"The desire of Gold is not for Gold. It's for the means of freedom and benefit," Ralph Waldo Emerson,"
"NO, ABBA! PLEASE! DON'T LEAVE!"
"Enough, son! You are to listen! Stay here and never search for us again!"
"Abba! Momma!"
"You can emerge into the world and reveal yourself as a man, not a thief,"
This caused Shaleemm to wake yet again. Frustration built upon Shaleemm's skin as he got up and rubbed his eyes. He couldn't bear it. Although he took great pride in his life as a thief and raided temples across the dunes, he wanted freedom and to be accepted more than anything. He got up and noticed the sun was rising above the walls. He then looked into the streets and saw the stranger before leaving the building. He quickly removed his sleeping clothes, dawned his outfit from before, and ran outside the building holding his swords and bag. Running out, he caught the man talking to a trader before approaching him, gaining his attention.
"I accept," He panted.
The stranger chuckled and turned to the trader, telling him in his native language to wait another day.
"I'm glad you've accepted. My name's Luxolo Gola, preferably Gola. I'm pleased to make your acquaintance," He said.
"Same to you. Now I'm a fast man; where's the temple?"
"A few miles outside the city. The temple is as forgotten as a dream, so there'll be no guards or anything to protect this temple. Bring your horse; we need to go quickly. I'll meet you outside the gates," Gola stated.
As Shaleem walked towards the stables, his brain began to tingle. Not once on the planet did his feelings override his thoughts, even if the highest bounty was on the line. But for an opportunity like this, he couldn't miss it. Besides, if he's caught and sent to prison, he'd break out like always and run away. But he pressed his thoughts aside and ran straight to the stables. After reobtaining Hasek, he waited outside the gate, where Gola eventually emerged from the city, his face not covered with an iron mask resembling a wolf. He also had a Shashamir, a long thin blade for quick duels. With him was a spotted grey horse with a more long nose and muscular legs, indicating it was from the middle regions of Albakhar. He looked over and found Shaleemm walking around as he waved.
"Are you ready to go?" He asked.
"Yes, sir. My blood's moving like a sandstorm!"
"I'm glad to hear that. Come now; it will take some time to arrive," Gola explained.
Shaleemm nodded and climbed onto Hasek, grabbing her reins as Gola boarded his horse—the guards (Tota and Apui from earlier) called for the two's attention.
"Sirs!" Tota yelled.
"Yes, guards?" Gola replied.
"Before you go, be aware of a rouge beast spotted throughout the kingdom. No one knows where or what it is, but it attacks wandering travelers outside the city. It disappears as quickly as it appears, so stay guard," Apui warned.
"We will. Thank you for your assistance," Shaleemm told them.
"Just doing our duties. Alsalamant!" The two guards said in unison.
"Alsalamant!" Shaleemm and Gola said together.
Shaleemm and Gola then shared a glance before Gola turned his horse towards the sunrise and called for his horse to make haste. Shaleemm quickly whipped the reins on Hasek and ran off with Gola toward their destination—the first clue to the Golden Scarab.
The two men rode across the golden dunes as the winds swelled. Clouds were noticeable, but few and far between as the heat began to rise. As they rode, they passed several ruins and stone golem fragments, but they were just outliers in the grand aspect of it all. At least, this is how Shaleemm viewed things.
"It is wonderful," Gola sighed.
"What is?" Shaleemm asked, looking around at a vast empty desert.
"The dunes. Mountains of perfectly golden sand stretch farther than a camel could travel. In a wider view, it may seem not very sensible, but every detail must be attained. Otherwise, the big things have no significance," Gola said.
"What are you, some sort of philosopher?" Shaleemm chuckled.
But Gola didn't answer. The tone of his face shifted from proud and in awe to frightened. Shaleemm looked ahead, and Gola's tone was justified. A sizeable massive dust cloud was rising miles early. Despite how far it was, cracks of thunder and lightning could be heard in its direction. The sandstorm itself wasn't pulled with the winds towards Shaleemm and Gola. Instead, it wandered across the dunes, following no true path as the thunder crackled within.
"Should we be worried?" Gola asked.
"So long as we don't come close, we'll be safe," Shaleemm sighed.
Gola's face eased, but the worry and curiosity in his golden eyes only strengthened.
"Whenever I come across a sandstorm, they always follow the wind. But this one is far from the wind's distance; I wonder why..."
