《Depth of Madness (Book 2 of the Madness Series)》


 Chapter 1

    On the night he was born, Dragons raged in the sky. Fire lit the expanse above the ground, bathing clouds in an orange glow. Roars that made teacups tremble sounded throughout the whole continent of Basi Haya. and in a tiny shack, forged of dry reeds and rotting wood, a child was born to a whore. A child whose cries were drowned out by the malevolent cries of the Dragons warring above.


    "He is a healthy boy, Raco. You must be proud." The midwife said. An old woman whose back was arched, laden with the weight of time. She was the only midwife in the tiny village south of the Dragon belt bordering on the Rankf sea. The crows feet adorning her eyes and the deep farrows above her brow spoke not only of the number of oscillations she''d lived through, but also her skill when it came to the task she''d partook in since her youth, birthing.


    Raco''s eyes didn''t leave her child. There, on a bed made of bull rawhide, with a small smear of blood beneath her, her eyes stayed glued on the child. A birth that had taken three hours, a toil that was a necessity in the face of nature. Blood and pain, she was familiar with both now. By Sin she was familiar. It had been the story of her life and now it seemed to be nearing its conclusion, the child in her arms was destined to carry her story forth. Yet, what glory would the son of a whore obtain?


    Sweat dripped from her brow, stinging her eyes. She blinked the discomfort away. His cries were endless, yet they caressed her soul, intertwined with her own silent cries. "Hush little one." She said and cradled him tighter to her bosom, the baby became lax in its wails, ceasing in its restlessness brought about by his first breath. It was as if the child knew what life was and Raco could hear his objection to the necessary toil a life led in order to sustain itself. But his limbs were so small and the way he waved them about, as if to rage against his own existence was awfully cute. Raco tickled the child''s tummy with her index finger, the child, not knowing laughter, proceeded to thrash about. Raco smiled at the child. Bright flashes of light from outside aided the torch light within the shack and she was able to take in the child''s rich green skin that was yet to become a pallid green grey as her own was. Yes, the green skin marked him as one of her race, the Rad es Maalas, and his eyes, yellow in their intensity, peered up at her. She felt a kinship with him, a camaraderie of sorts that comes into being with the creation of new life. She would do anything for him. She would charge the Dragons that warred above and bring their endless song of fire and brimstone to a frozen halt.


    "They say the Queen of the East is delivering a child tonight as well." The old woman said.


    "The business of royalty is not my concern." Raco answered.


    "They say the child will be marked for Sin, just as yours is."


    "That is absurd!"


    "The Dragons do not lie, their fire that lights the sky is not one of anguish, but of jubilation. The Queen''s child is marked for greatness." The old hag said. "Do you know the father?" She asked, pointing a crooked finger at the child in Raco''s arms. Silence met her question. "Knowing your profession of Sin, the child must be nameless for there is no male to claim him."


    Profession of Sin. Yes, that was the short take on her life. In Basi Haya, Sin was frowned upon. Seen as the reason behind their banishment from a land across the Rankf sea. A land they longed to return to, a land without Dragons, the henchmen of Sin. It is Sin that led the Queen of the East and the King of the West to form the Purge Accords. A period when Sin was purged from the Rad es Maalas so as to appease the Dragons and calm their rage.


    Tonight, the dragons raged, seeking their penance that was a long time coming. A roar sounded from above and the baby renewed its cries with vigor.


    "Don''t be frightened little one, their cries are of anguish and not strength, when the moon is full so is their pain full as well. They have to release it and fire is the result of this." She raised herself off the bed, holding the baby to her chest.


    "Where are you going?" The old woman asked.


    "I want him to see." Raco said as she passed her on the way to the door.


    "Are you mad? The bastard might die and ¡ª" Her words were lost to Raco. She exited the shack with the babe in her arms.


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    Raco was greeted to something out of a fever dream. The shack was a solitary dwelling, paces away from the rest of the village. The night was bright with the full moon upon the sky and the fire that lit the clouds from the circling dragons above forged a covalence of hues so radiant in their beauty, that her lips parted in awe. The old hag kept calling to her, beckoning her to return to the shelter of her abode. But she turned a deaf ear. Her feet shuffled, dragging her forward, one step at a time, away from the old woman, away from the shack. Towards the Dragon''s discern. The place where you are in the Dragon''s mercy.


    The baby''s cries couldn''t be heard, the very earth trembled before the onslaught raging above. The Dragons. Large winged creatures. Their hide was forged of scales that couldn''t be penetrated. The scales overlapped, sheathing the creature in armor. They had large serrated teeth, the size of a grown man''s arm. No man has ever killed a Dragon. But the Dragons have claimed the lives of many men. Mostly fools who were in the open when their bloodlust ruled the sky. Fools like her.


    Raco turned her gaze away from the sky, she peered into her son''s eyes. Seeing the blaze, dancing along his yellow irises. "We are little things, little one," she said. "There are things that will be stronger than you, and there are those that will be weaker. This is what defines a man''s place in the realm, may your strength be a sharp contrast to your weakness."


    Raco took delight in her son''s silence, his cries had dwindled to a dying stream. The only sound was that of the Dragons above. She moved to speak some more, thinking her words were somehow reaching her son, as if by a link that tied their souls together. Then she decided against it, she just held him up to the sky by his arms, the thin blanket afforded to her by the midwife, dangled from the child.


    After a span of moments, she made as if to return to the shack, satisfied with her daring attempt to give her son a view of a sky lit by Dragons. But a growl behind her held her in place. She turned, slowly, to come eye to eye with a Dragon. It had descended from the sky, silently, it had crawled and slithered upon the ground until it was five paces away from her. How a creature as large as it could move without a sound left her quite bewildered. Large claws dug into the ground as the creature inched closer. She couldn''t tell the hue of its scales by moonlight alone, but it was rich in its darkness. Its head, the size of a cart, meandered with the aid of its long neck, and its arms that held protruding wings conjoined to the flank of its midriff, stuck free of the creature by its elbows, climbing high into the sky, the length of ten grown men perched one upon the other. The creature opened its maw and the width of its jaw stood the length of her entire body.


    Raco was made witness to rows of large serrated teeth, fit to dismember a man limb from limb. I will be purged of sin. She thought, the words passed down from her forefathers who''d stood before Dragons. All of the Rad es Maalas have ancestors who''ve met their death before Dragons. It was a customary act in the past. It is said that if a man stood before a Dragon and didn''t meet his end through being birthed in flame, then that man was the champion of Sin and could tame the Dragons. The belief was later made obsolete, as the death toll climbed towards overwhelming numbers, extinction threatened them. No man has lived while within the Dragon''s discern. The same place she currently stood. Before the eyes of a Dragon.


    The babe in her arms, twisted, turned and faced the Dragon. The child raised his small, pudgy arms towards the Dragon. Then gave what only Raco could interpret as a child''s laugh. A sound forged of obliviousness to the seriousness of matters. A pleasure in not knowing the ways of things.


    The Dragon''s mouth abruptly closed. Then the creature stood still, its eyes trained on them. The child cried out, raising his arms and waving at the beast before him. And Raco trembled as the Dragon gave an answering growl. The child cried out again, lifting his small fingers. The Dragon inched forward and its snout touched the child''s outstretched arms.


    Silence engulfed Raco where she stood. The babe trembled within her arms, she felt faint with dread. Yet, nothing was happening. The dragon and the child were locked in a silent contest, one willing their soul to overcome the other''s spirit. She didn''t know how she understood what was happening. All she could see was a Dragon being tamed. Somehow her child...


    The Dragon edged back, suddenly. It opened its mouth with its face turned towards the sky and gave out a manic roar that had Raco stumbling back to land on her behind. The babe still in her arms, cried out with glee, as if seeking to match the Dragon''s roar. Suddenly, the Dragon''s midriff glowed. A flame coalescing, it climbed the length of its neck and when it reached its mouth, the flames poured out of the Dragon, shooting into the sky in a fierce orange jet of heat.


    The Dragon flapped its arms, gaining momentum, the wind from the beating wings tagged at Raco''s dark hair. The heat from the Dragon threatened to scorch her skin, yet the child in her arms cried out, his mouth spread out in a large toothless smile. The child''s eyes! Raco exclaimed. The irises weren''t yellow as hers were ¡ª as it was for all the Rad es Maalas. Neither were they round. The eyes! They were vertical slits, dark as a Dragon''s.


    The Dragon climbed into the sky, rising higher and higher. Becoming smaller as it drifted ever further into the large abyss above. Raco got off the ground and turned her face to her son, she held him some length from her body, as if frightened of something. Then brushing away the absurdity of a mother fearing her spawn, she brought him closer until their faces were inches apart. His eyes have changed. The vertical slits peering up at her were a testament of this.


    Suddenly, the shack door opened and out came a trembling old woman, her face trailing streams of tears. She raised her trembling limbs to the sky and cried out. "Sijalad!" Meaning: Champion of sin.


    Raco stared at the old woman as she inched closer, crying the same name over and over. She''d been a witness to what had just occurred, so it wasn''t a dream or a malady brought about by birth. What the old woman had seen had definitely happened, it wasn''t a figment of her imagination, a weary mind brought about by the perils of birth. No, they had stood before a Dragon and lived. And her son. Her dear infant child, was changed by it. "Sijalad!" The old woman knelt down before her, and raised her voice in the ancient worship of Sin. Raco''s eyes turned to her son, his lids were closed, the child was fast asleep. She touched his pudgy hand with one finger, prying it open, then she rested her finger within her son''s embrace. Abruptly, the baby''s fingers curled around her finger, tightening with quite the grip for an infant.


    "I will name him Kaza." Raco said. The word meant, To tighten. The child was destined to have a grip on the impossible. As Kaza had proved that night.


    "Kaza Sijalad!" The old woman cried out.


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 Chapter 2

    could pretend to be a whore. That''s what Masutap thought as she stood before the gate leading to the fortress of the Highlord of the Eastlocal. Pretense was a thing she indulged in back when she''d been an ordinary woman, with ordinary ambitions. But as of now, things had changed. Things had changed drastically, for she was now a champion of the Goddess of Order. A champion who would do anything in her power to mock the very being that fed her power.


    Power, yes. It was what she felt. Every time her eyes turned upon the world, she saw Order. Like bees in a hive, working towards a similar objective. Survival. Yes, they all wanted to survive. And that''s where the power lay, in her ability to deny a thing''s chance at survival, for when her eyes flashed red, things died.


    "Pardon me sir." A man dragging a cart of coal said. She was standing in his way, she knew this of course, she''d known it since the time he''d decided to deliver the coal. She saw the strings of prophesy in the smallest of things, and oh what power lied in discernment, to see the past and the future in absolute clarity, the secret lay in following strands of Order. The Highlord of the Eastlocal always received a cart of coal at around this time every fifth day. He would serve as her witness. Coal. She smiled, remembering how Orgeeg had managed to penetrate into the Palace of Binoria, on a stack of coal. She recalled how Orgeeg thwarted her plans, then she remembered how small her plans had been.


    "Pardon me... Uh lady?" She removed her cowl as the Coal merchant spoke. Her hair was longer now, she''d let it grow, it dangled askew of her ears. Dark and rich as her mother''s once was. Masutap smiled at the man whose face was caked in coal dust.


    "Today Shama dies! Tonight the Highlord of the EastLocal is no more!" Masutap said.


    Twin daggers she had strapped to her waist were suddenly in her hands. The coal merchant stumbled back several steps, dragging the cart with him. The sun was dipping into the horizon, becoming a smeared red smudge upon the canvas of her perception. Her eyes flashed red, and the smeared smudge''s light brightened, blanketing everything, making her see.


    She spun and threw the dagger in her left hand. The knife whirled in the air and met the throat of a guard who was just cresting the upper walkway of the gate, he wore red leather that marked him as one of the royal guards of the Highlord. A shout sounded. The guards at the gate turned their attention to her. They were six of them, each of them dazed with the slow reception of understanding. The bubble they lived in, understanding it enabled her to see how blind humanity is. Like sheep, no wonder the Vigons ruled them so easily.


    She was in their midst before they drew their swords from their scabbards. She drove the dagger into the throat of the first one, danced in a pirouette, thrust free the dagger and hurled it into the throat of another guard. Her hands were free, she curled her fingers into fists.


    The Goddess Meena, Goddess of Order, spoke to her. What is the purpose of this?


    "Oh, you''ll see." Masutap said and drove a fist into the chest of one guard, her hand caved through the chest cavity, snapping the spine in half and emerging free of the Guards back. She paused for effect, the three remaining guards gawked at her. She pried her arm free of the corpse and met their panicked gazes. "Sound the alarm, you''re too few to make me sweat. I need all of you. Gods! Come on you fucking cowards!"


    Two of the three guards charged her, one took a swing at her head with a flat blade, the sharp edge missed her by a hair''s breadth as she ducked. She brought up her knee and connected with the man''s groin, raising him off the ground, legs held apart, face contorted in pain. He collapsed on the ground with a squeal akin to that of a dying rabbit. The other guard put on a stance of Grind, legs parted, right foot before the left. Knees bent. He brandished his sword before him, and the guard behind him ran off to sound the alarm. Masutap smiled.


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    He slept on a bed filled with whores. Talisi women with their dark skin and white hair, Remu women with their sandy peppered hair and copper skin, Binorian women with their blonde hair and pale milky skin. He was their God and they flocked to him in worship. He owned all of them, from the frailest to the most able bodied. From the smartest to the daftest. They were all his.


    The Highlord of the Eastlocal observed the head of the Talisi woman resting on his thigh, her breathing was deep, her dark naked breasts rising and falling with every inhale and exhale. Five other women slept around him, each as beautiful as the last.


    Of all the men in the realm, I alone am the honored one. Shama thought. He caressed his bulging belly with his pudgy fingers the size of sausages. His appearance did pass as grotesque. Bloated, balding with a cleanly shaven head, wide of girth and bow legged. Yet, no man has conquered the bodies of women as he had done. Women who lusted after tall handsome men. Women who sought capable men with astounding intelligence. They all gave in to him, none could deny him and when they did, well, there were ways to make them yield.


    An orgy at noon. That was the gist of it, and another orgy before the midnight bell. Life was good, life was beautiful. Shama had thought that after the death of King Vayin Vigon in the hands of the infamous Kolotian, Ishar, that his wealth will dwindle, that his status will come down a step. That the might of Binoria will be a fickle thing after their first loss at war. But of course, this wasn''t to be. The Queen, Dahli Vigon, had received the blessing of Meena, passed down from her father. As long as one with the Jojoh Meena, the blessing of Meena, still ruled, then things will stay as they''ve always been. Dahli had taken over, ensuring that Binoria didn''t fall into anarchy, ensuring the Vigon name remained revered. The beautiful blonde haired girl was now the most potent soul upon the realm. How he longed to have her in his bed, parting those pale thighs sinuated with muscle. She''d become quite the fair lady. And her presence oozed power.


    Shama wanted her but a thought kept his desires at bay. She''d frowned at him at the recent Highlords meeting with the throne. Apparently, his tastes and businesses didn''t bode well with her. The selling of flesh, that is what he partook in with the zeal of a drowning man reaching for a floating oar. Importing women from all over the realm, some came willingly, others reluctantly. But in the end they all came. Their dignity thrown away for the promise of gold vigons. They filled the whore houses and men flocked to them in throngs, lining his pocket with gold vigons


    It was his inventiveness that brought him to the top, the Highlord of the Eastlocal was once a position few envied. But his eye, trained in the art of commerce, enabled him to transform the east of Binoria. Creating a network that not only benefited him, but also the crown. And in so doing, despite her frowns and her reluctance to treat with him, she still couldn''t voice her displeasure. Dahli needed him, she needed him for the coin necessary to maintain her position upon the crown. To line the pockets of her Legions. She needed him, and one day he will have her. No woman can deny him, and if they did, there were ways to make them give in.


    Suddenly, the twin oak doors leading to his bed chambers flew open. The Captain of the Red Guard, in charge of his safety, Shang, walked in. "Highlord." He said with a bow, the women around him stirred. Outside, a bell started ringing, slowly at first then with extreme vigor. Something is wrong. Shang''s obvious panic was clear to see. The opened door allowed him to see several Red guards crowded at the door.


    "What is the meaning of this?" Shama asked, his beady eyes on Shang. An inhuman scream sounded somewhere within the fortress. Shama''s blood chilled in his veins.


    "There''s an intruder." Shang said while ravaging through the clothes on the floor. He lifted a red jerkin, two sizes too large, the right size for the Highlord. He threw it at Shama and the Highlord hastened to put it on. He ignored the bewildered looks of the naked whores.


    "Intruders or intruder?" Shama asked as Shang led him out of his bed chambers. Another scream sounded, closer. The guards at the door, seven of them, crested around him as Shang led the way.


    "A woman, she''s alone." Shang said.


    Shama gripped Shang''s arm, halting him. "What do you mean by this? A singular woman causing... causing... this?"


    "She''s..." Shang hesitated.


    "Speak! You fool!"


    "She seems to be inhumanly strong and fast. I only saw her fight through a blockade  of my brothers, without a sword. She tore my brothers¡ª the Red Guards, to pieces." Shang''s eyes became glazed, as if his mind was replaying the mayhem he''d bore witness to. Shama let go of his arm. The trembling was taking him again, starting at the soles of his feet, up his spine around his neck to his hands. It had been so long since he felt this, the animalistic fear confounded on the existence of an unknown, an unknown that sought to see him dead.


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    "Captain, what is your course of action?" Shama asked.


    Shang seemed to shake himself free of his trance. "We''re going to take you to the stables, get you on the fastest steed and¡ª" A scream echoed through the halls of the fortress of the Highlord of the Eastlocal. Checking everyone in place.


    "What of provisions?"


    "There''s no time." Shang said. He drew a flat blade from the scabbard at his side. The Guards all around mimicked him, the rustling of steel could be heard, and there, at the Western end of the fortress, screams sounded.


    Shang started a brisk walk towards the East end of the Fortress. His boots, soles lined with metal, clancked upon the ground. Shama shuffled close behind Shang, panting like a mare in heat. The Red Guards around him stole glances to their rear, sweat woven with fear formed a sleek mask upon their startled faces. And in those eyes Shama was able to weigh how dire matters were.


    A shout sounded from ahead, bringing Shang to an abrupt stop. "How¡ª" His words caught in his throat as a woman caked in blood and gore emerged from the bend linking the hallway they were in to another hallway that led to the stables.


    She stood before them and spread out her bloody fingers at Shama. "Highlord, nice to meet you." She waved. "Say, I hear you can show a woman a good time and I''m in quite the mood for a good time tonight."


    Shama trembled, the woman seemed vaguely familiar. The angles of her cheekbones , that nose, those eyes. She resembled Dahli.


    "Moran and Jesul to me!" Shang commanded. Two of the guards behind Shama moved forward to flank Shang on either side. "Employ any forms, ensure I get close to her so I may employ the form of Awe."


    Awe¡ª the grappling technique that ensured the limbs were pinned. Shama saw Shang''s ploy. He needed to contain the woman so Shama could move past them and head for the stables. Shama cursed himself for the design of his fortress that allowed for only one route to the stables.


    Shang, Moran and Jesul raised their broad swords. One raising it above the head in a form of Rage, the other bringing the blade level with his face in the form of Pride. Shang lowered his blade and the guards flanking him charged, he followed close behind. The woman let out a cry that could only be translated as one of glee. She charged them.


    Moran brought his sword down on the woman but she slid on her knees, allowing momentum to push her beyond the reach of his blade. Jesul thrust at her, raising his right leg and angling the sword downwards at her face. But the woman dodged, spun upon the ground on the small of her back and kicked Jesul''s leg from under him. Jesul fell and as he raised his head he met with the woman''s fist, there was a loud crunch as his face caved in. His hand let go of the sword as his body became limp.


    Shang saw the opening and dived at the woman before she could stand. The woman spread her arms wide, welcoming. Shang pounced but instead landed on the woman''s upraised knees, she grabbed his leather armor by the collar and flung him behind her and onto Moran. Both of them collapsed on the ground.


    She stood up and smiled at Shama.


    "Who are you?" Shama asked.


    "I''m Masutap, the sister of Queen Dahli." The woman answered.


    "Men! Turtle formation! Swords out, save the Highlord! Move you fools!" Shang said as he picked himself up from the ground behind Masutap.


    The men around Shama compacted closer. Their swords pointing at Masutap who regarded them with a smirk upon her face. They inched forward, hesitantly at first, then with confidence as they saw their Captain pick up his sword. They all came to a stand still when the eyes of the woman glowed a fierce red, as if she held the Jojoh Meena. And Shama, the Highlord of the Eastlocal, trembled before her gaze.


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    Intuition, the immediate cognition without the use of conscious rational processes. It was simple for her, she dodged the sword thrusts and swipes easily. She turned either way, always beyond reach of the blades, always within striking distance. Her strength was a thing of beauty, somehow her frail wrists held the power necessary to crush a throat and crush a throat she did. She didn''t tire, she didn''t require forms of combat. The power of the Goddess of Order coursed through her veins and with it came rejuvenation.


    The Red Guards pounced on her, seeking to put in place the form of Awe. But their efforts were in vain, she side stepped them easily, always on her feet. She saw an opening and like a river emptying into the Rankf sea she took it, delivering a punch to the side of a Guard''s chest, feeling as ribs broke and punctured the lung.


    What is the purpose of this? The Goddess Meena spoke within her mind. An ever present being whose words sought to throw her off, to calm the tempest raging within her. Masutap didn''t want calm, she wanted fire and brimstone, she wanted Binoria to burn so their precious Queen will rule nothing but ash. She decreed this with a war cry, plunging into the midst of the Red Guards. She kicked two, flinging them across the hallway. One thrust with his blade but she caught it between her arm and side, she twisted the blade free of his grasp, gripped the hilt and decapitated the man in one swift motion.


    She parried a strike to her left, danced free of two thrust then brought the blade down onto a Guard''s head. She felt as the blade bit bone and she wasted no time in pulling it free. What is the purpose of this?  Meena asked once more.


    Masutap took three steps back to widen her periphery. "An inferno." She said as she flexed her sword hand. Suddenly, the Guard who was definitely their Captain, reached into the mass of clustered Guards pressed to the wall, away from her. And pulled the Highlord free of the men surrounding him.


    "Form a blockade!" He screamed as he tagged and pulled at the distraught Highlord, leading him towards the end of the hallway. The remaining Guards blocked her vision of them. Like a fool she''d been too enthralled by the battle, allowing the Highlord to slowly slip past her, cocooned in the safety of the Guards in their turtle formation. He was making clear his escape and somehow, this aroused her, blowing upon an ember lodged deep within her until it sparked.


    What is the purpose of this? Like a parrot, the Goddess repeated her question.


    "An inferno." Masutap answered and lunged.


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    He was sweating profusely, his breath caught in his throat, causing him to choke on air. He followed Shang, feeling the Captain of the Red Guard''s displeasure at his inability to keep up. They descended a flight of stairs, taking three at a time. He almost collapsed but the Captain steadied him.


    "Not far now my Lord. Just at that bend before us." Shang said. They took the bend and ran clear of the fortress. The horses were just ahead, they rushed to them. Shama took delight in the open air. The stables were void of people, Shama wondered where the stable hands were. They entered the stable and Shang dragged him to the first cubicle on the right where a saddled horse stood.


    Shama hastily climbed onto the saddle with the aid of the Captain. Shang placed his Highlord''s feet in the stirrups and moved to flank the horse. "Lord." He said, fighting for solid ground that will enable his words to come forth easily. "It has been an honor to serve under you." Shama smiled but his smile proved too little a gesture to carry the weight or their current predicament. "Ride hard for the Capital, ensure the Queen knows of all that''s gone down here. I will stay back and hold her for as long as I can." Shang concluded with a crisp salute. The Highlord nodded and with the guidance of his captain upon the horse''s reins, they exited the stable "She is a good steed, see the mark of her coat? She can take you far." Shang said once free of  the stables. A scream sounded from within the fortress, horrid in its guttural screech. "Go now my Lor¡ª" Shang''s words died in his mouth as an explosion erupted at the first floor of the fortress, stone parted, breaking as easily as a clay vase, the window panels and the glass set in place erupted outwards with the stone. Three figures tumbled free of the eruption, tangled in the air, twisting with the fall. They landed, the woman on her feet, knees bent and a fist pressed to the ground, the other two guards lay insensate upon the ground, their bodies a mangled mess. Shang slapped the horse''s hide and Shama took of in a gallop.


    The Highlord turned back, watched as the woman rose free of the debri and charged Shang. The captain employed a form of Grind but the Highlord''s view was hindered by a sharp turn around the cobblestones towards the gate of his fortress. The blood and bodies upon the ground unsettled the horse, forcing its pace to be more hurried and Shama was all the more grateful for it.


    She has the Jojoh Meena! Shama thought with awe as the horse broke free of the fortress in a quick gallop that had him bouncing upon the saddle. His thighs felt the brunt force of his escape but he could do nothing but hold on for dear life. This is what I''m reduced to, at the end of the line dependency thrives, in old age your children are those you depend on. I never thought I''d come to rely on anyone throughout my life. Yet here I am, depending on a horse to save my skin. He turned his head back and heaved a sigh of relief. The fortress was dwindling within his periphery, he had made quick his escape. Shama will live to see another day. And when the sun rises and sets, I will bring judgment upon the woman whose very existence rivals my own. Masutap. I will hunt her, she will know no safety within the realm, she will never know peace or a good night''s slee¡ª Something unnerved him. There, at the entrance to the fortress, a figure appeared. Following the path charted by his horse. She hopes to outrun my horse? He tilted his head back and laughed. There is faith and delusion and she seems to be enamored by both. To think her capable of outrunning a horse. What a fool what a¡ª His thoughts halted when he turned back, his mouth dropped, his jaw hanging loose. Masutap was catching up, he did not know how but she was gaining on him. She''d been a speck in the distance, barely visible against the backdrop of the fortress. But now her features were getting more defined and her limbs, they were a blur as she pushed forward with inhuman speed.


    Panic drove Shama into action, he kicked his heels at the horse''s flanks. Willing it to go faster. "Run you fool! Run!" He was frothing at the mouth as the horse went downhill, cutting his view of the one in pursuit. He gripped harder at the reins and screamed, slapping the horse''s neck. He looked back to see Masutap emerge upon the hill and start a quick descent after him. He thought about guiding the horse into the wilderness and thought against it seeing that a gallop won''t be possible with trees in the way. His only hope was in outpacing her for surely, even one with the Jojoh Meena must tire. He hoped Masutap would relent, he hoped her bloodlust would have proved sated by the guards who''d met their end by her. He hoped that he would live to see the sun climb into the sky one more time. Darkness was setting in and suddenly thoughts of the sun and it''s warmth sprouted a yearning within him that made him weep. He turned his head back, she was a hundred paces away. The horse was tiring, it''s gallop lazed in vigor. This is the end then, all those afternoons spent indoors hosting orgies. I should have spent them beneath the sun, I should have spent them in the sun. He looked back once more, his horse barely keeping pace. The horse threw a shoe and Shama was flung off it. He tumbled onto the ground, his weight rested upon his twisted knee, the sharp pop of the joint led him into an anguished wail. The horse screamed, its fore limbs oddly twisted. The horse thrashed upon the ground and Shama rolled away. He felt weak, he felt defeated and most of all, he felt hopeless.


    He lay there, watching the sky, the moon was up, barely half of it adorned the night. He wished it had been full, all those nights when he''d regarded the sky as one would a thing of no consequence. Now he found himself wishing he''d appreciated it more. In the end regrets rule the mind, for in its dying wails no sound of gratitude can be heard.


    She came and stood above him, her face blocking the view of the sky. She breathed loudly and for a moment the only sounds around them were from the injured horse and her.


    "Dahli will come for you." He opined despite the throbbing pain within his twisted leg.


    "Shama, darling," Masutap said as she lowered herself to lie beside him. She chuckled. "Darling, that word. The Goddess Meena loves that word. She uses it a lot. I find it distasteful yet here I am. Calling you darling."


    "I have not time for pleasantries." Shama interjected. "Cut my throat and be done with it."


    Masutap sighed. "That''s not a creative way to kill someone you know. No, how many women have suffered pain beneath you? I have to give answer to that and that means a show. I will drag you to your fortress, there I will strip you naked and castrate you. I will feed you your cock as the women whom you took advantage of watch. Then we''ll douse you in Rankf Oil and set you alight."


    Shama started weeping. And a new voice joined the fray, he wept, she heaved and the horse screamed.


    XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX


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 Chapter 3

    They called him the champion of the Talisi. A lost prince, a man touched by the Gods. They spoke his name in the same context as the Vigons. They regarded him as one would a holy object, placed there to remind all that hope is not lost. Mairek lay in a bed weaved of vine reeds. He felt hopeless, encroached on all sides by a looming dread he could not quite determine its source. There were expectations that had to be met. With hope came the assurance of victory and the Talisi wanted war. They wanted to parade him at the forefront of the Talisi Green army. Dress him in green metal and have him wield half a spear.


    Yes, half a spear. His signature trade mark. It was half a spear he''d used upon the Ganidan plain, all those months ago. It was half a spear that he''d used to turn the tide against the Binorians. And here, in his room within the Palace. It is half a spear that lay beside him.


    He''d tried to return to Jamou, the village he and Ishar hailed from. But the Talisi would not have it. An entire cohort came for him, his father had stood outside their home, tears of disbelief streaming down his face as he watched his son being dragged away to Central Talisi. To stand before the new King of the Talisi, the late King Gans''s son, King Mogich. There, before the King, he was forced to retell the events of the Ganidan Plain. Where forty thousand Talisi men had stood against half a million Binorian Legions. Where Talisi had lost its king. The Red Priests of Meena had gathered around the silver throne of the King, intent on discrediting his every word for his theatrics upon the plain did not come as a result of his connection to their Goddess Meena. No. It was another God''s blessing that had been bestowed upon him.


    A blessing that ensured he was free of the bubble of time. A blessing that enabled him to foretell the future, experience the present and derive meaning from the past in a way nobody ever has or will. He was against the flow of time, not as Ishar was with his blessing of chaos, no, for him perception graced his every thought and action. And time, ever present, sought a way to purge him free of the realm. But for now it ignored him as did he it.


    He rejected the giant chamber that had been offered him. The windows were dangerous, a stray arrow from the Army practicing grounds could find him in his bed as he lay asleep. He rejected servants for one might accidentally trip and wash him with scalding hot water meant for his bath. Every option afforded him came with the tinge of time and its need to be rid of him. He evaded all options before they availed themselves and here, he found himself now. In a single room, narrow with four walls all around. No windows, no servants. The only opening a door and ventilation shaft above the door. Time had no means of ending him where he lay.


    A wasp entered the room from the ventilation shaft, it buzzed as it explored its new found abode. Mairek grabbed the half spear laying beside his bed. He lifted and flicked it across the dimly lit room, the only light a lantern that was dwindling in fuel. The half spear spun across the room and collided with the wall before settling on the ground. At its tip sat the impaled wasp. The sharp point had impaled it through its thorax and its threat was no more. Mairek sighed and lifted his eyes to the ceiling. What I would give, Ishar, to be back in Jamou with you. You tending sheep and me tending my broken heart, where are you Ishar? I crave chaos, an end to this tide that I swim against.


    It started as a cough from a servant in the Palace''s coal chamber. A chamber maid tripped and fell with a curse. A Red priest yawned and within seconds Mairek knew what was happening. The movements people indulged in, the things thought to be accidents. The gestures and words and platitudes. They were all weaves upon the tapestry of time. A knock sounded at his door. He got up and answered it. Parting the door enough to confirm the heart beats he''d expected were indeed of the five men before him.


    Tall men, taller than he, bulky with swords strapped to their sides. Adorned in leather armor. The best killers in Talisi. Killers hired to kill him. They had objected of course, objected the task of ridding Talisi of the only one of them who could channel a God. But Tari, Princess of Talisi and sister to King Mogich, had offered them a price they could not refuse. She hated him, of course, hated him because he was part of her father''s death. Part of the reason she no longer had a father. Sure, it was Ishar who''d led King Gans to a war facing impossible odds. But Ishar wasn''t around. Nobody knew where the Kolotian and his lover, Niada, had gone to. So it was up to him to suffer the consequences.


    "The King requires your presence." The one at the forefront said with a slight bow. The rest of the men rested their hands on the hilt of their blades. A clear sign that they were agitated, wary even. Mariek smiled.


    "You carry swords, isn''t it customary for the Green Army to prefer spears save in close combat? An ideal condition such as now?" Mariek asked.


    The one who''d spoken to him chuckled. "We''re used to the weight of the blade, Champion of the Talisi."


    Champion of the Talisi. The title was a bane to him. He wanted to thrash against its constraints, to run away, flee from the duty it demanded of him. It was mid afternoon. The Palace wasn''t as packed as it was during the early hours of the day. The King would never demand his presence at night so this was the best time for their ruse. Where would they lead him to? Where would he meet his end?


    "Where is the King?" Mairek asked.


    "He''s at the Conicual Garden, west of the Palace bridge." Their leader answered. Mairek nodded. That would be an ideal place to die. It''ll give him a chance to see the river curving through Talisi, to observe the sinking sun and to be kindred once more with all that went on around him. He felt time''s gentle nudge, beckoning him into its embrace where his death will spell an end to his torment. An end to the struggle against time, a struggle he was sure he could not win. Why then shouldn''t he relent? Throw in the towel and call it quits? What value marked him, that a God would pick him above the rest? No, Nielda had made a mistake. What was even the point of going all the way to the garden? Wouldn''t it be fitting for his end to be quick?


    "I hear the King," Mairek said. "He is speaking to the Chief Palace servant about a cartload of wine due from Remu. He is in the throne room, not the garden." The men shuffled uneasily. "You''re here to kill me." He took a step back, leaving his door ajar. He went to the center of the room, knelt down and bore his neck to them. "Make it quick, a quick thrust in the neck ought to do it. But then again, you guys are the experts."


    They hesitated. Each uncertain of their purpose. Mairek hated uncertainty, decisions spell the destiny time offers. To titter on the brink of a decision is to waylay time''s purpose. "Be quick about it! Bastards!" That did it. They lunged towards him, swords rasping as they flew free of their scabbards. The point of the swords came to him and Mairek welcomed them, a smile played across his face. It was going to be over. He closed his eyes, waited for the sword tips to bite skin, draw blood. End his life. He waited a span of seconds and nothing seemed to happen. He opened his eyes, observed the blades inches from him, frozen in time.


