The Return of the King
Manfred approached the guest room with Regent Gamyon. Three guards at the door sprang to attention. “I warn you Manfred, I cannot fathom him. He says he is Ubadah, the King of Tamarlan. He bears the secret mark of the King, knowledge of which has been passed down from father to son by the Regents of Tamarlan for four-hundred generations so that we might recognise the King on his return. I never thought to see it on my watch.”
“These are strange times, indeed, my lord. The disappearance of the dwarves has me greatly concerned. There is news of a great army approaching from the south west from the Unknown Lands. It may be Gadiel reformed. There is a rumour that Dammar did not pass to stone, but is also out there somewhere creating mayhem, perhaps in league with the Dark God. And now this. These are indeed strange times and we must do our best with them, though we might wish they had befallen someone else.” Manfred chose not to mention the return of the Everlasting Hero and his quest for the Sword, although he guessed that Gamyon had already been fully briefed by his son. “Are you certain it is the correct mark? Manfred asked.
“There can be no doubt. I would stake my life on it.”
“That is as well, as you may have to,” said Manfred gravely.
“It is good chance that you are here at this time.” Gamyon spoke to Manfred and then addressed the guards. “Knock and announce us.”
“I wonder whether it is just chance, or whether some greater purpose is at work?” Manfred’s thoughts were cut short as the door opened.
They were led into a bright room, furnished with the finest pieces that Tamarlan’s artisans could produce. The walls were adorned with examples of Tamarlan’s greatest watercolour artists. A young man was sitting, taking tea, on a sumptuous red settee. The cushions and the armrests were adorned in the best gold braid. The table, which held a silver tray of tea-making utensils, was made of the finest marble with solid gold legs. Manfred was impressed. Before the guard could speak the young man rose. He was in his early twenties, tall – well over six feet – and slim yet with well-defined, muscular arms and legs. His hair was jet black and cut short as if it had been recently shaved off and had just begun regrowing. He was clean-shaven, but a five o’clock shadow betrayed his quick-growing beard. His face was rugged and handsome. A long scar running from his left ear to the side of his mouth did nothing to disfigure him but, if anything, added to the strength of his appearance. His bearing was regal. He carried himself with the arrogance that power often creates.
“Manfred! My old friend Manfred! I cannot believe it. How wonderful to see you,” he said in a strong, deep voice.
Manfred dropped to his knees. “My lord, it is a wonder and a miracle.” It is really him. I would recognise him anywhere. How can it be? Is he a real Rip Van Winkle? He took the young man’s hand and kissed it. “The King has truly returned to Tamarlan. I had not thought it possible.”
Gamyon remained on his feet, clearly not yet convinced. “Leave us!” He ordered the guards. “Say nothing of this on penalty of death!” The guards bowed and backed out of the room, closing the door behind them. “Forgive me, my lord, if I’m sceptical, but you have been away for ten thousand years.”
“Your scepticism is well-justified and I would expect it in my Regent. Please get up Manfred. Sit down both of you and take some tea, it’s really rather good. You see, to me, it seems like I have only been gone a few months. Only a score of years ago, Manfred bounced me on his knee. You’ve hardly changed a bit. It’s ten thousand, three hundred and sixty nine years, to be exact.” Manfred and Gamyon sat in comfortable armchairs, which matched the sofa. King Ubadah served them tea. “Biscuits anyone?” This is surreal, having tea with the King and the Regent. You can bet that sparks will fly soon and they won’t be from my staff.
Gamyon couldn’t hold back any longer. “If you are who you say you are, where have you been? Explain yourself!” Rather a curt way to behave with one’s king. There will surely be sparks. I remember when Ubadah was a boy; very cute but very moody if he didn’t get his own way. Better try to smooth it out a bit.
“My lord, please be so kind as to tell us what you have been doing these last ten thousand years or so. I know that I’ve been very busy. I wouldn’t know where to start.” That should placate him. Manfred managed to glare at Gamyon and get his attention. For goodness sake, take it easy.
Ubadah sighed and then began his story. “Everything seems like yesterday to me, because it almost was. Let me start at the beginning. Help yourselves to more tea and biscuits, because this may take some time. Please don’t interrupt!” He looked hard at Gamyon. Gamyon returned his gaze with interest. Manfred smiled. “There’ll be time enough for questions at the end.” Manfred sat back and listened to Ubadah’s story, transfixed as a few more pieces of the jigsaw puzzle fell into place.
“My father died unexpectedly, two years before I was lost. I had not anticipated becoming King so young. I still had to find a wife and settle down. I was about to be married, when the stranger arrived. That’s why I left no heir. Though it would seem that your family has done well in my absence, Gamyon.” That might appease him a bit. Gamyon stared straight ahead, unmoved. Perhaps not. “We had been worried for a long time about Tamarlan’s geographic location. In reality, it was a strange place for a city to develop. We had limited trading opportunities. We were restricted to trading with the dwarves and to what we could bring over the mountains in summertime. We needed a trade route to the north. The Northland had always been a strange and feared place. It was said that great evil dwelt there. Over the years, we had mounted many expeditions in the hope of finding a safe trading route. All of them were lost without a trace.”
