters, who have vanquished bandits, wild animals, and other threats that plague the common people. Thanks to knights like them, Relaith has seen prosperity and peace these past fifty years. At that moment, the two foreigners marched into the hall. Both their skins were darker than her other guests, and they were deep in conversation with accented voices. Ah, you must be Zakil and Jaboris, Cara smiled at the newcomwers. Which one of you is which?

The darker one glanced at his companion, then at Cara. Can you guess? Cara shrugged.

I’m Zakil, said the lighter one.

Wait, Albert edged away from the table, alarmed. "You’re bringing them with us to Car-Thum?"

They answered the call in time, Cara said. I can’t see why not, and we need everyone.

Do they know how to fight? scowled the knight.

Of course I know how to fight. Jaboris produced a sheathed, leaf-bladed sword. This is my weapon.

Have you actually killed anyone with that thing? Olga frowned at the oddly-shaped sword; Albert looked similarly disgusted.

Of course! Jaboris said. On my way to this continent, my ship was boarded by pirates. I slew seven of them. The rest fled after my last kill.

It looks...fat, said Olga. Cara looked the weapon over; the end indeed looked bloated for a sword.

It works, trust me, replied Jaboris. So, what is your name?

Olga Voronsky. My companion is Ser Albert Windstroke.

And you must be the Lady Cara, said the dark-skinned fighter.

What of the dwarves? Cara said. Arnout told me one of you brought dwarves.

Uh, you mean my two bodyguards? Zakil shrugged. Resting, I assume. Do you want me to summon them?

No need if they’re resting, Cara turned to Jaboris. "What brings you this far away from Fastirka?

Well, I was sent on a mission from the Royal Court of Khanfarra to gather information on other lands, said Jaboris.

Olga scoffed. A spy?

Not a spy, said Jaboris. An explorer. Cara examined the dark figure. What a strange man. There’s not much to explore here.

Just like me, said Zakil, I came here to gather information on Car-Thum.

So we are here for the same purpose? observed Jaboris.

Essentially. Though, admittedly, I’m uncertain why the Royal Court of Kanfarrah didn’t send a scholar like myself.

Well, they said it would be best for me to be sent out, because, Jaboris paused. Because...

Zakil chuckled. Because it was best you left the country, or at the court?

Very well, Jaboris returned the chuckle.