Tarok the Wanderer and the Jewel of Uruk
The Tarok the Wanderer Short Story Index
Tarok carved through the goats stomach, chest, and throat. The bleating ceased and blood spilled over his hands. Tarok set the knife down on the altar and reached inside the goat. Starlight streamed down upon the altar and obelisk from the opening in the roof. The Anchorite and her Vestals chanted behind him, ushering the power of their god. Tarok wrapped his fingers around the goat’s heart and pulled. Arteries and veins snapped and blood ran down the sides of the basalt altar. He felt the last pulse of life slip through his fingers. Holding the heart up to the star of Uruk, god of war and justice, he recited a prayer, ‘Uruk! Take heed of my deeds. Let my hands and axe find my enemies. Allow justice to be served and blood to flow!’ A beam of light glistened around the goat’s heart.
Tarok lowered his arms and watched the light fade. The Vestals chanted louder. Anchorite Iltani bade Tarok to receive Uruk’s blessing. Tarok bit into the heart, the flesh warm and wet. He chewed and swallowed. Warm blood dribbled down his chin. Turning to the Anchorite he set the bitten heart on a silver plate. Anchorite Iltani muttered a prayer and flung the heart into the fire set in the central chamber of the Star Temple. The fire exploded and roared to the ceiling bathing Tarok, the Vestals, and Iltani in heat and light. The Vestals, four in white and four in black, circled the fire spinning and chanting. After one rotation they reversed, knelt, and pressed their heads to the floor. The fire perished and the ritual was complete.
He ran a finger over the many scars lacing his body. Arrows and spears, fangs and claws, all manner of close calls and near misses. Tarok remembered them all as he cleaned the ritual blood from his face.
‘You have seen much combat since last here,’ Iltani said. Her layered gowns of white and black danced in the moonlit breeze.
‘The land is growing dark,’ Tarok said staring out through a small opening. The stars shone over the horizon, over the village of Kisar. Flames flickered in the castle, a blot upon the sky.
‘Yes, it is,’ Iltani circled Tarok brushing her hands over his scars. She had black hair cut to the scalp and wore no shoes.
‘What does the Anchorite wish?’ Tarok said pulling a tunic over his head.
Anchorite Iltani backed away, ‘A jewel has been stolen from the Temple.’
‘By whom?’
‘We aren’t certain but a local warlord from the village of Kisar has been visiting numerous times a week. His soldiers torment my girls and often refuse to leave for hours while he wanders the grounds and the Temple itself. I don’t know what he searches for but a jewel has gone missing, vital to our prayers for the next full moon. Would you?’ Iltani said.
‘Find your missing jewel? What’s in it for me?’
Iltani smiled, her eyes shifting away, ‘Well. Plenty.’
Tarok grunted, ‘I’ll have a look around.’
‘You’ve always been so good to us, ever since you appeared on our steps wounded and lost.’
‘I’d rather not remember those times,’ Tarok barked, his hands grew itchy for his axe.
‘As you wish,’ Iltani stepped outside his room and closed the door.
Tarok stared out towards Kisar and the castle. Uruk guide my axe.
Tarok awoke before the dawn and slunk out of the Star Temple of Uruk. He followed the path down from the Temple that joined the main road at the base of the hill and continued on towards Kisar, a few miles north.
A pale sun rose in the east. The celestial bodies faded and the reign of day returned. Tarok entered Kisar as the inhabitants opened their shutters and set about their day of work. Carts were loaded with seed. Horses saddled. Smoke coughed out of chimney stacks as fires for forging and cooking were lit. The smell of sausages and bread permeated the air of the town. Tarok made his way to the central square in what appeared to be an idyllic town shielded from the horrors of the eastern hordes.
