Prince Gyllen Ch. 19

After many frantic days across tumultuous waters and several restless nights enduring Min's heavy somnial snorting, the Killer Kraken finally made port in a west Purvajan region natively named Sahra'ramal - more commonly referred to as the Desert Lands or Middle East to the folk of Occasus -- a peninsula consisting of a number of prestigious kingdoms, famous for its arid land and austere culture to complement the terrain, and posing as a kind of gateway for travellers into the rest of the Orient. Though Gyllen had previously endured the heats of South Gaul and Caliga before, nothing could have properly prepared the prince for the absolute brutality of the Sahra'ramalian sun upon exiting his cabin onto the deck that afternoon when the port city of Al-Khalij appeared on the horizon, immediately breaking out into a perspiration that soaked his white shirt before even setting foot onto its soil, feeling his exposed light-flesh scorched by intense solar rays as if he was a snowball in an oven! The Kraken's crew were all similarly afflicted, many going shirtless as to allow their backs to breath as they went about their work, not even able to summon up the strength to croon out a shanty to distract themselves from the conditions and staying hydrated through the use of water barrels strategically strewn about the ship, from which Gyllen alone must have quaffed ten musty mugs worth before they docked.

Luckily, Gyllen possessed some prior knowledge on the methods residents of this region used to mitigate some of the sun's harshness and set out to seek a nearby marketplace the moment the gangplank hit the quay, with Min habitually in tow and full waterskins in hand. The pair passed by many unfamiliar examples of eastern architecture as they kept as much to the shadows of the streets they could, walking through canopied alleys between squat, square structures built from beige sandstone, occasionally coming across more grandiose buildings featuring archways as their entrances, minarets at their corners, bronze domes in place of peaked roofs and intricate geometric markings running all across their marble walls. Oh, how Gyllen wished he could take the time out to admire these magnificent foreign edifices, but he unfortunately had a very strict window of time to adhere to, and that was before even considering how much he wished to avoid the direct sunlight they were basking in as much as possible.

Eventually, the pair happened across as a boisterous bazaar, with many kaftan-wearing merchants hawking and haggling their wares to the diverse crowds of clientele in their market alcoves lining both sides of the street. The human boy and the goblin woman then started sifting their way through the throng, passing by booths trading everything ranging from rugs, pottery, jewellery, weaponry, fruit, spices and fish and drawing a fair share of looks from the shoppers -- Gyllen for his white skin and golden locks standing out greatly from the swarthy complexions and dark hair of the local human populace, and Min for...other reasons - until they finally came across a bearded vendor selling clothing. Without hesitation, Gyllen purchased a white set of hooded nomad's robes, cheap but practical, and donned them even quicker than he bought them. Though the garb did nothing to help cope with the stuffy air, it was an immense relief to avoid having his milky flesh slowly burning to a crisp in the midday sun!

"...We should probably get you something to wear as well, Min." The prince then said, seemingly unprompted as he looked back on his redheaded friend.

"Me? Nah, I'm good, Goldie." The goblin objected, her green skin seemingly better suited for the severe climate compared to Gyllen's, even if every visible inch of her flesh glistened with sweat, with a serious wet patch streaking down the area of her brown top that covered the space separating her boobs.

"I, uh, don't just mean for the weather, Min..." The blond then hushed his tone of voice. "Society in this part of the world tends to look down on women who expose too much flesh. For them, they see it as a great mark of disrespect and, well, I don't think we've had people staring at us just because they're not used to goblinoids..." Even just from standing in place, Gyllen had spotted several male heads turned by Min's presence as they passed by, and he was able to see a nearby group of three females all clad in black, full-body coverings that allowed only their eyes and hands visible gossiping amongst themselves as they gawked at the small, emerald woman sporting shorts and a low-cut vest.

"Psssh! It's a great mark a' disrespect not t' let 'em see this hot bod!" Min responded, oblivious as to how much unwanted (or wanted, depending if you asked her) attention her appearance was drawing.

"Min, please! We're about to be visiting some very important people, and I'll have to leave you behind if you're unwilling to cooperate."

