Chapter 11: Jamashar Mantillish

Chumbiksirinish is a city in the southeast of Kaushmanashtoon, which rose in the middle of a desert area, relatively close to the Daranfulash Ocean,. Light yellow low buildings, often three stories high, stood side by side with tall dark towers. The narrow streets were crossed by wide ones, and on the spacious roads, one could see many carriages drawn by karkhashes. A place of knowledge, an abode of wisdom, Chumbiksirinish was the second city after Jöhnstromken on this continent of Ermir, which had a huge library. The kaushmanashtoonians felt a sense of pride that, although after the northerners, they were above the arqilunians, whose library, located in the capital of the forest elves, was the third largest.

In the center of the city, in a large circular plaza stood the sculpture of a sand elf blowing a horn. The arnadacres now constituted a smaller part of the city’s population, while a larger part was wallitarfs, dwarfs who wore short beards, much shorter than their relatives, the tonnebeards, who wove their beards into braids.

Jamashar Mantillish is an old isters man with a swarthy face, grey beard, wavy hair and lively brown eyes, he was putting old books into a cart, assisted by a wallitarf, Ishkmet Duegart, a friend of the old man, a middle-aged dwarf with dark hair, light green eyes, a slightly upturned nose.

“You know little of magic, Jamashar,” said Ishkmet, “why are we going to such a distance across the deserts when there are more experienced magicians? Give them your knowledge and books, and let them find out the rest!”

“My friend,” said the old man, smiling, “I, Jamashar Mantillish, will be the first to restore the secret spell... And then I may be the first in the history of the Third Era who will defeat the dragon! Or at least those who will help to defeat it... We need to find the manuscripts and the books... An ancient scroll of what’s his name…

“You may be the first to drive Ishkmet Duegart to madness, but you won’t be the first to suffer from senile dementia,” the dwarf said.

“The provisions, the books, the hardy karkhashes... I think we’re all set!” loudly and cheerfully shouted the old man, ignoring the remarks of his friend. “It’s time to go!”

“As much as I’d like to go with you, old man, but if I do not go, and you meet a dragon, and a creature, seeing you’re muttering, decided to incinerate you, then I will blame myself. Blame for missing the wonderful sight!” sarcastically snapped the wallitarf and jumped into the carriage.

Silenta was already setting over the horizon when they rode out of town, heading for the Karkazdere river, which was relatively far away. Rivers are a very rare occurrence in the big Kaushmanashtoon territory, so there were several settlements along the small river, including three towns.

They were going to move along the river to the north, replenishing supplies in towns or small villages, and then head straight west and move along the giant Kaushminapal desert.

After the disappearance of the Iglara star, the climate began to change and precipitation began to fall more often on the flat-hilly sandy area, various shrubs and plants began to appear more often, it became colder. But somewhere it’s getting warmer.

It was night. The old man and the dwarf set up camp and, taking out of the carriage the long-burning logs of the firashta, logs of slow-burning brown trees with thick trunks that grow in certain oases of Kaushmanashtoon, the travelers made a fire.

They were sitting and laughing over something while preparing a meal on the fire... Suddenly they heard the distinctive flapping of wings. Quickly putting out the fire, they hid behind a nearby bush. The karkhashes were nervous. The travelers hoped it was just a flying argiphone.

The dragon landed near them, crushing some bushes and raising sand dust.

“My name is Delmirbirznaaks,” the dragon said, its scales were blue with white edges, but now it looked black in the night. “I know you’re here, come out.”

The old man and the wallitarf didn’t move.

“Come out! You’re hiding behind a bush; you know I can see you, don’t you?” and the dragon deliberately made a couple of steps towards the travelers, creating more dust in the almost total darkness. He bent his neck so that his huge head was above the bush, and he turned to stare at them with his huge eye.

Jamashar screamed and stood up. Ishkmet took out an axe and stood up into a fighting pose.

“Ahhh,” the dragon sighed, and straightened up, “and what do you want to do to me with your toothpick?” With these words, the dragon raised its head to the sky and made a terrifyingly powerful sound, spewing out a gigantic flame of fire that seemed to split the sky in half, reaching the stars. For a few seconds, the light showed a frightened dwarf and an old man, and a terrified karkhashes, also showing the silhouette of a colossally huge dragon.

“If you are hungry, master dragon, eat our karkhashes,” Ishkmet said suddenly and threw his axe on the sand.

“What are you doing?” the old man put in, and then turned to the dragon, “Tar Fas Voran Kor Sair,” the memory of the old man did not disappoint, he correctly pronounced the greeting of the dragon in the ancient language of dragons.

“Uras Kor Sair Voran,” - replied the dragon. “You speak our language?”

“Just a little, my fjallik forundran,” the old man replied.

“Ha, ha, ha,” the dragon laughed, “it has been a long time since anyone addressed me so.”

“We need karkhashes, my stralandir, if it’s possible, don’t eat them, and don’t burn me and my friend, please.

“I’m not going to kill you or your karkhashes. I just wondered who it was unreasonable to make a fire on the plain at night so that it could be clearly seen. I wanted to look at the future dead creatures,” the dragon suddenly laughed again, then he spread his wings and began to take off, shouting, “Goodbye, dead creatures.”

When the sound of flapping wings became inaudible, the wallitarf raised his axe, looked at him and said, “It’s really too small.”

“Like all of us for this cruel world, my friend, like all of us,” replied the old man.