Slithering Maze 3: Why We Can't Have Nice Temples

Basysus, 18, 1278: Port Side District, Ishnanor. Past? Meet future. I hoped they would play nice…

Author’s Note: Kingdom of the Slithering Maze is a serialized fiction story that is a part of a collection called the Windtracer Tales. It follows the adventures of Tela Kioni and her crew dealing with expeditions in and around the world of Awldor. There they hunt down lost, and possibly lethal, relics of the Ancient Order, a near-mythical kingdom lost to the centuries old cataclysm, the Great Collapse.

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Previously: On returning to Ishnanor and the Windtracer Company compound, Tela meets with her old mentor, Ihodis Jenro. She also finds out a viprin shaman, one she had met in the Deeplands years ago, has arrived to call in a debt. One where she might have to recover an ancient relic from the lost temple ruins of Toshirom Ifoon. But what Ihodis knows is sparse, for the rest, Tela has to meet with the shaman to learn the ugly details…

Basysus, 18, 1278: Port Side District, Ishnanor. Past? Meet future. I hoped they would play nice…

It took an hour, but I finally tracked him down. After all, Ishnanor and any idea of a small city weren’t on speaking terms with each other.

Mid-morning sunlight kissed the city’s brownstone brick walls and watchtowers until they were tanned the color of baked bread. It was crowded, but I still found him slithering along in the Port Side District’s crowds.

Like anyone who visited Ishnanor when spring pushed out winter, he stopped to watch the merhorse practice races. They ran across Elisan lake at port side, which spilled out into the wider Embercrest Bay. Riders and their merhorses would dodge the inbound ships, then return to the docks.

I didn’t blame him. This was the only city I knew of that had elk-sized riding seahorses, much less rode them.

The first group of blue and red-scaled merhorses leaped out from the docks, racing across the crystal blue lake. Riders in lightweight oilskin armor leaned in low as they rode, stone-faced and determined. Along the shore, crowds cheered for their favorites.

It was fun, but I wasn’t there to relax. I adjusted my sun goggles for maybe the tenth time. Even after a year, I still wasn’t used to them. Not entirely. Another fidget later, a frustrated sigh tumbled out of me.

“Hells,” I murmured. “This is stupid. I’m just stalling.”

Frustrated, I rubbed the back of my neck.

“Liru could have called this debt in at any time, and I know it. I need to woman up and get this done.”

With that, I clenched my jaw, then dove into the crowd.

The viprin shaman wasn’t hard to spot since viprin were cobra-folk, and pretty rare in Ishnanor. Not to mention, his clothes helped make him easier to spot.

He wore a short-sleeved green tunic that reached well below the waist. If viprin had knees, it would’ve been about that long. Around his waist was a belt with an astounding number of leather pouches. Below that was a segmented war-kilt of leather strips they called a vashu’tel.

“Liru really hasn’t changed that much,” I muttered while I approached him through the crowd. “Maybe more face tattoos? Looks like he earned a rank. Good on him.”

I shook my head with a wry smile, then nearly ran face-first into a wall of scaled muscle.

A viprin bodyguard, complete with saber and silk-braided lamellar armor, practically materialized in front of me. I backed away to get some space, then glanced up at his narrowed eyes.

Viprin are cobra-folk, which means human-like from the waist up, but cobra from the waist down. They usually stood a solid six nindel tall, which was about even with most tall, strapping humans. But this one was about a half a hand taller than that.

Also? Just appearing like that out of a crowd was really impressive. I wish I could do that.

The bodyguard looked me over, then stared. Not at my whip, dagger, or even just to leer at me. Though that last would’ve earned him a good kick, or getting set on fire.

No.

He stared at my eyes like I was a weird bug.

It made a tired kind of sense. Humans don’t tend to have yellow reptile eyes like a kobold, outside of me anyway. Didn’t make it any less rude.

“Problem?” I asked dryly.

That snapped him out of whatever oddball thought he had.

“You’ve business with the Samal?”

Samal? So Liru had been busy.

The guard’s voice was low, stern, but not hostile. Just enough steel to his words to let me know he meant business. He put a clawed hand on his saber to punctuate the point. But I knew this stupid game.

I locked eyes with him, then mimicked his gesture with my dagger. Only I did it with a smirk.

“As a matter of fact, I do,” I replied a little too sweetly. “I’m an old friend. Liru and I go way back to some shenanigans in the Deeplands. I heard he was asking for me. Something about needing reliable help with a problem.”