"Alright, alright, I get ya." Min conceded. Conveniently, the merchant just so happened to be carrying a small selection of garments tailored to fit the diminutive races, and gold once again exchanged hands for a dress, similar to what the gossiping girls were wearing, and a matching headscarf. Min slipped the dress over her body easily as Gyllen assisted in applying the wrap around her skull as best as they both could possibly manage, until it was determined the goblin was suitably modest for them to continue. "Gods...this just dosen' feel right at all..." She commented.

"It'll only be until we have to leave the country. And the sooner we press on, the sooner that can be arranged." Gyllen added before whisking Min back through the town, stopping to ask for directions on no less than three separate occasions before they finally found a outpost on the city fringes where a collective of bridled camels were uniformly hitched to posts outside, beyond which a pale yellow desert seemed to stretch on for all eternity beyond the shimmering skyline. The prince entered the small station and conversed with its operators, as Gyllen had reserved a guide months in advance to escort them to a very specific location hidden somewhere out amongst the dunes. The two were then assigned to a wizened chaperone with a long, white beard that hung almost as low as his belt and an eccentric glint in his grey eye, his appearance making Min entertain the idea he was as ancient as the very sands he was about to shepherd them through.

The goblin and Gyllen were then both assigned to a single camel to share, as Min's small size meant she could easily fit into the saddle to the blond's fore without causing either to feel much discomfort, saving the business having to send out an extra one of their valuable assets, though it did mean the goblin's wide behind would be grinding up against the prince's crotch for the majority of the expedition, and Gyllen was already having enough difficulty in adjusting to control the humped mammal as it was! Steering such a tall creature had a very different feel when compared to a horse even when it was plodding along at a snail's pace, though he soon somewhat got the hang of it, enough to follow behind their withered courier effortlessly riding ahead upon his own camel.

For seven full days and nights they steadily traversed over the endless sand banks that stretched onwards forever in every direction one would look. No man-made landmarks punctuated the monotonous scenery, scarcely any signs of animal life aside from the camels could be discerned, save for the occasional overhead vulture, and even the footprints left in the wake of their beasts of burden were quick to vanish in the hot wind, and yet their escort never once seemed hesitant in their steadfast course, halting at nothing save for sleep once the moon was suspended high in the sky, transforming the blazing infernos that were the days into frigid hells during the nights which rivalled the worst of Snjórland's winters, resting in miniature tents that were kept rolled up and affixed to each camel's flank when they were not in use.

"Gyl, I've been meanin' t' ask, but where in Hel are we even headin'?" Min asked Gyllen on their first night sheltered in their shared canvas underneath the stars.

"Really? I swear I mentioned in on the voyage over..." Gyllen mused over. "Well, anyway, we're visiting Jumishat, Queen of the Djinn whom resides in the heart of these Desert Lands."

"Queen of the what!?" Min parroted in disbelief. "Have ya gone soft in the head, Goldie? I've never even met anybody who's come across a djinn in me entire life, let alone see one with me own peepers. I've got have half a mind they don' even exist!"

"Oh, they're very much real, Min, just highly reclusive folk. I was honestly rather shocked that my letter of introduction even reached her retainers, let alone receive a favourable reply!" The prince responded.

"Well, don' come gripin' t' me when they turn out t' jus' be a magician with a coupla neat tricks." Min less enthusiastically stated.

"You know, some legends say all magic in the world originated when the djinn descended from the realm of the gods, and taught the mortal races the knowledge necessary to harness that power...or the knowledge was stolen from them by a mortal thief, depending on who you ask." Gyllen continued.

"Heh, me money's on it bein' a gobbo filcher. Doin' the species proud, they was."

"Which reminds me, Min, I want you to strictly be on your best behaviour during this visit. Djinn are highly revered and extremely powerful, and the last thing I want is to incur ones wrath upon our heads due to your misconduct."

"Oi, since when have I ever misbehaved 'round you, Prince Pussy?" Min said with a wide grin that did not instil the prince with much hope.

Midway through the eighth day of travel, the small party at long last came across a definite change in the perpetual scenery which Gyllen and Min at first dismissed to be a mirage tricking their eyes when he first caught sight of its palm trees rising tall and swaying in the breeze behind a particularly steep hillock. Upon scaling this dune, the three travellers were greeted with the sight of a large pond of crystal clear water encircled by verdant grass, shrubs and the aforementioned palms. It was an oasis! The stark contrast alone was enough to leave the blond and the redhead in awe without even mentioning the undisturbed beauty of the scenic spot.