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    "You fucking cunt." Nielda, the God of Space and Time spoke from behind him. He turned, found the God lounging on his reed bed. His skin was as dark as the midnight sky, and stars riddled it. His hair, like puffs of a cloud hovered about his head. His green eyes observed him with a haughty air Mairek had become used to.


    "Nielda." He said, turning to regard the God who''d chosen him as his Champion.


    "You can kill them all, all five of them as you did the wasp. Yet, here you kneel, like a weakling, welcoming their blades. You paint a sorry sight. Diva¡±.  Nielda said. Diva, the word was misused by the God, having dwelt so long in the place between sky and moon, the God had lost touch with humanity, his vigil against a darkness he was hesitant to comment on had stripped Nielda of knowledge regarding the advancement of the human race.


    "I just want it to end, I know no peace, Nielda. No peace at all." Mairek said. He got up off the ground, went to the rear end of the reed bed and placed himself there. Close to the naked feet of the God. The dusk colored robe adorning Nielda shifted as he sat up to regard his champion.


    "Peace? When a buck grazes in the Talisi wilderness, no predator in sight. Does he regard the moment afforded it as peaceful? Does it relish in it, hence lowering its guard to fully appreciate the ambiance that comes with a lack of danger? Peace is a fickle thing, the buck knows this. Its ears are ever alert lest the sound of a Yendw wolf''s approach marks the end of its peace. Is that then, what peace is? A moment between danger, afforded by pure circumstance? If such a thing is peace then what benefit is craving something you know will have an end?" Nielda raised his hand and scratched at his scalp, the hair floating about it parted for a brief moment. The God rarely had mannerisms similar to that of mankind but as time went, Mairek noticed changes in the God''s disposition. "Think of your time since leaving the Ganidan Plain, Diva, has there been any instance when your life was threatened save now? Can this then be regarded as a peaceful period, a time when time has ignored you and thus given you a period of rest? Of course time wouldn''t ignore you forever, it must seek to right an anomaly and you should liken this as a Yendw wolf''s paw upon a branch, young buck, and this should drive you to flee knowing that the peace afforded you has reached its end."


    Mairek sat with his knees brought up and his arms circling the crest of his legs. He nodded his acquiesce. His eyes moved to the five men, frozen in time, their blades pointed at where he once knelt awaiting a quick death. The buck would not await the maw of the Yendw wolf, it will flee if possible and if not it would fight, hoping for a brief respite from death that might grant it another period of peace. Is this then what peace is? "I hear everything Nielda." Mairek started. "I see everything, even with my eyes closed. I feel everything as if my hand is forever grasping things and my tongue tastes things that I am yet to consume. Is this gift of yours a mark of peace? How will my sanity be anchored to me with all that I perceive?"


    Nielda sighed.  "You''re a dumbass Mairek. A dumbass, if you can hear everything why don''t you focus on the sound that pleases you the most? If you can see everything why not focus on an image that delights your soul? Perception is not confounded on the whole, you can focus on specific aspects of it that appease you."


    "Is that what you did when you hovered above space for thousands of years? Did you focus on a specific sound while you were up there among the stars?" Mairek pushed. He knew if he kept up a barrage of questions regarding Nielda''s time guarding the darkness above from an ancient evil, he might gleam something... Anything that would paint a vivid picture for him, a picture whose purpose he was yet sure of.


    Nielda stared at Mairek and his eyes flashed a bright blue. The assassins started moving slowly and Mairek knew that time was regaining its flow. "No." Nielda said. "The one whose voice I wanted to hear was silent.¡±


    Time resumed its course and the assassins thrust into open air. Missing their mark. They turned, puzzled expressions about their faces to regard Mairek at the foot of the reed bed. Mairek sighed. "Your deaths won''t be on my head." He said as he stood up.


    XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX


    The sun pierced the earth with its morning glow. Palace servants shambled about, eager to get on with their work. Guards stationed in various Palace compartments stood at alert, stifling yawns and conversing in low tones. The Palace kitchen was alight with activity, cooks chattered as dough rose and logs were fed into furnaces. Chamber maids emptied chamber pots. The King sat upon his throne and offered a silent prayer to Meena with the aid of the Red Priests, as it was custom for the King of Talisi with every new dawn. The gardeners tended the Conicual garden, pruning branches and inspecting bright colored petals. The daily routine of the Palace was under way, without a single anomaly felt or seen by all within the Palace.


    It started as a scream when the maid sent to bring him his morning meal came across him leaving his tiny compartment. The maid ran away, screaming like a banshee and flinging his tray of food to the ground. Mairek flexed his shoulders and started walking towards Princess Tari''s bed chamber. Where he knew she was inspecting an assortment of dresses, picking the best she would dawn for the first half of the day. With the maid''s screams came the shuffling of feet, guards, cooks, gardeners, maids, Red Priests. They all flocked towards him, and when their eyes beheld him, they halted, words escaped them. Trembling gripped their limbs and all they could do was stare. They flanked him on all sides, and followed behind him at a distance. He did not turn his head to either side, he ignored them as he ignored the blood that trailed his path, marking his wake.


    At another time, in another place. The five decapitated heads he held by their hair, three on his right hand and two on his left, would have sickened him. Their weight would have pulled at his soul and he would have been distressed by the action he was undertaking. But now, he felt nothing. He experienced everything and felt nothing. I am a buck, antlers riddled with the blood of a Yendw wolf, affording me an extended period of peace. And that was all he could define the moment as.


    The Guards he came across took one look at him and let him pass, none too eager to test his patience. He climbed the steps leading to Princess Tari''s chambers. A throng of Palace personnel behind him. The two Guards flanking either side of the Chamber''s door halted him, placing heavy gauntleted hands on his chest.


    "You cannot pass." One of them said, he towered over him and Mairek raised his head to observe him. He was aware of what a sight he was. Blood was sprinkled upon his face and stained his arms. The heads dripped blood on the floor and the smell of iron was rich wherever he went.


    Mairek closed his eyes, felt the touch of the gauntlets upon his chest, he allowed himself to drift into the metal, to learn of its origin and how they came to be where they were now, upon him. The past is a vast sea, to swim its depths one requires a mind that can fragment, be two places at once, and in that current at the bed of time he was able to learn what he needed. He opened his eyes and turned his head to either guard. "These gauntlets, you place them on the bath house door, parting it gently to observe the Princess as she baths. A wretched thing both of you do, ogling the one you''re tasked to protect. A simple reprimand wouldn''t be enough, I will see both your heads on a spike at the Palace baths if you do not give me leave to do as I plan. I mean to cause no harm." He could not see their faces behind their helms, but he knew the look of shock and shame spread upon their visage. Shame, the anointed cousin of retreat, see as his gauntlets lower from my chest. See as they withdraw within, each of them eager to be rid of me within a miasma of indifference.


    The Guards parted. Mairek raised a leg and knocked down the chamber door with one swift kick. The door sprung free of its hinges, tumbled and collapsed onto the ground, close to the foot of the Chamber bed. A good five feet within the Chamber. Tari stood, half naked with maids around her, her bosom rich and full, stilled as she regarded him. Then heaved as she saw what he dragged into her chamber.


    Mairek walked onto the door and flung the heads onto the bed, watched as the blood seeped into the white linen cover of the duvet. Staining it a bright crimson. The heads stared in various poses, unblinking, sightless. Princess Tari gawked at them then raised her eyes to meet his.


    "Their blood is on your head." Mairek said and turned around to depart. Those crowded behind him parted and in his wake eyes followed his retreating back.


    XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX


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 Chapter 4

    She stood at the center of the throne room. Her face turned towards the ceiling where the first ruler of Binoria''s image was captured in perfect detail. The artists, she wondered, did they make him sit still on top of the Telinete rhino? Or did they craft Selarch''s face separate from his body, then depended on their prowess to place him upon the Telinete. In the hallways outside the throne room was another mural, depicting Gonza Vigon, then in the archway leading to the Meeting room was another mural of Julisper Vigon, and another mural and another mural. The whole palace had segments of it painted with the murals of a Kings of Binoria. All of them male, all of them with glowing red eyes, the symbol of Goddess Meena''s power coursing through them.


    She fought against the urge to order the murals all painted over. To have them stripped of their significance for it was all a lie. Gonza Vigon, Julisper Vigon... All the Vigons parading upon the surfaces of marble and stone alike, were all a lie. It was all Selarch Vigon, reincarnated and reborn ten times over. Taking the flesh of his descendants so he may rule. So he may continue his dynasty according to the wish of his Goddess. Her father, whom she''d thought loving, hadn''t been her father at all. It had all been a lie, the way he regarded her with loving eyes, was all just a ploy to cater to subterfuge that spun 500 years. The person masquerading as her father, wearing his flesh, was good. Really good. He fooled even her into believing that Vayin Vigon was indeed her father. But for some reason his youngest son, her brother, Leba Vigon, wasn''t completely fooled.


    What have you done Leba? Dahli wondered. What monstrosity have you brought upon the realm!


    The Goddess Meena had revealed that a darkness was coming. A darkness so potent and vile that would lead mothers to fling their babies off roof tops and men to slaughter their sons as they sleep. A darkness so profound whose sole purpose is desolation, carnage. A darkness that cannot be appeased, a darkness that rebels against humanity and craves its end. And in that darkness, in the center of it all stands her brother, Leba Vigon. Her brother who''d disappeared without a trace. All efforts to look for him yielded no fruit. He disappeared together with several palace servants. Where to? She did not know. She knew nothing other than the fact that something ancient walked the realm once more. Something that brought panic, despair and hopelessness to the Goddess whom she serves.


    The throne room doors opened, Dahli did not need to turn to know who''d joined her. She could hear his thoughts: adoration, respect, loyalty, desire and most profound of all, love. His blond hair, blue eyes and milky white skin would have granted him any woman''s favor. Yet it was only her he desired. A desire that blossomed anew each day, leaving her to wonder whether the pressure building from her indifference may one day drive him to act. To speak up. To confess his love. What then would she do? Would she break his heart? Or would she fulfill his dream?


    Dreams. She saw another man in the dead of night when her eyes were closed. Young as she is, with a dark mess of hair, violet eyes and fingers whose tips are stained blue. Ishar, the Champion of the God of Chaos. And with the image of him so too does something well within her, bubbling to the surface, a yearning so profound she could not place its source. Ishar had killed Vayin Vigon, bringing the unbeaten streak of Binoria to an end. Resulting in the deaths of three quarters of Binoria''s Legions. Ishar was an anathema to the Binorian standard. She should hate him, she should loath him, she should crave his death. Yet, here she was, feeling things she didn''t want to voice. Wondering where they came from and to what do they lead. Things that are the complete opposite of hatred, things that made her wonder...


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    "My Queen." Orgeeg said while lowering himself on one knee.


    "Rise and report." She answered without facing him, her eyes still fixed on the ceiling.


    "Masutap attacked Shama''s Local yesterday as you predicted. She castrated the Highlord and burned him alive before all his whores." Orgeeg said while getting off the floor.


    Dahli smiled, That''s one problem fixed. She frowned upon Shama''s trade and influence among the Highlords. To be rid of him was one of her first objectives but how would she do so without losing face? Her half sister had taken care of that quite well. However, Masutap could not be allowed to ran rampage within Binoria, the kingdom was currently at its weakest. A united front, with her sister by her side is what Dahli wanted. But how would she reach out to Masutap? The woman hated her just as much as she hated Vayin Vigon. Masutap''s hate was palpable, Dahli had had an intimate understanding of it when both of them had been summoned before the Goddess Meena. Where all pretense of privacy had been stripped and their hearts laid out bare for the Goddess to bestow upon them her blessing.


    "My Queen?" Orgeeg pressed. She could sense his thought, the urge to lather her with a tongue of honey. She smiled.


    "How do I look, Orgeeg?" She asked while turning to face the Rank one of the Royal Black Guard in her gold embroidered dress that flowed down her curves. Orgeeg''s breath caught. He struggled to compose himself. She could not tell if the effect she had on him was something she should explore further, toy with it as a Yendw wolf toys with a mouse. What then would that make of her? Did she not strive to be as different from Selarch as she could?


    "You..." Orgeeg started. "You remind me of the Rankf Sea, when the tide comes back and the waves aren''t as aggressive as they are during a storm. When the heat of the sun warms the waters and the lapping of the waves upon the feet is as pleasing as a lover''s touch."


    Dahli moved close to her Rank one. She lifted her hand and cupped his cheek. Then she felt it, that feeling ever residing behind the hearts of men. Sorrow, a profound sorrow, one she was sure hadn''t been as pronounced as it was now that Leba had let loose an ancient evil upon the realm. "A dark period is coming, Orgeeg, one where your purpose would be to survive. To take one breath after the other without cease. Do not give up, do not go gently into that dark night."


    "My Queen?" He was puzzled.


    Dahli let her hand drop, she turned her back to her Rank One of the Royal Black Guard. "Masutap is heading to the Westlocal. Alert the Highlord Kemi and implement the plan we discussed." She smiled. "I believe Dulab is ready. Take fifty of the Royal Black Guard with you, ones she does not recognize."


    Orgeeg stood in silence, battling words he would not allow to leave his tongue. But she knew them, she heard them loud and clear as he revised them. "You''re dismissed." She said before his courage broke its banks and he made himself even more vulnerable before her. As he walked away, she turned her head to the ceiling, observing the mural of Selarch Vigon. Countless times had she looked up at it and felt admiration, envy and pride. Now, she felt disgust.


    xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx


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 Chapter 5

    Edda stood before the council of ten. The high echelon of the Remu. They sat in a crescent around her, a marble dais curved to serve as both a table and seat for the ten. The ten who decided the path the Remu will traverse. The ten who chose what to do and what not to do. The ten who''d taken profound interest in her to the point of elevating her status to that of a Knight from a Spy. Hence why she was adorned in bronze colored armor, the pauldrons were uncomfortable, sharp on either end, rubbing at the skin of her neck. The weight of the armor at first dragged her, but now she was becoming accustomed to it as she worked her body to better handle the weight.


    A Knight. She still couldn''t believe it. But the news she''d brought as a Spy warranted her the promotion. First the capture of her and her partner Ingah by Vayin Vigon. Ingah''s death, the Nula Anyl which she''d survived by the aid of Ishar. And the events upon the Ganidan plain where the Talisi stood ground against Binoria''s might, where she had been the only Remu upon the field of battle. The information that poured out of her was gobbled by the Council, all of them eager to hear the retelling of the tale time and time again. They elevated her from Spy to Knight. They gave her land and status. And they also hinted at her place among the Council one day, if she continued to serve the interests of Remu. She imagined herself among them, with their aging faces and brown robes. Fingers bereft of rings and necks free of jewelry for the High echelon frowned on opulence.


    She held her helm in her left hand and stood at attention before the Council. Wondering whether they wished to hear a retelling of her first account.


    Councilman Yobra motioned to her. "Edda, you beautiful, beautiful woman. You remind me of my second wife, just as bright eyed and full of hope as you are now. But that strong will of steel. Aaaah! It reminds me of my first wife. Such fire and ferocity ¡ª"


    Councilwoman Belinda cut Councilman Yobra short. "Yobra, her purpose here isn''t to vie for the position of your third wife."


    "Yes." Councilman Stivo said. He only ever said that one word.


    "We are here," Councilman Yobra continued, unperturbed. "To address an issue that we have had time to ponder on and have arrived at a decision, Edda."


    "I fail to see my importance in said issue." Edda said. Playing out the Court lingo.


    "Nonsense." Councilman Kemboi said while running a hand across his bald pate. "You are pivotal! Pivotal I say! Pivotal!"


    "Yes." Councilman Stivo intoned.


    "Listen here, Edda." Councilwoman Roda chimed in while tucking a loose strand of curly sand peppered hair behind her ear. "We are planning war. Now, darling, don''t stand with your mouth ajar like that, it''s very unlady like. Yes, shut it, yes. Now, we are going to war against Binoria. They are without an army, a woman leads them now and she''s not versed in war. Not as we are. Not as we have learnt from those who came before her. They are at their weakest."


    "According to you, three Gods have picked champions." Councilwoman Fancy started. "Mairek from the Talisi, Rehny from Binoria and Ishar from the Kolotians. Rehny, a Binorian, surprisingly has been picked by a deity that isn''t Meena. A Nyawe you said? Yet you claim he fought for the Talisi in the recent battle. Well then, darling. The Remu are yet to have a Champion of a God."


    "We have dug deep into our ancient past as you advised us to, Edda." Councilman Mugo said while interlacing his pudgy fingers. "Through the help of Salt Seers and burnt parchment barely legible thanks to Binoria''s crusades to eliminate our past and hence our identity. We have come up with the name of a Goddess we presume we worshipped in the times of old."


    "The Goddess is called Alietsi." Councilman Nikclaus said. "It is said she slumbers beneath the Rankf Sea."


    "Yes." Councilman Stivo, as usual.


    "You have two options before you, Edda, you either find a way to wake the Goddess Alietsi and make her choose one of us as her champion. Quite the task to be honest. Or you can approach one of the already chosen Champions of the other Gods and have them march under our banner as we head to war against Binoria." Councilwoman Caro opined, her brown eyes piercing as she regarded Edda, daring her to refuse her duty as a Knight. Edda stood there, gawking at the Council of Ten


    "What will it be, Edda?" Councilwoman Mercy''s lilting voice broke her free of her reverie.


    "I cannot do this." Edda started but at the shifting and creasing of brows in answer to her, she pressed on, lacing her words with as much humility as she could master. "I''m not saying I won''t do this. It''s just that, it''s an impossible task. I do not know how to wake a Goddess. I don''t know how to reach out to her beneath the Rankf Sea, I''ve never even been to the shore."


    "Well, that''s something we can remedy, we order you to go to the shore immediately after this." Councilwoman Caro commanded.


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    Edda opened and closed her mouth, seeking words that might rescue her from her current predicament. "I don''t know how to persuade the others to your cause. Mairek is in Central Talisi, within its high walls. A priced jewel of the Talisi, they will not lose sight of him. Rehny is herding pigs somewhere, I don''t know where but he isn''t available, he wants nothing to do with war. Ishar has disappeared, some say they saw him head into the desert, far East. I don''t know how to reach them."


    "Rehny seems like a viable option of the three, you can start there." Councilwoman Belinda opined in her even, calculated tone.


    Edda sighed. "What you ask of me, it''s¡ª"


    "You''re our hope, Edda." Councilman Yobra said. "We believe in you, we believe you will bring us results as you did last time. There is none other whom we trust with such a task as this. And we promise you this, if you succeed, you shall have a place among us. The Ten will be Eleven."


    All the nine nodded at this, except Councilman Stivo. It appeared the majority agreed on elevating her further before she availed herself to them today.


    She nodded her assent and with a dismissal from Councilman Mugo, she turned on her heels and departed the presence of the Council.


    XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX


    The clouds promised rain, dark and swollen with moisture. They were a sharp contrast to the Remu Court walls. White as bleached bones. Edda walked with an even pace, the Court Acolytes parted before her, the pitch of their voices dropping to hushed tones or silence within her presence. The Acolytes, she had once been a part of them, part of those who lived bright eyed with a zeal for life within the Remu Court. Dedicated to their specific courses: combat, command, language, linguistics, medicine, espionage... Too many to list but she knew them all, she''d studied them all. And the Knight was the most coveted position. A position a part of her didn''t think she deserved.


    Edda had been a prot¨¦g¨¦, some masters even argued she was a genius. She''d become the youngest spy ever out of Remu. Her first mission had been with Ingah, the legendary Black Ghost. The man who''d killed the Highlord of the Southlocal, the man she''d loved. Ingah, who''d represented hope, Ingah who''d been castrated before her eyes and killed. She stopped in her tracks.


    Someone betrayed us. Their capture under the hands of the Binorians was something they didn''t expect. It came out of the blue, their position within Binoria was given away, they were caught with their guard down but they''d still killed as many of those Binorian City Guards as they could.


    "You''re making the Acolytes stare." A deep voice said from behind her. She didn''t need to turn to see who it was, the Knight Terrac''s voice was distinguishable. She however turned her head to the side, taking note of the Acolytes who''d stopped and were gawking at her. That''s when she became conscious of her hand on the pommel of her sword, a tight grip that made her knuckles pop. She let go of the sword and turned.


    "Sir, Terrac." She stressed the sir.


    "Edda." Terrac said, leaving out her honorific. He didn''t think she belonged among the Knights, he thought her elevation was a mockery of the Knight title. ''Surviving a war didn''t mean you''re worthy of your current position,'' Terrac had said to Edda during her Knighting ceremony, ''What makes a Knight is what''s inside, and you''re hollow.''


    Terrac smiled at her, the scars crisscrossing his face in a web of a mosaics made his smile look like a savage grin. "What did they tell you in there?"


    "They told me to go see the sea, so as to swim to the deepest depth of the Rankf sea and awake a Goddess." Edda didn''t bother hiding the truth. "They think I''m capable of great things."


    "The Gods'' return sparks a change in what combat is." Terrac said. He seemed saddened by this. "One line of Kings with the power of a Goddess held the realm under the boot for half a millennium. With more Gods in the fray, this changes things. The Binorians, Talisi and Kolotians have their champions, we need ours."


    "How do you expect me to summon a Goddess?" Edda asked.


    "By swimming to the depths of the Rankf Sea from what I hear." Terrac said.


    Edda turned to walk away, then stopped in her tracks. She spoke without facing Terrac, "This is a ploy by one among the Council to see me dead. There''s a traitor within the Remu court, one who isn''t happy about my return," she paused. "Nor my elevation to a Knight."


    "Yes." Terrac said. "I agree, there is a traitor, everybody knows this."


    Edda faced him. "What do you mean?"


    "We all knew there was a traitor and we only needed to know who they were. Come on, you are standing in a fortress that houses the smartest minds the Remu have to offer." He scratched at the stubble upon his chin. "The mission you were sent on with Ingah, it was a set up to catch the traitor, and catch him we did. Only three people knew of the mission, Councilman Yobra, the Master Kissit, and Councilman Stivo. The Master and Councilman Yobra suspected Councilman Stivo, hence why they included Stivo in the plan, to confirm their suspicions."


    "But¡ª" Edda started.


    "Come now," Terrac cut her short. "Why isn''t he dead? Why hasn''t he been punished? Ask yourself, why is it he only ever says one word in Council. A Councilman''s power is in his words. That''s been stripped of him, so has his holdings, his family. All that he is has been reduced to one word, ''Yes.''"


    Edda stared at Terrac. The mental, physical and emotional torture she''d endured in the dungeon. Weeks without seeing the sun, wondering if each day would be her last. Ingah''s death. All of it because of Councilman Stivo and it was all summed up into one word. ''Yes.''


    Edda turned on her heels and strode back into the Council chamber, she stepped past Terrac as if he wasn''t even there. Her face was calm, serene even. The Acolytes weren''t in the halls, she had all the time to think as she approached the doors leading to the Council Chamber. And only one thought ruled her mind.


    XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX


    Yobra reclined in his council seat, he wondered why it had to be made of stone. It was so bloody uncomfortable, gave him a bad back. The Council men and women conversed in hushed tones, pondering over another conundrum one of them had thought up. Councilman Stivo sat beside him.


    "Are you an idiot?" Yobra asked.


    "Yes." Councilman Stivo answered.


    Yobra nodded with satisfaction. "It must pain you, to see her alive. A Knight at that, she must remind you of your failure, I guess that''s why we keep summoning her. To show you that you failed, that whatever pleasure you took in serving Binoria was one of failure."


    "Yes." Councilman Stivo said.


    The doors to the Chamber barged open. In strode Edda, walking in a straight line towards where Yobra sat. The Council men and women gawked, silence blanketed the chamber. Yobra moved to speak but saw the look in Edda''s eyes and held back his tongue. There was murder in them.


    Edda climbed the dais, over the stone table directly before Councilman Stivo. The Councilman''s eyes bulged in their sockets. A gauntleted hand lowered in a fist, smashing the Councilman''s face. Stivo moved to exit his chair, ever sly, ever slippery like an eel.


    Edda''s sword was out of its scabbard and in the blink of an eye it was driven into Stivo, just below his left collar bone, hitting no vital organ. The Councilman let out a scream, Edda expertly grabbed his tongue between her index finger and thumb, she jerked free a dagger strapped from her waist. Councilman Stivo raised his hands, to beg, to plead, his life flashed before his eyes and Yobra knew that all he saw was tinged with failure.


    Edda sliced Councilman Stivo''s tongue and held the flabby red appendage for all to see. "Yes." She cried out. "Yes!" She screamed! The Councilman''s head dropped, his chin resting on his chest. Blood flowed free of his mouth in crimson rivulets, staining his brown robes. "Yes is not enough, it does not mark the suffering nor the pain I have endured." Silence answered her statement. And beside the groaning Councilman Stivo, Yobra smiled.


    XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX


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 Chapter 6

    Orgeeg walked out of the throne room. The guards positioned at either side of the large oak doors gave a crisp salute, thumping their breast plates with  closed fists. He had been receiving such salutes wherever he went, a result of him being a hero. He saved the Queen by unraveling a traitor in the Royal Black Guard. The fact that he''d killed scores to implement such a heroic deed is ignored by those who are enamored by the tale. The whole of Binoria knew, the Queen made sure of that with a mass supplied newsletter of the events of that night. A newsletter that mentioned Masutap as the traitor but offered nothing more. Told nothing of her being Dahli''s half sister. Or the fact that she''d inherited the Jojoh Meena.


    The servants bustling along at the fork in the palace hallways parted for him, bowing slightly. A hushed silence spelt the end of chatter wherever he went. He drew eyes like nectar draws bees. The Rank One of the Royal Black Guard was a title he held once more. It had been renewed with more responsibilities piled onto the title. Ensuring he had command not only over the Royal Black Guard, but every serving Binorian unit except the Legions.


    The battered beaten Legions. A husk of what they were. Loss could do that, he was well aware. Makes men husks, kills their belief with renewed awareness of their own mortality. But what befell the Legions was more than mortal men could comprehend. The Kolotian, Orgeeg stopped mid stride and balled his fingers into fists. Madness, a gift that poured out of him, the survivors, those lethal warriors, imperial gods of combat. The men who hold Binoria''s purpose on their shoulders without stooping, Those men, are no more.


    The survivors of the Ganidan Plain campaign against the Talisi, led by the late King Vayin Vigon, were all mad. They thrashed in their sleep and spoke of things that made little sense. They muttered to themselves and seizures raked their bodies at unexpected intervals. Orgeeg wondered why Dahli didn''t put all her weight into looking for the Kolotian. To make him answer for his crimes, for the loss of half a million Binorian warriors.


    Dahli... He raised a hand to his cheek, where her hand had lingered. He remembered the jolt that ran through him when her skin touched his own. Her full lips, parted, her grey eyes on him. Then the eyes had flashed red, for the briefest instance, and he had been made aware of the fact that he was being viewed by the Goddess Meena. He wondered what she saw, he wondered why his desire for Dahli heightened with every moment close to her. Was it love? Nothing else could explain it. He loved her, and the Goddess within her. For he knew beneath that red glare, Tabrimas, the realm of the valiant where he longed to die and go to, became something he could reach out and grasp.


    But the Kolotian. He shivered at a memory of him walking two paces behind Dahli, there outside Binoria''s gate. As the returning Legion screamed and shouted things that did not make sense. As they thrashed on the ground and murdered each other and themselves. They had to be restrained by ropes, wangi forced on them to make them insensate.


    He continued walking, only to shake off the jitters that threatened to break his mask of calm. He was heading for the Royal Black Guard training ground to sweat of steam at the East wing of the Palace but decided against it. He headed West instead. He crossed the lower crest path, rounding the water fountain to emerge at a narrow hallway that led to a room at its climax. Orgeeg''s path ended at a brass door. He knocked twice, the doe eyed maid he''d hired opened the door with a swift bow.


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    Orgeeg entered the room and turned to face the large bed where two men lay dressed in linen. Gaping holes were where their eyes used to be, their feet and hands were missing, their ears punctured rendering every song a fairy tale. Two servants sat on stools on each flank of the bed, at the sight of Orgeeg they placed their hands on the arms of the two men. The former Rank 9 and 8 of the Royal Black Guard. Punished through mutilation for their inability to protect Desan, the once Prince of Binoria. A punishment they did not deserve for their failure in guarding the Prince from an outside attack had made them oblivious to an attack from within.


    He''d taken them off the ring of beggars at the outer rings of Binoria. Cleaned them, clothed them, and given them whatever comfort he could manage afforded to them.


    "Masutap attacked the Highlord of the Eastlocal." The servants at either side of the former Ranks pressed their fingers to the arms of the men. Translating in code what Orgeeg was saying. "She is going to the Westlocal next. Kemi knows, we have a trap set for her. I am going there with fifty of the Ranks to implement said plan. I don''t think I will survive." The servants pressed their fingers in what looked like a dance upon the limbs of the Ranks. To the side of a large window, a wangi burner burned. The herb, known to expand the consciousness of a mind that is adept and to elicit  madness in the minds of those who were lacking. The men who''d suffered the marks of those who fail in duty, used the fumes to numb their pain. And to allow their minds to travel, to a time when things were different.


    "You must. Survive." Rank 9 said.


    "You promised us vengeance." Rank 8 said.


    Orgeeg nodded, realized they couldn''t see him and said. "Yes. But she has the Jojoh Meena. If the plan fails I can''t take her out on my own. She killed all of Shama''s guards. There were scores of them. She did that alone, without a weapon. Those who reported the aftermath spoke of fist sized holes in the chests of the dead, as if a single punch can tear through flesh." He shook his head, the trembling assailed his hands once more. He stilled them by curling his fingers into fists.


    "A fight can be won without getting punched." Rank 9 intoned.


    "It is a game of minds," Rank 8 said. "Once the battle is won in the mind, the victory is guaranteed."


    *"THERE IS A GODDESS IN PLAY!"* Orgeeg shouted. The servants halted their fingers upon the limbs, gasping, wide eyed. Staring at him. Orgeeg nodded for them to translate.


    "A Goddess who sees you." Rank 9 said.


    "Yes, she sees you through the eyes of the queen. And if Masutap shares the eyes of the Goddess, then maybe that will be a weakness." Rank 8 opined.


    "Win the battle in your mind." Rank 9 added.


    Orgeeg departed the chamber. The servant at the door bowing her head to him as he left.


    They speak as if they would have done what they ask of me easily. As if the fact that their bodies are useless is the only reason that vengeance hasn''t been served. He walked into a small garden beside the chamber. The sun warmed his skin from a gap in the garden ceiling. The warmth, it was eerie similar to Dahli''s touch. She rules my mind, all that she is encompasses all that I am. He jerked his face away, as if willing the thought loose of his mind. I am not a Prince, not even a Highlord. I am not worthy of a Queen. Sorrow, funny how the weight of a thought could plunge one into the abyss. He walked out of the sunlight.


    XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX


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 Chapter 7

    She was in his head, lodged in like a tumor. In his sleep she dominated his dreams, puffs of magenta clouds cascaded across his consciousness, and amidst the haze of powerful color, she lounged as if his mind was a couch.


    Then in his waking moments, as if not enough that he should have no privacy within his mind, she spoke to him. Urging him to do things, to reason in ways that were foreign to him.


    Rehny carried the refuse of the previous night''s solitary feast to the pigs behind his tiny wooden shack. The pigs recognized him and his purpose within their enclosure. They oinked and crowded his legs as he dropped the refuse at his feet. Six pigs, two who were expectant. Soon their numbers would swell and he''d need to expand their enclosure. Here within the North Eastern point of Binoria and the South Eastern point of Talisi. Where the terrain was rough and one could spot an oncoming party from miles away across the plain, Rehny had made his refuge.


    The solitude suited him. How many times did he crave an end to war? To not have armor''s weight dragging his limbs. To discard of the sword and the death it spelt. Here, miles away from civilization, he was alone, free of any obligation to his fellow man. To the left side of his tiny shack, he grew vegetables and behind the shack was a Galiu meal plantation that was modest yet capable of sustaining a single man.


    Peace. He was at peace at last. He ran his hand through his pink hair, observing the midday sun''s curve upon the cloudless sky. Rain was scarce, the land wasn''t suitable for farming. The grasslands were miles away meaning the ground didn''t favor livestock rearing, a normal man would not be able to survive in these parts. But he was no normal man, Rehny housed a Goddess whose power coursed through his veins. Enabling him to do things regular men could not. Things like run the ten mile journey to the stream way east where he carried water for the crops and the pigs.


    A waste of my power. Nyawe, the Goddess of Love spoke within his mind. The realm is at the brink of war, a darkness stains the land, it will grow and encompass all within it. Failure to act now means that you will reap sorrow instead of your meager crops.


    Rehny sighed and chuckled to himself. Immediately feeling Nyawe''s irritation at his ignorance. He realized that if he played the fool, if he answered her remarks with silence, she withdrew from him. As if love found idiocy unattractive. But didn''t love render fools of men? It was quite the conundrum, one he didn''t wish to ponder lest he awakened the Goddess''s curiosity.


    He closed the pigs'' enclosure started making his way to the empty hundred liter drum. A single man couldn''t carry its weight while full but he hefted it easily. He looked forward to the noon runs to the stream, how fast the land passed beneath his feet, the beat of the wind upon his face. And the journey back, how easy it was to carry the weight of the water. With such strength, with such power, he could raze empires to the ground. He could start and finish civilizations at a whim. Even The Vigons'' strength was miniscule compared to his.


    Yet here is where he preferred to be. Away from his fellow man, away from the hustle and bustle of the crowds where the strings of love were a network easily visible to his naked eye. Where he drew the attention of every man and woman for he embodied their deepest desires, to find love, to be loved. His renewed youth, flawless white skin that gave off a pink glow at times, hands free of callouses, pink hair and magenta eyes. Marked him as ageless, a deity of sorts. His body had transformed, the scars he was so used to carrying were no more. And when he had first stared at himself in the mirror, he only saw a stranger. So now, he fought to hold onto his identity, his personality, his desire to live as he deemed fit. This were the only things he sought to care about.


    And the distance from the crowds lessened the pain, the pain of lost love, those strings of attachment tied to each mortal. Those strings when severed bled pink light into the air as if giving a silent cry to anguish. And the light found its way to Rehny, making him glow, making him powerful and making him feel the pain that had assailed him for the better part of his life but a thousand fold. But here, so far away from people, he was free of said pain.


