Allamu heard rushing water all around, but it was not the cramped, dank tunnel to the river. Instead, the sound was the roar of the ocean as he stood on the dock in the bustling port city of Kelmaars. Nearby, Sabit and Melcior surveyed the crew loading supplies onto the ship, preparing for its voyage that would take them well past the bay of Vert on their way to Allamu’s home of Urom.
Allamu stood apart from his fellows, huddled with a hooded figure. They spoke in hushed voices.
“Why would Qaansoole send you to me?” Allamu asked. “I expected she would never want to see me again. How can I trust your message?”
The other produced a golden coin. In size and shape, it matched the rom pieces traded by the merchants of Urom. However, where the rom bore the face of the king on one side and the sacred elephant on the other, this specimen showed an identical pachyderm on each face. “You once gave her this gift on a riverbank, coated with mud. Qaansoole is in great peril and beseeches you to go to the city of Vert to aid her.”
Allamu studied the intricate workmanship. There could be no mistaking its provenance. “I hardly command the ship. I cannot force them to go where I will.”
“You have always been resourceful,” the cloaked figure replied.
Days later, Allamu stood on the deck of the ship, anchored in the bay of Vert.* The sun shone in this memory, yet now, Allamu felt cold. He strode the deck and spoke to Sabit and to the crew. He convinced them to go up the river to Vert. His words were stirring and golden, yet sounded hollow to his ears.
Allamu could not change a single syllable of what he had said, of the lies he had told to entice the crew to go to the fabled city of Vert. Watching the faces of the crew as he spoke. Allamu could see the exact moment when his tales of the glory of Vert sank into their heart and they sided with him.
Here, in this twisted memory, when the first crewman was swayed to the cause of Vert, Allamu saw the man’s throat slit from ear to ear. From the next one, a spear burst through her chest.
One by one, Allamu saw his words—his lies—lead these people to their deaths. And he could not alter what he had already done.
When the fateful coin spun in the air, Allamu knew how it would fall—both sides bore the image of Urom’s sacred elephant. He could not lose—he would not allow it. They were going to Vert.
As the coin spun in the air, Allamu looked at Sabit—tall and proud and beautiful. She would never choose to go to Vert. Allamu’s lies were the only thing dragging her there.
The coin landed.
Sabit burst into flames.
*-Allamu convincing the crew to go to Vert is detailed in Wayfarings of Sabit: Broken Justice.
Wayfarings of Sabit: Tumult is copyright (c) 2017 by Michael S. Miller. All rights reserved. New chapters post every weekday. You can support this and other stories on Patreon: https://patreon.com/michaelsmiller or http://ipressgames.com/fiction/