"Here we are!" Their elderly guide, who had kept almost entirely silent during their voyage, then chirpily announced to them, surprising the two tourists out of their wonderment, which then turned to puzzlement as they watched his camel lower itself to the ground for him to disembark before then walking his hunched-over self to the pool.

"Um, sir? Sir!" Gyllen called out to their guide, confused, but his calls went ignored as their escort continued walking along the oasis' edge to its other side. The Snjórlander intended to follow though was having some trouble making his transportation crouch for a safe disembark, only succeeding in making it bow its head in the end before he and Min awkwardly dismounted, quickly dashing from the sands into the greenery to catch up with the old man. "Chaperone, please, I believe there's been some dire mistake! We were supposed to be taken to the City of Nahas-w-Jawahir!"

"Oh, the young ones have no sense of faith...nor patience..." The escort mumbled to himself, halting abruptly just when Gyllen and Min had caught up with him, stopping before an unusual pair of palm trees that bent inwards to one another perfectly like mutual mirror images, their crowns intersecting to form the outline of a near-perfect oval from their leaves to their roots. Then, without prompt, the old man raised his hands high into the air and began making rapid, uncanny gestures with his arms and his fingers before suddenly shouting out in a sing-song like voice: "Aftah ya samsam!"

Gyllen was startled by their guide's bizarre behaviour, about to ask what on Midgard he was doing if his notice was not then drawn to the empty air betwixt the two curved trunks, which now appeared to be, for lack of a better descriptor, rippling from the centre outwards, resembling an inbetween of an incorporeal, undulating heat haze and a tangible puddle which had a pebble dropped into its nucleus, with the scenery behind, though difficult to decipher its details, taking vast alterations in colour that blended together when observed through this blurred lens. Just what manner of illusion could this have been?

"Well, then...shall we~?" The escort then gave a wide smile of many missing teeth, motioning towards the flickering gap dividing the trees the same way a butler would invite a guest to enter a doorway. Gyllen looked to Min and Min looked to Gyllen, though the goblin only gave a nonplussed shrug as her answer before the prince looked back into the mesmerising, ethereal waves, knowing he was not going to find clarification merely pondering where he stood. The blond walked forwards, into the space which separated the long, thin trunks, weirdly feeling as though he was sieving through gossamer as his vision unfocused before he stepped foot on their other side of the rift, finding himself to be not quite in the same vicinity just a couple of paces prior.

Gyllen's blue eyes were now being treated to bright, amber dunes rolling beneath a violet sky where a sun hung like a perfect disk of citrine - not overly dazzling but still providing sufficient light to the landscape - and a striking partial silhouette of a great tower rising high within walking distance where there was no such thing before. Looking behind him, the same oasis he had just walked over still remained, although tropical flowers now sprouted upon and between the bushes, rising tall and blooming wide in colours that spanned the entire spectrum of the rainbow, some vaguely familiar to the prince, while others were utterly beyond what he was able to identify. Even the grass and leaves looked to be a more vibrant hue of green. Overall, the environment resembled a surrealist artist's interpretation of the surroundings, with the only detail unaccounted for being the camels they had rode on to arrive at this point. This immediate terraform astonished the prince so suddenly, the substantial drop in temperature to a more comfortable warmth initially escaped his notice entirely.

"...Okay, I swear I didn' take anythin' funny on th' slog over here." Gyllen then heard Min's voice comment from behind once she had joined him on the other side of the wavering window. "Gyl, yer seein' what I'm seein' too, yeah? Where the futt-bucking Hel did we end up? And how?"

"You are Jumishat's dominion now, of course!" The elderly guide answered in the blond's place as he manifested behind his two clients, prompting both to turn and face him as she shuffled between them. "Only a very exclusive handful know the location of this oasis, and fewer still possess mastery of the exact incantation, signals and combinations between each by which grants passage to this celestial otherworld the Sultana calls home, otherwise she would be playing host to many unwanted callers each and every day!" The old man divulged, stroking his long beard with a single hand while he spoke before again beginning to walk at a leisurely pace in the direction of the mysterious tower nearby without allowing either of them to begin quizzing him on the specifics. "You two are certainly fortunate to be granted an audience with Her Omnipotence. Come now. There are fewer things in this life more unwise than for one to keep a lady djinni in waiting."