    No you''re not! Nyawe screamed in his mind and the serenity he''d fostered crumbled as the dam she''d put in place to shield him from the recent events of war at the Ganidan Plain crumbled, he felt it. The death of thousands under the hands of Ishar, under madness and chaos. The loss of love that had flowed into him, the pain... so much pain. He knelt down, tears streaming down his eyes.


    "Cut it off!" He spoke between clenched teeth.


    This pain you so avidly avoid, you can use it. Use it to go beyond the limits of mankind, to ascend yourself. Here, far from civilization where your influence is none existent, you give strength to the darkness that is ever growing. The pain receded, the dam put back in place. He felt her lilting voice beside his left ear, as if she took mortal form just to speak to him. I can feel him, Rehny, the bringer of the endless night. He is here upon the realm, and this pain you avoid. It will come as a wave you cannot escape, a cresting wave that will wash over the whole realm. And with its passing love will die, for there will be no one left to love.


    Fear gripped him at her words, there was an urgency to them, one he''d been ignoring for a while now but for some reason the direness of her predicament was almost palpable. He shrugged it off as one would a heavy coat. There is peace in solitude, he believed, and I aspire to keep it so.


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    She laughed then, in his mind. A melody of a laugh, merry, rich and laced with seduction as all she is always is. Rehny, look to the west, they come, they will never leave you. Your role is far from done.


    He turned to the west, peered into the distance at the miniscule figures making their way towards him, his eyes were like a hawk''s. He saw them on their horses. Their red armor made it clear who they were, twenty of them, quite a large party for a solitary man. Huge swords adorned the scabbards at their side, peace was the last thing on their minds. "Fuck." Rehny said. "Binorians." She laughed again, pleased with the end to his solitude.


    XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX


    Rehny had three options. He could outrun the horses coming towards him, he wasn''t sure he could outrun a horse but he felt like trying to do so would be so much fun. But that would mean the loss of his pigs and his crops. He''d have to start afresh, till the land anew. He wasn''t eager to do so. Rehny could fight the twenty Binorians who were clearly visible now and making a bee line towards him across the plain. He could fight them, but it seemed they were prepared for that judging from the way they carried themselves. Warriors in every sense of the word. His exploits upon the Ganidan plain was common knowledge at this point. He was a Binorian who''d turned on Binoria, the first and only man to ever do so. The third option was to hear them out, that seemed like the more reasonable of the three.


    Your three options are puny. The Goddess Nyawe spoke within his mind. The approaching party is made of eight women and twelve men. The one at the lead is a woman, battle hardened. She has never loved, love is a foreign thing to her. See how her aura is restricted to her person? All she knows is duty, death and loyalty. Take her to your bed, let my blessing flow through you and into her, she will be yours and you will have control over all of them.


    Nyawe''s words startled him just as the horsemen drew their reins at the entrance to his wooden shack. They dismounted in an orderly fashion, spelling that they were a band who''d braced different terrains together. The face of the leader was unfamiliar as she drew free her helm and marched towards him in a nonchalant yet even gait with her party marching close behind her. Her eyes were blue, her skin pale, blonde hair plastered to her head with sweat. And her jaw was square, lips pressed tight. Her nose was crooked but when she smiled at him, her features were lit with a singular purpose and all he could think was, charming.


    "Commander Rehny." She started. "Aren''t you a pretty sight. You look younger, or did you dye your hair to make yourself look younger? Say, what happened to the scar across your cheek? What''s your skin care routine? Seems to be doing wonders for you."


    "I''m a former Commander." He said. "Haven''t you heard? I betrayed Binoria."


    "Oh. We know." Her smile receded and in its place was rage. Then, that receded too and nonchalance once more marred her features. "I don''t know if you''ve heard but Binoria is ruled by a Queen now." She said. She turned her head to the side and spat thick phlegm. "She gave me my current position, Captain of this bunch of bleeding idiots." She motioned her hand behind herself, waving at those behind her. "Women empowerment and all that."


    "Quite the step in the right direction really." Rehny said. "I''m all for women empowerment."


    The Captain laughed, a laugh that lacked humor. She took a step back, tilted her body at an angle adjacent to Rehny. She''s a viper this one. I like her, she''s poised to strike, a command issued at the same time will have them all on you. Nyawe said.


    I can handle them. Rehny thought.


    Their death will spell your pain, see those behind her. He looked, the strings of love ran between their legs, crisscrossed between the men and women in a complex mesh. They love each other, they all love one another save for the Captain. Meena has revealed your weakness to her Champion, she sent a party specifically designed to handle you.


    The Captain spoke then, "We''ve been given orders, Rehny, orders to bring you in. To stand trial for you crimes against Binoria." She raised her hand and rested it on the pommel of her sword. "We can do this the hard way or the easy way." She said.


    Rehny nodded. "Well then, if I prefer the hard way?" He spread his feet, anchoring his position.


    "Draw." The Captain commanded. Swords flew free of their scababards, held at an angle in the Form of Sleight from the bodies of those she commanded. "The hard way involves a lot of blood."


    Rehny prepared to launch into an inevitable battle but Nyawe, as always, intervened with her own reasoning. Tell her that her eyes remind you of the Rankf Sea, the irises like miniature leviathans swimming within a pool of blue.


    What the fuck?


    Just do it.


    Rehny sighed, turned to the Captain, smiled. "Your eyes remind me of the Rankf Sea, the irises like miniature leviathans swimming within a pool of blue."


    They stared at each other. Then the Captain burst out laughing, she laughed so hard she almost doubled over. She raised herself and wiped a tear from her eye with a gauntleted hand. "Gods, the last guy who told me that got a punch in the nose." She said. "Aren''t you charming, Commander?"


    The Goddess spoke more words to him.


    He smiled. "Charming? Yes. But why did you punch Viktor? He loved you and it frightened you, didn''t it? The thought of being tied to someone, to have your hopes and dreams shackled to the existence of another. Frightening thing wasn''t it? And your answer was always to punch and ask questions later. Ever quick to spill blood, ever hesitant to give your heart." He took a step towards her, her eyes were wide, her mouth hanging open.


    "How do you know Vikto¡ª" She started.


    "I know everything concerning love," Rehny said. "And he loved you, even after you punched him. Insulted him, demeaned him for wanting to be in the Legions. Even until his dying breath he loved you." Rehny shook his head from side to side. "Yes, run away from love all you want, but you lose in the end, Satheth, every step that takes you further from it drives you closer to the very loss you seek to escape."


    Satheth lunged at Rehny, the sword at her side suddenly free of its scabbard. A yell emanated from her mouth as she dedicated her every being into the sword thrust, Rehny side stepped, gripped her by the neck and drove her to the ground in one swift motion.


    Release. Nyawe commanded.


    Rehny dug within the woman he held pinned to the ground, to that cold desolate space where she''d made her dwelling, free from love, free from the obligations required by love. And beneath that place he saw the barrier holding back the flood of all that Nyawe represented.


    "Break." He commanded.


    And the barrier broke and pink light, visible only to Rehny was released, engulfing the woman. She screamed out the same word over and over, without cease and those she held command over stood aghast as their Captain cried out. "Viktoooor! Viktoooor! Viktoooor!"


    XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX


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 Chapter 8

    <u> </u>


    Heat and cold, the desert was always hot during the day and cold during the night. Indomil had been born there to two parents who had nine fingers in total. She''d been raised there within a community where few had more than five fingers. She''d learnt how to walk the desert sands without leaving foot prints for the Binorian hunters to track. She''d learnt how lowly her place was amongst her fellow Kolotians and within the realm, and she knew of the price she would have to pay to be fully a part of the Kolotian colony hiding within the desert.


    Her mother had told her of cities where stone dwellings reached for the sky, piercing the clouds. Where people didn''t hide who they were from the rest of the realm. Where food didn''t consist of desert critters, deprived of moisture. Where water was abundant and people even stripped free of their clothing and swam in the water. To be free of dirt, to be free of grime, to have hunger sated and thirst quenched, all of it was a fantasy. And those stories she''d eagerly listened to and dreamt about in her childhood now served to drive her hate.


    She hated who she was, where she was from and the life that she led. She wondered whether death''s release was such a bad thing, whether hiding among the sand dunes, among the crested caves upon the hard desert floor by the thousands was really living. She carried the twenty liter stone can, curved from soft rock that wasn''t permeable. The cloth string tied to either opening of the stone can was draped over her neck, the stone can hanging on her back. She followed a line of twelve Kolotian water seekers. Heading to the oasis, to the only oasis to the South East that hadn''t dried up. The other one to the North was too close to the Binorian Hunter colony and the other water seeker group that was larger than theirs would have gone West.


    "It''s the last time you''ll undertake such a trip." Her mother had said to her before she departed the colony. She raised her hand with three fingers and cupped her daughter''s cheek. "You''ve come of age, so the finger ceremony will commence upon your return. You and the eleven who go on this trip should relish in the movement your fingers will hold, in the simple feats you can accomplish like the simple hauling of water. For when you return, and the price is paid for your place within the colony, then such a thing will be missed."


    Such sorrow in her mother''s words. As if she recalled the time when she had all of her fingers, a time that was forever lost. The finger ceremony, by the decree of the Colony Chief, Thegir, the only colony member with ten fingers excluding those who were yet to come of age, required the severing of five fingers from those who are of age, and in future if need be, the severing of more fingers. That was the price a Kolotian paid to be part of the Colony. ''The fingers buy your place.'' As her father often said. ''Your place in the only surviving Kolotian Colony, the only place a Kolotian can live.''


    Indomil didn''t know what was worse, the glorifying of mutilation the Colony imbued in the minds of all those who were a part of it. Or the fate awaiting those captured by the Binorian Hunters. She remembered coming across the mutilated body of a Kolotian woman who''d been caught by the Binorian Hunters, she''d wandered too far from the Colony and paid the price. Bloody stumps were left of where her hands had been, she''d been raped and partly flayed. A toy thing for the animosity that lurked within the hearts of the Binorians. Indomil remembered the sightless tear streaked face of the dead Kolotian woman, the promise of the fate that awaited all who weren''t a part of the Colony.


    "Indomil, quicken your pace." Dagaa, the head of the water seekers said, turning his violet eyes to her. The sun was at its peak, the time when Binorian Hunters rarely traversed the desert for it was the time of day when it was hottest. During the night was a whole other matter though, and the early morning and late noon. A Kolotian outside the Colony at such a time was a Kolotian with a death wish.


    "I don''t know what the rush is." Indomil said. "If we hurry and come back with the water  all we''ll get as a reward is our fingers chopped off."


    "It''s the price of being a part of the Colony." Dora said with a smile, the ever optimistic Dora, her round cheeks gave her sepia skin a glow with each smile. Indomil wondered whether the girl will smile once she wiped her ass with sand using three fingers from one hand.


    "If we hurry we can reach the hideout by nightfall." Dagaa said. Quickening his pace so those behind him may do the same. The hideout, a place surrounded by towering dunes, where they would find shelter cowering in the shadows. Indomil knew there would be no sleep tonight.


    Water. They risked their life for something others swam in.


    "What does he do with the fingers anyway?" Indomil asked.


    "What?" Dagaa wondered.


    "What does Thegir do with the fingers he cuts off?" Indomil expounded.


    "He shoves them up his arse at night from what I hear." Lupin said. Eliciting laughs from the others including Indomil herself.


    "Silence." Dagaa ordered. The ever vigilant Dagaa. "He bribes the Binorian Hunters so we''d have a chance at survival. Do you think the hunters don''t know of the Oasis? They do. They can stay watch there for months and catch us on our way there, torture the information of where the Colony is from us and raid our homes and kill everyone."


    "They can''t kill more of us." Dora said. "Because that would render them obsolete, if they kill off every Kolotian then where will they get our fingers from?"


    They walked the rest of the way in silence. The question Dora posed hang over their heads like a malevolent halo. As the sun dipped into the horizon they reached a large sand dune that gave way to the oasis where green foliage and bent trees marked the grounds for the water they risked their lives to fetch. They walked without rhythm, ensuring their foot prints mirrored sand turned over by the wind.


    Dagaa, the leader of the water seekers, went up the dune alone. The rest huddled at its base. Dagaa crawled on his belly as he neared the crest. Upon reaching there he stood up and stared at the oasis floor before him. He stood motionless for a long span of moments.


    "Dagaa!" Lupin called out. "What do you see?" He asked.


    Dagaa didn''t answer. After a moment Lupin climbed the sand dune too only to stand dumbstruck at the crest. Indomil cursed and climbed herself, eager to see what had got the boys frozen. What she saw upon the crest chilled the blood in her veins, made the sun''s warmth vacant. Death greeted her sight.


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    Hundreds of men lay dead around the oasis, their blood soaked the sand and some of it found its way into the water. Some had missing limbs, others had holes bored into them. Entrails scattered the ground and some heads were arranged in a pyramid at the center of what Indomil could only assume was the killing field.


    "They are all Binorian Hunters." Dagaa said.


    The pale skin, grey and blue eyes, the blonde hair, brown hair, dark hair. They were all Binorians. Suddenly, the water in the oasis rippled and a figure''s head appeared, pushing to the shore, swimming to the dry land, he then emerged naked from the water. Upon seeing them he raised a hand and waved. "Hey!" He shouted, a Kolotian, like them, about the same age as them. "Hey guys! Hello!" He shouted, waving them over. The rest of the water seekers gathered around the peak of the sand dune. All of them staring at the naked Kolotian surrounded by dead Binorian Hunters. "Hey, come on down, will you?" The guy called out. Paused when he saw nobody was moving, then added. "Oh, don''t be afraid, my name is Ishar, I''m a Kolotian like you so you shouldn''t be afraid, well I understand how it looks. With the dead bodies and all but I only harm those who seek to harm me. Well, except my girlfriend." He stared at a fixed spot beneath him, before raising his head to them once more. "She ties me up and does things to my naked body but that can''t honestly constitute as harm, can it? It comes from a place of love! And when she shoves a finger up my¡ª" He stopped. A span of moments passed where he just stared at them, then he licked his lower lip, as if savoring a memory. He broke into a smile. "Well, you get what I''m saying, don''t you?" They did not.


    XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX


    They came down the sand dune hesitantly. Dagaa at the lead taking slow steps. The Kolotian had put on black breeches upon seeing their hesitation to join him at the oasis shore. The blood, brains, limbs and gore scattered around the Kolotian who''d introduced himself as Ishar didn''t seem to faze the young man.


    Young. Indomil thought. He was young in every sense of the word, his height didn''t match that of Dagaa, sure, muscle lined his limbs and abdomen but it wasn''t pronounced. He looked just like them only his violet eyes had a certain tinge to it, and his manic smile spelt of a potent nature that made her wary.


    When they came close enough, Dagaa held out a hand to halt the procession of water seekers. But Lupin edged forward to flank Dagaa. Lupin, ever careless, always letting curiosity get the best of him.


    "So." Lupin started much to Dagaa''s annoyance. "What the fuck happened here?" He gestured at the dismembered bodies of Binorian Hunters riddled all around them.


    Ishar raised a hand and lowered it before his face, then he spread the fingers. "They wanted my fingers." He said. "I''ve recently started having sex," he turned to Indomil and grinned. "I''ve realized fingers have more uses than just grabbing things. They can also enter places."


    They gawked at him.


    "There''s something wrong with him." Dagaa whispered.


    "Of course there''s something wrong with me." Ishar said. "There''s something wrong with everyone," He pointed at Phesoj, the smallest of the bunch. "Look at this one''s eyes, he looks like he won''t live long. Like he knows this, expects this. He''s a man resigned to fate. A grim fate at that." He pointed at Indomil. "And her, she''s currently fighting her desire for me, if you leave me in her presence she will violate me. I am certain of this."


    Indomil moved to speak but Phesoj beat her. "You''re right, tell me more."


    All heads turned to the frail little thing whose back was hunched under the burden of the stone can. "Ishar you say your name is? What you''ve spoken of me is true." He lifted his head. Phesoj''s violet eyes had a deathly cast to them. "Tell me more."


    "Certainly not the same for me." Indomil grumbled.


    Ishar lowered himself to Phesoj''s level. "I see pain around the curve of your nose. A lot of pain, pain that trumps the death in your eyes. Everybody you love will die, before death you will forever know loneliness. But your lips."


    "What of them." Phesoj pressed.


    "They speak of satisfaction." Ishar opined.


    "But what does this mean?" Lupin asked.


    Ishar turned to the scrawny youth. "It means he will go mad."


    Phesoj nodded, as if understanding the utter nonsense Ishar was saying.


    "And her!" Ishar pointed at Indomil. "She will attempt to sexually violate me tonight. And I''m not talking of soft violation like the one between me and my lover. No, hers is hard and filled with hate."


    Indomil''s sharp retort was cut off by Ishar''s last word. Hate.


    "So you have a lover?" Dagaa asked.


    "Yeah, she''s Talisi." Ishar said and smiled to himself, as if very proud of having a lover. Indomil felt a sudden urge to cobble him.


    "I''ve never seen a Talisi before, I''ve heard about them, and the Remu. The old songs spoke of the races, and one race that is no longer upon the realm, a race with green skin." Dora said.


    "My Telinete Rhino, Carrot, often says the same thing." Ishar said while nodding to himself. "He speaks of a race whose skin is like that of a cabbage."


    "And you have a Telinete rhino called ... Carrot?" Lupin said.


    Ishar nodded profusely.


    "Can you give us a second?" Dagaa asked and turned, gathering the rest of them with him several paces away from Ishar.


    "He is mad." Dagaa said with a whisper where they stood huddled together, arms over each other''s backs.


    "Completely mad." Lupin seconded Dagaa with the same pitch.


    "There''s something wrong with him." Indomil found herself saying. "His eyes, they are violet like ours but behind that glare, with the sinking sun, there''s a flash of another color."


    "Amber." Dora whispered.


    "Should we fetch the water? It''s crimson with blood." Phesoj asked.


    Dagaa turned his gaze to the water then the bodies around them. "What happened here?" He voiced a thought that plagued them all.


    "A single man, a Telinete rhino and a Talisi woman couldn''t have done this." Lupin said.


    "What do we do?" Xelif posed the question they were hesitant to ask. His beady eyes darting about nervously.


    "We take him to the colony chief." Dagaa decided. "We can''t fetch the water, we''ll go back with proof of what we''ve found here. A few heads in the stone cans. Otherwise they won''t believe us."


    "They''ll come for us." Dora said. "After this, they''ll come for us and we''ll all die." Her words startled Indomil, where was the optimism she''d grown accustomed to from Dora? Did everything vanish in the face of barbarism?


    "We should do this." An unfamiliar voice said from among them. "We should take Ishar to the colony so he can see more Kolotians. Up until now he''d never seen another Kolotian and the thought of there being more makes him as giddy as infant girl." All heads turned to the voice to find Ishar among them.


    They flinched away from him.


    "You''re mad." Dagaa said.


    "Yes, so what?" Ishar asked.


    "You''re insane!" Lupin opined.


    "Yeah, I know. I know" Ishar said, he seemed bored. "What I don''t know is if you guys are capable of putting your faith in madness? To surrender whole heartedly to the seed of chaos, can you do that? Because you''ll need to do so if what I desire is to be obtained. And what I desire is your freedom. What I desire is that you live."


    Indomil stared at him at that moment and realized that this stranger wasn''t joking at all. Ishar turned and their eyes met. His face broke into a smile. "You''re admiring me, aren''t you?" He asked. Her cheeks flushed and she turned her gaze away. "My girlfriend will kill you if she finds out you harbor feelings for me."


    Rage took over, Indomil balled her hands into fists. She moved to slap Ishar for his half-assed opinion, but the Kolotian caught her hand easily, he tagged her close to him and she could feel his breath upon her face. She stared into those violet eyes and watched them flash amber for a brief moment before reverting back to violet. "I can place a hand upon your chest." He spoke softly, almost intimately. Her breath caught. "I can take you into a realm where black sand and a dark abyss hangs above." He let go of her wrist and placed his hand on her neck, with his thumb he touched her chin. "My God is eager for worship, Kolotian beauty, he is eager for his people to return to him." He smiled. "You''re in so much pain, let me ease your strain." She found herself closing her eyes, leaning into him. A sensation enveloped her, promising release in simply letting go. Letting go of all that weighed her down, her anguish, her fear, her hatred. Everything didn''t matter if she simply let go and drunk what ishar offered her. She found herself enamored by the warmth his hand brought to her skin, and the thumb on her chin, she felt¡ª


    He abruptly hopped away from her, raised his head to the sky and let out a cackling laugh. "Well that was hot, hotter than the desert floor. I''m so well versed in matters of the heart these days, I know what to say to make a woman swoon. Though my girlfriend told me she''ll flay any woman I enchant with the methods she taught me." He sighed. "I miss her, she''ll be back soon." He stared at the ground for a span of moments. "Now, bind my hands with rope and take me to your colony so I can talk to your leader and complete the objective that brought me here."


    "What is your objective?" Lupin questioned.


    Ishar smiled, "Why, it''s salvation young man, always salvation. With a touch of chaos, of course, can''t leave out chaos. And a dash of madness too."


    XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX


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 Chapter 9

    The others wore coats that insulated against the cold western breeze that wafted across Basi Haya. Large green coats riddled with brown so as to match the land they traversed and played in. He didn''t have a coat, Kaza''s mother couldn''t afford it. He sat perched upon a large rock, if a Dragon passed overhead it would see him, the others would lie insensate upon the ground, hoping to escape the Dragon''s discern but he would be vulnerable, an easy prey for the predators that raked the land.


    They didn''t want to play with him, the village children saw themselves above the son of a whore. The son of Sin whose presence spelt impurity. They now played beneath him, paces away from the rock he sat upon. They wielded wooden swords and played out a battle that must have been exciting judging from their joyous cries. He''d wanted to play with them, once, he''d wanted to join the children and run and laugh like they did. But his approach was met by frowns, and the words of the eldest child still echoed from the past. "Get out of here you spawn of a whore!" He''d stood still, the hurt he felt smothered beneath a nonchalant mask. "Get out of here with your devil eyes!" Those words were the ones that had led his feet away from the children.


    Those children, he wanted to point out to them that their fathers had visited his home plenty of times. "Clients." His mother had referred to them as such. "A client is coming so you should make yourself scarce." That meant he was to go outside and wait in the night, away from the wooden shack, away from the sounds of love making, away from Sin. He hadn''t known at first what his mother did, a moment of curiosity had led him back into the shack, creeping under the cover of night. And his curiosity had been more than quenched. He''d been made witness to the basic if not animalistic nature of the bond between a man and woman, he''d understood then, there, while watching his mother straddle the father of one of the village boys, that Sin was tied to pleasure. What his mother offered, wasn''t a Sin marked by solitude but a deed done by two. But nobody else said this of the whore, the whole sin was draped upon her like a shroud, and she suffered beneath its weight.


    And he felt no hate sprouting from what he''d witnessed, nor did he feel a need to act out and rage against who his mother was and what she did. All he''d felt was contentment, a feeling of right and wrong had been justified by mere sight, and its justification brought no judgment from him.


    "We need to eat." His mother had said when she''d seen the look in his eyes after a client had left.


    Fourteen oscillations had passed and he was now growing into a man, his limbs weren''t small or pudgy as they once were. He now neared his mother''s shoulder, the lankiness of youth was something he could hone into muscle, like the Yellow army of The Queen of the East, the men who are modeled to serve the throne, to wield swords and act according to the will of the Queen. Or the Black army of the King of the West, those assassins of the night, those who trod the lands without fear while dragons raged in the sky. He would become a soldier, join their ranks, then he''d have money and a title, and his mother would have food and she wouldn''t whore. And Sin will not be marked upon him and her.


    "He just sits there staring, with those devil eyes." A voice said from beneath him, he turned his gaze down, the children had gathered around the large stone he sat upon. A dozen of them. Some as tall as he. He''d never tried to join their play since they rejected him, the only reason they were giving him attention was because they''d grown bored and needed someone to pick on. He wondered how they''ll go about picking on him.


    "Whore''s son." Justeen said. "Why don''t you show us your technique with the sword?" The eldest child said while taking a wooden sword from one of the other children and hurling it at him. He caught it as it spun towards him, easily, his fingers gripped the haft as if it was fashioned for him. He flung the sword away, choosing to stare at the sinking sun. The Rankf Sea was close, if he strained he could hear seagulls cry.


    "What is wrong with him?" Her voice drew his gaze towards her. Mirabelth, that was her name. The prettiest girl in the village, betrothed to Justeen since birth. Her yellow eyes peered up at him, curiosity rather than disgust marred her features. "What is wrong with his eyes?" She pushed further. They studied him and it took all that he could not to flinch away.


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    "He is worried." A fat kid said, scratching at the pallid green skin of his pudgy arm. "It has been more than two decades since a Sin Purge, rumor has it the Queen of the Eastland and the King of the Westland have enforced the Purge Accords. That an army is marching to the south, here, to carry out a purge."


    Justeen laughed. "Your mother is the only whore in the village, Kaza, she''s going to die."


    "It is said that the Prince of the West is personally overseeing the Sin Purge, it is most likely that he will grace the South with his presence. That is why the Chief is cleaning the village up and everyone is at their tidiest." The fat kid paused. "Everyone except the whore and her son, that is." They laughed then, at him, at his mother.


    Rage. Fear. Doubt. Sadness. Worry. They warred within him. He''d heard about the Purge accords. He knew what they meant, he''d seen how the mention of the Purge accords made his mother flinch, how it stilled her breath, how trembling assailed her limbs.


    "I will fight you." He said to Justeen. Kaza deftly made his way down the rock. The fat child moved to offer him his wooden sword but he pushed the sword away and curled his fingers into fists.


    Justeen threw his wooden sword away, tilted his head back and laughed. He was a head taller, well toned. The son of the village Chief was everything he was not. Yet, he didn''t feel fear, or weakness. What he felt was anger.


    "Look at his eyes." The youngest child said. "They are like a Dragon''s."


    "A demon''s." Mirabelth corrected.


    Justeen laughed, curled his fingers into fists. "Whore''s spawn. Once I start I will not stop until your face is a mangled pulp."


    Kaza smiled. "When I start I will stop, once Mirabelth begs me to do so."


    Justeen''s confident air faltered for a moment, a look of surprise gave way to fright and before it could revert to confidence Kaza was on him. Justeen blocked the first three blows, guiding the fourth away from himself easily. Kaza jumped back and pounced on the larger child''s waist, willing to drive him down. Justeen drove his elbows into his spine, once, twice. Kaza''s grip on Justeen''s waist slackened. He tried to push, to topple Justeen, but the larger kid held his ground, feet spread. He pushed Kaza away and pounced on him, driving him to the ground. Justeen''s fist met Kaza''s face repeatedly. Kaza tried to block but his hands were pushed away, blood dripped from his nose. He tasted blood in his mouth.


    Justeen was true to his word, once he started punching Kaza''s face, he did not stop. He no longer tried to block, Kaza''s limbs lay immobile beside him. All he could feel was the pain, like fire licking at his face. Then that gave way to numbness, his eyes were swelling over, blocking sight. And the last thing he saw as his gaze met the sky was a Dragon flying high above, indifferent to the fight of children. And then darkness.


    XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX


    Raco was exasperated under the burden of stress and worry. Night had settled in, a moonless night that would have warranted the use of torches to maneuver if they''d lived in a place without dragons. With the dragons about, a Rad es Maalas learnt the hard way on how to be hidden, to be out of the Dragon''s discern. But tonight she was willing to risk lighting a torch in the night, anything to find her son who hadn''t returned with the other children.


    Raco made her way in the dark to where her son had said he''d be. To the large rock where the children often played close to. Her hurried pace turned to a trot, then to a stumbling run. If her profession had been different, she would have approached the village Chief for assistance, but due to her work of sin, her approach would have soiled the Chief''s reputation, he would have turned her away or had her whipped just to save face before the villagers.


    Asking other children where her son was was out of the question too. The whore doesn''t approach, she lures, she stands at the edge of a street, dress cut high, flesh showing. Tempting those who were weak, who would seek their way to her in secret. Those with strong will do not meet her gaze. Raco understood that she existed to be seen and not to be seen, and her approach to anyone, even if it''s to ask for help or information regarding her son, would be counter to the nature of Sin worship. And that would incur consequences.


    She groped the darkness beneath the rock, willing to spend the whole night searching the field around the rock if she''d have to. Then by first light if her efforts didn''t bare any fruit, she would approach the villagers, she would risk consequence for the sake of her son.


    Tears cascaded down Raco''s cheeks as she called out. "Kaza!" She heightened her voice. "Where are you my son!"


    She walked the grounds, hurriedly making sure to cover every spot. That''s when her foot met flesh, she tumbled then scrambled onto the body on the grass floor. It was her son, she could tell by the scrawny limbs. She raised her hands to his face, it was swollen, wet with blood and spit. "Oh Kaza." Raco lamented. She got up, carrying her son with her in her arms. Her mind a jumble, worry had receded to relief and now it had cleared her mind to accommodate gloom.


    The Prince of the West was coming. Every one who practiced Sin openly knew this. He was coming to enforce the Purge accords. She''d had a plan, an escape from the village in a day or two with Kaza. But now her son, her son who was beaten and broken, he wouldn''t be able to travel. Raco silenced her mind, focusing on Kaza''s shallow breaths, proof that he was still alive. She willed herself to believe that that was all she cared about.


    XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX


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 Chapter 10

    Fire represented more than just an element, it was the only element that consumes, that directly transforms. It came of the breath of a Dragon, or so the Scorched book of the Rad es Maalas claimed. Celyd held a torch in his hand, the only one among the band of five hundred who didn''t wield a sword.


    He watched through glazed yellow eyes as the son of the King of the West killed without mercy, driving his sword through helpless women, unarmed men and innocent children. The village they purged was the third, a tip from a rival village proclaimed them worshippers of the moon, tied to the sea and the Leviathans, the Dragons'' nemesis. A forbidden religion.


    Never mind that the intel came from a rival village, those who competed with the village being purged at the fish market. The Prince of the West did not require proof in order to act, all he needed was suspicion. And woe unto anyone who pointed out the flaw in his reasoning.


    So here Celyd found himself, holding a torch from the Citadel, a torch whose flames came from the heart of the Citadel, where a Dragon''s flame is forever kept alive. It is to this flame that those purging and those being purged bore witness to the presence of Sin, and it is by this flame that those being purged were cleansed free of their stain.


    Prince Benji, the pride of the West. His chiseled jaw, large eyes and high cheekbones made women at the Citadel swoon. Seeing his twenty fifth oscillation, he was destined to be heir to the throne of the West. Adept in combat, brave beyond a doubt. It was rumored that he once stood before a Dragon and lived. Prince Benji was the very image of power and greatness the West worshipped. It is through him that hope is born anew, a hope that spoke of conquering the East. His blood lust was worshipped as a sign of strength, and his prowess in battle marked him a chosen one of Sin.


    Yet here he was, ripping pregnant women open, beheading children and driving his sword through shriveled old men. Celyd hated the Prince, hated his father who raised him in this way, and most of all he hated himself for being a part of the monstrosity of the Rad es Maalas.


    "Gather the survivors!" The Prince commanded. Tired from swinging his sword. Blood stained his silver armor, coated his face and streamed down his beard. The survivors were gathered, each of them weeping, some of them had to be dragged from the corpses of their departed loved ones. They were ten score, the survivors, the frailest, those who couldn''t run, who just lay on the ground and awaited death. They were gathered at the village square, huddled together like pigs, as if they weren''t part of the Rad es Maalas.


    Celyd''s part was coming up. He didn''t carry a sword, being a Priest of the Citadel, it was his duty to carry the torch. The flame, the breath of the Dragon.


    Prince Benji walked over to where Celyd stood, noting his shriveled look, the Prince smiled. "You should be happy, priest, this here is what your faith stands for." He kicked over a dismembered child''s limb. "Here, take a good look priest. This is what marks the corner stone of your religion, this is the wage for those who choose not to be like us, those who risk the wrath of the Dragons." He leaned his face closer, Celyd could smell the iron tinge of blood upon the Prince. "Why should many suffer for the sins of the few?"


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    A sudden rage took Celyd, he spoke out of turn, a slight that might mean the end of his life. "These villagers might not be moon worshippers," Celyd hesitated, but pushed on after his words were met by silence from Prince Benji. "The rival village might have just used you to clear the market field of a rival."


    "Oh really now?" Prince Benji said while motioning for one of the soldiers. "That woman there, clutching her child, bring the child to me." He commanded. The soldier briskly carried out the Prince''s command. The woman wept, begged, dove for her child. She had to be restrained by two soldiers.


    The Prince unsheathed a dagger from his waist belt, placed a palm on the child''s shaky shoulders. "Woman." He spoke to the child''s mother, she nodded, tears streaming down her cheeks. "Are you moon worshippers?"


    The woman shook her head in the negative before speaking. "No we aren''t my Lord."


    The Prince shifted his hand to the child''s head, tilted the head to bare the neck. He placed the tip of his dagger on the child''s jugular. "I will repeat the question, are you moon worshippers?"


    The woman started screaming. "Yes! Yes we are! Please let my son go. Please! Take me instead! Kill me instead."


    Prince Benji turned to Celyd. "Apparently, I wasn''t wrong." He spoke as he drove the dagger into the child. Blood sprouted in a jet, the child dropped to the ground, a pool of blood drifted from him. The mother screamed and clawed at her eyes.


    "Douse them in oil." Prince Benji commanded. The soldiers moved to obey. The huddled villagers had canisters of Rankf Leviathan oil poured on them, they screamed, they begged, they asked for mercy but were offered none. The soldiers moved mechanically, having done this all before.


    "The carnage is necessary, but do not be dismayed by the results of this purge, say, there''s another village down south, has a whore. In my assessment of your inability to stomach death, we will go there where there shall be only one death. Then we''ll head back to the Citadel." Prince Benji said, as if the death of one more person was a gift to him. "And I shall also forgive the insult you just uttered against me, Celyd." The Prince added.


    It was at that moment that Celyd doubted his religion, all the teachings under the Citadel masters, all the careful consuming of tomes of books. The memorizing  of the three hundred Principles that guided a man to live with Sin. Everything that defined who he was, things he''d imbued into his very being from his youth to his old age, now all of that seemed like utter bullshit. Staring at the trembling villagers doused in oil, he realized that he hated himself and hated his religion and all that it stood for.


    "Do your part, Priest." Prince Benji commanded.