The guard narrowed his eyes. My smirk blossomed into a not-so innocent smile.

I figured I hadn’t found his good side, if he even had one. A voice from behind all that tall and ornery muscle cut short our bluster contest.

“Tela?”

The guard half-turned toward the voice. At the same time, Liru leaned around to smile at me, then glance at his bodyguard.

“Nurkes? I appreciate the protection, but it’s fine. I know her.”

The guard let out a deep grunt, mostly at me. I raised my eyebrows at him. Somehow, he didn’t seem to appreciate it.

Nurkes slithered out of the way, and I continued forward.

“Liru!” I said cheerfully. “It’s been a long time.”

Liru da’Lerdat serpent tongue flicked the air to read my scent right before we shared a solid hug. His scales felt warm, drier than I remembered. There was also a warm, almost shy, smile that pulled at the corner of his scaled lips.

“Yes, it has. Too many seasons since the Deeplands,” he replied. Then he added in a whisper. “Please don’t hurt Nurkes, he means well.”

I let that slide, but glanced at Nurkes while he melted back into the crowd. Probably to go feel his inner disgruntled or something. I wasn’t sure, I’m not fluent in ‘grumpy guard’. We broke the hug, and I gestured to Liru’s mosaic, yellow face tattoo.

“So, you’re a Samal now?” I grinned. “Sort of middle rank, right? History, rowdy spirit catching and all that?”

“Yes,” Liru replied, huffing out a soft laugh that showed a hint of fang. “Herbal healing, too. Mostly history, though.”

His smile gave way to a shadow of concern as he looked at my goggles.

“Tela,” he said in a soft, worried voice. “What happened to your eyes?”

I fought down a bitter grimace, then pulled on a thin smile.

“It’s nothing.” I waved a hand lazily at my face, then brushed a stray lock of my black hair behind an ear. “Happened a year ago. Doesn’t hurt. Bright sunlight doesn’t agree with me.”

Liru started to reply, but instead inclined his head.

“I see,” he replied sympathetically. “Well, the Summer gods do adore you, Tela.”

The merhorses cut a streak across the lake, and the crowd around us cheered. I chewed a little on my lower lip, then traced a faded, white-gray scar across the brown skin of my arm. I sighed.

“Oh, I suppose,” I replied lightly, then clasped my hands behind my back. “Liru? Lorekeeper Jenro told me about your problem? With the Jata merchant herds and Toshirom Ifoon outside the Jata capital?”

Silence dropped on us like a bucket of cold water.

Awkward? Absolutely. Liru looked a perfect blend of embarrassed and frustrated. As if he didn’t want to talk about the giant demon chicken in the room.

He tensed, eyes downcast. Slowly, he drew in a long breath, then inclined his head again.

“Yes, and yes,” he said slowly, with a flick of his tongue. “Both are true.”

After that, he gave a resigned shrug.

“From what I’ve been told, Herd Tolvana wants to break the seals. Open the temple.”

A shadow of worry blanketed his expression, his eyes uneasy.

“Tela.” His eyebrow ridges bunched in a frown. “My people sealed that temple for a reason. It shouldn’t be opened. Not ever.”

He rubbed the scales above his cobra-like nose.

“Nothing in there needs to see the sky again.”

I pursed my lips while an uneasy feeling about this crept up on me.

“That’s fair, but if I’m to help you at all, I need to know more about this. At least enough so I can research it on my own.”

The shaman nodded, expression solemn.

I drew in a long breath.

“The Lorekeeper mentioned an artifact,” I began and crossed my arms. “Something that granted threads of sun magic. Threads like that sound way worse than weaving a fire arrow spell to throw around.”

Liru grimaced, almost like talking about any of this just downright hurt.

“My people called it an Iraxi, or the Fire Loom of Heaven,” he explained. “Historians like to say my people made it. We didn’t. But we certainly used it and paid for that dearly.”

The air grew charged, as if a thunderstorm had rolled in off the lake.

“No one knows if it was a gift or just found. But it appeared a century before the Great Collapse, during the Upheaval Crusades.”

“Saint’s tide,” I murmured and flinched.

An Iraxi I didn’t know, but the Upheaval Crusades? That I did. The Brass and Gold Crusades were probably the bloodiest crusades the Ancient Order ever launched before the Great Collapse. I waved my hands a little at that.