"That, sir, is because it is not a true storm. At least that's what our elders would say," Shaleemm sighed. "They are known as the Clouds of Perspicacity. It follows no wind nor path. However, the scribes say an unbalanced heart would eat your soul and leave you an empty husk. A balanced heart would find something beyond percipience," Shaleemm explained.
"What does a balanced heart look like?" Gola asked as they turned down a dune.
"No one knows. Priests and scribes, thieves and felons, all would try and enter the storm to find their treasure, but no one would come out the same. Even kings and lords said to have been born from the sky have not come out the same," Shaleemm described.
"An interesting entity; maybe someone will unveil its secret someday," Gola said.
Trap worms surfaced now and then while Giant Centipedes crawled along the dunes. The two didn't need to worry about Rock Golems or Dune Sharks as they only appeared at night, so they had plenty of time to ride towards their destination. Hours would soon pass, which wasn't as bad as itself. Shaleemm has spent entire days riding to temples to raid. But from how Gola explained this temple, it should've been closer. As they soon tipped toward the West, Hasek and Gola's horses slowed down, and it was time for some rest. However, as they rode, Gola pointed out an abandoned camp near a small oasis.
"We'll rest there for a while. Let's stop," Gola stated.
Shaleemm and Gola then directed their horses towards the oasis, where they let their horses drink from a spring. The camp was recently abandoned, so there was a campfire pit and turning iron to roast food. But that wasn't needed, as Shaleemm grabbed some of his stick combos while Gola grabbed a wineskin and some dried crocodile meat from his bag. As the two ate, Shaleemm led his eyes to the campfire pit and noticed that some of the coals used were slightly burning red while their whiter shell was chiseled.
"Funny," Shaleemm murmured.
"So, where are you from?" Gola asked.
"Hm?"
"I know thieves like to keep themselves discrete, but it'd be interesting to see where you came from. Your skin's not as brown to be Eastern, but your dark hair and eyes indicate you're Southern. But I can't tell; where do you come from?" Gola contemplated.
"Well, I'm not sure," Shaleemm replied with an unsure heart.
"Really?" You're certainly from Albakhar, but even Albakhar itself has borders. You're not from the mountains of the East or the grasslands of the West. Your skin's either too light or too dark for that to be the case. You're certainly not from the savannas of my homeland, as we're all born with golden eyes. As for the northern ocean lands, you lack their dry skin and blue eyes. It intrigues me, honestly,"
"Me too. Maybe with the power of the Scarab, I can find out where I'm genuinely from. Perhaps..." Shaleemm murmured, his tone slurring off into deep thought.
"Are you ok, my friend?" Gola asked.
"I'm fine, thanks," Shaleemm asked in a polite tone, eating his stick combo.
As he ate, though, a critical thought came to his mind.
"Where are you from?" Shaleemm asked.
"What?"
"You said the power of the Scarab influenced your kingdom. You claim to be from the savannas, but which kingdom are you from?" he asked.
Gola stopped eating, and a weird sense of melancholy plagued his face. He put down his food and took a long inhale before answering.
"My people are scattered into multiple tribes and kingdoms throughout the land. After Dhakkir fell, the people lost connection and went to war with each other to obtain ultimate power for centuries. I'm from a larger tribe but lack the resources and money to reclaim our lost land. But, perhaps with enough power and wealth, my people can be restored to honor. That's why I need your help," Gola explained.
"Well then, I'll do my best," Shaleemm assured.
The two silently finished their meals, with Shaleemm's mind drifting into where he could come from. It was indeed an intriguing thought. The earliest memories of his life were those horrid dreams of his parents leaving him, and they provided no clues on who or where he came from. Shaleemm-el Bekharwas a name he gave himself, meaning "Alone he drifts." Where did he come from?
"LOOK OUT!" Gola shouted.
Shaleemm was immediately tackled. A massive werehyena tackled Shaleemm to the ground. He tried reaching for his glaive, but the beast sunk its jaws into his shoulder, causing immeasurable pain while blood quickly oozed from the wound. The horses wailed and cried while Gola promptly drew his sword and sliced the beast's neck, causing it to let go of Shaleemm and back off. Shaleemm held his shoulder and watched while Gola confronted the werehyena. It snarled and snapped its jaws at Gola, who barked loudly. The monster made its moves and slashed at me with its massive claws. Gola was able to block the attack, but the hyena's strength caused him to lose grip of his sword and drop it. The werehyena tackled Gola, but he stopped the beast with his bear strength. Shaleemm watched in utter shock as Gola threw the beast to the ground and attacked it, wrapping his body around the hyena's back and strangling its neck. The monster roared as it struggled to break free from Gola's grasp. It flailed uncontrollably as Gola pushed his strength, locking the monster's throat into a coil and pressing down, causing its throat pipe to collapse entirely. The creature then let out one final breath as it lay motionless on the ground. Gola then wasted no time and ran to his saddle bag before grabbing several healing herbs. He ran back to Shaleemm and sat on his knees, his face filled with worry.