    Celyd observed the orange flame upon the torch in hand. He turned his eyes to meet the clear yellow eyes of Prince Benji. With one word, he could end himself. With one word, he could prevent the death of the villagers by his hand. Sure they''ll still die, probably with him among them but he wouldn''t be the hand that sets the flame. He wouldn''t be the reason behind their death. The village was in a clearing surrounded by trees, built well to prevent a Dragon''s direct line of vision. A flock of birds moved from the tree line, flying high into the sky, without a fear of who dwelt there.


    Fear. He was a coward, that much was true. He moved forward, nothing in his stride spoke of  certainty. He stood above the gathered villagers on the ground, the torch in hand. The soldiers to the sides stared at him, behind him he knew the Prince''s eyes were trained on him.


    He sighed and lowered the flame. Screams sounded as fire consumed.


    XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX


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 Chapter 11

    King Mogich was the spitting image of his father, the narrow eyes, the short bulky build. Only youth marked the difference between the diseased King Gans and his son. But the presence of youth did not dispel wisdom, the young King was a man who saw with more than just the eyes, he could paradigm, see different perspectives and in so doing also act in ways that spoke of wisdom beyond his age.


    Mairek stood beneath the King''s gaze, eyes whose lids were pressed closed allowed for a narrow slit of vision, and from there did green eyes peer at Mairek. The King sat on his silver throne, silver crown forged to resemble antlers upon his head. The Chief Red priest stood beside the throne, daring all who covet his position beside the King with a haughty raise of his chin. The Priest''s red robes were a sharp contrast to the King''s dark green tunic. Beside Mairek stood the Princess Tari, hands clasped behind her and chin raised to mimic that of the Red Priest. She gave off an air of defiance, as if she was only there to honor her brother''s summons and nothing else. She openly avoided to look in Mairek''s direction. Flanking the throne room hallways were countless delegates to the throne, servants of major positions and Generals of the Green Army. The situation was dire, the King was going to address something that had baffled the whole of Talisi.


    Mairek had not only killed five men, but also deposited the heads of said men in Princess Tari''s chamber. The Princess had been outraged, Mairek''s deed had not painted her in a good light. The Palace talked, and many viewed her as someone who was against the Champion of the Talisi, so against him to the point of contemplating and initiating murder. All were eager to know the King''s position on the whole matter. Who was he going to punish, his sister the Princess or the Champion of the Talisi?


    Silence engulfed the throne room as if to cough or stir would be a great sin. Everyone awaited the word of the King, the King who lounged in his throne, silently observing.


    "Mairek." King Mogich started.


    "Yes my King."


    "These five men you killed, they came to kill you under Princess Tari''s orders?"


    "Yes."


    "And you killed them all?"


    "Yes."


    Silence.


    "How did you do it?" King Mogich asked.


    Heads turned to stare at Mairek and the young Talisi wondered at the aim of the Talisi King. Did he want an in-depth analysis?


    "I''m not certain of what you''re asking of me." Mairek said.


    "Well, I''m asking you to address everyone on how exactly you killed five assassins on your own. Assassins who are bigger and more trained in the art of murder compared to you." King Mogich said.


    After a moment of pondering, Mairek decided to be honest. "I moved faster than they could, or rather, I moved faster than the time allotted them. I was unarmed at first but I expertly maneuvered the reach of their blades and picked up my half spear. From there I only needed to drive the spear into specific vital points made available by their desperation to put an end to me. The first I struck in the neck, the second through the left eye, the third I drove the spear through the nose, that didn''t finish him but it disoriented him. The fourth I sliced at the tendon behind the knee, then drove the spear point up through his thigh, cutting an artery. The fifth tried to run, I took him down from behind. Then I went back and finished the third." He gave the account in a manner similar to that which a merchant''s attendant might give regarding the nature of stock.


    King Mogich nodded. "Then you beheaded them?"


    Mairek nodded, realized that wasn''t behavior fit to address a King, then spoke. "Yes my King, with one of their swords. That was the hard part."


    "And what did you do with the heads?" King Mogich pressed.


    "I took them to the one who''d hired them to kill me." Mairek said.


    "And who would that be?"


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    Mairek pointed at Princess Tari. "The Princess Tari."


    Murmurs arose within the Throne room.


    "Tari, do you have anything to say to this?" King Mogich asked.


    Tari, composed as if this was her hundredth summons on account of murder, spoke without stuttering, the perfect embodiment of a woman raised and nurtured within Palace grounds, aware of Palace politics and the intricate art of using eloquence to weave through it all. "Brother, not only did this Talisi soldier play a role in killing father, he is also a liar set on soiling our name and heritage. He is not to be believed, if I indeed hired Assassins to kill him, how then did he learn of this? He spends all his time in that hole of room, never leaving, how then did he learn of my supposed ploy to kill him?"


    Mogich turned to Mairek and motioned for him to answer.


    Mairek sighed. "I heard you. I saw you. I tasted you, I felt you. It''s so hard to describe how I perceive things but I was aware when you paid in gold for my head."


    King Mogich nodded as if Mairek made perfect sense. "So you somehow felt she''d done this?"


    "In a sense, yes." Mairek said.


    King Mogich stood up from his throne and pointed at two soldiers. "General Lijo." A lanky man with a thick white mustache stepped free of those crowding the throne room.


    "My liege." He spoke in a melodious voice.


    "General Irow." The King continued. A short burly man with leathery skin broke free of the crowd and saluted King Mogich with a fist to the breast. "Kindly depart the throne room, walk until you''re free of the palace, hold a conversation for five minutes that is totally random. Then come back." The two Generals obliged their King, swift matching strides led them out of the throne room. When the two Generals were clear of the throne room, King Mogich told Mairek."You will say what they''ve spoken of."


    "I will do you one better." Mairek said and closed his eyes, he allowed it all to flow through him, the cries of a child, the melody of a bard, the conversation between two secret lovers. All that happened by the repercussions of time was availed to him, and through the sea of endless information he picked out the two generals as they hastily made their way outside the palace. "I will speak what they say as they speak."


    XXXXXXXXXXXXXX


    The two generals walked in silence. Across the archway, down the path that curved through a garden of daffodils. They made their way past the kitchen quarters and came to a halt beside the gate leading out of the palace. They stood in silence before Irow broke it.


    "Now what the hell are we going to talk about, Lijo?" Irow asked in a husky deep voice.


    "I don''t know." The taller of the two said. They stared at each other for a while. "But we''ve been ordered to talk so talk we must."


    "I''m sorry about your son." Irow said.


    "Why? He went to war and didn''t return, it is the by product of war to deal death." Lijo said.


    "But he was there upon the Ganidan plain, he was part of the first victory against Binoria, he is in Tabrimas among the valiant." Irow said.


    Lijo turned fully to face the short general. "Tabrimas," He scoffed. "The realm of the valiant, tell me, Irow, what good is valiance if its wage is similar to that of war? No, don''t answer. Let me expound. If a man sees a woman being assaulted upon an empty road by several bandits, and he saves her through some miracle of luck and his being adept at the sword. Does that count as an act of valor?"


    "It does." Irow answered. "He is then worthy of *Tabrimas.*"


    "Say he doesn''t die from his act of valor, and proceeds to live a full life where his valiance is a sharp contrast to his animosity, to his greed. Say, he claims the lives of dozens of women, killing them by ripping them open. When he dies, will his one act of valor mean that he is going to Tabrimas despite his deeds of cruelty that followed that of valor?"


    Irow blinked several times as if to see clearly.  After a moment he spoke. "I guess he won''t go to Tabrimas." He concluded.


    "Then the purpose of Tabrimas is limited upon a time frame, such that an act of valor must be accompanied by death in order to secure one''s self in the realm of the valiant." Lijo moved closer to Irow. "Then that means that Tabrimas is a shit hole, a fallacy forged of those who want their men to die for them. If my son is indeed in the realm of the valiant then he is among fools and I pity him."


    "You speak from a place of grief." Irow intoned.


    "No, I speak from a place of vengeance. If that so called champion of the Talisi can hear me now, if he can relay my words then the King shall know what my desires are." Lijo spoke, each word laced with bitterness.


    "Careful, Lijo." Irow counseled. "You''re teetering on insubordination."


    "We''ve been given leave to speak freely so I shall." Lijo pressed on. "The King shouldn''t take the victory over Binoria as a finality. No, his father died,  daughters lost brothers, fathers lost sons and so did mothers. Talisi has wounds that are festering and the only ointment to ease the pain is to act."


    "You suggest we wage war against Binoria?" Irow wondered.


    "Yes. They are weak, they barely have an army, they barely have a leader. A woman leads them now, and we have Mairek, a weapon in our arsenal. We can crush them. Repay the pain they served us for centuries in kind."


    Irow nodded. "You speak from a place of grief."


    "I do," Lijo agreed. "I do."


    A span of moments passed, each general seemingly lost in thought. "Do you think the Princess did it? Do you think she hired killers to kill the Champion?" Irow asked.


    "I hope she did."


    "Expound."


    "She acted from a place of grief and that is totally understandable for I seek to do the same. And in her action we are made more aware of that who is among us who is separate from us."


    "Killed five men in a narrow room."


    "Imagine what he can do with an army to command."


    "We''d be invincible."


    "We''d be avenged."


    They stared at each other before turning on their heels and returning to the throne room. They entered and found all eyes trained on them, the Princess still standing before the throne, beside Mairek. The King eyed them, his eyes searching.


    King Mogich spoke. "Come forward." The two generals came to stand two paces closer to the throne than Mairek and Tari. "Did you speak of the death of your son, Lijo, Tabrimas being a place of fools and your desire to see us go to war against Binoria, concluding with your pleasure at Tari''s attempt on Mairek''s life for it made us aware of he who is among us but is separate from us?"


    General Lijo''s mouth hang open, Irow''s too.


    "Did you speak of this?" Mogich repeated.


    "We did." The two generals spoke in unison.


    King Mogich turned to Tari. "I here by bound you in servitude to Mairek, that will be your punishment, to serve him in any way that he may require."


    Tari''s ebony skin had a deathly pale cast to it. She stood, not looking at her brother but at Mairek whose aloof air spoke of how little he cared about her punishment.


    King Mogich turned to Mairek. "You will have four official bodyguards to follow you wherever you go and offer whatever protection they can master."


    "But your highness." Mairek started. "I need no one."


    King Mogich smiled. "But we need you."


    XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX


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 Chapter 12

    Four suns were engraved upon the sky, blazing, radiant. The grass beneath Dahli''s feet was golden and blew whichever way, tickling her feet. She''d been summoned, as night set in and sleep found its way to the top of mortal desire, the Goddess Meena took her chosen ones into her domain and communed with them.


    Dahli tilted her head to either side, looking for Masutap, her half sister.


    "She''s not here." The Goddess Meena spoke from behind her, Dahli turned to regard her deity. Dressed in a flowery dress that dripped off her body like liquid, it was golden in color to resemble the suns and the ground of her domain. The symmetrical features of Meena''s face put everything mortals regarded as beauty to shame. Those full lips spread into a coy smile as she regarded Dahli with red irises. "Masutap doesn''t answer my summons, she rejects my presence and uses me only as a siphon for power."


    Dahli gripped the hem of the white dress she wore in the domain. "Masutap is wayward."


    "She worships hate." The Goddess opined.


    "A result of servitude to grief."


    "Her purpose is to see Binoria fall."


    "Yes." Dahli said with a sigh. "That seems to be everyone''s wish." She recalled the mad Kolotian, for some reason he always found a way into her thoughts, she saw his eyes glowing amber, riding upon a Telinete Rhino. If he wished to snuff out Binoria''s light, who could stop him? She doubted she was strong enough. And if Masutap joined him...


    "Your fears are misplaced." Meena said, voice as lilting as a bard''s lute. "Binoria''s foe isn''t the Kolotian, neither is it Masutap or Mairek or Rehny, though the Champion of Love plays a pivotal role in what is to come."


    "The foe¡ª"


    "The foe I speak of isn''t defined by race or borders, neither is his objective to conquer or to subdue. What he wants is death, what he serves is death, what he offers is death. And with death there isn''t any respite from pain. No. Those he will claim join him in the void, to forever suffer." Meena turned away from Dahli. "You must warn them."


    "How?" Dahli wondered. She knew the other nations were preparing for war against Binoria. If she told them there existed a greater evil within the realm, would they heed her warning or would they cut off her head and have it upon a pike placed above Binoria''s gate to mark an end to tyranny? She wanted to cry out, to shout that the deeds of her people weren''t as a result of nurtured cruelty, but the deeds of a single man whose ambition drew the eyes of a Goddess.


    "Selarch was from another time." Meena spoke, Dahli faced her, taking in the pristine curve of her chin and the point of her nose. The way the Goddess read her thoughts, knew her in and out. It unsettled her. But she took comfort from it, she had nothing to hide, for once. "Selarch came from a time that knew only war, their language was brutality and their religion was cruelty." Meena continued. "I made a mistake, prolonging his time upon the realm didn''t bring about evolution but a complacency in barbarism."


    "But you had to," Dahli said. "You loved him."


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    Meena balled her hands into fists. "I thought I did. But with Nyawe''s return so did love''s revelation avail itself and it was different from what I believed."


    Dahli took a moment to ponder. "You love another." Meena didn''t answer. "A God." Ishar came to her mind, the young Kolotian who had no filter, who spoke what came to mind, who thought of her as beautiful. Who is his God?


    "His God is Ovek, the God of Chaos." Meena said, unclenching her fists.


    "Ovek is the one you love." Dahli said. She balled her hands into fists, mimicking the Goddess. "The thoughts of Ishar that plague my mind, this state of being besotted by him, this desire to have him for my own. It doesn''t stem from me but from my bond with you." She felt relieved, as if those idle fantasies she found herself entertaining weren''t her fault.


    Meena cocked a smile. "If that was the case, then wouldn''t Masutap feel the same way? And I assure you she doesn''t. All she feels is rage. She said she wanted to bring an inferno. Heat, she reminds me of Sin."


    Dahli''s trail of thought started to wander, as order willed it. She was made aware of the structure of Meena''s words, the subject, the purpose and the diversion born of the purpose. She saw herself at the brink of a trail of thought, born of the curiosity to who Sin is. But she held herself back, she knew that her question would be answered if she asked but Meena''s answer would birth more questions and she would be lost. No, the question I ask will be the one she''s avoiding. "Tell me about Ovek." She said, unclenching her fists.


    Meena smiled. "You understand the mental strands of order. Good."


    "Don''t change the subject."


    "Ovek," Meena started. She turned to face Dahli. "We are old, us Gods, we''ve been around for so long and in that time as the Goddess of Order, I was able to understand my fellow deities and their roles. All of them except for one."


    "Ovek." Dahli whispered.


    "I am Order, he is Chaos. I try to grasp the purpose behind his actions, I asked myself where his zeal comes from and from what well does his thoughts sprout from. I found no answer, the more I quested to understand him the more I felt I was wandering through a labyrinth whose purpose is lost to me." She smiled. "But the more I sought to map him out, the more I found myself drawn to what he was. So opposite from me, so different from what I stood for. An escape from who I am."


    "Chaos." Dahli uttered the word, her mind held the gaze of amber eyes.


    "I thought order can''t exist in chaos, but it can. I found the path of its existence paved with love." Meena concluded.


    "The Kolotian, I must speak to him. I must warn him of Leba, I must have him on my side." Dahli said the words but even she knew them to be untrue, well, partly false. She did want him on her side.


    "If you die in Ovek''s domain you''ll die where you sleep too. And the Kolotian is in love with another, the odds are not to your favor, being besotted would give you no upper hand. He is in love, Dahli," Meena said. "Neither does he believe in order. The last time he was here," She raised a hand, motioning to the four suns upon the sky. "He beat me. Such a thing has never been done."


    Dahli''s mouth hang open, aghast. "But how? He is a mortal!"


    "Ovek played his game well, each piece set in a place that would guarantee his victory. I threatened his lover, and Ishar plunged into the depth of madness to achieve the unthinkable. A mortal beating a Goddess." Meena said. "I cannot bring him back to this domain, he will wage war against me without a thought, but I can send you into his domain where you will be at his mercy, and the mercy of his God. I will not be able to rescue you and if you die there, well, you know."


    "You''re afraid of him" Dahli said and Meena flinched. "Can I beat his God? overpower him as Ishar did you?" Dahli asked.


    Meena shook her head. "No, you cannot."


    "There must be a way." Dahli said. "There must be a way I can plunge into the depths of order."


    "To do that will only heighten your sanity, and in so doing you''ll grasp how pointless total abandon is. No, what you need in order to be as Ishar is, is madness. And I hold no say over such a wretched seed of chaos."


    Dahli understood the Goddess''s words. She cannot beat Ishar''s God, Ovek. Not in his domain, where Ishar currently was, a man prone to madness. The returned Legions. She remembered how they screamed, mutilating themselves, cursing, always cursing and yelling. Ishar could order his God to kill her, and what would stop him? She stood for his opposite, Order in every sense of the word. She made up her mind, abandoned security. I need to tell him about Leba. He needs to know.


    "I will do it. Take me to Ovek''s domain." Dahli said.


    Meena shook her head. "I will not lose you to Chaos."


    "I will not die." Dahli retorted. I have to find a way to live.  "I am not afraid." She added.


    Meena cocked a smile and pushed her. ¡±Ovek, take my gift." Darkness engulfed Dahli as she fell, sprouting from the edges to cover her entire periphery and when she touched the ground, it wasn''t golden grass that cushioned her fall, but black sand.


    XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX


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 Chapter 13

    He puffed on the roll of wangi in hand, the thick smoke that had a sweet tinge to its grey plumes clouded about Ishar''s head. "Ovek," He said.


    "Yeah?" The God, Ovek, answered. Man and God sat upon a field of black sand, overlooking a dark sky. Ishar passed him the wangi roll and Ovek took a drag before blowing a plume of his own. The God sat with his knees drawn up, he rested an arm on his knees and with the other he brought the roll of wangi to his lips. He had copper skin now, a head of sand peppered hair and eyes of brown. He looked like a Remu. The scar on his forehead and the silver tooth were the only distinction to the God of many faces.


    "This is like your domain, right? This place that you bring me every night." Ishar who mimicked the God''s posture said.


    "Yeap." Ovek answered.


    "So you can change it, like change how it looks and everything. You can add things and take them away?"


    "Yeah."


    "Why then don''t you make it more comfortable? The whole sitting on black sand thing isn''t exactly comfortable, is it?"


    "I can create seats, comfortable seats made of plump cushions of deep amber." Ovek said.


    "Yeah, and, and, hear me out." Ishar stood up. "We can have food that float around and you can grab them out of the air and eat them."


    "Fascinating." Ovek agreed. "Why stop there? We can add flowing rivers of wine."


    Ishar placed both hands on his head. "That would be amazing! And... I''m so excited... And we can have a bard, no... No.. Three bards, each of them singing different songs that just combine to make one great song."


    "I don''t think music works that way." Ovek said. Passing the wangi roll back to Ishar. "But that sounds like a fantastic idea." He watched as the young Kolotian sucked on the wangi roll.


    "So, are you going to do it?" Ishar asked with a smoky cough.


    "No." Ovek answered.


    "But why?"


    "This is the domain of Chaos. Those who wander in here lose everything, they lose their minds, their ambitions and passions. They are stripped of all that they see as fair, all that they see as deserving of them. The black sand represents quantity, each grain of sand is a plunge into that which fights back, that innate urge to abandon everything and give yourself to that which isn''t aligned." Ovek raised his hand to the black sky. "And up there, where no sun shines, no star sparkles. Well, with a gaze you understand hopelessness."


    "But we smoke wangi in here. Surely we can do more." Ishar argued.


    "The drug has its purpose, you shall one day understand."


    "Ovek, take my gift." A female voice suddenly sounded amidst the darkness.


    Suddenly, the space before Ishar tore, revealing a bright light, he tensed and backtracked. A woman fell through the gap in space and darkness encroached, smothering the light. The woman wore a white dress, she lay on the ground, puzzled, then she sprang to her feet and curled her hands into fists before her. The woman looked very familiar with her blonde hair and grey eyes engraved in a heart shaped face.


    Ovek and Ishar stared at her.


    She lowered her fists but held them curled by her side, she bowed low and spoke with her head facing the ground. "Ovek, God of Chaos. I stand here before you with a request, that you may grant me leave to speak to Ishar. I wish you no harm and I apologize for intruding in your domain."


    Ovek stared at her. "Meena''s champion?" He asked.


    She raised her head and nodded. "I am at your mercy." She added.


    "Ovek I''m going to be frank with you, I do not know this woman." Ishar said.


    "I am Queen Dahli of Binoria." Dahli said. "When I knew you I was a Princess."


    "Oh! Oh yes!" Ishar said while pointing at her. "Oh yes!" Ishar turned to Ovek. "Remember that woman I told you I saw while at Binoria? The beautiful, really hot one? The Princess?"


    "This is her?" Ovek asked.


    "In the flesh." Ishar said and took a drag of the wangi roll. "Gods she''s gorgeous."


    Dahli stared at him. "Ishar, I have something important to share with you¡ª"


    Ovek held up a hand, the wangi plant and its smoke vanished, the sand upon the ground stirred, as if coming alive. "You''re in my domain, daughter of Order. You stain my essence with your very being. What will you give in exchange for mercy?" His voice transformed. Becoming hoarse, riddled with malice, rage and loathing. The voice stripped her of order, made her thoughts a jumbled mess. She felt distraught, as if a piece of her was missing.


    Dahli''s limbs shook, she moved to answer but Ovek shook his head.


    "This is the first time you have come into my domain, I will not ask anything of you but I shall give that honor to my champion." Ovek said while motioning to Ishar. "The second time you shall enter, I will demand of you something you will deem too precious to give, and it is then that you might meet your end by my hand. Daughter of Order."


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    "Can you stop speaking like that? You''re scaring her." Ishar said.


    "I have to put on a good show so she''d take me seriously, Ishar, we talked about this." Ovek said.


    "Can you look at the poor woman, there''s no breeze here yet she''s trembling like a twig in a hurricane. Have some mercy on her."


    "Mercy is a price that she will pay for depending on what you choose to ask of her." Ovek said and got off the ground, he turned and started walking away. "I will leave you two to talk, oh and Ishar." Ovek tilted his neck at Ishar, he waved a copper hued hand and something like a chair appeared, it was long but wasn''t made of wood or padded with cotton or leather. It was black, and shaped like a pool of floating black water uplifted on four legs that also seemed forged of flowing black water . The surface of the chair reflected their features and right before Ovek left, Ishar saw the God''s smile.


    Ishar rushed and dropped himself on the chair. Watched the seat stretch to encompass his length, it forged as a pillow beneath his neck and he leaned back, stretching like a cat. "You have to try this. It''s so comfy."


    Dahli was hesitant. As if sensing a trap.


    Ishar sat up. "Come, don''t be afraid, I''m not going to rape you."


    Dahli''s brows creased. Her eyes reminded Ishar of a lion, he had never seen one but the intensity behind her glare spoke of something feral. "Even if you tried, you will not succeed." She turned her attention to the chair. "I''m wary of this contraption for I do not know its purpose, it might serve to incarcerate me."


    "Incarcerate. Wow!" Ishar started clapping. "Big words! Big Girl, what other big words do you know?"


    "You''re like a child." Dahli said, a sneer drawing the corner of her lip. "Incarcerate means imprison."


    "I also know a big word," Ishar said. "Serendipity."


    Dahli smiled. "What does it mean?"


    "Honesty, I have no idea. Ovek talked about something mundane like how to revive a nation and he used the word serendipity. I wanted to ask him what it means but then I thought it would be way cooler if he thought I knew what it meant before hand, so I didn''t ask." He leaned back down on the chair, "But this chair! Gods! It is so comfy, it feels serendipitous. I think I''ll name this chair that, serendipity."


    Dahli moved a step closer, hesitated then made up her mind with a nod and placed herself on the chair. Ishar, leaning back, watched as the shape of the chair morphed to accommodate her, not forcing itself upon her limbs but positioning itself in a way that beckoned her to ease her limbs into it with a promise of comfort. In moments, she lay with her back, facing the abyss above.


    They reclined in silence. Neither willing the moment to end, and Ishar''s eyes were on her. Taking her in, the way her breath was even, as if every inhale and exhale was practiced.


    "You smoke wangi with your God?" Dahli asked.


    "Yeah. So you''re a queen now, what''s it like?"


    Dahli paused, as if not expecting the shift in the conversation. Ishar knew order, he''d been in the realm of the Goddess Meena. Ovek had taught him how to dance counter to the flow of order, to rage against it with the aim of subduing it, something Ovek said was impossible for Order and Chaos exist in balance. "It''s hard. So many people depend on me. Binoria is at its weakest, there''s so much that''s going on, so much that requires action, the right action and the right words and the right thoughts. Without the power of Meena, I would be swamped."


    "I killed some Binorians in the desert recently." Ishar said. "I''m sorry, they wanted to cut off my hands."


    "It would be unwise to tell me of your location." Dahli said.


    "I''m also sorry about killing your father, I thought he''d killed the woman I loved but he hadn''t, he also was trying to kill me, and the Talisi."


    "That man was not my father."


    Ishar nodded. "Yes, he was Selarch, reincarnated in the flesh of his descendants."


    Dahli turned to face Ishar. "You knew?"


    Ishar cocked a brow. "It might surprise you, Queen, but I know a lot of things." He stood up, getting out of Serendipity, the chair beckoned for him as it parted his body. "I know a lot, I know so much. Sometimes I am burdened with the knowledge bestowed upon me by experience. I stay up, raked with foreboding born of the seeds that sprout in my mind unbidden. I also know why you''re here."


    Dahli gasped. "So your God has told you?"


    "Partly, yes, but majority of the knowledge I now posses I have gleamed through my own discernment."


    "Then you know the danger that faces us all."


    "Yes I do." Ishar said. He turned to face her, his face a mask of deep contemplation. "I know that you love me, that you are infatuated by me. That you cannot rest or eat or sleep without me plaguing your mind."


    "What¡ª" Dahli started but Ishar moved to her and silenced her with an index finger to her lips.


    "Hush my sweet. It cannot be, that which you desire and long for, it cannot be. I am aware of the effect I have on women, but my heart is spoken for."


    Dahli pushed his finger roughly away. "You imbecile." She started, "The reason I am here is to warn you of my brother, Leba Vigon."


    Ishar turned his back to her, crossed his arms behind his back, he stared off into the dark horizon within the Domain of Chaos. He seemed pained by the words he had to speak, as if breaking a heart wasn''t part of his agenda.


    "Dahli," he started. "I understand. Leba, your brother, desires you too."


    "Did someone drop you as a child?"


    "You are Queen and he wants to be King. In this game of thrones, it isn''t uncommon for a brother to copulate with his sister. And besides, you''re irresistible."


    Dahli pinched the bridge of her nose and furrowed her brow. "Ishar." She started, as if speaking to a child. "Leba Vigon is the chosen Champion of a God."


    Ishar nodded. "So he sees this as a valid reason to mount you?"


    Dahli sighed, seemed to be thinking about a sharp retort, and then decided against it. She continued with a soothing voice, like pouring honey. "No, Ishar. The God Leba serves is the enemy of life, he does not conform to race nor Kingdom. His dominion is the void and I fear Leba will deal this potent hatred of his God upon the realm."


    Ishar turned to her. "What is the name of this God?"


    "Locha, the bringer of the endless night." Dahli said.


    Ishar turned to her, feeling something well within him. Is that dread? He wondered. No, it sits deeper than that, it must be brought about by an overwhelming fear. But why am I afraid? "I know nothing of this God. Nor of Leba."


    "What do you know of the Gods?" Dahli asked. "What has your God told you of them?"


    Ishar waved a hand. "I know Meena, Order. And of course my God, Chaos. Then there''s Mairek''s God, he has something to do with time or colds, something like that. Mairek tried explaining it to me but all I got from him is how terrified he''d look whenever someone coughed. There''s Rehny''s, something about a Goddess who loves pink because she made his hair pink. And... Uhmm.. That''s about it."


    Dahli looked to be visibly fighting an urge to groan. She collected herself, and with a soft sigh she delved into detail. "The Gods united once, at a time called Tunega when they walked the realm. They united the realm to face the Bringer of the Endless Night, Locha. They fought and a Goddess died to ensure their victory. The Gods forged a prison for Locha to ensure he never returned but this rendered them incapable of walking the realm freely so as not to hinder the prison''s parameters. But now that the Gods have chosen champions, so too as Locha returned with a champion of his own. My brother, Leba."


    "Where is he?" Ishar asked.


    "I do not know." Dahli answered. "I fear the Remu and Talisi will attack Binoria, we barely have a standing army. They think the old rules still stand, that war and barbarity is the only answer to a life of subjugation. I fear they are blinded with their need for revenge, blind to the fact that there exists one who does not care for either, one who only wants to feed the void."


    "Is that why you''re here, to warn me of Leba?"


    "Yes, I need you to help me unite them. The champions of the Gods and the realm, to gather all who can fight in preparation for Leba''s first attack." Dahli said. She lowered her gaze and raised her eyes to meet Ishar''s gaze. "Your God has asked you to ask one thing of me for this privilege afforded me to speak to you, I will hear your request, Ishar, and I shall strive to meet it."


    "I don''t trust you." Ishar said.


    "Why?"


    "When you put me in an arena to face a Telinete Rhino, I asked upon victory for a kiss from you." He spread his arms. "Where is the kiss Dahli?"


    "Gods¡ª"


    "No, don''t Gods me. I wanted that kiss, wanted it badly. It would have been my first kiss but nooooo, instead I was hunted down like some handsome, charming beast."


    "You want a kiss?"


    "I already have enough kisses. No thanks to you. I get good kisses, long ones, sometimes short. Sometimes moderated. Sometimes with tongue and sometimes just the lips. And sometimes the kisses go down south¡ª"


    "I''m not interested in hearing about your kisses." Dahli said with a stern tone. "I want to know what coming here has cost me."


    Ishar took a moment to ponder. "I want free passage through your lands for me and everyone who would be with me when I leave the desert. I do not want to be harassed, attacked or hunted as I cross your lands."


    "Done." Dahli said. "Will you then speak to the others? Will you help unite them?"


    "I will."


    Silence ensued. A silence that was spent with the two Champions of opposite Gods staring at each other. One battled with the weight of the crown upon her head, wondering whether her desire to rule was something she still thought of as fitting. The other wondered whether he could ask her for ten carts of cabbages for his Telinete rhino on top of the demand he''d already made.


    "Return to me." A female voice commanded, the darkness parted about Dahli. Light engulfed her and the last thing Ishar saw as the darkness rushed to smother the light was Dahli''s grey eyes as she departed the domain of Chaos. Dahli''s eyes, so weary, so laden with the weight of rule. Yet there, undeniably engraved in her pupils, was something Ishar didn''t quite understand. Something so separate from all that she appeared to be, something that had been hidden carefully while she was in his presence. Only allowed to be viewed right before she was carried away from him.


    Ishar went to Serendipity, placed himself and lounged. "Women are so complicated." He said. And the darkness all around him seemed to agree. "I sure hope you allow me to remember this conversation with Dahli, Ovek, it seems important."


    XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX


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 Chapter 14

    Edda had assaulted a Council member, cutting his tongue off and driving her sword through him. She hadn''t dealt a mortal blow, she wanted Councilman Stivo to live in pain. To know what it felt like for once. And after her prayer for vengeance had been answered by her deeds, only then did she realize she''d assaulted a Councilman.


    Such an act would warrant a hefty punishment. Nothing short of being disemboweled or beheaded. Instead Councilman Yobra had ordered that she be accompanied by Master Kissit on her mission to the Rankf Sea to wake the Goddess who sleeps at its depths to the aid of the Remu. It was such an odd punishment, and one who hadn''t lived in the court would think it so. But she remembered what the Knight Terrac had told her, Master Kissit and Yobra were the ones who sprang the trap to catch the Remu traitor, Stivo. Yobra had placed Kissit by her side to see how she''ll act towards him. The Councilman was often loud and argumentative, but his mind was always sharp, a great asset and a lethal weapon.


    Master Kissit, the lanky Remu master with a bald pate and mouth swallowed by a thick sandy beard that was a sharp contrast to his copper skin, rode beside her. He wore the blue robes of a Master and by his side was the dagger that marked him as one. Age assailed him, as it did all the Masters. Age, however, did not define his capabilities neither did it handicap him. He rode his horse like he''d been doing so everyday since he first learnt to walk. He was silent, but Edda knew as she rode awkwardly beside him, still unaccustomed to stirrups and the gallop of her horse, that the Master will talk to her and when he did she will let loose all she''d been holding in.


    The Rankf Sea was a two day ride from the Remu court, a journey she''d never taken before. Ever since she''d arrived at the Remu court as a child, she knew not from where, she''d been confined within the white walls of the Remu court. She ate, slept and grew within those walls. Learning all that she could so she could better serve the Remu. And not once did they think her visiting the sea would be of service to them.


    The settlements around the Remu Court were a dark smudge behind them, a sharp contrast to the tall white court walls. They looked like stains beside the court. The Master rode hard and Edda did her best not to fall off her horse as she kept pace. The terrain shifted, the sand becoming looser and shrubbery dotted their surrounding as they rode past scattered villages whose livelihood depended on the commerce beside the road from the Court to the sea. There were some travelers on the road, most of them laden under goods they ventured to trade, most of the said goods were fish.


    They had been forbidden a name for the city flanking the shore by the Binorians. Allowed only to name one part of their nation. And so they named the Remu Court, their ruling house. The city that bordered the Rankf Sea was larger, more populated and was referred to in the same context as the Sea. Binoria''s hold on the realm had crippled the boldness of civilizations, robbed them of their identity, and ushered in an era of tyranny. All this ended with Ishar, and soon it will end with the fall of Binoria.


    The sun was an orange smudge in the horizon when Master Kissit led his horse out of the road, favoring the wild lands. He expertly maneuvered his horse through the underbrush and loose pockets of white sand and Edda followed in his wake. He chose a depressed patch of ground to dismount and announce that they would set up camp there. Edda watched as the Master moved to pull free the weight of his possessions from his horse''s back. Watched as he walked around gathering bits of wood for a fire, not even moving from her saddle. Just watching.


    Master Kissit then noticed her eyes on him. He stood straighter and faced her. "Yes, I sacrificed you to catch a traitor." He said. His voice as raspy as she knew it to be, yet still carrying the same level of calm that had guided her from infancy into the adult she now was. She waited for him to say more but he didn''t.