"I suppose it's a concept not wholly dissimilar to Ūwilazala Academy, Min." Gyllen said aside to his goblin companion as they both began to follow.

"Oh, yeah! The magic door! I remember!" Min said with an enlightened expression.

It did not take long before the party reached the foundations of the tower: a ziggurat-like structure carved from an unknown mineral the exact same tint as the orange sand beneath their feet -- as though the very grains were rising high from the desert, moulded into this partial pyramid structure and subsequently solidified in time - and consisting of two tiers of massive stairways leading up to its peak. The three then began scaling those steep steps skywards, leaving Gyllen and Min breathless by the time they had had reached the top, even if it was not an overly long climb, and yet their guide, significantly more advanced in age compared to his clientele, did not seem winded in the slightest by the taxing ascent. The human boy and the goblin girl soon forgot everything about their fatigue however when they laid their astounded eyes upon what was to be found on the summit.

The topside was a large, level square surface enclosed on all sides bar the entrance with high-rise lodgings and terraces underpropped by peristyles in alcoves underneath and looking in on the bailey, of which the only notable feature was a huge ornate fountain ceaselessly spraying liquid crystal blossom-like from its spout to tinkle musically into its wide basin below. Four small spires ornamented each vertex of the space, with the main tower lording over them all as it sat middlemost along the farthest edge, possessing a massive bulbous base as tall as the palisades before quickly converging into a narrower needle soaring almost three times as large. Instead of constructed brick and mortar however, the the floor and buildings appeared to have been wrought entirely from polished brass glowing dull in the sunshine, and its walls set with massive, glittering multicoloured zircons and topazes. Beyond any hesitation, Gyllen knew he now stood in the fabled City of Nahas-w-Jawahir, even if, contrary to its name, it moreso resembled a palace if anything.

"Holy...! Look at the size of those stones!" Min was first to make verbal comment, her red optics positively twinkling with excitement as they reflected the huge, scintillating jewels. "I could pry one a' 'em off and buy Malmhule Castle with it!"

"Now, Min..." Gyllen began with a disapproving tone and cast.

"Jus' harmlessly speculatin', Goldie!" The goblin was quick to defend herself. "Don' get yer panties in a twist now!"

The prince kept his sceptical glare trained on the redhead a moment longer before they were next brought to the principal tower. While they walked across the plaza, the brass surprisingly cool on their feet despite being directly in the sun, Gyllen could not help but notice the burg to be eerily barren in spite of all its splendour, having yet to detect another living soul within its ramparts since their arrival, though just as he was beginning to contemplate the conjecture that the city could have been abandoned for whatever reason, the blond and the goblin both found themselves startled when the tower's gates flung far open with a crash, shattering the silence as a procession of twenty-odd persons accrued in mismatched colourful clothing marched forth from the portal armed with horns and drums, organising themselves into two ranks standing perfectly symmetrical across from one another on either side of the entrance, preparing their instruments and beginning to blast out an unearthly fanfare while a stout gentleman with a curled moustache in a maroon, peacock-feathered turban twice as big as his head and burgundy, velvet robe that trailed far behind him along the floor, both patterned with shapes of teal diamonds, came trotting forth with scroll in hand, unfurling the parchment once he had reached the end of the uniform files and clearing his throat before he began to read its aloud in a soft timbre unbefitting of his appearance.

"Now presenting the Malika of Nahas-w-Jawahir, Emira of the Seven Zephyrs, Sahiba of the Astral Lamp, etcetera, etcetera: Her Radiant Magnificence, Sultana Jumishat-al-Muntahij-ibnat-Shams!" He finished announcing before turning aside and raising his hand upwards, naturally lifting Gyllen and Min's focus to the apex of the lofty tower in time to see an elongated cloud of mauve smoke billow out from a window on its conical belfry before suddenly snaking down the spire at breakneck speeds as though it were a living creature! The wisp then launched directly from the bronze, gem-encrusted cylinder and hit the ground a handful of feet away from where the travellers stood without a sound, dispersing into plumes spilling in the eight points of a compass across the floor before fizzling away completely to leave a humanoid shape in its point of impact as though she had been borne by those peculiar fumes!