"Shaleemm, I will ask you to remove your hands from the wound. Quick!"
Shaleemm reluctantly removed his hands from the wound, which released a sharp stinging of pain. Gola then removed the clothing from his shoulder, observed the injury, and began to rub the herbs into a thick and creamy paste. The pain was worsening, and Shaleemm could feel his heart and lungs retracting. Gola then rubbed the paste onto Shaleem's shoulder and massaged it, bringing only more pain to Shaleemm. However, the contraction within his organs quickly ceased, and the pain eventually drove itself away. Gola began to sweat as he removed his hands from Shaleemm's shoulder and rubbed the paste off with a cloth. The horses calmed down and approached the dead beast's body, sniffing it as Shaleemm recovered. He gasped for life as the wound on his shoulder closed, leaving small scabs within the scar of a bite mark.
"I had to move fast. The venom of a werehyena attacks your organs, usually your immune system, first to prevent any defense. You must've been lucky," Gola sighed.
"I don't think my heart and lungs being crushed like a grape is considered lucky," Shaleemm sighed, loosening up as he looked at the dead monster.
"This must've been what the guards spoke of earlier," Shaleemm sighed.
"Indeed. A monster bound by something he has no control over. An unfortunate tale," Gola said.
As Shaleemm rubbed his itching wound, Gola approached the beast's body, made sure it was dead, and began to cut a line down the middle of its wrist. This drew blood from the beast, which Gola contained with several glass vials.
"What're you doing?" Shaleemm asked.
"You must've never encountered a werehyena or studied their existence. They're ubiquitous in my homeland. A werehyena is known for its sneaky attacks and dangerous venom. But its blood is filled with a potency that could cure almost any sickness and treat any wound. But more than that, if rubbed on the eyes, it can be used for hypnosis. It works on almost any creature. I keep some vials and use them as medicine," Gola stated.
Shaleemm mentally noticed this, as he relied on sleep and healing herbs to treat his wounds. Gola would end up with three vials of the monster's blood, which he stored in his horse's saddle bag. He then looked upon the horizon and leveled his hands near the sun. Shaleemm saw this and stood at his level, repeating his actions. This technique, known as the Hand Dial, checks the sun's location in the sky to see when it'll set. By Shaleemm's calculations, it was only a few hours before the sky would dim and grow its pink colors. Gola seemed to notice this as well and turned to Shaleemm.
"We need to hurry. He explained that monsters would soon be roaming the night, making our task much more difficult," he explained.
"You're right. Let's go," Shaleemm said while nodding.
The two quickly saddled their horses, bagged any water or resources they could, and rode off out of the oasis. Shaleemm's past feelings about his trust for Gola were now clear, and he had obtained a good ally. The two rode along the dunes for another hour before coming across the River of Fertility, which led into a batch of rolling hills. And in one of these hills was an obvious artificial door to a larger opening, with large dislodged rocks sitting aside it. They were here and were ready to obtain their next clue about the Golden Scarab. Gola looked at Shaleemm and hurried his horse down to the entrance. Shaleemm quickly followed, with strange, unrecognizable symbols lying all across the front door. Shaleemm caught up with Gola, slowing Hasek down as he leaped off his horse. He watched as Gola curiously rubbed his hands on the symbols before turning to him.
"Can you read any of this?" He asked.
"I'm not too sure myself. They look like that of the ancient language, but it's so scattered. Some of the words blend, almost as if they are combinations of other words," Shaleemm murmured as he tried to read what some said. "Fortune is given, a treasure beyond expectations. Do not believe what the eyes tell you..." he read.
"Is that all?" Gola asked.
"All I can make out. There don't seem to be any traps or subversions of anticipations..." Shaleemm replied.
"If that's the case, walk inside. You're the only man to take care of this challenge. I won't be of use in there," He said.