“All right, so this Iraxi just shows up around the time of the Upheaval Crusades. Your people fought in that. So you’re saying you used this Iraxi in the crusades?”

His frown deepened.

“We did. Despite all our traditions of peaceful debate and rational thought, we used it,” Liru said softly, as if giving a confession. He interlaced his fingers in front of him.

“The device was, and is, considered sacred.” Slowly, he wrung his hands. “But, Tela, I have to be honest. It was so much more than just a sacred relic.”

“Go on,” I said warily.

“The ones who used the Iraxi were called the Sun-Bonded. Yes, they wove spells with the sunfire threads. But it was more than fire arrows.”

Liru sighed.

“They wove creatures. Warriors of molten fire. My people made special armor for them.”

Elementals. My gut clenched. Those things were unstable at best. Liru didn’t notice me flinch, and instead kept going.

“They were used against the Ancient Order. It was horribly effective. Entire legions died in streams of molten fire.”

He sighed and lightly hugged himself.

“We were ignorant children playing with the worst dragonfire possible.”

My eyebrows pinched together as a thought hit me.

“Wait, the Ancient Order didn’t negotiate? Especially after that?”

“They tried,” he said. “The Sun-Bonded ignored it, and the elementals only listened to the Sun-Bonded. They tried to bathe the world in fire.”

“So what happened?” I asked quietly, while I fought down a shudder.

Liru waved a hand idly in the air beside him.

“Five elder shamans confronted the Sun-Bonded,” he explained. “One returned. With that, the Sun-Bonded were dead, and the Iraxi sealed inside Toshirom Ifoon.”

“What about the Order?” I prompted.

“My people surrendered to the Ancient Order to make amends.” Liru shrugged. “The Great Collapse eventually freed us from the Order and servitude, but the shame still lingers.”

I ran a hand over my hair, then down my braids.

“Now I see why you don’t want anyone opening that temple.”

My mind chewed over what I needed while I clenched and unclenched my jaw.

Maps. I’d need maps, if any still existed. Toshirom Ifoon was a working temple at one time, but the viprin turned it into a vault. Probably filthy with traps, too. I rubbed my face, then sighed.

“The Lorekeeper also said you’ll be negotiating with Jata while I’m grabbing the Iraxi?” I crossed my arms. “For what? Make them back off?”

“Yes, something like that,” he replied with an eager nod. “They’re arrogant but not stupid. I expect they’ll stonewall me, then turn me away. Still, I have to try.”

Then he grinned at me, showing a little fang.

“Either way, it lets me be a distraction for you. Especially since Herd Tolvana added more guards last week around Toshirom Ifoon.”

That wasn’t anything I wanted to hear, but there it was.

“Of course they did,” I murmured, putting my hands on my hips as I studied the ground.

“That means they’re expecting trouble. Maybe that they’ve found a way inside?” I shook my head. “We don’t have a lot of time.”

I pursed my lips as I glanced up at Liru.

“So, I’ll need to get a crew together. Also, dig out anything the Windtracers have in their records about this and the Upheaval Crusades.”

Liru clasped his hands together with a relieved smile on his face.

“Yes, of course!” Liru’s smile grew. “When you’re ready, you and your crew can travel with my diplomatic caravan to Arth Prayogar. We’ll have religious protection on the roads.”

“Makes sense,” I nodded. “Jata should honor it. Ishnanor certainly will. Once at Jata’s capital, we’ll slip out and head for Toshirom Ifoon outside the city.”

I smirked.

“Liru? You’ve got yourself some Windtracers.”

The shaman eagerly clasped my hand in both of his while his cobra hood flared a little from excitement.

“Thank you!” he said. “Really. Thank you, Tela. I knew I could count on you.”

A sigh tried to bubble up inside me. No pressure, right?

Just a quick run to snatch up a fire-spewing death artifact before some greedy merchants get their hooves on it.

Sure. It would be like falling out a window, which I’d done recently.

Elementals. Just wow.

Ki was going to lose his mind.

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Windtracer Tales is a work of pure, unashamed fiction. In fact, it considers itself rather fancy and quite proud of itself. Names of characters, places, events, organizations and locations are all creations of the author’s imagination for this fictitious setting. Any resemblance to persons living, dead, or reanimated is coincidental. The opinions expressed are those of the characters and should not be confused with the author’s, since the characters and the author tend to disagree a lot.

Also! Windtracer Tales and Windtracer: Adventures in Awldor is written with much respect to Starfarertheta and their work on the other half of Awldor.