“Then the stranger arrived. He staggered into Tamarlan on foot. He was half-dead and appeared three-quarters-mad. He was of a race we had never seen before and spoke a language we could not understand. Everything about him was different and strange; he was very tall, he wore strange garments made of animal skins that covered his legs, his mannerisms were crude, he carried a strange short bow, he was exceedingly hairy, and even his body odour was different. He turned out to be very intelligent and quickly began to pick up our language. Soon we were able to communicate quite well, with drawings and simple vocabulary. He said that his name was Ivan and that he came from a city far away to the North called Kyiv. He had been part of an expedition that had been looking for trading opportunities, and I suspect conquest opportunities. They had sailed southwards but had faltered in a storm and had been washed up on a strange shore. The best part of half the expedition had been lost in the wreck. A few of their horses had survived, so they set off inland, heading south through mostly empty semi-desert country. After many weeks of travel, their horses perished, and almost dead themselves through thirst, they came upon a city on a high, arid plateau.”
“At first, they thought it was a mirage, because of its immense beauty. It was a walled city, and one that they quickly realised would be difficult to defeat in battle. They threw themselves on the mercy of its inhabitants and were treated well enough, so that they recovered from the travails of their journey. As they regained their strength, though, they found that their freedom was restricted and they were effectively held under house arrest. The city was called Illium. It was a centre of artistic, cultural, and philosophical excellence. It was everything that Tamarlan aspired to be, and perhaps has become while I’ve been away. Slowly, the visitors proved themselves worthy and they were allowed more freedom. Ivan became friendly with a local family and became enchanted with the arts. They would take him to see plays and to attend philosophical discussions. He became a civilised barbarian and decided to stay in Illium. The rest of his comrades were becoming more and more homesick. They decided to leave and attempt to return to Kyiv. They were promised horses if they would visit a farm outside the city. There was some strange cultural embargo on bringing horses or anything shaped like a horse into the city. They went to the so-called farm and were slaughtered there and buried in a mass grave.”
“Ivan was unaware of this until, at one of his philosophical discussions, the case study of a group of visiting barbarians was debated. Illium had been attacked many times in the past and was fearful of being identified by new enemies. They debated whether it was better to kill a few barbarians, who had probably raped and pillaged their way around the known world, or put the innocent lives of the entire population at risk. The horse farm scenario was presented as the logical conclusion; the lives of the many were more important than the lives of a few. Ivan could barely maintain his composure, but he managed to leave the meeting without exploding. He vowed to escape from Illium and set about devising a plan. He realised that the Illians would try to find him and kill him, so he decided he would head southwards, to confuse them. He slipped out of the city, unnoticed, one night. He stole a horse and headed into the unknown. His adventures would fill a book. Eventually he arrived in Tamarlan and told us his story.”
Ubadah paused and rang a small hand bell to summon a servant. “Bring us more tea, and something more substantial to eat.” Gamyon gave the servant a none-too-discreet nod to do as was demanded.
“I have heard of Illium, but I have never been. I believe Dammar visited there long before your time. I remember that he reported to the Council that there was nothing of interest there.” I wonder now whether that was the truth. Gamyon has yet to be convinced about Ubadah.
“Indeed. Then I think you will be surprised by the rest of my story, Manfred. As you have guessed, the lure of finding another city of artists with whom we could trade was too great to resist. As soon as Ivan was fit to travel, I began to work on him to convince him to return to the Northland. It took a while but I eventually convinced him with promises of riches to be earned and we mounted an expedition. I took ten of my best men and headed into the Northland. There was great evil abroad. The journey was fraught with every danger imaginable and many that you would not wish to imagine in your worst nightmares. I will not bore you with them now; suffice it to say that I came to learn that the Dark God was the cause. He slept then, recovering still from his battle with Gilgamesh. He must have been sorely wounded to have needed so long to recover. He tossed and turned in his sleep, riddled with dreams of revenge, no doubt. His disturbed sleep sent out emanations of evil that manifested themselves in bizarre ways. There were nomads living in the Northland who became particularly affected. We lost Ivan, early in the journey, when a crazy madness overcame him and he believed that we were Illians trying to kill him. He ran off into the night and was killed by the nomads. My men fell one by one, taken by fell creatures or losing their minds and taking their own lives. I barely held on to my sanity, but the need to find Illium drove me on. After many months and close to death, I stumbled upon the city and was taken in.”