Market stalls had popped up throughout the square. Carts were unloaded and a din of shouting ensued. Women with baskets acquired the day’s necessities with learned haste while young children ran wild and free. Tarok swapped three copper for a spiced roast partridge and leant against a wall watching the town of Kisar. Content people milled about buying and selling goods and completing the days tasks without issue. A pair of roofers repaired the thatch on an old man’s home, women sold flowers outside the parish, while lightly armoured guards patrolled the market place spending their time conversing and laughing with the locals. Was Iltani correct about the warlord and his men? Tarok tossed the bones of his breakfast to the dogs and headed towards the castle at the far end of the town.
Soldiers stood on every corner. Helmets strapped tight with hands on swords and axes. The closer Tarok came to the castle, looming over Kisar as either tyrant or paladin, the more soldiers patrolled, the heavier the armour, and the sharper their weapons. He rounded a corner and the whole street was choked with horses. A fence cut along the street at both ends and more than a hundred horses grazed upon close to barren earth. Why would the lord care for so many horses? Is he raiding other villages? Tarok carried on up the road and found another passage to the castle gates.
A stone wall jutted out from the castle creating a courtyard in front of the main doors. Gates to the courtyard where chained and guarded by ten men. Tarok approached and asked, ‘Do you lot get to move?’
One of the guards angled his head and stared quizzically.
‘Standing there all day must get boring,’ Tarok crossed his arms.
‘Boring when idiots talk to us,’ one said, the rest laughed.
‘The lord hear petitions?’
‘What does it look like to you?’ Hands shifted to sword hilts.
‘That’s Bey Gunduz to you.’
Bey, Tarok had heard that title before but where? ‘A recluse is he?’
‘Bey Gunduz works tirelessly for Kisar and the surrounding region.’
Tarok made a sound of wonderment, ‘Does that include the Star Temple of Uruk?’
Four more soldiers appeared.
‘Bey Gunduz has frequented the Star Temple,’ a guard said.
‘Get lost,’ another ordered.
Tarok went to ask another question.
A sword flashed out of its scabbard, ‘I said get lost.’
Tarok raised his hands away from his weapons, ‘Alright, only asking questions.’
A shrieking scream erupted from the castle. A woman’s scream. More swords were drawn and Tarok backed away. He turned his back to the soldiers when he was far enough away that he could not see the whites of their eyes. On his way back to the market square an old man bothered him. His face withered and his back bent.
‘You went to ask something of the Bey?’
‘I did.’
‘Was it about a woman?’
‘No,’ Tarok said.
The old man shrank, ‘Well if you do ask them anything again please ask about my granddaughter. She went missing a few days ago but the Bey refuses to hear my petition and the soldier’s aren’t interested in helping.’
‘When did she go missing?’
‘A few days ago on the road to the Star Temple of Uruk. I’d visit but my old bones won’t carry me so far. Amata said she would be gone a day and come right back.’
Tarok made a note of the name and said, ‘I’ll ask around.’
‘Thank you,’ the old man grasped Tarok’s hands and smiled, his eyes vanishing in a sea of wrinkles. ‘I’m Rihat. Ask around if you can’t find me. Everyone knows who I am,’ he said tottering off up the road.
Tarok returned to the market square. The morning rush had vanished and a slow ebb and flow of wealthier buyers plodded from stall to stall. Dressed in cushy silks and feathered hats these customers were outnumbered by their servants who were in turn outnumbered by the stalls.
Tarok wondered about the scream and if it could have been Amata’s. Anchorite Iltani’s jewel was inside the castle, the soldiers agitation showed it, rescuing a woman in the process would not be a stretch. Tarok headed out of town. Taking the eastern rode and then heading north over the savannah. Pockets of trees clung around water pools linked by a thin river twisting through the landscape. The river had no name, it was not large enough. Tarok leapt from bank to bank until all he could see of Kisar was the castle. He found a pool and a cluster of trees to shade under, sat, and waited watching for movement from the castle.
Darkness crept up from the horizon. Tarok splashed his face with water to hold sleep at bay and watched. Candlelight flickered in the square windows of the castle. Shadows paced backward and forward through the town cast by lanterns carried by the soldiers. Tarok rested his head on a tree and closed his eyes. Bored. He felt his coin purse and its lack of weight energised him. He never had liked waiting without an ale.