    "I was so proud, you know." Edda started. "When you called me to the smallest room in the Remu court, and I found Ingah in there, the Black Ghost himself. I thought you were proud of me, your eyes showed as much back then. And it made me really proud of myself. To be recognized as adept in what I''ve dedicated my life to. I was a good spy and I was proud of myself and for being recognized.".


    "Edda¡ª"


    "It''s Sir Edda to you now." Edda retorted. Master Kissit, swallowed and gave a nod. Then he moved away from her, from his horse. And walked off several paces away, where he continued to gather firewood.


    XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX


    The fire flickered, playing shadows upon the Master''s wrinkled face who sat across from her, the fire between them acted as more than just a border. A rift had formed between a Master and one who was once his student, and the consumption of fuel to feed the flame was a metaphor pertaining the rage that fed the rift. Edda''s rage.


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    Silence was what she offered him. They''d just consumed their share of the night ration, bread and dried meat. Her armor felt heavy to her weary limbs yet Edda made no move to remove it, the weight served as a comfort, to remind her that she ranked above the man who sat across from her. Besides, she''d heard there was a way Knights managed to sleep in their armor, what better night to find out how than tonight?


    "You can smell it, you know, the sea." Master Kissit said, poking at the fire with a stick. "It smells like salt, and the air gets more humid and the heat increases because the ocean sits at the lowest altitude." Ever tutoring, this man. So fast to offer knowledge as if it were his birth right to do so. "I know you''ve never seen the sea, you''ll see it tomorrow, the blue upon the horizon, endless and full. Merging with the sky. Giving breath to the fact that there exists powers beyond that which we can fathom, for no man can craft the beauty of infinity but the Gods themselves."


    Shut up! She wanted to scream to him to shut his mouth, to give silence that was at least her due, to at least notice that she wished she wasn''t in his presence, that the Gods did more than create infinity, they gave humanity the option to shut up when need be. And the need was there. Every word out of his mouth sent her to that cell she shared with Ingah''s castrated corpse. And the dagger strapped to her side, cried for the same justice she''d used it to deal a while back.


    Seeing her silence, Master Kissit pressed. "Edda, I know asking for your forgiveness isn''t my right to do so. But do know that I am terribly sorry, and I did spend each moment since I sent you on that dreadful mission, hoping that Councilman Stivo wasn''t the traitor. That you would return."


    "Sacrificing me, that''s understandable." Edda intoned. "I was a mere graduate of the Remu Court. My name wasn''t known, I hadn''t acted in a way to bring glory to the Remu. I was a nobody." She balled her gauntlets into fists. "I would have died and nobody would have given a damn, but Ingah." Her face scrunched up with rage. "Ingah was the best weapon the Remu had, he was the Black Ghost! Adept in all forms, a force to reckon with. Why sacrifice him?"


    "To catch the traitor." Master Kissit said matter of fact. As if it was so obvious. "If it were someone else the traitor wouldn''t have risked outright betrayal."


    Edda didn''t answer. She sat in silence allowing the back plate of her armor to support her posture. "Edda," Master Kissit continued. "I am sorry."


    "You''re right." Edda said. "It''s not in your place to ask for forgiveness."


    "Will you cut off my tongue too?" Kissit asked with a smile. Edda didn''t answer. The Master got up, moved some distance away carrying his sleeping roll. Unfurled it and placed himself within. "Goodnight." He called out. Edda didn''t answer.


    XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX


    Edda did not know how long she sat by the fire, but she fed it each time it seemed to be dying. And each time she fed it she reclined on the ground beside it, gazing into the flames. Willing the fire to feed on her rage as it did the wood. During this repetitive gesture between feeding a fire and staring into it, that''s when she appeared.


    A little Remu girl with large brown eyes fixed in a small heart shaped face, took the place of the Remu Master who''d retired to sleep''s embrace. The girl was no more than ten in years, her small legs curled beneath her as she placed herself on the ground and her pudgy arms held a transparent canteen of what seemed to be water. She had on what passed as a small dress made of sea reeds and the green dress pooled around where she sat.


    Edda, startled, had the steel of her sword a hand''s span from its scabbard. She eyed the girl before realizing the infant was harmless but the oddity of the child being in her presence within the wild lands between Court and sea made her wary of the possibility of more people around her, probably planning an ambush. She eyed the darkness, away from the light of the fire, looking for shifting shapes.


    "There''s nobody else." The small girl said. She raised the case of water and took a sip, wetting her lips in the process.


    "Who are you little girl, are you lost?" Edda asked.


    The girl seemed shocked. "Lost? Of course I''m not lost. And I''m not little." The girl yawned. "I''m a big girl. Very big."


    Edda was touched by how cute and adorable the girl was. "What is your name?"


    "I have many names." The girl answered.


    "Which is you''re favorite name?" Edda said with a smile. "What does your mommy and daddy call you?" The girl had probably wandered from a nearby village, there were many clustered within the wild lands. She''d have to take the girl home come first light.


    "Mommy and Daddy?" The girl looked confused. Blinking furiously as if trying to recall something that was forever lost to her. "I don''t have a Daddy and Mommy. I have brothers and sisters though."


    "What is the name of your favorite sibling?" Edda asked.


    "I like Ovek, he is funny." The girl said. Raising the case of water to her lips and taking a sip. "Meena is mean most of the time, but she''s kind sometimes when nobody thinks she can be." The little girl smiled. "And Nyawe, my big sister. She is very beautiful and makes me feel weird inside here." She pointed at where her heart was. "And Nielda, he is an idiot." The girl said with a wave of her hand. "I used to have another sibling. His name was Sin, but sometimes he was a girl like me. She used to play with me and teach me about fire but we don''t talk or see each other anymore and I''m not allowed to see her anymore because he isn''t part of us and it is my job to make sure he never will be." The little girl pouted, then she frowned. "I have another brother, Locha, he wants everything to die so it''s not nice to talk about him."


    Edda sat still, her lower jaw trembling. Those names!


    "Who are you?" Edda whispered.


    The little girl tilted her head. "But I told you, I have many names."


    "What do your siblings call you?" Edda asked.


    "Me?" The girl pointed at herself. "Drink this first and I''ll tell you." She handed Edda the case of water. Edda appeared hesitant. "I promise I will tell you."


    Edda, as if in a hypnotic haze, reached out and grabbed the case. Suddenly, she was engulfed in darkness. Water all over her, above her. The pressure driving her deeper, into the depths of the endless salty water all around. She tried to scream but the water entered her mouth, through her throat, burning her lungs. She was dying, she couldn''t breath. From all around her a voice sounded, deep, rich, beautiful. "I am the Patron of the innocent." She thrashed her limbs, fighting the pull of the water. "Mother of Leviathans." She was disoriented, she could not tell where up was. Her thrashing reduced in vigor, the energy leaving her limbs. "I am Alietsi, Goddess of Depth." Then there was a stillness and Edda gave herself fully to it.


    XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX


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 Chapter 15

    Master Kissit knew two things about the world. The first was that there was no black and white, everything was a clear, even grey. Every good deed was mirrored by a bad one, and each of them had cause, a reason behind their blooming. This being said, he understood that there was no good or bad man, that the choice to be either didn''t define who a man was because said choice could be changed. The second thing he knew was that everything had a valid explanation behind its occurrence.


    That morning, when he woke to a soaked, sleeping roll, when he turned and saw the fireplace drenched in sea water, not an ember of light alive. When he got up and looked for Edda and found her floating in a pool of sea water several paces away, her wet hair plastered to her face, her skin pale and riddled with salt. When he went to her side and pumped her chest until she vomited sea water, he still believed there was a valid explanation behind this peculiar occurrence. Somehow, miles from the sea, the sea had found them. There must be an explanation. There had been no rain during the night and the horses tied some distance away yet still visible from camp gave no sign of distress.


    He waited until Edda collected herself. "Water." She said in a raspy voice, her dripping vambarace shook as she supported herself on shaky limbs. Master Kissit handed her a canteen of water, she reached for it and hesitated before grabbing it. When she did she closed her eyes tight, as if expecting him to hit her, and after she realized he would do nothing of the sort but stand and gawk at her, it was then she allowed herself to pull the canteen free of his grasp and drunk from it.


    He lowered himself to squat beside Edda, he touched at the water around her. "This is sea water." He said to Edda. "But how?"


    "There was a girl." Edda said, lowering the canteen, her lower lip trembling.


    "A girl?" Kissit asked and met her brown eyes.


    Edda took a moment to answer, Kissit noted the trembling canteen in her hands. "A young girl, after you slept she came to the fire, with a canteen, a transparent one. She drunk from it as she talked to me. I thought she was a girl who''d wandered far from one of the villages."


    "That is odd." Kissit said.


    "She handed me her canteen in exchange for her name, I took it and was suddenly under water. So much water. It stung everywhere, my eyes, my nose, my chest. All of it burned and it was dark, I couldn''t see where up was, I tried swimming but the armor pulled me down and I¡ª" She closed her eyes tight as if wishing the image away. "Was it a dream?"


    Master Kissit took a moment to ponder. "Maybe, maybe some sea water erupted from underground and you drunk some of it in your sleep. Sea water can do that to a person, make them see things. It is your first time drinking it, right?" Edda nodded. "Well, get up and saddle your horse, we must reach the sea by nightfall."


    A moment later after gobbling dry bread and water. They climbed onto their saddles and started the ride West. Master Kissit was careful not to push Edda hard, she seemed disoriented and he didn''t want her to fall off her saddle. Can she bare the title she proudly calls herself now? As the Knights proclaim, Edda surviving a war doesn''t make her necessary of the title. She''d not been through the trials a Knight must meet so as to earn the title. A war was not enough.


    Yet, she was the best acolyte at the Court. She''d excelled at everything at a rate and magnitude that shocked the Masters. She could have been more than a spy if she wanted to. He turned to glance at her, his horse kicked up dirt in his wake, and there she was several paces behind, eating it. I''m not pushing her that hard. He thought to himself.


    At noon they stopped to eat in silence. He noticed she sat further away from him, one hand wrapped around herself as she used to do as a child as she ate. As if offering herself comfort was the only comfort that mattered. Master Kissit broke the silence anyway. "That girl who came last night. What did she say her name was after you took her canteen?"


    Edda turned to face him. "Alietsi, the Goddess of Depth."


    Master Kissit tried to suppress it. He''d gone seven days without laughing, he was sure he could make it to ten. He smiled, trying to limit the laughter to that simple gesture, but he couldn''t hold it. He burst out laughing, he laughed so hard his bread fell from his hands. "Gods, you know they actually sell sea water in taverns up north where the Talisi live? That''s some potent stuff right there. Makes people see things."


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    Edda frowned. "It seemed so real."


    "Yes, now when you feel like you can ride Rankf Sea Leviathans as the stories of Alietsi used to say she could, that''s when you avoid drinking sea water completely."


    Edda abruptly turned a fraction slower than his gaze lifted to the smoke being carried by a strong low wind current around where they sat. Something was burning, something big.


    He stood up, hiding his dagger beneath his blue robe. His feet could tell there was a large procession heading towards them by the vibration upon the ground, maybe twelve horses.


    Edda got up and closer to him, she had her sword strapped to her hip. "What''s going on?"


    "Someone''s coming from the direction of that smoke." Master Kissit said.


    He squinted until he saw the sand rising, and then the dark figures gained form, men on horses, thirteen horses. Damn it, he''d got it wrong. He was immediately able to tell who the riders were judging from their uniforms. "Edda, Binorians are heading in this direction, in a hurry, we can''t hide now they''ve already seen us. That smoke spells mischief, ready your blade. We might die here." He didn''t have to startle her so with the last statement, but she was a Knight as she claimed, she must have learnt that Knights face death without fear, her face spoke otherwise.


    He could feel it rising, excitement, a need to kill someone. He always got this urge at the oddest of times like when taking tea with the other Masters, while giving a parade speech with the other Masters, while meeting other Masters in the hallways and when in the presence of Binorians. But he hadn''t killed anyone in five years, he was sure he could make it to ten if he just suppressed the urge.


    As the Binorians approached, Master Kissit stood still, watching his breathing. He had to avoid conflict somehow, she was hot headed but he did not need to see her dead, he couldn''t fight thirteen and protect her at the same time, if they were eleven, maybe, but thirteen is just too high. He wasn''t as young as he used to be.


    The horsemen came close, close enough for him to see the look of hatred in the blue eyes of their captain. They were dressed in red leather armor, the crest of the Telinete Rhino in gold upon their breasts. They came to a halt five paces away from them, six of them descended their horses and filled the gaps between horses. All of them unsheathed their swords from their scabbards.


    "I assure you, killing a Master and Knight of the Remu Court does not bode well for you, not at this time when Binoria can''t afford another war." Kissit said.


    Their Captain judging from his uniform, still astride his horse, turned and spat. "That''s funny, yesterday I had a wife and child who''d find your joke funny. Your Council of rulers has ordered every Binorian in Remu to depart the Kingdom immediately. So yesterday I had a wife and child, and this morning I watched as the Remu burned down my house with my wife and child inside it. What about you Riggy, who''d find the Master''s joke funny?"


    "Aye, for me Captn," Riggy, a young lad on foot with his blade held to the side in an expert pose said. "It must be my twelve girlfriends. They were all killed today for having slept with a Binorian. I only like number nine and seven, but number five really hurt, I really loved that one."


    "We burnt a few things too. For revenge of course, but it wasn''t that valuable to the Remu, we really didn''t hurt them." The Captain said. "But now we''ve found something even more valuable to gut and burn."


    Master Kissit unsheathed his dagger, held it in a reverse grip and told Edda. "Knight, you can handle yourself?" The men chuckled but Edda nodded as she unsheathed her sword.


    The first one came for him with confidence, so sure of his blade''s longer reach. Master Kissit side stepped and pushed forward in the time it took the Binorian to thrust, his dagger sunk into the man''s neck with a backward thrust and the Binorian collapsed, dead. Two more came to him, seeing their friend''s mistake they baited him, two paces away, thrusting but not committing to their attack. Waiting for him to slip, taking away his option of attack for wherever he''d commit the other would pounce. But he was a Master for a reason, he taught combat for Gods'' sake. He turned and was hit by an eruption of blood and gore¡ª


    One of the men who''d flanked him was hit by a horse and the impact had the man explode, the horse wasn''t running. It had been thrown, one of its legs twisted badly from where a hand''s grip had crushed it. Horse and what''s left of man flew without hitting the ground for a moment, tumbled and came to a standstill as a dark spot in the far distance. Everyone turned to the direction the horse had come from.


    Edda, one knee on the ground, hand frozen in a complete pitch, head bent and sword discarded to the side. There was a deep farrow in the ground where a man lay crushed, and the farrow dragged in the direction the horse had flew from. Sweat... No... Water, it must be water, that much sweat can''t come from someone. Water came down Edda''s body from the crown of her head, it flowed down her, dripping endlessly onto the ground around her. They all paused, staring at her.


    "Riggy." The Binorian Captain said. Breaking the silence. "Can you just explain what happened."


    The same young lad who''d spoken before cleared his throat. "Captn it appears the lady put her sword down, reached for Gary''s horse, grabbed its leg, lifted it off the ground like a lute and smashed Gary with it before flinging it at Jared there whose legs are the only part that''s left of him still standing." And indeed they were. Legs still in leather boots, cut at the calf.


    The Captain nodded. "Well I''ll be damned, let''s do a vote, do we consider our quest for vengeance sated at this point?"


    "To be honest Captn," Riggy said. "I didn''t even love my fifth girlfriend that much"


    The rest of the Binorian men nodded. The Captain saluted Master Kissit and Edda before staring at Edda for a moment longer, turned his horse sharply to the left and made a wide trail of the Master and Knight. The other Binorians saluted as well and followed in their Captain''s wake.


    Edda collapsed, water was spilling out of her, Kissit rushed to her side and tried to lift her upper body to rest on his lap but she was too heavy. Her face was sheathed in water, she was opening her mouth to scream but it kept getting in and all she could do was gurgle. She was drowning out of sea and there was nothing he could do.


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 Chapter 16

    He had to butcher some pigs, and harvest some of his crops. He made stew, thick with a pleasing aroma. Satheth''s men nursed her, she''d screamed Viktor''s name for the better part of two hours until exhaustion got to her. She''d become insensate on the ground, her eyes wide with a faint glimmer of pink but unseeing. Rehny tensed that those under her command might think that their leader had been harmed by him. He hadn''t harmed her more than allowed her to feel, what came of that was not his fault but that of all she''d held herself back from confronting, accepting and giving herself to. He''d explained this to them and they hadn''t understood, still brandishing their swords they''d threatened to draw his blood. Only on his suggestion that they stay the night until first light, and if she wasn''t better by then, then they could claim his head, loosened the grips on the hilt of their swords.


    They refused to set foot within his wooden shack, choosing to make camp outside, some distance from the ground he called a home. He brought them the food in a cauldron, many of them looked to him with awe, only then did he realize the large cauldron could not be hefted by a single man, yet there he was, carrying it easily to them, with stew filled to the brim. He made Galiu to accompany the stew and the men hesitated to eat his meal before he took a scoop and ate it himself. Only then did they dig in, with a few of them uttering a kind thanks his way.


    They had two men and one woman with him always, they all seemed adepts of the Form of Intent, they tailed him. Stood some distance from him. Made sure he was always in their sights. Their Captain had been placed in a bed roll with five men standing guard over her. They asked her to eat, she refused at first but after a while she gave in to their pleas.


    Rehny looked at his shack, only four pigs remained. He''d have to slaughter them and dry their meat for the journey. Or better still, let them go. The Galiu would go to waste, so too will the vegetables judging by how little rain fell on this place. He sighed. He''d started something, he''d actually done it, gotten away from it all and started something of his own. But now it''d all gone to shit, they''d found him. They''d always find him.


    It was a boring life and you know it, it is not a life meant for you, not a life meant for the chosen of the Goddess Nyawe.


    "What is the life of the chosen of the Goddess Nyawe then?" Rehny spoke. Those guarding him as he stood to the side of the Binorian camp shuffled uncomfortably, eyeing him warily. He didn''t care. Let them think him mad, they were here to tie him up and deliver him to Binoria where he''d face his death, such a fate didn''t drive him to courtesy nor care for what they thought of him.


    You''re angry because what you think is the life you deserve isn''t actually worth much. That then is the measure of what you view of yourself, as of deserving little. But I am far from little, each cell in your body, the very essence of your soul houses a deity. And that will never allow your life to be as small as you deem it to be. He felt her lips beside his ears, her sweet breath lapping at his skin as she spoke. He knew if he turned he won''t find her there, only when he closed his eyes would he see her. Follow the agents Of Meena, go to Binoria and persuade her to join arms with you, for what comes cannot be faced alone.


    "I want no part in war." Rehny said. Those guarding him placed their hands on the hilts of their blades.


    That is the price of love, Rehny, you must sacrifice in order to keep it, to safe guard it. That is your destiny, to forever cater to love.


    "That is a curse! From your lips did you not utter that I will never experience love? How then am I to guard that which I will never know of again?"


    There''s more than one way to love. Nyawe concluded. Sensing his anger, she retreated. He could feel her, like lightning in his veins, becoming lax, allowing blood to flow once more.


    "Stop staring at him like that." One of the male Binorians guarding him said.


    The woman, he hadn''t noticed looking at him, turned away but not before saying. "He looks so Gods damn pretty is all."


    "He is a traitor to Binoria, because of him the Legions are no more. Plus he is insane."


    "You''re just jealous because he is more attractive than you." The woman retorted.


    They started arguing and Rehny walked away, entering his wooden shack. They stood guard at the door, all three of them arguing. He went over to the makeshift bed he''d made of grass and sheep wool. He lay down and closed his eyes, knowing that magenta clouds and a woman of divine beauty would be all he dreamt about.


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    Rehny felt the tip of the dagger dig into the skin at the side of his neck, right where his jugular was. A small amount of pressure from the wielder of the dagger would have him bleed to death. He found it weird that he felt like the same thing had happened to him before.


    He opened his eyes, Satheth stood beside his makeshift bed, bowed over him. Her blue eyes were like twin stones of diamonds in the gloom. She held the dagger to his neck with both hands, the grip speaking of precision and bloody intent. Rehny let go of his breath before drawing in another, he stared into her eyes, saw the coldness of a killer. Rehny sighed.


    "If you''re going to kill me be quick about it." He said. Rehny knew Nyawe had a part in this, whatever she''d driven him to do to Satheth must have come at a price. He''d been expecting her, hoping she came from a place healed with love. Instead her eyes spoke of her love for murder, and the blade at his neck was her tender lover''s touch.


    "What did you do to me?" Satheth asked.


    Rehny thought about what he had done to her. And realized he''d love to understand it as much as she did. "I don''t know." He said.


    "What do you mean you don''t know?" She twisted the blade a fraction of an inch deeper, then grunted, surprised to having not pierced skin and drawn blood.


    "My skin is thicker than most," Rehny said, hands crossed behind his neck. "You know how the Binorians have Meena''s power? I have that of another Goddess, her name is Nyawe. I do not understand shit about what I did to you, she just told me what to do and I did it."


    "I feel pain, and guilt and I see his face everywhere and I don''t like it." Satheth said. "Fix this!" She raised the blade to his eye. Rehny fought the urge to flinch. "Tell your Goddess to fix this." She growled.


    "Nyawe, you heard the woman, fix this." Rehny said, turning his eyes away from the blade.


    Fix what?  Nyawe answered from within him.


    "My eye is at stake here." Rehny spoke aloud. Satheth''s brows furrowed. "I''m speaking to her, you can''t hear her but I can." Rehny said to her.


    There''s nothing I''ve broken. There''s nothing to fix.


    "What do you mean there''s nothing you''ve broken?" Rehny countered. He hated it when she became sassy, taking the few occasions he reached out to her to strut about with pride.


    I commanded you to release when you had her on the ground, to allow her to let go of her desire to not feel loss. You, however, commanded it to break, leaving her vulnerable to all that she''s protected herself from. And her guarded heart broke.


    "Okay, so that happened. But how can you fix it?"


    But why did you want to break her heart?


    Rehny grunted. "I don''t know."


    Tell me why and I''ll tell you how to fix her.


    "I don''t have time for these games." Rehny said. Nyawe didn''t answer. He thought of an answer that might please Nyawe, it didn''t necessarily have to be true, but if it impressed her she might relent. "I broke it because I didn''t know what I could transform it to. It was a heart that hated love, seeing it as a weakness and something that could be avoided, and its rewards were pain and loss. Such a heart had to break, for what else can it become?"


    "Are you messing with me?" Satheth asked, bringing the dagger closer. He admired her steady hands.


    In order to fix what has been broken, Nyawe said within his mind. You must renew it, take the broken pieces and mold them into something smaller but just as divine as that which had been broken. With time and love, what is small will become bigger, stronger.


    "I don''t understand what you''re saying." He really didn''t.


    Sleep with her.


    "What?"


    I''ll give you the words, every person has a certain amount of words that can awaken their desire, some people require gestures too, but the gestures can be used after the words have yielded passion or a promise of passion.


    "I''m not going to¡ª"


    Awaken! Nyawe commanded.


    He gasped and widened his eyes, seeing Satheth anew, her body, her flesh. The heat that was coming off of her. Thin breeches and a night shirt, a veteran soldier''s sleeping attire. The night revealed a pale collarbone, he felt himself becoming aroused.


    "I''m going to kill you. I''ll just report to the Queen that you refused to come gently." Satheth said. Twisting her face into a sneer. Yet, that face drew him to the features not molded with hate, there was passion there too. If she just relaxed her rage, tempered it with desire.


    Speak as I say. Nyawe again.


    "Death is something I''ve experienced before, its threat holds no sway on my resolve." Rehny said. That put pause to whatever Satheth intended. "What did I do to you? I made you want a lover you never wanted to love. It''s as simple as that. Do you see him now? Look at me." She was turning her head away.


    Rehny inhaled and spoke in the way Viktor called her name. "Satheth" She jerked, turning to face him. "Do not kill me tonight, let me taste the depths of your waters, woman, let me see if I can drown." Rehny said. He sat, put a hand to the back of her neck. She tried to pull away. "Try and see if you can drown. Satheth." Again with Victor''s voice. Satheth leaned into him, her lips parting and meeting with his. Her tongue lashed out within his mouth, she flung the dagger away. Rehny moved to lift her shirt. Gently. Nyawe said in his mind. He placed his hand behind her back instead. She kissed him violently, but he pulled back and she followed, allowing them to lie fully on the bed. Her violence was without cease, but somehow he knew Viktor wouldn''t have matched her ferocity. He was gentle, it''s what she loved about him. So Rehny, gave his flesh to the memory of the man she''d loved, allowing him to move through him, translating what his passion was like.


    When he undressed her, he did it slowly, without forcing the cloth to part her skin. He would pause and smile at her, telling her how her eyes reminded him of the sea. Rehny felt himself floating back, out of his body. He saw and heard all he did, but his mouth and the rest of his body were in the hands of another, and Rehny found himself pleased by this. When he thrust into her, he interlaced his fingers with her own. He met her eyes and kissed her, she thrashed and she moaned and fell gently into the rhythm he dictated. Slowly, they traversed whatever terrain cleaved by passion''s path. He guided her to a place of release and when she spasmed beneath him, he allowed himself the same release.


    Her eyes turned from blue to pink, a clear bright pink, so dazzling it threatened to burn away the whites of her sclera. Rehny felt it then, a rope born of her, darting from her right foot to wrap his left. Then as he exited her he felt the pink light trail from her end of the rope to his. A love bond had been formed. "What have you done Nyawe." He whispered. Satheth nuzzled into the nook of his arm as he lay back in bed.


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 Chapter 17

    Rehny lay still for the better part of the night, willing himself not to move so as to avoid jostling Satheth who lay pressed to his body, her head resting on his chest, her pear shaped breasts pressed to his navel. He had his arms around her but even then he avoided moving them. Sleep eluded him, and even if he tried to sleep, the thought that he was somewhat responsible for his current predicament made his efforts to escape into slumber fruitless. He could feel her every heartbeat, every breath she took was mimicked by the love bond formed between them. He was made aware of her existence by more than just the physical attributes of the living, he felt her soul, flicker and sparkle with each passing moment. Making him aware that she was alive.


    The love was one sided, he did not feel the same for her as she did for him. According to Nyawe, he will never experience love, it was the sacrifice he made to house the Goddess of love. The irony of this wasn''t lost on him. Yet, he found himself completely distracted by the woman who lay in his arms. He felt a need to shield her from harm, he took note of the scars that marred her naked skin. He could tell where the scrape of a sword left a mark, or the point of a knife. Battle hardened, that''s what Nyawe described Satheth as. She lived and breathed war, and now a new element had been introduced to her life and he was certain she will fight for it just as hard.


    When the orange blotch of light stained the dark horizon, spelling an end to the night and the beginning of a new day. Rehny felt her stir, he closed his eyes. Unwilling to confront her or exchange a word after what they''d indulged in the night just past. He pretend to be asleep. Felt as she raised herself off him, jerking upright as if surprised to find herself in his embrace, then slowly untangling his arms free of her. She collected her clothes and dressed hastily, Rehny knew she was unwilling to be caught with him by those under her command. He wondered if those who''d stood guard at the wooden shack''s entrance had witnessed their lovemaking.


    Rehny wasn''t willing to betray that he was awake so he lay still and silent. Satheth finished dressing, judging from what he heard, he waited for her to depart but she didn''t. There was an eerie stillness to the room and he could have sworn he was alone if it wasn''t for the fact that he hadn''t heard her walk away. He knew she was standing by his bed, staring at him. He could feel it the same way you can tell when someone''s eyes are on you before turning to meet them.


    Rehny thought about opening his eyes but decided against it, instead he continued to feign sleep. Then he felt it, her hand upon his chest right where his heart was. He fought the urge to flinch. Her hand rested there for a span of moments, as if she weighed each beat of his heart, then he felt her lips press to his forehead in a soft kiss . Her lips and hand withdrew and he heard her walk away. That''s when he opened his eyes.


    He didn''t get up from bed neither did he put on his black breeches and grey tattered shirt or any of the clothes he''d traded his black sword for. He waited for the Binorians to come rouse him, tie him and deliver him to Binoria like a prized hog. None of that happened. He could hear them moving outside the wooden shack. He could see the shadows of the three soldiers at his door, shifting and moving but none of them dared to enter his abode to wake him, or talk to him. They gave him the better part of the morning to himself until he got up and dressed of his own accord.


    When he exited the shack, one of the three placed to guard him so as to ward off his escape turned to face him. He stared at him and Rehny could see the contempt and the confusion marring his features. "Rehny," He started then paused as if unsure as to how to go about what he had to say. "Under the Captains orders, a bath and food has been prepared for you."


    Rehny stared at the soldier as if he''d sprouted a second nose. "What?"


    "I presume you bath outdoors since you live alone here like some wild animal." The Soldier said with a wave at the surrounding. "A bath place has been created for you." He pointed at a contraption made of sheets and wood twenty paces from the rest of the camp. Most of the soldiers were done packing their bed rolls and saddling their horses, others sat on the ground polishing their swords. When he took note of them so did they take note of him. He scanned their faces for her and saw Satheth brushing the neck of her brown stallion, she ran her hand along the coat of the horse''s neck as she had ran her hand across his back while in pleasure''s thralls.


    "We''re waiting for you so we can depart for the Capital, traitor." The Soldier added, drawing Rehny''s attention back to him. The soldier had a pinched face, pocked with acne marks that sketched a pattern of hate that his scrunched brows seconded. He stepped closer to Rehny. "I do not know what you did to her, traitor, but we''re all waiting for her command to drive our swords into you. And she always gives it."


    He loves the man to the far right, the one with two balled fists who''s staring at you. Nyawe said within him, allowing him to take note of the bond of love that tied the two men, with love flowing from either end meaning it was a shared love.


    Rehny didn''t want to walk the path of the Goddess, not after whatever had transpired between him and their Captain, Satheth. He remembered how he''d spoken her name, the intonation foreign to his tongue. He''d become someone else. The Goddess, there are layers and layers behind her plans. Every action, every word was a measure of her full intention. I will not be her puppet. Rehny decided. He''d figured a way to think without her knowledge of what he was thinking.


    Turning to the soldier, Rehny moved closer to him. Towering over him as he did many men. He''d been a Commander of the Legions. He''d ran alongside the King, sword drawn, mind enveloped in the haze of the impending mayhem as they faced a foe of thousands of men. He knew well of the blood and guts and shit and screams of wounded or dying men at the aftermath of a war, he''d never been among them, more than five score wars and he''d never been among them until his last war. He knew how to earn a soldier''s respect.


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    "Fuck off." Rehny said and sauntered away towards their Captain. Seeing him approach she turned to face him.


    Satheth didn''t smile, she wasn''t accustomed to it. But what she gave him as he approached was something akin to adoration, it''s just that her face didn''t fully allow it to show. But it was there. That checked him for a moment.


    "Captain." Rehny said, deciding to be a soldier till the end. "I understand your objective is to take me to Binoria to stand trial for being a traitor?"


    Satheth wondered for a second at his formality. But then her features morphed to mirror that of one of her rank. "That is our orders."


    "How then will you take me there? For till now you''ve assumed that I wish to go there willingly, I''m obligated to tell you that I am not willing nor will I be willing to go back to Binoria." Rehny said.


    "Well then, you choose the hard way?" Satheth asked, all calmly inflection rid of her voice.


    Rehny, what are you doing? Nyawe pleaded, no, questioned within his mind.


    "If I go to Binoria, I will die." Rehny said. "Why waste the time going there then? I don''t like traveling. I don''t like horses in general except my horse but it died, so the whole journeying doesn''t bode well with me. I''d rather fight to the death out here, at least then there might be a chance to escape."


    Satheth nodded. "That Goddess of yours, Nyawe is her name?"


    Rehny fought back a startled expression at the change of conversation. "What does that have to do with this?"


    "Well, The Queen Dahli, told me of your Goddess and her weakness. See," Satheth took a step closer to him. "The Goddess of love, well, what can her weakness be but the loss of love?" She turned and pointed. "The one with the acne marks," She turned to the man who''d had his hands balled into fists. "The burly one is his lover, they''ve served seven wars under you. They idolized you and your betrayal is spit on their faces. I will have one of them killed." Satheth said. "Imagine what pain you Goddess will feel, what pain you will feel? Will it be enough to incapacitate you? If you do not come willingly, I will kill one of them and then we''ll bound you and drag you all the way to Binoria."


    A lilting laugh within Rehny''s head. Meena still doesn''t understand how I work. Nyawe said. Meena always presumes she can find order to love but her theories always end up shallow. Yes one''s death will hurt you but you shall feed off the absence of love and become stronger. You will fight them easily.


    Rehny faced the two men, noticed how they stole glances at each other. There was more than just love at play here, it was something that had sprouted from kinship, its loss would strengthen and hurt him, but is power worth someone''s death ? The price was too high.


    "I thought after tonight we''d come at an understanding of sorts," Satheth continued. "But violence is always the better choice, am I right?" She smiled at him. "It just makes all the other options seem brittle. With violence we won''t have to talk or arrive at an understanding, our swords and blood will be the only explanation."


    Rehny stared at her. Saw the way she held his gaze with her deep blue eyes, her eyes widened and she made to look away but she couldn''t, she was drawn to him and stuck on what she saw. Rehny knew where her mind was, he could feel it through the love bond. She wanted to pounce on him and meet his lips with her own, then when they pulled apart for breath, she''ll beg him to come with her to Binoria. She was wrong, violence wasn''t the only valid option, for her that wasn''t the case anymore.


    Nyawe,


    Yes?


    What do I do?


    What do you do with what?


    I don''t want to go to Binoria but I don''t want anyone to die trying to take me there.


    You must go to Binoria, it is important. But I feel your resentment with me imposing on your choices, choices after all do make up a life. And I feel you''d be more open to me if I allowed you to choose without my hand as a guide. I do not wish to steal your life from you. From now on I will only offer advice or input when asked for it. Create a moment with Satheth, allow her to take you to Binoria, go along with her. Do as she asks of you, but for now create a moment with her to ensure whatever she asks of you is the best she wants for you.


    What?


    Kiss her.