"Alright. Wait here,"
Shaleemm took one last look and walked inside, finding a large, dark, empty room; the only thing being seen was sand all over the floor. Shaleemm looked to the walls and could barely make out some images of a large diety holding weapons with people wearing large robes standing behind it. But those images were the only things he could make out throughout the walls, and he noticed a door at the end of the room. Looking ahead, he walked forward to see an engraving of words more foreign to him than anything he's encountered. But in the array of dishes, he could only make out one; "Altamaniyat" is a variation of the word "Altamyiat," meaning desire, want, or wish. He said the word out loud, but nothing happened. Tilting his head, he pushed the doorframe, and it turned inwards, grains of sand descending from the door as a room lit by a hole in the ceiling, beaming a ray of sunlight onto a small sandstone pillar. This post had several strange and unique symbols lined up along its length, which paled to what the pillar held—a black marble oil lamp with bronze lining and ancient words written along it. Grabbing it, he observed the terms, which were highly dusted and hard to read.
"Hey, Gola, this doesn't say anything about the-"
Shaleemm stopped lifelessly when he saw several rocks lodged towards the entrance. Shaleemm furiously shouted as he dropped the lamp and sprinted toward the door. But by the time he was there, the door was sealed shut. Shaleemm bashed against the rock, pushing with all his might to move it freely. But it was useless. Shaleemm couldn't move the stone from its lodged spot. He bashed his fists against the rock, shouting several curses at Gola.
"GOLA! WHAT ARE YOU DOING!? LET ME OUT NOW!"
"I'm afraid I can't do that, Shaleemm. From what I've heard from you, your skill is on par with an Elite Nomad warrior. My strength won't be able to beat you," Gola responded from the other end of the entrance as Shaleemm bashed his fists against the boulder. "The Chariff and his men will arrive shortly to take you in. Don't attempt to resist; they'll outnumber you twenty-five to one," Gola shouted.
"But why did you keep me alive!? And what about the Golden Scarab?!"
"I only kept you alive because the Chariff asked me to when I took the deal. He wishes to take care of you. As for the Scarab, I gave up on such power and miracles to achieve my wishes long ago. Money is the only way to achieve your goals. As a thief, you should've known this already. I'm taking your horse and your treasure. Goodbye, Shaleemm.
"GOLA! I'LL NEVER LET YOU GO! DON'T LAY A FINGER ON HASEK! GOLA!" Shaleemm yelled.
But there was no answer. He could only hear the sound of horses galloping in the distance. Shaleemm's face was boiling with rage and sorrow, his fists beginning to bleed as he couldn't comprehend his situation. Tears filled his eyes as his only friend was gone and his fate sealed. Despite his skill in combat, he couldn't take on twenty-five guards alone. After a full minute of bashing his bloody fists against the rock, he stopped; his pride and will gradually leave him as he lay against the stone. It didn't help when he realized he had left his bag on Hasek, and Gola would likely take the treasure too. He had no one and nothing, only his blades and the lamp, which lay in the sand near its pillar. Shaleemm got up and walked over to the light.
"Maybe there's some incense I can use for one last prayer if I don't make it out," Shaleemm sighed.
He made it to the second room and grabbed the lamp. He admired its beauty before spotting the inscribed words once again. But as he looked at it, he noticed a few words. He spotted "Afi, "Thunder," and most intriguing of all, "Rijin." He had spotted the word Rijin in many of his early raids, specifically in older ones made during the war with Dhrakkir. Anytime the word Rijin was used, it was partnered with a picture of a mighty being with elements attached to its bottom halves. But there were no other symbols or depictions of what a Rijin did. To better understand what the inscriptions read, he rubbed his hand on the words to clear the dust. The lamp suddenly shook as the symbols on the light burst bright blue. Shaleemm yelled and dropped the light as it rattled relentlessly, shooting numerous green lightning bolts and sparks around the room. Shaleemm remained as silent as a river mouse as two large green arms emerged from the lamp, slamming onto the ground as they pushed a sizeable female entity from the lamp. This entity had aquamarine skin, luxurious dark hair tied in a ponytail, and a beautiful muscular build. She yelled joyfully as she emerged from the lamp, her bottom half materializing into a cloudy thunder spiral. The entity opened her gold-amber eyes as she smiled with the pride of a lioness.
"I AM HERE! AFI THE RIJIN OF THUNDER!"
(End music two here)