A thud echoed from the town. Yelling was followed by the beat of hooves. Seven riders bolted out from the eastern road and headed south. Tarok squinted into the velvet shroud descending upon the land. The riders carried no lanterns but their sound was unmistakable. Tarok sprinted south.
Sweat poured off the wanderer. He panted as he climbed the last of the rocky hill up to the Star Temple. Seven horses grazed by the gates. He crouched and snuck by the horses, careful not to scare them. He reached the open door of the Star Temple and peered inside. There were no soldiers in sight but by the altar was the warlord, his iron crown tight around his head. He held Iltani by the throat and growled a question at her. Iltani spat in his eye. The Bey’s hand was swift and sent the Anchorite to the tiled floor.
Tarok revealed himself and walked straight for Bey Gunduz. From left and right the soldiers appeared holding two of the Vestals hostage. ‘You are the man who appeared at my gates?’ Gunduz stepped down from the altar with deliberate slowness.
Drawing his two handed battle axe Tarok charged head long. A Vestal appeared before him, screamed and ran, a sword followed. A quick bash with his axe and the soldier was thrown off balance. Tarok buried his axe in the man’s back. A blade flickered in the torchlight. Tarok span and battered it away.
Gunduz ran out the door and mounted a horse. ‘Deal with him!’ He shouted galloping away.
The five soldiers circled Tarok, the blood of their comrade finding the cracks in the tiles. Uruk would smile upon the offering. Tarok lunged for his nearest opponent and exchanged a series of blows. The others attacked. Tarok dove behind a pillar and swung wide. His elbow cracked the stone as the head of the axe gouged a soldier’s neck. Three swords rang against the pillar. Tarok sprinted across the room, shoving the dying man into the others. Two caught the man and lowered him to the floor. Tarok stormed the pair, decapitating one and removing the others arm. Screams filled the Star Temple.
Tarok wheeled around to face the other two but both were dead, long knives jutting out of their backs. A pair of Vestals silently praying beside the bodies. Tarok snorted with laughter, ‘Of course Uruk’s devoted know of weapons.’ Without hesitation Tarok dashed out of the Temple and found a horse. He wrangled the beast down the hill and galloped back to Kisar.
Tearing through the town he reached the castle gates as soldiers were chaining them shut. Tarok balanced on the saddle and urged the horse up to the gates, knocking over soldiers in his way, and jumped over. He arced through the air and rolled along the grass.
‘Get this open! Hurry!’ A soldier barked as another hurriedly began pulling the chain off the gate.
Tarok bounded into the castle while he could. He skidded to a halt in the entrance hall. Drapes hung over the windows and archways. Doors were bolted. Staircases climbed to balconies and floors above and all was dark.
Gunduz yelled from Tarok’s left. He bolted towards the sound and through long damask drapes into a narrow corridor. He rushed forward and felt a stabbing pain rake across his arm. He swung out recklessly and struck the wall. Two soldiers emerged from behind a curtain armed with spears and shields. Tarok’s blood splattered the floor and wall. The soldiers raised their shields, locked them together, and moved towards him with spears pointed towards him. Tarok suppressed a guttural laugh and swung his axe. The blade splintered spears and the next swing shattered the shield wall. Tarok brought the two handed axe over his head and felled one soldier, his skull splitting in half. Gore dribbled from remained of the enemies mouth. The second spearman fled. Tarok flexed his wounded arm, blood coursed from his skin. He continued along the corridor.
The corridor ended up ahead but Gunduz was nowhere to be seen. Tarok slowed and heard a faint click. A stone slab dropped under his foot. Tarok ducked and rolled, air rushed above his head. A faint grunt and the clatter of steel alerted Tarok to a pursuer, a crossbow bolt planted in his gut. Tarok continued to the end of the corridor where there was a hole in one of the bricks, source of the bolt. Light drew his attention and he found a staircase. It twisted down beneath the castle.
‘Tell me! What is she planning?’ Gunduz yelled.