    Rehny moved in a blur, grabbed Satheth by the small of her back and drew her to him. Her eyes widened when he sunk in and placed a kiss on her lips, she relaxed into his embrace after a second of uncertainty. She returned the kiss, her tongue forcing its way past his lips. He pulled away and stared into her eyes, and for a moment a pink light flashed amidst the blue. "There''s always a better option than violence." Rehny said. "I will come willingly with you, but know that you lead me to my death." He turned his eyes to her soldiers, all of them stood staring at them with their swords drawn. A look of shock was evident upon their faces. He let go of her and walked away to the bath, the three guards moved to trail him but Satheth waved at them to stop.


    At the bath, Rehny found heated water drawn into the drum he used to fetch water with. The soldiers must have gone for the water at the stream, following the path he''d beaten down with his to and fro movement. It must have taken seven soldiers to haul the water. He stripped and bathed with half of it, upon emerging dressed in black breaches and a grey shirt, he found the soldiers standing beside their horses, Satheth was already on hers. They all stared at him then two approached him with a bowl of food. Leftover pig stew with meat that was still warm, bread, dried meat and a cup of water.


    They pointed to where he should sit, at the camp fire that still had embers burning. He sat and ate in silence. When he was done the two soldiers came and took away the empty bowl and cup. Rehny moved to the bath place, taking note of the confused glances thrown his way, he lifted the drum of water and carried it on his shoulder towards the pig''s enclosure.


    "What are you doing?" Satheth called out to him. The soldiers were all gawking at him, wondering how he could heft that weight.


    "The pigs," Rehny said. "I want to leave them water and to open the enclosure so they could roam free."


    Satheth stared at him before turning to the pig enclosure and then back to him. "Kilajiow." She said.


    "Yes Captain." A soldier answered, he seemed older than the rest, his black hair with streaks of grey, the corners of his mouth and eyes heavily wrinkled.


    "Jusi." Satheth called.


    "Yes Captain." A woman answered. She appeared to be the same age as Kilajiow, though her face held an eerie cheer that gave her visage a youthful look despite the greying hair and wrinkles. Rehny saw the love bond running between Kilajiow and Jusi, a shared love.


    "The two of you are to remain here and care for the pigs and the farm." Satheth said.


    "Captain?" Kilajiow asked. There was a slight tremor to his voice. Jusi looked too shocked to speak, her lips were parted and she drew quick shallow breaths.


    "You will care for the... Farm... Until Rehny''s sentence is ruled, then you shall be sent upon to return when his fate is known." Satheth said. Rehny saw that Satheth was doing this, not for his benefit alone, but also to give the two veteran soldiers a brief nirvana if it could be called so.


    The two soldiers dismounted, gathered their things and saluted Captain Satheth. Fighting back tears, they trod away from the soldiers huddled among horses and towards the wooden shack. Some distance away, they turned and saluted Satheth once more, fist to breast. The Captain nodded.


    "Rehny, do you have anything you''d like to take with you?" Satheth asked him. "A change of clothing perhaps? It shall be carried for you."


    "I''m okay." Rehny said and ran a hand through his pink hair, wondering as always as to what Nyawe''s intentions were.


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 Chapter 18

    Indomil shivered as a cold breeze lapped around where they hid between the dunes. Night had settled in, the light offered by stars vibrant upon the wide sky was rendered almost obsolete by the shadows cast by the large dunes cresting around their hide out. They couldn''t huddle together for warmth, unwilling to form a darker smudge within the dunes that would draw the eye of any Binorian Hunter roaming the desert at nighttime. And now the situation was more dire, instead of water within the stone cans they had the heads of Binorian Hunters. Proof of what they''d come across at the oasis so the Colony Chief, Thegir, would believe them.


    None of them could sleep, if they were caught on a regular night they would be mutilated and tortured by the Binorian Hunters. But tonight if they were caught with severed Binorian heads, well, the thought of what would be done to them made Indomil''s shiver more pronounced.


    None of them could sleep, none of them could make a sound and then Ishar snored. The Kolotian whose hands were bound with rope before him was between Dagaa and Lupin. Everyone lay still, unwilling to believe what they''d just heard. Then Ishar snored again followed by loud bark of laughter.


    "What the fuck?" Xelif whispered from beside her, she couldn''t see his face  but saw his dark outline propped on an elbow to view over her to where Ishar lay. Ishar laughed out loud in his sleep and all of them came to their feet.


    "Shut him up!" Dagaa gave a harsh whisper.


    Lupin moved to cover Ishar''s mouth where he lay. "Aaah!" Lupin screamed. "He bit me!" He hopped up and down while shaking his wrist. "Fucker bit me!"


    "Shush!" Dora intoned. "We must be silent." Her voice trembled and Indomil knew it wasn''t from the cold.


    "He''s torn flesh off my finger!" Lupin complained with a curse. "Torn flesh with a single bite! It''s bleeding badly!" Dora moved to his side and cajoled Lupin to give her his hand, in the darkness Indomil saw Dora examine Lupin''s finger.


    "It''s bad." Dora said. "I think I can see the white gleam of bone." Ishar chuckled and rolled over, they gave him a wide berth. Taking several steps away. Lupin groaned with pain.


    "Cut a piece of cloth to gag his mouth." Dagaa said when Ishar groaned and giggled in his sleep once more. Nobody moved to act. Dagaa muttered a curse beneath his breath, ripped a strand of his tattered shirt''s cloth, making it even more tarnished and moved to tie said cloth around Ishar''s mouth, across his cheeks to form a knot behind his head.


    Ishar''s eyes snapped open, they glowed amber as Dagaa leaned over him. Indomil gasped and took a step back. Ishar struck out his bound hands and placed his palms on Dagaa''s chest, Dagaa froze over the strange Kolotian. A moment passed, one, two, three, then Dagaa fell backwards, back arching, feet kicking and let out an inhuman scream. Indomil had never heard such a scream before, she''d heard a scream of fright, of despair, of anguish, but never like the one Dagaa unleashed. It was raw and pronounced, it hurt her ears and sent her limbs trembling. It seemed to have the same effect on all those around her. The water seekers, led by Dagaa, crested around their leader who thrashed and screamed on the desert floor. All caution thrown to the wind.


    "Grab him!" Indomil snapped herself free of her stupor, she moved and pounced on Dagaa, trying to hold him down and clap a hand over his mouth. He screamed through her fingers, chocked on his own saliva and still continued to scream as he choked . Xelif was beside her, pinning one of Dagaa''s arms to the ground while Dora pinned her weight on his legs to stop them from kicking. Lupin stumbled over and forced the cloth Dagaa had torn and discarded into their leader''s mouth, muffling his screams but putting no end to them.


    "Please be silent!" Indomil begged. "Please, Dagaa." She ran her hand on his chest, abdomen, face. Looking for signs of an injury, signs of blood, there was none. He was unscathed yet his screams claimed otherwise. She touched the tears streaming down his face as she squeezed either side of his face. "Please, Dagaa, please, stop screaming! You''ll draw them! They''ll come and we''ll all be dead!" Indomil begged but her plea fell on deaf ears. Dagaa''s muffled screams sounded around the crest of dunes where they hid.


    If you discover this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.


    "What do we do?" One of the water seekers asked. Indomil was too disoriented to know who. "They''ll come!"


    "What has he done to Dagaa!" Another intoned. Moving to where Ishar lay, asleep once more and as oblivious to the perils of the night as a blind man is to color. The water seeker moved with the intent to harm but Phesoj, small and feeble Phesoj, came between Ishar and the water seeker and earned a punch in the face, all panic and anger directed towards him. Phesoj sprawled onto the sand, got up and charged his assailant. They tumbled to the ground, thrashing and flinging fists with answering grunts.


    Turmoil erupted. Dora was crying, a fight had broken out. Lupin was cursing in pain and waving his injured hand as if willing to shake free the pain and blood. Questions were being asked by those who were confused while others stood rooted to the ground like oasis trees, too terrified to act or talk or think. All the while Dagaa screamed with Indomil on top of him, trying to hold the cloth to his mouth. Xelif was saying something to her, but Indomil couldn''t register his words, not with the blood pumping through her ears and making her face hot.


    Xelif tagged at her shoulder and finally managed to get her attention. "We have to shut him up!"


    Indomil suddenly knew what had to be done. She got off Dagaa, rushed to where the stone cans lay with dismembered heads in them. She gripped one, raised it over her head and rushed to where Dagaa lay thrashing against the combined constraints of Xelif and Dora. Then, without thinking, without holding back, she brought the stone can down with all her strength onto Dagaa''s face. She felt more than heard the crunch of cartilage breaking and Dagaa abruptly went still. And with his stillness came the end to the screams, and the fighting between Phesoj and the water seeker that Indomil could now identify as Ollyper met an end when Phesoj got knocked out cold. Silence once more enveloped them and it seemed all held a breath, hoping against all odds that all that had transpired within the crest of tall sand dunes, had gone unnoticed.


    They all felt despair''s clutches grip at their throats and squeeze all life from them as above them, on the crest of each sand dune around them, figures appeared carrying bright torches that illuminated their pale skins. Close to two dozen Binorian hunters surrounded their hide out and Indomil knew the end when it looked her in the face. She felt the weakness climb from the soles of her feet, up her legs, causing her knees to knock and her hands to grow numb. She let go of the stone can and heard it thump to the ground, the two heads contained within it rolling out to flank her feet. Silence was all they''d wanted and now they had it and all it offered was the chance to hear the loud beating of their own hearts while faced with the certainty that they will soon beat no more.


    In his sleep. Ishar giggled.


    XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX


    Hey. I am so sorry for not posting chapters this past couple of days.  I''m from Kenya and I don''t know if you know this but we''re currently trying to overthrow our government who have been corrupt since forever and are also trying to enforce new tax laws that would have killed us all for their own benefit. Our country is divided along tribal lines and the politicians use this to their advantage but unbeknownst to them, the Gen Z and Millenials don''t give a fuck about tribe. I mean, we grew up watching Lord of the Rings and the Avengers, we have a superhero complex not tribal based mindsets. We hate tyranny and we gathered and fought back. It''s been a rough couple of weeks, with mobilizing in the streets of our capital city and protesting (Please look up #REJECTFFINANCEBILL2024 on any social site. This is proof of what''s going on) So the government shut down all data network services in the country to prevent the youth from mobilizing because we were using social media to rally, and the internet network has only just recently returned. It has been dangerous, there were flying bullets and everything. I saw a guy''s head get blown off and trust me, seeing it in real life is way different from reading about it. Like, the writers often talk about grey or dark tissue matter in the brain. It''s actually mostly white and pinkish. There''s no way they can tax sanitary pads to almost twice their normal price just so a politician can buy a watch worth a million dollars. That''s promoting Sanitary poverty! Our women will suffer! A guy was shot and killed several paces from me, and in that moment I felt an otherworldly fear and for some reason, I thought about you guys. Incase I die you can check out the rest of my chapters on Patreon. Chapters 30 to 37 is some of the best writing I''ve ever done. You''d fall in love with Kaza. The protests are still going on and we''re not going to back down! I might die and I need to let you guys know about the Madness Series, at whatever time afforded to me by God, I shall use to post chapters. Also, Kenyans are really cool, know how horses are a major part of fantasy novels? Well, here''s a video of a protestor who made away with a Police horse:


    https://vm.tiktok.com/ZMrMVHLU5</a>/


    Imagine charging into battle while holding a sword at that speed! Hell, I gotta steal a horse next time. It''s just stirups and reins right? What''s the worst that can happen? LoL

 Chapter 19

    When all you fear comes to pass, you''re left with this moment of absolute stillness. Your mind stays stagnant between thoughts, your arms dangle immobile beside you. The blood courses through your veins as it has always done, but for some reason you don''t consider yourself a living thing. You find no difference between yourself and a slab of stone. Your senses become muffled, you retreat within yourself and become a mere spectator of all that occurs around you. Stripped of will, you merely observe, lacking the guile to alter all that occurs. Leaving you helpless


    As the two dozen Binorian Hunters descended the crest of dunes circling their hide out, their torches flickering orange flames that cast their pale faces in a deathly glow, Indomil found herself unable to move. She expected those around her to lurch into motion, to pump their feet with sure, quick strides and escape the danger encroaching upon them. But all around her, her fellow water seekers stood still. Dagaa lay unconscious, the steady rising and falling of his chest made visible by the torches the only proof he was still alive. Phesoj lay face down in the sand with Ollyper standing above him, fingers still clenched into fists. And Ishar still snored.


    The Binorians formed a circle around them. One of them with a face wrapped in red cloth that dangled down his neck stepped forward, surveying the Kolotian faces peering at him through the slit the red cloth allowed for his eyes. He lowered the red cloth from his face to reveal a pinched face riddled with a mosaic of scars, he held his torch back and one of the men beside him, a slender Binorian with blue eyes hastily took it from him. The red cloth man spoke. "Well, well," his voice sounded as coarse as sand. "We''re out looking for a Talisi woman and a Telinete Rhino and happen to stumble upon Gold. Meena be praised!"


    "Meena be praised!" The Binorians chorused.


    Indomil realized the man had yet to notice the Binorian heads at her feet, or those in the other stone cans some paces from where they were. She hoped¡ª


    "Zigzil!" One of the Binorians shouted. Catching the attention of the red clothed man. He pointed at Indomil''s feet and she felt all their eyes trained on below her where the two heads that had fallen out of the stone can lay. Heads of white skin, staring sightless with eyes the same shade as those of the Binorian hunters all around. There was a rasp as swords flew free of their scabbards.


    "Well, well," The man with the red cloth, Zigzil, gave her a murderous glare. "How things unravel." He had an odd way of speaking, patient yet laden with malice despite his choice of words.


    "Zigzil!" One of the Binorian hunters approached Zigzil with one of the stone cans and emptied the heads within on the ground. Dora started whimpering, so did Xelif, Juspin and Ollyper. Indomil wanted to make a sound but she found her throat oddly constricted and dry. Instead her hands trembled and she had to dig her nails into her palm to stop them from shaking, she felt the pain as her nails broke skin.


    Zigzil stared at the severed heads then squatted down and turned the heads around. He pointed at one. "This one is Kojis, owed me seven gold vigons, looks like nobody will be collecting." He pointed at the other head. "This one I don''t know."


    "That there''s Coriar." Another Binorian pipped in. "He is the one who shat in the communal bath, remember?"


    Zigzil nodded and took a moment, staring at those dead faces on the ground. He raised his eyes and found Indomil. She flinched beneath that beady eyed gaze. "Where is the Talisi woman with the Telinete Rhino?" He asked.


    This book''s true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.


    Indomil did not know who Zigzil was speaking of, she faintly remembered mention of a Talisi woman and a Telinete rhino some time back but that seemed like ages ago. When faced with death the past becomes a flimsy thing filled with uncertainty. As if the potency of death renders all memory of life a mirage.


    Zigzil stood up and drew his sword. "Kolotian scum, we will fuck you bloody, we will cut your hands off and your feet then force you to hobble your way to your Colony where we will proceed to kill everyone there." His voice rang across the dunes, each word uttered slowly. He started walking towards her. Twisting the sword in his grip, she found herself incapable of movement. "Your life is as a good as gone, but we might grant you a quick death if you tell us where the Talisi woman with the Telinete rhino is!"


    "I... I... don''t... I¡ª" Indomil stuttered as Zigzil drew near, the edge of his blade gleamed in the torchlights and at its point Indomil saw her end.


    "He knows!" Dora suddenly cried out. "That one, there! He knows the Talisi woman and the Telinete Rhino!" She pointed at the sleeping Ishar, who surprisingly, was still oblivious of all that was going on. "We found him there," Dora spurred on. "Amidst the dead... The dead Binorians. We found him there."


    Zigzil turned his head to Ishar. "It''s true, he even spoke of a Talisi woman and a Telinete rhino, he claimed the woman was his and so was the Telinete rhino." Lupin chimed in. Suddenly they were all eager to lay blame on Ishar, use him as the scapegoat to save their hides. Or rather, to ensure their hides didn''t suffer as much when they met their ends. They all started speaking at once, pointing at Ishar. Talking about how they''d simply found the heads and had played no role in their dismemberment.


    Zigzil raised a fist for silence and suddenly it was all that was offered. "Wake him." He ordered. Two hunters walked purposefully to Ishar, they grabbed him by the nook of his elbows and raised him off the ground. He dangled between them as a corpse would. Indomil wondered as to how someone could sleep so heavily. A third hunter walked over gripping his sword, turned it around to bare out the pommel and slammed it into Ishar''s midriff before stepping back. Ishar didn''t stir. The hunter gave a puzzled look to Zigzil before repeating the action of waking Ishar. This time Ishar coughed and his violet eyes fluttered open. The hunter reversed the grip of his sword and lay the sharp point below Ishar''s chin, tilting up his head. "Mbengo." The hunter said and spat at Ishar''s face.


    Ishar''s eyes widened. His head titled down to his bound wrists then up again at the Binorian holding a blade to his neck, he titled his head, peering about, taking in all that was around him then his eyes rested on Dagaa and Phesoj on the ground. Zigzil walked towards Ishar, quick sure strides that had him before the Kolotian dangling between the Hunters in seconds.


    "Look at me." Zigzil said and Ishar met his eyes. "Where is the Talisi woman and the Telinete Rhino?" Ishar''s eyes darted down to Phesoj and Dagaa once more, he seemed to be totally unphased by the threat looking him in the face. "I said look at me you fucking mbengo!" Zigzil punched Ishar in the face and the Kolotian barely reacted. Ishar''s feet found purchase on the ground, his bent knees straightened and he stood up straight before Zigzil.


    He turned his head away from Zigzil and stared straight at Indomil. "Are they dead?" He asked while thrusting his chin at Phesoj and Dagaa on the ground.


    Indomil shook her head and flinched as Zigzil struck ishar across the face, but Ishar didn''t even tilt his neck at the blow. Zigzil curled his hand into a fist and buried it into Ishar''s gut, but the Kolotian stood straight, showing no discomfort as if the punch was merely a fly settling on his abdomen. The Binorian Hunters stole puzzled glances at each other. Their drawn swords held before them.


    "Where is the Talisi woman!" Zigzil screamed, that slow even manner of speech that Indomil had become accustomed to from him suddenly morphed into this hurried, rage induced screech that was even more frightening.


    Ishar turned his eyes to Zigzil and smiled. "I don''t know." He said. "What I do know is that I do not like it when someone calls me mbengo. Makes my blood boil. I realize I have anger issues, my girlfriend, the woman you''re after, has been training me on how to control my rage. She told me deep breaths help and I''m doing my best to breath deeply right now but it still irks me, you know? Like, that name. That mbengo name brings back memories of the man who raised me, used to call me that each day as he beat me. I''m breathing really deeply right now but the rage doesn''t seem to subside, for some reason. Just doesn''t seem to ebb. Perhaps an apology would do?"


    Silence. Then the Binorian Hunters started laughing starting with Zigzil. They laughed and pointed at Ishar as their shoulders shook and their hands clutched to their guts and Ishar started laughing with them for some reason, laughing like a fool and forcing their laughter to cut short but on and on he laughed, alone, and those around him grew uncomfortable and the grips on the hilts of their blades tightened and ther brows furrowed, suddenly realizing there was something terribly off about this particular Kolotian.


    Ishar stopped laughing and smiled at Zigzil. "Apologize." He said.


    Zigzil moved closer to Ishar, faces close enough to kiss, and said. "Mbengo."


    XXXXXXXXXX


    For more chapters you can click the donations button to access my patreon. I''ve been away for a while but new chapters will be posted here and further on my patreon.

 Chapter 20

    Ishar had been taking in slow deep breaths, with even slower exhales. Calming himself, hoping that it would keep him from answering the call of chaos that forged a core part of himself. In what felt like a lifetime ago, Ishar had encountered Ovek, the God of chaos and traded his sanity for a chance to change his fate and the fates of those he cared about. Now, in that dark part of himself where his sanity once lay, sits a boiling sea of things that are unfathomable, and his emotions drive him into their very depths. There, within him, was release. An abandoning of all symmetry and order and sense, a discarding of civility and alignment. All he had to do was plunge into the depths of madness, give total abandon to chaos and exult in the power that comes with channeling a God.


    But he''d been hesitant, the more he gave himself to chaos, the more he felt himself slipping away. The longer it took him to regain his sense of self, the harder it was to know what matters and what is expected of him. Madness was tethered to him, and Niada ever feared she would one day lose him to it completely.


    "<i>Mbengo</i>." The Binorian with the pinched scarred face spat in his face.


    Ishar took quick shallow breaths, the parameters he''d set to ensure he did not lose himself crumbled like a sand castle against the tide. He felt himself wading into the shallows of the sea of chaos, and further into the depths of madness. He closed his eyes and when he opened them, he knew they were no longer violet. That checked the man before him who stumbled back a step. One held a blade to his neck, two gripped his arms.


    The ropes binding his wrists appeared to be as weak as a strand of string and he tested this by parting his arms, and just as easily as string, the ropes cut and fell to the desert floor. The one with the sword moved to thrust but Ishar gripped the blade, sharp edge digging into his palm but for some reason he did not think it could cut him, he felt it was as brittle as glass and sure enough, the blade broke within his grip and no part of it punctured his skin. The Binorian remained holding the hilt of a broken sword, eyes wide, mouth hanging open like a fish. There was a loud boom as Ishar slapped him in one quick motion, his palm meeting his face. Ishar felt as cheekbone, jaw, eye socket, teeth and skull where his hand met, all shattered. The Binorian was flung five paces away, he rolled, stopped, tried to get up on shaky limbs and turned to his companions. Half his face was gone, his eye dangled from its broken socket. He coughed, teeth spilled from his mouth and clattered upon the desert floor. His limbs gave way and he collapsed.


    The two Binorians flanking Ishar had their attention on the man Ishar had slapped, so did everyone else. Ishar didn''t see what the big deal was, he could do far worse. He moved with purpose, mayhem flooding his limbs. The one on the right didn''t register the elbow coming to his face even as it burst his head open. The one on the left had his sword swinging and Ishar gripped the wrist of his sword arm, twisted and broke it. The sword fell and Ishar gripped the hilt before the sword touched the ground. The man''s scream was cut short as Ishar raised the blade and brought the sword down on the man, cleaving him from the shoulder all the way to the hip. Blood splattered Ishar.


    The one with the red cloth around his head screamed something. Ishar didn''t understand what was said but judging from the men charging towards him, blades raised, what was said required an answer. Ishar sprung to meet the two score men darting his way, but they moved too slowly, every stride of theirs were three of his. And the blade in his hand moved faster than theirs. In a moment he was among them. Ishar drove the sword up a man''s groin, switched his grip and tagged the blade up, spilling the man''s guts onto the ground. He blocked a swipe by another, ducked beneath the blade of one more, then spun around with his sword arm extended, cutting three men in half just above the waist. He parried a thrust then stoved a man''s chest in with a well timed kick, flinging him into his partner and sending both men to the ground with tangled limbs.


    A Binorian attempted to tackle Ishar and implement a Form of Awe so as to give his companions a chance to overwhelm him from the ground. He dove for Ishar''s waist after having discarded his sword to better enable the grappling technique. Ishar''s blade met him as he came through the air with an upward swing and drive that rivaled the man''s diving momentum. He was split neatly in half from his head all the way to his groin. He flopped in two equal parts that flanked Ishar and that checked the attacking Binorians.


    They stood around him now, less than half what they were. Shifting their weight from one foot to the other. Eyes wide and limbs clearly trembling. Ishar stood tall, blade dangling in his hand, surrounded with gore, dismembered limbs, the dead and the dying. Several who were knocking on death''s door moaned on the ground, the sound forcing those still living to steal glances at them, wondering as to whether or not they too shall soon be in the same predicament, making the same sounds.


    Ishar''s eyes scanned the men around him until it landed on the one who''d called him a mbengo. He stood some distance from the rest, sword drawn. A look of utter contempt and fear marred his already hideous face. "You call me an insect that stinks when crushed," Ishar called out to him. "Yet the smell that taints the air is that of your own crushed men. Tell me, Binorian, what smell will you emit when I crush you?"


    "Hunters!" Zigzil cried out. "Flower formation, inner petals implement Grind while the outer petals impliment Pride." The Binorian Hunters moved to obey. They surrounded Ishar in a concentric pattern that dug towards him diagonally with his sides susceptible to those standing further back. Those closer parted their feet and held their swords in the form of Grind while those some distance away raised themselves in the form of Pride, angling for attacks coming from above. Those with Grind lurched and Ishar was attacked from four directions at once, thrusts and swipes aiming at his mid section and lower. Ishar danced away from the blades, blocked some with the swings of his blade but before he could give an answering attack those enforcing the Form of Pride attacked from above and the blades met his skin, tearing it and sending blood welling. A thrust dug into his arm piercing him below the elbow. A low attack had a sword driven into his thigh and a cut across his abdomen leaked blood.


    They attacked orderly at each opening availed to them, like a blooming flower they opened and flowed in a systematic attack and each time their blades bit flesh they attacked with more vigor, believing their quarry to be on the back foot and incapable of giving answer. They grew bold, they banked on order and believed themselves to be invincible because of it. They did not know Ishar, they did not know his very breath rivaled the existence of order.


    A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.


    Ishar smiled at one of the men approaching in the form of Pride who thrust from above and discarded his sword. With both hands he gripped the man''s arm, saw the surprise on his pudgy face and started swinging him around as if he weighed no more than a stick. The man screamed but as he collided with his fellow Hunters, his screams turned to grunts. He slammed into another Binorian, his legs broke as he shattered the man''s neck. Ishar raised him, maintaining the spinning momentum and brought him down on an approaching Grind enforcer. The two men mashed together in a tangle of broken limbs and that checked the hunters for a span once more. An availed moment that was enough for Ishar to call to his God.


    "Ovek!" Ishar cried out as the hunters regained their resolve in the face of his mayhem. "Some advice?" They formed the flower formation around him, the fallen being stepped over, swords being brandished in shaky arms.


    <i>Advice... Mmmh</i>.  He heard the God of Chaos speak within his mind. <i>I am the God of Chaos, what advice can be found in such a thing? Maybe the evidence of destruction left in its wake.


    </i>


    Ishar shifted his head to the ground around him. Taking in the mutilation and death dealt by his hand. A Hunter, paler with loss of blood, crawled his way away from Ishar, his entrails dragging behind him. With madness you inflict pain. Ovek continued. Ishar''s eyes darted to a man laying prone on the ground, a diagonal cut running from his chest to his hip the reason he was insensate. With Chaos you bring oblivion.


    He felt it then, like a soft whisper welling deep within him to become a shout so jubilant it washed over the pain dealt by the cuts and sword thrusts upon his flesh. He didn''t feel pain as he listened to the sound of Chaos, he felt nothing but a need to exist without bounds.


    "Attack! You fools! Attack!" Zigzil commanded. His men rushed to obey. Those implementing the form of Grind swiping down for mid and lower attacks while those of Pride came from above..... And met death.


    XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX


    Zigzil felt a tremor taking a hold of him, making his sword wiggle in his grasp. The Kolotians, the bug formed by the Gods to be crushed. The thing whose only value was their fingers, a commodity that made up his whole career. They were practically nothing. Killing a Kolotian had the same effect as squashing a bug, there was no remorse, not a moment spent on pity or grief. And they were so easy to kill, he''d killed some himself. He''d watched others kill them. They were weak, choosing to plead rather than fight. When he''d seen this bunch of Kolotians beneath the dunes, he knew that he''d found an outlet to channel the rage and shame brought about by the Talisi woman and her Telinete Rhino who have been wrecking havoc at the Hunter encampment for the past three days, claiming Binorian lives. It was so easy to kill Kolotians ... Yet.


    The one they faced now refused to die.


    <i>He is no man!</i> He''d gleamed as much when the Kolotian cut Jefrith, Griadieal and Singsil in one underhand swipe of the blade, severing their bodies in half. *He is no man!*And his thought had been seconded by the wails of the battered, shattered and torn, sprawled around the desert floor. And now as they encroached upon him in the flower formation once more, the Kolotian raised his head and laughed and in that laugh was a sound akin to the scratching of nails upon supple skin. There was pain there, a desolute sound rid of all that made a man what he was.


    "Attack! Attack!" He cried out despite his fear. And a part of him that he never knew existed gave thanks to the fact that he carried rank and hence wasn''t to be part of those within the Kolotian''s range. He turned his head to the animal''s fellow Kolotians, believing that they''d have long since escaped only to find themselves huddled together in dark cluster upon the desert floor, including those that had been lying insensate a moment before. Their violet eyes, made visible by the flickering torchlight, spoke of awe. A complete opposite of the mind numbing fear that had engulfed him. <i>I will kill them all, let them stare at the animal at work, but just like an animal it will be put down and then it''s their hands I shall¡ª


    </i>


    The thought trailed off to stillness, it''s ending mired by that which greeted his eyes. The flower formation, a strategic technique spoken of in the book The Prowess of the mind as the surest way to hold one channeling the Jojoh Meena was absolutely useless in the face of the Kolotian.


    Those of Grind attacked the unarmed man, a sure thrust and swipe of their blades that was met with¡ª nothing. The Kolotian pounced on the first man, brought him down with a clawed rake of the hand against his face and the man screamed as skin and flesh peeled off his face. The ones behind him moved to attack but the Kolotian was on all fours. Tumbling forward beneath legs, bringing men down by snapping their legs in two as if they were nothing more than sticks before following up with his hand upon their throats, crushing and turning screams into strained exhales. They were dying, his men were dying. He watched as one was flung ten feet into the air, screaming as he met the ground with a wet thud. The Kolotian gripped a sword and limbs and heads started flying. They were seven, then six, then five. <i>My men are dying!


    </i>


    He did not know why he couldn''t give the order to retreat, he did not know why he could not move or speak. At that moment his mind trailed back to Synthia, his woman back in the Southlocal of Binoria. He''d made her a promise, he''d spend a half  decade in the desert then he''d return with enough gold to sway her uptight father into giving him her hand. Synthia, that day beneath the Mirel wood canopy, the sun touching your face through gaps amidst the leaves. <i>That smile you held as you promised me that you''ll wait for my return.</i> <i>What I''d give to see that smile and feel that sun upon my skin.


    </i>


    Jeffrith and Fulikwa, the remaining Hunters facing the Kolotian, each gave a shout and charged. Their heads flew from their necks, their bodies remained standing, still unaware that they were already dead. Their blood sprayed up into the air and came down upon the Kolotian, bathing him in red. Beneath that thick brow, amber eyes gleamed and fell on Zigzil. Then the Kolotian started making his way towards him, the wounds his men had dealt upon him didn''t impede his stride. What I''d give to feel the sun upon my skin one more time. Zigzil thought as the Kolotian approached, manic smiled etched with malice upon his blood soaked face. When the ground opens beneath you, plunging you into the abyss, you cling to anything at hand for salvation.


    "I apologize." Zigzil said. And the Kolotian paused mid stride. "I apologize for calling you a <i>mbengo</i>¡± He added.


    The Kolotian nodded and his smile resided. "You''re forgiven." He said and turned away. Walked some distance to a patch of ground free of gore, lowered himself and curled into a ball. Within moments he was snoring.


    Enjoyed this chapter? Want more? If you''re eager to continue the journey and can''t wait for the next installment, you can check out my Patreon at the donation button! By supporting me there, you not only get early access to more chapters but also exclusive content, behind-the-scenes insights, and much more.

 Chapter 21

    The Westlocal was beautiful. Some might even argue its radiant nature rivaled that of the Capital itself. Fields of barley spreading out as far as the eye could see painted the horizon in a golden glow that was highlighted by the noon day sun. Vineyards, lush with green leaves and pregnant with succulent berries were tended to by throngs of workers, harvesting and pressing and fermenting. Birds flocked in the sky, their cries drowned out by the steady plucking of the strings of several lutes in the two story tavern where Masutap sat at the topmost floor, half a mug of ale before her.


    The Eastlocal had whores, the Westlocal had brew. People came to the west of Binorian to drink their woes away just as they went to the east to quench their desires for flesh. Surprisingly though, the Westlocal was of a higher class compared to the East. Where one would expect drunkards to riddle the streets and ditches, vomit to line the pavements and insensate bodies to cluster in alleyways, the town had spotless streets, a meticulous sense of propriety when it comes to the upkeep of the Westlocal had ensured the flourishing of the Local under the youngest Highlord, Highlord Kemi.


    Kemi had command of a larger fragment of guards than any Highlord, and he put them to work, ensuring his Local carried itself as more of a place for business than a place to lounge under the haze of inebriation. People did drink, but the fines for disorderly conduct were high, ensuring the drinking didn''t go beyond the control of the drinker. Majority of those who owned plots in the Local run breweries for Highlord Kemi or farmed the fields stretching west for the benefit of Highlord Kemi. Every coin given and every coin taken must pass the hands of Kemi. And the neighboring Remu seeking market for their goods and purchase of the brew paid hefty fees for the pleasure of entering Binoria. Kemi was rich, Kemi was powerful.


    Kemi must die. Masutap decided.


    The top floor part of the tavern had twelve tables with six chairs each. Clusters of men dressed in fine silk swarmed most of the tables but kept a wide berth of the table where Masutap sat alone. A waitress dressed in an embroidered dress that would humble a noble woman and clung to her waist hence highlighting her posterior, weaved amongst the tables, expertly handling a tray filled with mugs and a jug of ale. The men''s eyes darted towards her curves as she passed each table and when she came to a stop before Masutap she offered a white toothed grin. "Can I fill your mug?" She asked while batting her eyelashes.


    Masutap held out her empty mug and as the woman poured from the jug Masutap studied her. Order, a thing that brought itself out once the mind was set to a task, revealed its threads upon the woman''s features as she expertly did the same repetitive task that entailed the key part of her work. Masutap was able to see a whisker of what traversed the woman''s mind and upon further concentration she was able to see a glimpse of what her emotions were. And through emotions could one gleam thoughts more clearly, each image formed in the mind mirrored an emotion welling from within. And the woman whispered the same thought in her mind over and over. My mother''s name is Clera, my father''s name is lost, while the ale runs so do I have feed. My mother''s name is Clera, my father''s name is lost, while the ale runs so do I have feed. My mother''s name is Clera... Over and over the woman repeated the same thought, a mantra of sorts that brought an image of her mother to mind and the emotion associated with love, an image of a dead man burning in a pyre to represent her father accompanied by the emotion of sorrow, then ale and food which brought a feeling of gratitude. It was impossible for Masutap to traverse deeper into the woman''s psyche, her supposed way of thought acted as a shield that was near impenetrable, it was almost as if the woman knew who Masutap was ... What she was... What she could do.