He paused in his story as servants returned with more tea and plates of cakes and assorted meats. When they had left again he resumed. “Please, help yourselves. I hope you don’t mind if I nibble while I talk?
“Be my guest,” Gamyon said sarcastically.
“The timing fits with what we know,” Manfred said. “It was another ten thousand years before Gadiel was strong enough to begin his latest conquest.” But where does Dammar fit in, I wonder?
Ubadah finished chewing on a plump chicken leg, wiped his mouth with a napkin, and continued. “It was several weeks before I was well enough to appreciate the city. During my convalescence, I was frequently visited by an old man who reminded me very much of you, Manfred. Looking back, I realise that he discreetly questioned me about who I was and where I was from. He was particularly interested to learn about the journey and how I had survived when everyone else had been lost. He even convinced the doctors to let him give me a through physical examination. He called himself Rammad. I think he was having a game with me. It was several weeks before I realised that Rammad was just Dammar backwards. Eventually, he admitted who he was.”
Ubadah paused to help himself to more tidbits. Manfred was deep in thought. So, it’s true. Dammar was involved. Did he really pass to stone? Is he still around? What’s his game? He looked at Ubadah expectantly, waiting for more. Even Gamyon seemed to be taking much more interest.
Ubadah continued, with his audience of two hanging on his every word. “I do not claim to support Dammar or his objectives. I do not know whether the things he told me were or are true. I am simply reporting what was said and done to me. I visited Elannort once, when I was a teenager. You had restored it to its former glory, although most of the wizards were gone. I remember that you even showed me the High Tower.” Manfred nodded at the old memory, obviously still fresh in Ubadah’s mind. I didn’t know what the archway was then.
“It made a great impression on me, I don’t know why. I felt that the black archway was somehow significant for me. There is a central keep in the middle of Illium. It is not as impressive as Melasurej but it is still something to wonder at. It once had a conventional central tower of grey stone. I have seen paintings that show it in its original form. When I was last there, it had a new tower, built from obsidian. I recognised it immediately. It was an exact facsimile of the High Tower at Melasurej, right down to the black archway at the top.” Ubadah paused to take a drink of tea. By the Balance! This is unbelievable. This can only mean one thing.
Manfred couldn’t wait to ask a question, forgetting Ubadah’s earlier instructions. “My lord, may I be so rude as to ask, what is the mark of Ubadah?”
Manfred thought he saw Ubadah blush slightly, before Gamyon jumped into the conversation. “That is a matter between the King of Tamarlan and his Regent. Even you, great Sage, cannot be given that information!”
“Very well,” Manfred replied, “I will hazard a guess. If I am correct, we can safely assume that Dammar would have been aware of it as well. If I may be so bold, the mark of Ubadah is a five-pointed star birthmark.” He looked at the two men for a sign that he was correct. They stoically met his gaze. Oh well, in for a penny. “More than that, it has a specific location on the body.” Ubadah was beginning to look uncomfortable. It’s true. I have him. Manfred smiled. “It is located on the shaft of your penis.” The old magician pulls another rabbit out of his hat to amaze his audience.
Gamyon was almost apoplectic with anger. “Only Gamying and I know that secret. It has been passed from father to son for four hundred generations. He would never have told you. If you have stolen it from his mind, wizard, I shall have you horsewhipped, great Sage or no!” He stretched for the bell, in order to summon the guards. Now I see where Gamying gets it from.
“Calm yourself, Regent. There is no harm done. I suspect Manfred has long known the meaning of this birth mark and even now understands how I have managed to return.”
“Is that true, wizard?” Gamyon demanded.
I wonder if I should turn him into a frog for a while. “What? Oh, yes. I imagine that several more people than you realise have seen the royal jewels. Would it be true to say that you found his majesty disoriented and naked?”
“How did you know that? I specifically gave orders that it never be discussed. Heads will roll!”
“Don’t be such a bully, Gamyon.” Or I will turn you into a frog. “It is part of the effect of using the time portal.” He stopped and watched Gamyon as his words registered in the Regent’s brain. Now he really has something to think about.
Gamyon went white. “You mean… He is… It’s not possible. How can it be true? You are really Ubadah. You have come back to the future?”
“Well done, Manfred. Dammar said that you would be here and that you would understand. He also said that you would know what my role would be in the forthcoming war. It’s true, Gamyon, that I have returned. However, you need not fear, I have not come back to take up my throne. Tamarlan will continue to be ruled by its Regents. I have more important business to attend to, don’t I, Manfred?”
Manfred looked at the arrogant young man before him. This was something he had not expected, could not have predicted. It turned all of his plans upside down. None of his studies had foretold this possibility. “My lord, there is much I must learn from you. I must understand what Dammar knows, how he is manipulating current and past events, and what his overall objective is.” I must understand how to deal with two manifestations of the Everlasting Hero together at the same time.