Tarok reached the end of the staircase into a room of cages. All empty. The smell of death hung in the air.
‘Down here. He’s down here!’ A voice called behind Tarok.
The wanderer hurried through the dungeon, racing past cage after cage until he came to a drawn curtain. Flame flickered behind it. A whip cracked.
‘You will tell me jewel, eventually,’ Bey Gunduz sniggered.
Tarok tore the curtain from its pole and launched himself into the room. Bey Gunduz stood over a naked woman chained to the wall. A spiked whip in one hand. Blood ran through the grooves of the floor. The Bey turned to regard Tarok, a dark expression across his face. ‘You have interrupted me for the last time.’ The woman curled up hanging from iron cuffs.
Tarok threw himself at the Bey. The bulk of a man covered in leather and fur dipped and sidestepped Tarok’s swings. He coiled the whip in his hands and lashed out at Tarok who tried to block the leather and iron weapon. The weapon struck his axe and bent around it catching Tarok’s ribs. The rough iron lacerated the skin and muscle. Tarok roared.
‘You wild men are all the same. Vacant of thought,’ the Bey thrashed his whip again catching Tarok across the shoulder. The whip curled around his arm and the iron caught on itself. Gunduz pulled the leather tight causing the iron to bite down into Tarok’s flesh. He grunted and swung at the weapon bridging them. The leather frayed but did not break.
Soldiers appeared at the doorway. ‘Stop!’ Gunduz said. ‘This one’s mine,’ he sneered. Gunduz rounded Tarok and laced the whip around his neck. Tarok coughed as the iron bit into his throat. He caught the leather with his free hand but the iron was lodged. Gunduz heaved and kicked Tarok to his knees. ‘You will never learn. That is why we must teach you,’ Gunduz whispered into Tarok’s ear. The Bey’s breath smelled of sweet wine and soft fruit.
Tarok dropped his axe and fumbled for his short axe. He found it, reversed his grip, and chopped up into his shoulder. He howled and fell forward. Reaching for his axe he freed the whip around his neck. With one swing he caught the Bey across the gut. Gunduz hissed and fell against the wall, guts cradled in his hands. Tarok hefted the axe and went to strike at his enemies’s neck.
‘Stop! He reports to Ertugrul, Prince of the West!’ The woman cried out.
Gunduz slipped down the wall until he was sitting on the floor, ‘The jewel is right. Kill me and the Prince will hunt you across the face of the world.’ He laughed.
Tarok snarled and backed away. Soldiers barred his exit, unease spread across their faces. The wanderer cut the chains holding the woman with his axe. She reached for a pile of furs to cover herself.
‘Wild man listening to a woman. Coward,’ the Bey spat blood. ‘I will recover and raid the Temple again. Those women are mine. The riches of that Temple will be mine.’
Tarok paused, nostrils flared, and roared. His axe flew through the air and sparked against the wall. Bey Gunduz’s head balanced on the blade, eyes wide in horror. It toppled and landed in the guts in his hands. Tarok heaved and turned to the soldiers, ‘Leave and you will be spared.’ The clatter of steel cleared their path.
Tarok and the woman rode to the Star Temple of Uruk. Anchorite Iltani stood at the gates alongside the old man Rihat. ‘I thought you said you couldn’t make it this far?’ Tarok said.
‘It took me all day and most of the night. But I made it,’ Rihat pounded his cane against the ground.
‘Grandfather!’ Amata dropped from her saddle and ran to the old man.
‘Our jewel,’ Iltani smiled as daughter embraced grandfather.
Tarok looked to the horizon, of course, he thought.
Anchorite Iltani appeared beside Tarok, ‘I see you have earned more scars. Rest here while they heal.’
‘I have returned your jewel, Iltani.’
‘So you have,’ she reached underneath her layers of black and white muslins. ‘Will this suffice?’ A coin purse bulged in her hand.
Tarok snatched his reward. Gold shone within.
The Tarok the Wanderer Short Story Index
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