    The mug filled with ale, the woman smiled at her, flashing a crescent glow of small white teeth. Masutap moved to talk to her but a man took the chair opposite her. Something she had not seen coming. Normally she could tell the approach of someone, their thoughts and emotions making their intentions known, but the man who sat opposite her, her sole uninvited companion at her table, gave off absolutely no strand of order. It was as if all that constituted his being was masked beneath a blanket of discontinuity. As if every one of his thoughts was smothered before it formed a chain, and the only emotion that acted as the foundation to said uncompleted and uniformed thoughts was one of nonchalance. He simply did not care.


    He had brown eyes but his pallid white skin marked him as a Binorian having had a touch of Remu ancestry. His shortly trimmed beard was a unique rust color that had definitely been dyed and the hair on top of his head spoke of its true pigmentation with dark strands neatly pressed to his scalp. He looked like a scribe, or a book keeper or someone who had mastered a particular trade. His hands, fingers long and palms tender spoke of the trade''s soft disposition as he gripped the mug of ale placed before him by the waitress who slowly made her way from Masutap''s table to the other tables.This story has been unlawfully obtained without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.


    "Hello." The man said. His voice smooth velvet. He didn''t smile but there was a hint of humor to the edge of his eyes. He lifted his mug to his lips and took a sip all the while observing Masutap. She did not raise her mug to mimic his gesture neither did she answer him.


    XXXXXXXXXXXXXX


    The waitress set the tray onto the tavern counter, the tavern keep''s eyes darted to her and he gave a slight nod. Imperceptible to anyone other than her. He was Rank 137 of the Royal Black Guard and his approval meant the world to her. She had done as Rank one, Orgeeg, had instructed. Set the poisoned ale before the traitor''s table. While reciting the mantra that had been drilled into her for the past two weeks to ensure Masutap didn''t read her mind or know of the plan to incapacitate her.


    Clera, a name that had been fashioned together with the image of a woman she did not know had been fabricated to bring about a feeling of love that masked the fear within her. She''d trained for hours to associate the image of Clera as that of her mother and the love she felt for her actual mother to that of Clera and nothing more. If she thought of her actual mother, a chain of thought would have formed that would have trailed into the present where her mission dominated her mind. So Clera, a false thought tied to no actual memories but linked with genuine love had been the first part of a three part lock to her mind.


    The next had been the image of her father on a pyre, a true image, a true thought, something that actually happened. The sorrow was easy to bring to the forefront of her mind, it always had been. The first lock had been a false thought with a true emotion, the second lock was a true thought with a true emotion.


    The third lock was the image of ale and food, she''d gone hungry for four days straight then her main diet for the next ten days for breakfast, lunch and supper had been ale and a variety of foods earned from her waitressing until she came to associate the food and ale with a feeling of gratitude brought about by the first bite to ward off the pangs of hunger that had assailed her for four days. The image and its accompanied emotion solidified her position as a waitress to Masutap''s red eye. The third lock, one of a trained thought and a trained emotion, something that was once false but made true through repeated action. It enabled her to pour the poison into Masutap''s mug without thinking of it as poison.


    Hump rat''s curse. A fluid secreted from the desert rat''s hump that rendered anyone who ingested it immobile, their limbs locking up, their breath becoming shallow and heartbeat slowing to an almost imperceptible rhythm. A large enough dose can kill and the waitress, who was in fact the newly appointed Rank 49 of the Royal Black Guard, had put a double dose in Masutap''s mug of ale.


    The Queen had instructed them as to when Masutap would be arriving at the Westlocal to carry out an assassination on the Highlord Kemi. Where Masutap would reside, where she would visit and when she would carry out her plan had been unknown to them. But they were the Royal Black Guard, they''d set up advertisements of the tavern where Masutap currently sat, rumoring it to be the most frequented by the Highlord Kemi. Give the rat the poisoned block of cheese where they won''t expect it to be but would be delighted to find. And Masutap, had taken the bait. At noon she''d wandered into the tavern and the Royal Black Guard had been in position, waiting for days.


    The Fifty Royal Black Guard on mission were either newly appointed to their rank or had undergone significant changes to ensure Masutap, who had once been the Rank One, would not recognize them. Rank 69 conversed with Rank 48, 72 and 39 at one table. The lower tavern held twenty of the Royal Black Guard. The rest were with Orgeeg at an unknown location and everybody else at the two storey tavern was a Red Guard of Highlord Kemi, disguised in silk or worker attire to blend in with the posh tavern that was mostly frequented by the upper Binorian class.


    All of them had trained on how to manage their thoughts and feelings to mask their intentions. But none as much as the man who sat at Masutap''s table. A man whom she knew close to nothing of besides the fact that Orgeeg had sought his assistance personally. A man who had never been seen within the palace or amongst the Royal Black Guard or in Binoria in general and clearly wasn''t an adept at combat judging by his lanky build, modest brown robes hanging off his boney frame. He was probably a master of the Form of Empathy and the Form of Intent and if there''s one thing Rank 137 had come to learn was how dangerous those two forms were.


    She stole glances in his direction where he sat, sprawled in his chair as if before a hearth and not before one of the most powerful murderers in the realm. His task was to ensure she drunk the ale, she wondered if he could do it. He talked to Masutap, his words imperceptible from where Rank 137 stood but Masutap''s gaze did not swerve from him or dart across the room as it had been doing. No, she paid attention to the man and his words, as if trying to figure out a puzzle. All the while the mug of poisoned ale lay cupped between her hands with no intention to lift it to her lips.


    Come on! Drink it! The Waitress urged. Masutap''s eyes suddenly broke free of the man to glare directly at her, the waitress smothered her distress at the sudden intensity behind those eyes, she turned away slowly, grabbing a dust cloth and wiping at the counter with practiced motions. All the while her thoughts recited the same mantra. My mother''s name is Clera, my father''s name is lost, while the ale runs so do I have feed. My mother''s name is Clera, my father''s name is lost, while the ale runs so do I have feed. My mother''s name is Clera...


    xxxxxxxxx


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 Chapter 22

    "You know how the sun dips during the end of the day and then rises again the next day?" The man sitting opposite Masutap asked. Although he''d posed a question he continued as if he''d done no such thing. "Well if Gods exist, Meena and all that, then are the Gods responsible for creating such a divine system of being?" He took a sip of the ale in his mug. "I do not believe the Gods who are worshipped within the realm are capable of such a feat." His brown eyes rose to meet hers. "I believe, if the Goddess Meena did create the world, then her champion must be someone holding the very ability to distort reality as they see fit."


    He chuckled as if having heard a joke told by the wind. "I''m not talking about a champion who rushes into combat with a sword and inhuman strength and agility with an army charging behind him." The corner of his lips curled, the pause following his next words was heavy. "No. I''m talking about a God''s Champion who can level mountains with the wave of an arm, who can command the sea to dry up, who can reach into Tabrimas and bring a soul back into its lifeless body." Masutap found herself leaning forward, enamored by the way the stranger spoke. There was something about him she couldn''t quite put her finger on. She couldn''t follow the strands of order that made up the better part of everything, she couldn''t follow the strings and unravel them to reveal what lay at the stranger''s heart, what ruled his mind, what drove him, fueled his every motive. Neither did she sense the strands of chaos that rivaled those of order.


    The stranger was¡ª in all sense¡ª one whose mind, whose very being, was masked to completion, taking every hint of life from him and hiding it behind this veil that seemed void of emotion. If it wasn''t for the way he talked, and the half smile he sparingly rewarded her with, if it wasn''t for the crinkles that stood out at the edge of his eyes when he showed some hint of zeal at the end of making a point, Masutap would have thought him dead. An animated corpse striving to mimic life.


    The ale in the mug in hand didn''t ripple within her grip. Masutap hadn''t raised it to her lips neither did she intend to. The waitress who''d delivered the mug had done well to mask her thoughts, but a slip of intention, availing itself as she stood at the tavern counter, that manifested itself as a thought that screamed with her need for Masutap to drink from the mug, made Masutap aware of the fact that ale wasn''t the only thing in her mug. There was poison too.


    Somehow Dahli had known where Masutap would be, and worked elaborately to set a trap. Does she not know that the very Goddess she draws power from is the same one whose power courses through my veins? Whatever trap Dahli had laid for her wouldn''t succeed, nothing could hinder Masutap''s resolve. Kemi must die.


    The man sitting before her was probably part of Dahli''s ensemble. So too the men in rich robes riddled around the room. Masutap suspected the tavern keep even though he''d made a point not to even glance in Masutap''s direction, something about him screamed Royal Black Guard, something in his posture and the way he carried himself. They may be Royal Black Guards all around her, new ones or ones she had never met during her time with them. It doesn''t matter though, they are all dead! The fools! Today they shall know that it isn''t only their precious Queen who holds power. But in the mean time she would play along, find out the knot in the strand of Dahli''s plan laid so as to catch her, only when seeing the full string of Dahli''s plan would she be able to spot the knot and act in a manner that would not only hinder Dahli''s ploy, but also ensure Kemi met his end as was Masutap''s main objective.


    Masutap smiled at the man before her. "I believe that a champion who could level mountains with a word would be capable of doing more than remain a champion." She leaned over the circular table, willing her appearance to be one of coy menace, anything to unnerve the man before her, make him stumble and cut him down with his fall. "Such a champion would be in league with the Gods themselves, and what then would the cost of his subservience be if he rivaled the one who gave him power? Gods exist to be worshipped, and elevating a mortal to the same status as them negates their need for worship. And a God can''t allow such a thing to happen." She studied him, nothing in his posture changed. His shoulders weren''t stiff but fluid, allowing the movement of the mug to his lips for a sip to appear graceful. He met her eyes as he lowered his mug and Masutap saw something, a hint of life that oozed irrefutable understanding. Masutap found herself intrigued.


    "True, what you speak is true." He said. "Masutap." He added her name as if he needed her to know that he knew that she was aware of the game that was being played.


    "You know my name." Masutap said, unwilling to quit the pleasure of the ruse they indulged in.


    "Yes." He answered her. "Do you wish to learn mine?"


    Masutap shrugged. "What pleasure would learning a dead man''s name bring me?"


    He chuckled. "My name is Dulab, I''m retired from this game of swords and death. But the Queen made me an offer I couldn''t refuse, hence why I am here."


    "No amount of gold is worth your life, Dulab."A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.


    "Oh no, she didn''t give me gold."


    Masutap cocked a brow, curious. "What did she offer you?"


    "A chance to learn how the champion of the Goddess Meena works."


    "You do not know me beyond what I look like."


    Dulab sighed and leaned back in his chair, the creak of the left foot of the chair showed how uneven his weight was. Allowing Masutap to gleam that he was positioning himself for an attack. "You''re right, I do not know you beyond your physical features," he paused, eyeing the mug in Masutap''s hand. "I know your history, which might make one believe that they know someone but it truly doesn''t. You''re Masutap, daughter of a Palace chamber maiden who was once in service to the late King Vayin Vigon. An innocent woman whose only mistake was to be before the King when desire for flesh ruled his heart. A woman who was raped by the King and bore you out of the act. Your birth led to the hunt for both you and your mother by Vayin Vigon, whose aim was to quell a wandering bloodline. But somehow you survived, somehow you came back and managed to infiltrate the Royal Black Guard, rise in rank and gain the favor of the King and the trust of the Black Guard. A position you used to kill Desan and..." He stopped, lifting his eyes to meet hers. "Like I said, it doesn''t matter, history doesn''t define a person, only the present does that, unless you''re dead."


    "Well, I find that your history will define you by the time you finish the ale in that mug." Masutap said, rage built up within her at the mention of her mother. Dulab chuckled and raised the mug to his lips once more, not an ounce of fear, not a smudge of worry. Every part of him echoed serenity. As if he was merely having a drink with an old friend.


    "Are you going to kill me?" Dulab asked while lowering the mug. "It must bring you great pleasure to hold the choice of life or death over someone."


    "I do what I must to accomplish what I want."


    "And you want to kill me?" Dulab asked.


    "You''re in my way and are Dahli''s puppet. I crush all that is hers, I crush all who are in my way. You''ve qualified on both levels."


    Dulab nodded as if his death made perfect sense. "I had a daughter," Dulab said. It was so unexpected that a gap in Masutap''s trail of thought availed itself and then Dulab lowered the walls that hid his emotions from her. Masutap gasped, she closed her eyes, tried to shake her head. Pain, scorching pain. Unquenchable, depthless agony. "Her name was Cynthamine." His words were suddenly pregnant with sorrow, and through the intensity of the emotion, like a high wave that engulfed her, she was able to see the face of Cynthamine and the love her father held for her. "I came home one day and found her dead, hacked with a broad sword. An old score a rival of mine settled the only way my profession and his would allow." Masutap saw it then, the blood and gore. The cleaved head of the child, dark brain matter matted with dark strands of hair. The pain Dulab felt deafened all else and she experienced every ounce of it with him.


    "Stop." Masutap begged as tears welled in her eyes. "Please, stop." She felt as if Cynthamine was her own child, she saw her hands as she tried to scoop up pieces of the dead daughter who made up every reason for her existence. And her hands came back stained red with the blood of her child.


    "You take pleasure in death, Masutap." Dulab said. "But I have seen the other side of that coin, and it''s not something that elicits pleasure, but the very opposite of it." Dulab raised his mug to Masutap, with a shaky hand she raised her own mug, thoughts of Cynthamine was all that ruled her mind. And the sorrow. Gods! How does he live? Why doesn''t he take his own life? This... This is madness! One cannot exist in such a tortured state. Yet here he was, breathing, existing before her, with such an insurmountable weight of grief tethered to him. "If I am to meet my death by the time this cup is empty, then may my last toast be to my daughter, may her laugh greet me as I enter Tabrimas." And Masutap touched her mug to Dulab''s, Cynthamine''s lilting laugh as Dulab remembered it echoed within her mind. Dulab raised his mug to his lips and drained it free of ale with several quick gulps. Masutap took her mug to her own lips, Cynthamine all that occupied her thoughts, and took three gulps of the poisoned ale before she realized what she''d done and dropped her mug.


    Hump rat''s curse. She immediately knew what the poison was as its effects became apparent. Her muscles locked, breath becoming shallow as her lungs lost their ability to draw in breath regardless of how hard she pushed. The lids of her eyes became heavy, threatening to droop over her eyes and incarcerate her in darkness. She peered over at Dulab, through half lidded eyes, her limbs stiff on the table, fingers unable to unclench from their clawed pose.


    Cynthamine, Dulab''s daughter, the sorrow that had laced his words, the grief and the memory of her lilting laugh. All of it had been fabricated, every ounce of Dulab''s tale was false. There was no Cynthamine, she saw it now as she looked at him, a ruse so elaborate had been played that rendered suspicion regarding its authenticity obsolete. Dulab was without a doubt the most adebt at the Form of Empathy. And as she sat there, staring at the nonchalant look on his face, that slowly retreated with the slow curl of the edge of his lips. Masutap felt something she hadn''t felt since she became the Champion of the Goddess of Order, she felt fear. And when a pale young man with a stubble of blonde hair upon his head, jaw and chin. Dressed in the black leather of the Royal Black Guard with piercing blue eyes that observed her as one would a specimen they were unwilling to touch, entered the tavern and made his way towards her, Masutap felt dread.


    Orgeeg dragged a chair to sit opposite Masutap and beside Dulab. Behind them everyone within the upper floor tavern stood up, flat swords and thin blades emerged from within robes that were shortly discarded to show the black leather armor beneath. Eyes were fixed on Masutap, grey, blue and brown. The Black Guard had come for her, the Black Guard had come to claim the cost of betraying duty and her inability to move spelt her doom.


    xxxxxxxxx


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 Chapter 23

    Orgeeg titled his head and nodded to the man, Dulab, who sat beside him. Orgeeg was in awe of the man. There had been talk of a Binorian soldier who brought down his enemies without the use of a blade, a man who was basically myth, so adept at the Form of Empathy commonly known among the Remu as the combat of speech, that his feats bordered on fiction, becoming a thing used to frighten new recruits and unsettle veterans.


    When the Queen Dahli had brought Dulab to the Palace, a man whom she claimed was the key piece in Masutap''s downfall. Orgeeg hadn''t been impressed while eyeing the lanky man with a face touched lightly by wrinkles, brown eyes and a rust colored beard with neatly cropped black hair on his scalp. He did not give off the air of one who''d ever been in combat before, the lack of muscle attested to this so too did the way he carried himself, reserved, as if death may greet him if he allowed anyone to see what lay within him.


    But a simple conversation between Dulab and Orgeeg enabled the Rank One of the Royal Black Guard to doubt his assessment of the man. Dulab, having only met Orgeeg for a span of moments, said to him: "The key to entering Tabrimas lies not in valance but in one''s capacity to live to one''s full potential." Dulab''s words, as if plucked from a tree holding the sweetest fruit, sated Orgeeg''s doubt regarding the man. And during the journey to the Westlocal, as they conversed amidst slow strides while guiding their horses, Orgeeg came to hold the mixed race man in high regard.


    Dulab reminded Orgeeg of the Remu Masters, the wisdom they held and the way they observed everything with a keen eye as if seeing things for the first time. But a part of him wondered whether Dulab had assessed him and molded himself to fit the character of people who could automatically draw Orgeeg''s respect. The thing about the Form of Empathy is how rarely it borders on the truth and at the same time how easily it made one think of lies as truth. That being said, what then was Dulab''s true character? Say, if he was in the company of a drunk would he slur his speech and talk without aim as opposed to how he''d act in the presence of a nobleman? Orgeeg concluded that the shifting of Dulab''s character was an unavoidable side effect of mastering the Form of Empathy. But it did beg the question, what lay beneath Dulab''s facade?


    "How did you manage to do it?" Orgeeg asked, eliciting a smile from Dulab.


    "She knew the drink was poisoned, she just needed to forget it. Only for a moment, long enough for her to sip." Dylan answered.


    "I did not know the Form of Empathy could be employed to such a degree."


    A faint sneer twisted Dulab''s features before quickly retreating behind his coy smile. "Orgeeg, Orgeeg, Orgeeg. My friend." Dulab calling him his friend suddenly made Orgeeg feel proud of himself, as if it was the biggest accomplishment of his career as a spy and the Rank one of the Royal Black Guard. "You have to understand," Dulab continued. "The Forms are all utter nonsense. Empathy, Grind, Pride, Sleight, Rage and all the others, all of them mean nothing before where the true battle is fought." And Dulab lifted his index finger and tapped his temple. "The mind, Orgeeg, win a thousand battles in your mind and you''ll win a thousand battles outside it. There''s no Empathy, no Grind or Pride. The Forms are just man''s attempt to simplify how the mind may act under certain conditions. And I believe this restricts the ability to improvise, sticking to the same recurring patterns of action, making one fixed. And a fixed enemy is a conquered foe, improvising should be a Form in itself, Orgeeg, maybe I''ll start it." Dulab chuckled. "There''s a reason the Champions of Meena do not employ Forms of Combat, for they understand how time consuming such a sequence of attacking and defending is, not to mention predictable. Better to hit with brute force and eradicate an opponent on all fronts than focus on one part then another." Dulab lifted his head to stare at Masutap. "I wonder what the Kolotian, Ishar, fights like."This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.


    Orgeeg felt a shiver at the mention of Ishar''s name quickly followed by rage at the fear the Kolotian drew out of him. "The Kolotian doesn''t fight a battle within his mind, no, he takes all that is in his mind, the utter madness within, and forces reality to twist to mirror it." Orgeeg shook his head. "It is not a fight, when you face him." Orgeeg recalled himself upon the Ganidan Plain, curled in on himself from Ishar''s kick to his groin. "It is annihilation." He recalled Desan''s screams as Ishar broke him piece by piece. "And Madness." And he heard the screams of the returned Legions from the Ganidan Plain, the returned survivors if that''s what they could be called. Not an ounce of lucidity within their being. A burden to Binoria''s pocket as they do nothing but lay on the ground screaming and muttering nonsense.


    Dulab nodded. "I would like to meet the Kolotian one day."


    "Pray to all the Gods that such a desire is not met." Orgeeg said and turned his attention to the woman sitting before him. Stiff as a board. Incapable of even lifting her tongue due to the heavy dose of Hump rat''s poison. A dose that would no doubt kill a man ten times her body weight in seconds. Yet she still breathed, shallow breaths that were barely noticeable but very much there. Her half lidded eyes were fixed on him and her mouth, open from a jaw whose ability to clench was rendered obsolete by the poison, trembled. Orgeeg wondered why Binoria''s rival Kingdoms didn''t employ the use of poisons on the past Kings of Binoria. Orgeeg guessed it was because they didn''t have a willing test subject, most poisons do not work on the Champions of Meena. On the insistence of the Queen and much to Orgeeg''s dismay, they had tested several poisons on her and only the Hump rat''s poison seemed to have any effect. And the effect was short lived, the lethal dose that had been dealt Dahli had only lasted for half an hour. But it was enough time for one to act without being impeded by one with the Jojoh Meena.


    Orgeeg leaned forward. "Masutap, your day of reckoning has come." He spoke calmly, as if explaining something to an infant. "You thought the power of the Goddess Meena was enough to stay justice''s hand, but the Royal Black Guard never forgets," he balled his hands into fists. The Royal Black Guards all around the tavern took slow steps forward, crowding towards their table, their hands gripping the hilts of their blades, eager for blood. "Masutap, you failed at your duty, the punishment for this is for you to lose your sight, your ability to hear, your hands and your feet. But at the same time you killed Prince Desan, and attempted to kill Queen Dahli, for that, death is its only reward."


    Masutap let loose a groan and her eyes flashed a brilliant red as the Jojoh Meena took effect, bolstering her strength and her body. Just as it had done Dahli, it''d be a while before she fully recovered enough to move and by then she''d have been hacked to pieces, this was her end. No matter where she retreated to, no matter what she did, she was going to die. Orgeeg gave the order for the Royal Black Guard to have their vengeance and they moved to obey, raising their blades.


    xxxxxxxxx


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 Chapter 24

    Masutap had no choice. Though she hated the domain of the Goddess of Order, Meena. Though she hated the expanse of clear sky with four freaking suns! As if one sun wasn''t more than enough! And the golden grass, long and wavy that tickled at her legs. And the Goddess herself, with that haughty attitude as if everything was a smear of shit and she was made of gold. But time moved slower in Meena''s domain and she needed time, her body was poisoned. She''d heard Orgeeg speak to Dulab, she knew the poison will wear off in a few moments but those moments she couldn''t afford. Immobile, incapable of action, she chose inaction, abandoning her body to the Goddess in order to quicken her body''s purge of the poison¡¯s toxins, the last thing she saw was the raised blades of the Black Guards descending on her.


    She appeared in Meena''s domain and took comfort in the movement if her limbs and sighed with relief as she flexed her fingers. Motion, a thing we take for granted. Masutap took in a deep breath and relished the feeling of air filling her lungs. Though she knew the place she was in was the domain of a Goddess, a place forged of order, even the waving grass dancing upon the tag of the cool wind were equidistant from each other. Though she knew that where she was is a separate reality from where she truly was, the tavern where men were moving to dice her to bloody pieces, she relished in the temporary feeling of freedom. The four suns in the sky were also evenly spaced and the pallid brown garment she wore, something she believed mirrored Meena''s perception of her, hugged her figure and felt as fitting as a lover''s embrace.


    "Masutap." The Goddess spoke from behind her, lilting melody of a voice. Masutap didn''t turn to face the deity, she went through the mind clearing sequence that placed walls around her thoughts, ensuring her internal monologue had some sense of privacy to it. Though she knew how pointless it all was, she was in Meena''s domain. A Goddess so ancient and well versed in all matters order, there is no privacy before such a deity. "You''re right there is no privacy here." Meena said, seconding her thoughts.


    "I''m about to die." Masutap said.


    "And whose fault is that?" Meena asked.


    "Mine."


    Meena chuckled. "I have to admit, it is a rare sight to see you so humbled."


    Masutap fought back the urge to ball her fingers into fists. "Dahli has gone against your wishes, she has created conflict between us hence ensuring your personality is split¡ª"


    "And how has she created conflict?" The Goddess asked.


    "By attacking me!"


    "How did she attack you? Dahli resides in Binoria, clicks away from where you currently are."


    Masutap sighed. It was pointless to argue with a deity. It was like trying to mop the ocean back. She turned, facing Meena, taking in the pristine smile the Goddess held that would unnerve the boldest of men. There was satisfaction there, in that gentle curve of the lip. How many times does a God predict something and have it occur? What pleasure does prescience incur?  Meena looked at Masutap as if she knew the moment would come. The moment when Masutap was at her mercy, no more stubborn headedness, no more air of arrogance. A humbled human, a thing that enables a Goddess to feel worthy of her supremacy.Help support creative writers by finding and reading their stories on the original site.


    "Look¡ª" Masutap started.


    "Bow, mortal." Meena commanded.


    Masutap snorted. She''d bowed before, in front of the man who''d fathered her and sentenced her and her mother to a life of turmoil and pain. And she''d vowed to destroy all that he had been, a King. Masutap lowered her walls, allowing Meena to get a full view of what bowing really meant to Masutap. From below, as I lay prostrate, the blade thrust beneath the chin comes effortlessly.  "Are you sure you want me to bow?"


    Meena''s smile didn''t falter, she waved a hand and Masutap felt a weight at the back of her knees, forcing her to drop to her knees, her legs moving free of her choice. A terrible weight spread about her shoulders, forcing her to slump forward, nose almost brushing the grass beneath. She tried to fight the weight, the pressure, but her efforts were in vain, like trying to dig up a mountain. Through gritted teeth she struggled to form words but only groans escaped her.


    "There''s a point in a mortal''s life when they realize that the world they reside in wasn''t meant to be a paradise for them neither does it hold the promise of ever being so." Meena''s voice was an audible whisper, as if she was reciting the words to herself. "At that point, there, between despair and faith. The mortal abandons the reality around them in favor of whatever resides within. And there, between the soul and the mind do they find the Gods." The Goddess was barefoot, pale pedicured toes stepped into the periphery of Masutap''s bowed head. "You''re at that point, mortal. That is why you''re here, that is why you''ve retreated within. Abandoned your will to me." Masutap felt Meena''s grip around the nape of her neck, solid, pressing her skin. The Goddess lifted Masutap''s head and their eyes met. "You''re mine, you drink of my power and consider us equals? You exist to serve and obey. By Order''s will you do." And she smiled.


    Masutap knew she was going to die, there in the domain of Order and also in the reality where her body sat immobile before descending blades. She''d retreated into Meena''s domain with the hopes of receiving aid from the Goddess whose champion she was. And instead Meena took pleasure in highlighting the gap between a Goddess and a mortal. As if the looming threat of death wasn''t enough.


    But the Goddess had spoken truth. Masutap was at the point of despair, she''d retreated within and instead found rebuke. But what lay beneath the place where the Gods existed within mortals? Could she find solace if she edged deeper within?


    Masutap closed her eyes. The radiant glow of the four suns burned through her lids, painting a vivid red. She ignored Meena''s tightening grip upon her neck, the feel of the grass at her feet, the touch of the breeze against her skin. She ignored it all, opening herself to the strands of Order and in so doing allowing herself to exist fully within Meena''s domain. Then with an exhale, she let go of Order. And the red glow of the suns behind her closed lids vanished, in its place was darkness. The grip of Meena''s fingers eased, then let go. "No." Meena''s voice was barely an audible whisper, the last vowel straining and fading. The feel of the grass vanished and she felt her feet on solid ground, very cold ground. The warm breeze of Meena''s domain was nonexistent and a terrible chill overcame her, forcing her to open her eyes.


    She stood in a small white circle upon the ground and all around her was darkness but she could see her body and she was totally naked. The darkness beyond the white circle where she stood wasn''t the familiar darkness of the night, but something that was alive and writhed and bubbled around her, ever at the edge of the white circle where she stood. Fear ruled her heart, a fear so intense that gave voice to this need to collapse and give up her life. As if she were cornered prey before the maw of a deadly predator who couldn''t be fought or reasoned with, nothing left for her to do but to give up.


    "Masutap." A familiar voice spoke from within the surrounding darkness, a voice she hadn''t heard from in a very long time, one she hadn''t even been bothered to think of. Yet the voice was unmistakable. A figure stepped into the white circle from the darkness. A figure cloaked in shadow that writhed around his being in dark, smoky tendrils that fell and rose about him. His face was free of shadow, pale and smooth as she''d remembered it. He had one eye, the same shade of blue that had once twinkled with humor at everything he saw. His other eye was a gaping black socket with black liquid oozing out of it and cascading down his left cheek in clear black rivulets that was a sharp contrast to his pale skin. A black lump of darkness obscured half his scalp with the other half spotting wavy blonde hair. "Masutap," Leba Vigon spoke. "What a pleasant surprise."


    xxxxxxxxx


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 Chapter 25

    Masutap shivered, not just from the unknown domain where she was in but also at the disfigured sight of Leba Vigon. The Prince of Binoria whom everyone had thought dead, whom she''d dismissed as a none issue in her tunnel visioned pursuit of her goals. She remembered Meena saying something about Leba, and Dahli taking the Goddess''s words as ones of utmost importance. Masutap hadn''t cared and now she wished she had.


    "You stink of Order." Leba said with a dry chuckle, he took a step closer to her and Masutap retreated a step back but making sure to stay within the white circle on the ground. There was something off about him, sure his movement and mannerisms were the same but there was something different, something that wasn''t on the surface.


    Masutap hugged her naked figure to ward off the chill. "I am Order''s Champion." She answered. Wondering if she''d committed a grave mistake by admitting as much.


    Leba smiled, a knowing grin she''d grown to loath and now terribly feared. "Yes, he revealed to me that you''re my half sister, showed me the plans within plans dancing upon the strands of fate. I knew you''d come, I was waiting."


    "Who ... who revealed that I am your half sister?" Masutap wasn''t sure she wanted the answer to that question.


    Leba waved a hand her way, as if waving her question aside. "What you should be asking me, Masutap, is how I may be of service to you?"


    Masutap lowered her eyes at the white circled ground, "Service?" She raised her eyes and Leba was gone from before her.


    "Yes." He spoke, suddenly next to her, his lips inches from her ear. Cold, terrible cold radiated from him, making her breath plume a white mist. "Service." He took a step to stand before her, turned to fully face her. "You have entered a place of bargain, a place deeper than where the frail Gods languish." He raised his head to the pitch black sky that was just as dark as the surrounding. "I see where you are now, a tavern at the Westlocal. Your body immobilized by poison, blades descending on you." He chuckled. "I can save you, save your life." He lowered his head to her, that gaping black hole where his eye had been still leaked dark fluid that dripped off his chin. "But there will be a price."


    Masutap knew that the price for her life was something she would meet without a second thought. But for some reason, she felt she was better off dying than dealing with Leba and whoever the once Prince of Binoria served. "What happened to you, Leba?" She found herself asking.


    Silence. He stood immobile, his eyes trained on her. There was a weakness about his shoulders, as if the past several months had taken quite a toll on him. Yet, there was something else. There, beneath the tendrils of darkness cascading about him, and the grim line his lips had pursed themselves into, there was an unspoken tale that echoed with something that stirred longing within Masutap. Power... Unfathomable power, more than Meena could offer. More than any God or Goddess could give. Yet, with that power Masutap was well aware that the price paid for it must have been just as high. There was something missing from Leba. What did he give? Or rather, what was taken?


    "When you''re at the brink of death," Leba said, a look of disdain marring his features. "You cling to whatever strand of life afforded to you." He waved a darkness smeared hand at his face. "I''m not as handsome as I once was, yes?" He smiled and pointed at his chest, where his heart lay. "My heart beats only once in several spans. Just once. I miss the rhythm of my beating heart, Masutap. I miss the feeling of warmth and the fragrance of women''s perfumes and the desire that came with it. And most of all I miss the light, Masutap, there''s layers to darkness, that which can be seen and something deeper where he resides."


    "Who resides ...?" Again fear laced the question.


    "My God." Leba said. "The bringer of the endless night. The purpose for Tunega. The incarcerated God. The God the other Gods fear. The whistle in the void. He who resides beyond the gates of Oblivion. His name is Locha, and he is very eager to walk the realm beneath a sky void of light." His voice morphed, developing a sharp edge with a hint of a raspy bestial growl beneath each word. A whistle sounded all around her, from the darknes around and above. The whistle was soft at first, but it became louder, sharper. Masutap took a step back, standing at the edge of the white circle. One more step and the darkness would have her. She could retreat no further. Seeing this, Leba''s features eased and he smiled at her. And the whistle abruptly ceased.


    "What do you ask of me, Leba?" Masutap inquired. She couldn''t allow it all to end in the hands of the Royal Black Guard. She''d given too much to her cause to have it meet an abrupt end. The nights spent training so she would rise in the ranks of the Royal Black Guard. The days spent waiting for the opportune moment to strike.


    "You killed my brother." Leba said. Masutap''s breath caught in her throat, suddenly aware that in this domain of Leba''s God, the Prince of Binoria might be able to gleam her thoughts as easily as Meena did. What more can Leba do?


    "I did." There was no point in subterfuge. She was at his mercy. Masutap felt cut off of Order, no longer able to call on the power of Meena to her aid. This place, of darkness and brief light, Masutap wondered whether she''d stepped out of the cauldron and into the fire.


    To her surprise Leba chuckled. "I went to the edge of Tabrimas. I took my brother''s soul." Leba raised his hand and the darkness bulged, a figure tumbled free of it, a naked man bound in black tendril like ropes around his limbs and chest. Masutap gasped, he was Desan. A disfigured, tortured Desan. He was all skin and bones, skin flayed from limbs to reveal the thin flesh beneath. His eyes were dark spots in his boney face, he opened his mouth, maybe to breath or speak and Masutap saw that he had no tongue. "I lured him to the gates of Oblivion." Leba said and chuckled. "My God told me how, I ensnared him with promises of valor. The fool, he was already in the realm of the valiant yet he craved more. The ever greedy Desan, see now the price of ambition."


    Masutap''s eyes left Desan, resting on Leba. And she did indeed see the price of ambition. Leba flexed his fingers and Desan''s body arched, twisted as he spasmed, squealing like a gutted rabbit. The dark ropes jerking his limbs about in horrific angles. Leba twisted his fingers and Desan''s spine snapped in two. His body glowed a bright gold before he vanished completely. "That''s the only down side to stealing him, if he dies his soul is reborn in Tabrimas without memory of his second death." Leba said with a sigh. "So I steal him again and again, torturing him, listening to him beg and plead, until I tire of his pleas and cut his tongue. Always ensuring he is at the brink of death so he may never return."


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    Masutap was afraid. It took courage to admit that you''re afraid, but even so she didn''t feel the slightest hint of courage in her admission. The ability to steal a soul from Tabrimas. She''d imagined the horrors upon the realm, lived through some of them, taken part in inflicting some of them. But she always believed that upon death there was release and freedom from horrors. That what lay on the other side was a promise of eternal tranquility, free of pain. Free of...


    "Masutap." Meena''s voice sounded suddenly in her mind, a mere whisper, dulled by Leba''s domain but filled with fright. A frightened Goddess. A fear Masutap mirrored, creating a strand of order that mirrored Meena''s own fear, hence summoning the Goddess. "Relax your features, betray not your thoughts or that you hear me. And do not look into the darkness for he will see me and emerge."


    Masutap stood silent, unsure of how to act, or what to say. "SPEAK!" Meena commanded.


    "What is the price?" Masutap asked and Leba cocked the brow above his blue eye. "What must I give to ensure I do not die?"


    Leba nodded then titled his head to the side, as if listening to something Masutap was oblivious of. "My God wants Alietsi''s champion. The Goddess of Depth has chosen a champion, a mortal woman of Remu heritage. She must be bound, she must not touch the sea. She must not drink from the crystal cup. Otherwise things will get... difficult."


    He''s afraid of Alietsi! Masutap did not know of the Goddess or the fact that she had chosen a champion. And a Remu at that. The realm was changing, the centuries of Binorian domination had come to an end. The Talisi had a champion of the Gods, so too the Remu now. Not to forget the Kolotian, the very embodiment of Madness... And the former Commander, Rehny.


    "I have two champions." Meena whispered and Masutap stifled the urge to scoff. She would rather suffer Desan''s fate than work with Dahli. Leba smiled, as if having gleamed her thought.


    "How am I to stop Alietsi''s champion?" Masutap inquired.


    "Alietsi has chosen the woman to be her champion but she is yet to complete the trial." Leba answered.


    "Trial?" Masutap wondered.


    "The Remu woman has yet to drink of Alietsi''s cup. If she does she will be... A problem."Leba sighed and he didn''t look his age, he appeared weary, burdened. "There are countless strands of fate, and Alietsi''s champion is deep in its web."


    "And you wish to unravel the web?"


    "I wish to annihilate it." Leba replied casually. As one would give an observation regarding the weather.


    He is afraid of Alietsi! Masutap took solace in this fact. Here was a man who could rob one of paradise. It was a relief to know there was one whom Leba feared.


    "He doesn''t fear her, you dolt!" Meena again, harsh whispers in Masutap''s mind. "Alietsi alone couldn''t stop Locha during Tunega. Yes, her punches drove him into the earth''s crust but he always emerged, he always did.¡±


    Then why is Leba wary of Aleitsi''s champion?


    "Because Alietsi rules the sea, the Leviathans are her creation. And she is the only one holding back the Champion of Sin, hailing from the land beyond the Rankf Sea, for the Dragons cannot cross the sea unless the Leviathans let them."


    Alietsi alone couldn''t hold back Locha¡ª


    "But all the Gods can, he does not want Aleitsi''s champion to summon the Champion of Sin. Kaza will tilt the odds."


    Kaza?


    "The son of Dragons. Pray the Rad es Maalas do not return to the realm. Binoria, Talisi, Remu and Kolotia do not know of the Dragon''s discern."


    Masutap realized that there was much she was unaware of, she had given her quest for vengeance her full attention. Putting everything else at the back of her mind. Her motives had blinded her, the game she played had layers to it and her focus on only one segment had hidden all else from her perception.


    Here, before Leba Vigon, in a place beyond the world she was born and raised in, Masutap realized the error in her ways.


    Masutap realized she''d been standing silent, and Leba had been facing her the whole time. A look void of emotion blanketing his features.


    "How am I to stop the Champion of Alietsi?" She paused, suddenly realizing her life was still in danger. In the domains of the Gods, time moved differently and this prolonged the descent of the Royal Black Guard''s blades on her poisoned, immobile body. "How are you going to save me?" She added.


    A large hand, grey - black as if riddled with decay, gripped her right shoulder from behind, four fingers digging just above her breast, the thumb pressed to her back. The hand''s touch was cold but before she could react, claws dug into her flesh, tearing through skin and bone as if a blade through water. She was skewered by pain, her whole right side burning. Blood gushed out of her, staining her midriff, thighs and lips. Masutap was lifted off the ground, weighing less than a doll, the gravity''s tag on her body heightened the pain from the puncture wounds caused by those clawed fingers.


    "Meena, I see you." The one who''d lifted Masutap off the ground spoke, a voice that drove Maustap''s mind from the pain, plunging it into a sea of despair, a terrible longing for death''s cold embrace engulfed her. And she knew what the opposite of life was at that moment.


    The Goddess tried to retreat from Masutap, to sever the strand of Order that linked them through their shared fear. But the Goddess Meena had stepped into a place beyond fear, a place of terror, and the bond of Order forged of terror formed between Meena and Masutap was even stronger than the one of fear.


    "Masutap, eyes on me." And her eyes dropped downwards to look at Leba whom she hovered above. "You aren''t going to die, we just want to know the face of the woman Alietsi has chosen as a Champion."


    "I don''t know the face." Masutap whispered through wheezing breaths.


    "Of course you don''t." Leba said. "But your Goddess does. I heard all you''ve talked about, and I''ve seen each of your thoughts. I simply cannot begin to describe how dull your mind is. Obsessed over revenge, how clich¨¦." Masutap urged her mouth to twist into a sneer. "If I were you, upon having received the power of a Goddess, the first thing I''d do is create a paradise for myself, not chase down vengeance against a dead man."


    "I don''t know the face." Masutap insisted, the pain causing flashing lights upon her vision.


    "Ask your Goddess." Leba commanded.


    "Ask." The voice again, the horrid, bestial cold voice.


    Meena. She called from within.


    "I can''t, if I feed you her image, all hope is lost."


    Meena, please. She felt the coldness creep from her punctured flesh, spreading all over her body.


    "I''m sorry."  Meena whispered.


    THE FUCK YOU ARE! Masutap gripped the rope of order forged of their shared terror, she forced her will upon it, pushing through what the fear of a Goddess might feel like. She felt her essence burning, as if submerged in a pool of lava. She pushed on and found a strand of order, void of fear and terror. She clung to it like a drowning man to a floating log. Then she poured herself into it and she saw Order, Chaos, Love, and Time... Deeper than that she found fire, pure and scorching... Deeper and she found weight, pressure, a lack of breath and light with the abundance of strength. The Depths.


    She forced the feeling of depth to form an image, glowing green eyes peered at her from the darkness. Not menacing or violent, just curious. Masutap identified herself as Meena''s Champion, feeling who she was in relation to Meena and forcing the emotion into an image that she then released through Order. The favored of a Goddess. The Green eyes gave a response, identifying itself in the same parameters as Meena, only deeper. It then identified its Champion as an emotion of brilliant potential, and the feeling formed an image and Masutap saw a face. I''m sorry. She echoed to Alietsi and retreated back into her form within the domain of Locha where she was greeted with cold pain all over her right side. She brought forth the image of Alietsi''s Champion and the pain vanished, the fingers digging into her flesh retreated. She collapsed in the white circle in a pool of blood.


    "How did... How did you do that?"  Meena inquired. "Do you know what you''ve done!"


    Masutap breathed with difficulty, her lung punctured in several places. I will survive. She forced the thought out of her dizzy mind.


    "Edda! So Edda is Alietsi''s Champion." Leba said and Masutap mastered all her strength to raise her head and peer at the once Prince of Binoria. "This is quite a small realm, I know of Edda, I have even had the pleasure of speaking to the woman. But back then I thought she''d die so I didn''t put much thought to what she had to say." He chuckled, a raspy cackle that lacked humor. "What value is a dead person''s opinion? But now I learn she''s alive. And not just that, but she has also captured the eye of a Goddess." Leba took three steps and lowered himself on one knee to peer closer at Masutap. "Now," She couldn''t take her eyes off the dark fluid trickling down the hole where his eye had been. "It''s time to keep my end of the bargain." And the white circle where they were vanished, the darkness swept in and Masutap was lost to the void.


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 Chapter 26

    The blade came down hard, arcing through the air, giving off a faint whistle in its passing. The attacking Royal Black Guard was proficient, that much Orgeeg could tell, first to attack an immobile champion of the Goddess of Order, the man had courage as well as a solid tether to duty. The blade bit into Masutap''s neck, a hit hard enough to decapitate any man. But with the Champion of a Goddess, all the blade did was break skin, expose a strip of flesh within and allow the swell of a drop of red blood. But the other Royal Black Guards were following through the first Guard''s attack with thrusts and swings of their own blades. Masutap was guaranteed a gruesome death.


    Orgeeg sat beside Dulab as mere observers to Masutap''s demise. He found it odd that there wasn''t much delight to the fulfillment of vengeance. Vengeance. He thought. You long for something for too long and when you get it, the satisfaction you thought worthy of the turmoil of patience, careful planning and the choice between action and inaction, yields nothing but the acknowledgement that a desire was met without even an epiphany for a reward.


    Orgeeg watched the blades descend and rise as one would observe a bird flapping its wings in the bid for flight. A thought fought its way to the surface of his conscience, a thought regarding love. He wondered as he watched the Royal Black Guards hack at Masutap. Why is love the most powerful emotion? Vengeance didn''t stir any joy from within him, yet, without a second thought, he was certain that if he caught the eye of the woman he loved, if he could but spend a span of moments meeting her eyes and seeing within them the same desire he held for her, then joy would not only rule his being but also pitch tent in his soul.


    "Her eyes." Dulab noted. Drawing Orgeeg''s focus. Masutap''s eyes had been glowing red, the hallmark of one with the Jojoh Meena. But now they were completely black, dark orbs with not even a hint of the white sclera. Something was wrong, something was terribly wrong.


    The wounds dealt on Masutap by the blades, they weren''t bleeding neither was the skin breaking or flesh parting anymore. It was as if she''d been transformed to stone. She just sat there, staring right at him with those black eyes as if she was seeing him for the first time. A coy smile suddenly drew the edge of her lips, her neck where the first guard had drawn a wound suddenly mended, skin knitting of its own accord but not before the blood that had dripped free of the wound withdrew within, retreating back into her flesh. Something was terribly wrong.


    The Royal Black Guards saw it too, or felt it rather. Their descending blades laxed in vigor. Some took hurried paces back, staring at their swords that had been dented from the effort of trying to draw blood from Masutap. Silence blanketed the tavern, every Royal Black Guard retreating two paces from Masutap who''d somehow regained full control of her body, shaking off the poison and leaning forward in her chair, elbows on the table between her and Orgeeg. Fully black eyes peering directly at him.


    Orgeeg''s short blade was strapped to his left side, he reached for the hilt, knowing full well it would be useless against Masutap.


    "I have seen you before." The voice coming out of Masutap was hers and at the same time not hers. There was another layered voice beneath Masutap''s, a male''s voice whose intonation was an odd sound coming from Masutap''s throat, a male voice that sounded familiar.


    "Who are you?" Orgeeg inquired.


    "Leba Vigon." Masutap answered.


    "How¡ª"


    "Possession." Masutap said and smiled.


    Orgeeg struggled to contain his fright, beside him Dulab raised the cup in hand to his lips, thinking of draining it of ale and finding it already empty. He gave a puzzled look and lowered the cup. It was as if Dulab was incapable of fear. Or he hid it too well.  "Masutap is a traitor, and she is condemned to die." Orgeeg said.


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    Masutap nodded. "I have promised her life in exchange for a service she has already provided."


    "Where is she?" Orgeeg asked. Trying to appear calm even though thousands of things warred in his mind, forming a conflagration of emotions that had fear burning as the brightest. What powers does Leba possess? Possession isn''t an attribute of Meena, and the eyes, they do not glow, they leach off color, a dark abyss where the soul should be. Dahli had warned of his coming. Orgeeg tightened his grip on his short blade, ready to unsheathe it with a Form of Pride, he saw it in his mind''s eye, a direct lunge, muscles aligned for a single purpose. I''ll go for the eye.


    Masutap raised a hand and a terrible cold suddenly engulfed the tavern. Breath plumed before them in a white mist, Orgeeg shivered. Masutap straightened her arm before her, spread her fingers, then drew the hand towards her chest, slowly while curling her fingers into a fist. Orgeeg suddenly felt the urge to draw his sword but a direct lunge for Masutap''s eye wasn''t what fueled the motive. He started to unsheath the sword strapped to his left and four inches of the blade emerged from the scabbard before Dulab reached out and stayed his hand with a hard grip to his wrist. Three Royal Black Guards reversed the grip on their blades and plunged them into their own necks. One, wielding a long sword positioned the sharp tip to his chest and fell on his sword, the tip broke through his back and he gurgled as he drowned in a pool of his own blood. Those who had stabbed themselves in the neck remained standing, blood dripping down their necks, staining their once elegant bright silks a crimson red.


    "Masutap is at the same place these weak ones among your henchmen will currently reside until I grow weary of them." Masutap ¡ªunder the control of Leba ¡ª unclenched her fist and Orgeeg felt a shift in the room''s atmosphere. "Their souls are yet to depart their bodies, they are about to, though. But I won''t let them." Orgeeg turned his head to the man who''d impaled himself, lying on the ground, his mouth moved, opening and closing like a drowning fish. He had been the first to attack Masutap. The other three remained standing, an endless flow of blood leaving their bodies from the gaping wounds in their necks yet they did not fall. "The soul is tethered to life, through life does one have free will, through life does one have a chance at metamorphosis. The soul is tethered to life, and in so doing with the absence of life so too does the soul depart the flesh." The man on the ground, sword point still sticking out of his back, stood up from the ground and moved to stand beside the three who''d slit their throats. His mouth opening and closing as if trying to breathe under water. He is drowning in his own blood! Orgeeg surmised as he observed the four who stood at the brink of death, their eyes were the same shade as Masutap''s, all black without the whites. "As they near death, I grip their souls and bind them to the memory of life their bodies still inhibit." Leba continued as Masutap. "I take the last moment of their life, that they so willingly abandoned with a simple nudge from me, and force their souls to conform to it, I prevent them from entering *Tabrimas* and I prevent them from achieving the full state of death by ensuring they live forever at the brink of death. And when their flesh rots to bone and finally they can no longer mimic life to a degree where their soul believes the flesh to be alive, their souls will depart and belong to me. For they worship the bringer of endless night, now, just as you will, just as the whole realm will. United under darkness. Forever at the brink of death."


    Terror gripped Orgeeg in a way nothing ever had, and he feared, nothing ever will. Tabrimas had been what drove him, a guarantee that upon death, after having achieved a life the Gods may acknowledge as one of valor, he would be admitted within the realm of heroes. But here, before him, was something he never thought existed. A being, a God, who could twist the very fabric of fate and render a life of valor obsolete, robbing said life of a chance at eternal paradise and offering damnation instead.


    "Why?" Orgeeg whispered. He didn''t know why the question came of him, there was much he longed to ask. Much he wanted to bargain for and to understand. But all he could master was a flimsy question that bordered on the vague.


    Masutap ¡ª Leba ¡ª titled her head at him and smiled once more. That smile so void of humor, riddled with what Orgeeg could only surmise as pleasure wrapped in a cocoon of pure evil. "Why? Why does the Yendw wolf stalk its prey? Or the grass grow in clusters upon the Talisi hills? Why does the setting sun turn the world red and the depths of the sea turn a blind eye to the light from the sky? Well, not everything requires a reason to be, nature in itself is a product of relationships, everything exists in relation to each other and my actions, and the actions of my God, come about as a necessity to continue that which lacks definition." She sighed then, turning her head to the side and squeezing her eyes shut. Now is your chance! Strike!  A voice within Orgeeg urged him but he found himself incapable of action. "The only reason possession was possible with Masutap is because she retreated within her Goddess in order to gain knowledge valuable to me, now she struggles to return to her body using the power of Meena to do so." She sighed once more. "I am not long for this body." She turned to the four who were at the brink of death. "Take them all to the brink of death but leave this body unharmed."


    And the four whose complexion had turned paler than was common for Binorians, attacked. At the same time the black of Masutap''s eyes retreated behind a glowing red light and the woman whom Orgeeg had been sent to capture regained her body only to fall off her chair and lay insensate on the tavern floor.


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 Chapter 27

    "Orgeeg!" Dulab pushed Orgeeg out of his chair just as the sharp edge of a blade bit into the chair''s back. The four Royal Black Guards, three with slit throats and one with a gaping wound in his chest moved with a singular purpose, to deal death.


    The one impaled on a sword gripped the hilt and ripped the blade free of him without indicating any show of pain or even a grunt of discomfort. He made for a Royal Black Guard who implemented a form of Pride, one leg before the other with front foot lifted on tiptoe, shifting weight from back foot to front with blade raised in the dominant hand followed by a downward thrust. The blade plunged through the lower neck of the undead Royal Black Guard but it rendered no effect on the man, mouth still opening and closing, he drove himself further along the blade''s length towards the one who''d delivered the thrust. The Royal Black Guard stood still, a look of mild surprise mingled with fear at the fact that a killing blow had not killed. The undead Black Guard delivered an upward thrust of his own sword, blade digging under the chin of the surprised man before ejecting the sword free of the man to a shower of blood.


    Orgeeg watched the Royal Black Guard collapse, face turned to him where he lay on the ground from where he''d been pushed out of his chair. The blood pooled around the man''s head, his blue eyes were fixed on Orgeeg, thick blood poured out of his mouth as he opened it, as if struggling to say something. Fingers twitching, a leg kicking. The death thralls, Orgeeg was familiar with them. He''d seen them on the battle fields, he''d witnessed it first hand when he dealt death to his victims. Dying men screamed, and if they couldn''t scream they made guttural sounds and if they were capable of speech they called for their mothers and if neither was possible they twitched and jerked until they breathed their last. Any time now and the man would die, and he would lay still and the blood would still pour but not as a result of a beating heart. Anytime now. Orgeeg couldn''t take his eyes off the dying man, apparently the blade thrust beneath the chin hadn''t been as efficient as Orgeeg would have had it done, the death thrall took a span of moments but anytime now the man would die.


    He did not die.


    His blue eyes abruptly vanished together with the whites of his sclera. In their place was total darkness. The same darkness that had peered at Orgeeg from within a possessed Masutap''s eyes.


    Orgeeg screamed, an inhuman sound emanating from his throat. One he did not think he was capable of. The man Orgeeg had been observing raised himself off the ground, all evidence of dying gone, life''s evidence in plenty despite the ruined throat and neck and the blood loss. The man sprinted towards Orgeeg, blood still dripping free of his gaping wound. Orgeeg scrambled backwards on the tavern floor. In normal situations, he would have unsheathed his short blade, implemented a Form of combat and emerged victorious. Here, before this abomination, there was no guarantee of victory for how can one wage war on an enemy who can''t die?


    And most of all, Orgeeg feared becoming as they were, trapped in the last moment of death, incapable of entering Tabrimas until their flesh rotted from their bones, and even then their souls would be claimed by Leba''s God.


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    He watched as the undead Royal Black Guard appeared, a nonchalant expression on the man''s face, as if being trapped in endless agony was as normal as the rising of the sun. But when the man neared a blade plunged into his temple from the side, piercing through skull, brain and out the other side of his head. The force of the thrust tilted the undead''s neck one way. The blade was jerked free of the undead''s head but the man still moved, turning to face his attacker. Dulab danced back, a short blade in hand. Twisted free of the dead man''s hands as it tried to implement a Form of Awe. Dulab sliced through the man''s wrist, cutting the tendons of his outstretched right hand, pirouetted and dipped low in a Form of Grind, plunging the short blade into the lower right side of the undead''s knee just as the man placed his weight on it and collapsed. The creature, incapable of supporting its weight on its damaged knee, crawled towards Dulab, making not a sound as it pulled itself forward using its left hand for purchase.


    Dulab walked around the undead Royal Black Guard and came to Orgeeg, he lowered himself to meet Orgeeg''s eyes. "Look at me." Dulab commanded. But Orgeeg was transfixed by what was happening behind Dulab. The Royal Black Guards in the tavern were fighting the undead and losing, those who dropped only rose with black eyes and continued the fight against those with free will, against those whose souls weren''t tethered to a lie of life. Where there had been four undead, there was now a dozen. And the few still alive were being hurried from all directions.


    A hot slap on his cheek finally drew Orgeeg''s attention to Dulab. "Listen to me," Dulab started. "We need to get out of here, now!" Orgeeg blinked, wondering why everything was so blurry, only to realize his eyes were wet with tears. When was the last time I crie¡ª A second slap drew his attention once more. "You''re Rank one of the Royal Black Guard! You dolt! Now is not the time to be incapacitated by fear! Move! We need to move!"


    By the Gods Dulab was right. Orgeeg turned his head behind him, seeing Masutap''s immobile form on the tavern floor. Suddenly, he realized that killing Masutap was the last thing he wanted to do, maybe she could help him if they were overrun by the undead. Chances high she could also side with the undead, being that Leba had compelled them into being through her. But at the moment, Orgeeg knew that a Champion of the Gods, any of the Gods be it the one of Binoria, Talisi or Kolotia, were the only hope humanity had against Leba Vigon and his God.


    "We can''t leave her." Orgeeg said. Turning to Dulab who took a moment before nodding.


    "We can''t leave through the door." Dulab said, turning to face where the undead were hacking and grappling with four living Royal Black Guards, close to the only tavern door. The undead Dulab had crippled was crawling closer to Dulab. "We need to act now!"


    Orgeeg opened his mind''s eye and sought a point of logic. There, in the strands of fear that criss crossed through his consciousness, he was able to spot a thought that negated fear, he focused on it forcing his fear back a step. Fighting the undead yielded only loss, but escaping them offered a moment where he could recuperate, get his wits back and act in a manner that guaranteed survival. The point of logic forced his limbs into motion, springing off the ground in one fluid motion. Now that he had a motive, his fear retreated a step further. Grabbing Masutap, who was surprisingly light despite what he''d heard of her strength, he hefted her onto his shoulder, her arms dangling down his back.


    Dulab was right, the door was completely crowded, and Orgeeg watched as the undead turned to face them. They looked a frightful bunch, blood all over, eyes all black. Skin pale from blood loss. Yet their faces, that looked void of all emotion, frightened him the most.


    The undead charged. And without a thought, Orgeeg sprinted for the windows at the upper floor tavern, dived and plunged through them in a shattering of window panes. As he plummeted through the air he heard Dulab fall too. And before he hit the ground he prayed the undead wouldn''t follow.


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 Chapter 28

    Kaza could breathe without hissing anymore. His throat that had been swollen and constricted from Justeen''s punches could take in air though with slight difficulty. He''d been bedridden for four days and now he could see through slits, the swelling of his eyes having receded enough to allow for sight, meager as it was, Kaza was grateful.


    His mother had been by the bedside for the better part of four days, sat on a wooden stool that must have taken four clients to afford, feeding him fish broth and wiping him with wet cloth. She''d talked as he drifted in and out of consciousness, she thought she couldn''t be heard so she spoke of things she normally wouldn''t have. But Kaza had heard, and he remembered though he''d been unable to react, it hurt to move his tongue, his teeth and gums hurt too. It saved him agony to stay silent. Eyes swollen shut  prevented his mother from taking note of the fact that he was aware. Breath coming out in rasps prevented her rage from transcending her worry.


    Raco had called him a fool, an idiot who''d stepped into the Dragon''s discern to see whether he could startle a Dragon. "How can you afford to pick a fight at a time like this?" She''d complained. "We need the bronze coins now more than ever! How can I attend to clients with you in bed? You need to think, Kaza, think less of your pride and more of the consequences of your actions!" Kaza had wanted to open his mouth to proclaim his innocence. He hadn''t started the fight with Justeen, he never started anything but somehow reality shifted to ensure he suffered the brunt end of life.


    The more his mother berated him, the more he felt himself deflate, anger pressing down on him, smothering him with the fact that it wasn''t his fault that the villagers all hated him. He wasn''t the one partaking in a profession of Sin, it was her actions that led to them being ostracized. Though he found no fault in her choice of profession. As he believed, his mother''s sin existed not as the act of a singular person but of two, and the fact that only his mother got the blame just went to show how unfair life was.


    Life was unfair. Others had fathers yet he didn''t have one. Others could live their days comfortably without lacking in anything, yet he always lacked. Others had round yellow eyes yet here he was, dark slits for eyes. The contrast between his life and those of others was sharp, and yet he counted himself lucky despite all this, for as he lay bedridden, the woman who''d birthed him did not leave his side. And he found himself wondering what life would have been like if she wasn''t there to begin with. If he''d been totally alone.


    On the fifth day he lifted himself out of bed, felt the sharp jab of pain down his neck as he twisted himself to stare at his mother. He found her seated on the stool, chin resting between two palms supported on her knees. "Mother." He croaked.


    She turned to him and he saw that her cheeks were stained with tears, beady drops cascading down her palid green cheeks. Something was wrong. "Mother, I''m okay, I feel fine." Kaza said, assuming himself to be the cause of the tears.


    His mother smiled at him, seeing those small white evenly spaced teeth always had joy well up within him. Seeing them now, he felt the opposite of joy. Cold dread, creeping up his spine, tickling his swollen neck until it burned. His mother''s smile, something that he''d sometimes prayed to Sin for was now something that warranted an opposite reaction from him. Was it because of the tears flanking the crescent curve of her lips? No, it was something in the eyes, fear and mourning. Kaza didn''t consider himself a devout worshipper of Sin, nothing about the three hundred principles that guided a man to live with Sin stirred his curiosity nor his devotion. The Scorched book claimed that the Rad es Maalas owed Sin their piety, it was unclear whether Sin was an act or a God, but the Scorched book served not to define Sin but the shackles by which it had the Rad es Maalas wrapped in. Kaza found Sin, be it a God or an act, to be cruel and unworthy of recognition let alone worship. Still, he prayed to Sin to see his mother''s smile.


    "Kaza." His mother said, her voice breaking in a sob. "I love you, son"


    "Mother¡ª" Why was she being like this?


    "Listen, you stubborn boy." She gave a chuckle that might have passed as a grunt, then she sobbed. "Listen, we don''t have time."


    "Mother, what''s going on?" Kaza said and turned his head to the door, the wooden door that had been rotting from whence they''d salvaged it from, wasn''t there anymore. The thin cloth hanged at the door revealed the silhouette of two men, highlighted by a large bonfire at the village square. It was nighttime, Kaza realized. Thin fingers on each hand gripped either side of his face and forced him to turn to his mother, the sharp pain in his neck forced him to cry out but the solid grip of his mother didn''t lax.


    "Kaza." His mother said. Kaza didn''t know whether it was him who was trembling or his mother. All he felt was wave after wave of panic, lapping at his body as the Rankf Sea laps at the shore. "The Prince of the West is coming, nearly here. Prince Benji. He is carrying out the Purge accords  on this side of Basi Haya." She swallowed with difficulty, as if the lump in her throat was fishbone. "Kaza, they are going to kill me."


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    He stared at her as understanding dawned on him. He recalled the fat kid''s words before he dueled Justeen. He''d never given the Purge accords any thought. He''d been hearing about it since he was a toddler, people wondering which oscillation will have the Purge accords carried out. And every Oscillation met its end with no such thing happening. Came a point when talk of the Purge Accords sounded like talk of Dragons falling in love with Rankf Sea Leviathans, a thing of story. Now, observing his mother''s wide eyed stare, seeing the fear thrashing unbidden within, Kaza realized that things of story never warranted such a reaction from someone, only reality could shove one into such a deep pool of terror.


    "Kaza," His mother pressed on. "It''s okay," She rubbed at his cheek with a thumb, wetting it, only then did he realize he was crying. "I don''t regret a single thing, my son. The realm is a place of pain and suffering and I''ve never thought I would ever find something that rivals the two, that was until I found you." Her hands upon his face softened, easing the burn they''d brought upon his battered face, she leaned in and kissed his forehead. Pulling back, she said. "When you were a child, I stood before a Dragon with you in my arms and lived. Kaza! I lived!" Kaza felt confusion that struggled to break free of the fear blanketing him. "I didn''t live because I am worthy of anything, I never thought myself worthy of anything nor have I ever. I lived because you quelled the Dragon''s wrath. You were just a baby!" She broke down then, her sobs making it difficult for him to pose a question, any question. "You tamed a Dragon as a baby, and you were marked by Sin. You hear? You exist for a reason." Kaza tried to pull away but her hands shifted from his face to his arm, gripping it hard, jerking him to face her.


    Kaza didn''t want this to be the last moment he shared with her, neither did he want this to be the last conversation he had with her. Talk of Dragons and being marked by Sin sounded delirious. The ravings of a mind seeking escape from its current predicament. He had to guide his mother away from such talk and its ennui. They had to find a way to escape their current predicament.


    As if sensing his words, his mother spoke. Her voice oddly calm, as if she''d let go of something she''d been holding on for so long. "There''s no hope of saving me, Kaza." She said and released her grip on his arm only to raise a hand to stroke the hair falling free of his left temple, as she used to do once upon a time. "The Prince of the West sent messengers a day prior, stating his reason for visit. Me. The village chief has put every measure to ensure I do not depart my abode lest the Prince arrive and find me missing. If such a thing was to happen, the villagers know they will pay on my behalf. The parents of the children you play with, the people who trade fish with us and clothing and bread, all of them serve a singular purpose this night, to ensure I do not escape."


    "No, mother." He felt weak, then. He''d felt weak when he realized his place  amongst the Rad es Maalas. He''d felt weak when Justeen beat him to pulp, now he realized neither time had he been weak. He realized that weakness was simply an inability to act. In the face of any circumstance, weakness availed itself. And in this instant the very fabric of his being tore under the weight of helplessness and flung him into despair. It was then that he had an epiphany, of what true weakness actually felt like.


    "There''s nothing to be done, my son." His mother whispered. "Nothing but live. I will give my life freely, and whatever punishments that may befall me I shall face with my head held high, but I shall beg for your life, Kaza, and they will grant it for through you does salvation lie."


    "Salvation?" The word tasted odd in his mouth, like the first time he''d tasted bread. He wanted to rage and seethe. He wanted to grab a sword and slaughter his way through the villagers, curving a path of blood that his mother and himself could walk to freedom. That was the only salvation he could fathom.


    "You represent hope, Kaza, hope. Be hope¡ª" His mother''s eyes darted to the door as two men entered, the Chief and a soldier dressed in black metal from head to toe.


    The Chief pointed at Kaza''s mother. The Chief who never glanced at his family and acted as if they didn''t exist. How Kaza had often wished the Chief would ruffle his hair as he did the other children, or even rest his eyes on him, acknowledging his existence as he did the others. Now his gaze was one of scrutiny and grim satisfaction, as if ridding himself of a diseased goat from his flock, one that would have infected the rest of the flock.


    The man in black armor moved forward, his mother moved to stand but a back hand slap from a gauntleted hand flung her against the shack''s wooden wall. Blood dripped from her split lip as she raised her face. "No!" Kaza got up, weak, his head spinning, face on fire. He balled his hands into fists and moved to the soldier, not sure what bare fists would do against armor. The soldier shoved him back onto the bed.


    "I''m here for the whore, child. Act on your emotions and you''ll meet the same end as her." The Soldier said. Kaza got off the bed, balled his hands into fists once more, taking a step towards the soldier even though it was the last thing he wanted to do. He fought back his fear, she was his mother, the only woman he had. He would never let anyone hurt her, never... The punch to the gut made him double over, his mother was at his side. He heaved, struggling for breath, he felt as if his lungs had collapsed.


    "Please, I come willingly, don''t hurt my son." His mother said.


    The Soldier turned to the Chief. "This is a son of Sin? Does he have a father?"


    The Chief, a lined face with sagging cheeks and a drooping mouth with a prominent lower lip, nodded his head. And ran a hand across his green bald pate. "He is her son."


    "Is his father known?" The soldier inquired.


    "He is a son of Sin." The Chief said, as if that explained everything. He had his hands dug into his robe. Kaza''s mother started sobbing.


    "Please." She begged, outstretched hands to the Chief. "You promised, you said he''ll have a place here, that he won''t be claimed by my sin!"


    The Chief shook his head, "Best rid myself of the stain of Sin in my village with its spawn." He turned away, green robe ruffling with every step as he exited the place Kaza called a home.


    The Soldier grabbed Kaza''s arm and dragged him upright. With his other hand he gripped his mother''s hair and yanked at it, he dragged them out of their home as if they were mangy mutts caught on a goat''s carcass.


    Outside the house, the villagers had gathered. An army''s camp was visible to the North. And the army itself crowded around the village''s center piece to one side, set apart from the villagers on the other side. The bonfire burned high, it rarely gave off such a glow nor such heat. Such a thing was dangerous, it could catch the eye of a Dragon, but it appeared the villagers were willing to risk that, for the Prince of the West was among them. He stood in silver armor, set out from the rest, face with angular features that made him appear handsome despite the malice so vividly sketched by his eyes. Long wavy dark hair and a neatly cropped beard that had no doubt been touched by Leviathan oil that morning. The Prince smiled as Kaza and his mother were dragged and flung before him.


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 Chapter 29

    Raco had known that this day would come. She''d often imagined herself in such a position, at the mercy of another simply because of the life afforded to her by fate. Yet, was fate truly to blame? Was sinning not a choice? How many professions were there? Nobody had forced her hand into whoring, it was something she''d taken up to survive, just as the mole barrows to survive and the predator stalks its prey to survive. And now the nature of her profession spelt the end of her survival. It was funny if one thought about it, but she couldn''t bring herself to laugh. If she was alone she would have resigned to fate, she wouldn''t have been as she was. But now, beside her son sprawled before the Prince of the West, she found herself utterly submerged in terror, dragged to its depths. Kaza! He had to live. Kaza!  She had to save him, she had to find a way.


    She raised herself off the awkward position she''d landed in after being flung before the Prince of the West. Her knees dug into the dirt as she prostrated herself before Prince Benji in the most abject show of servitude, humility and resignation. Raco knew kneeling before one whose entire life had him accustomed to seeing everyone bow in his presence, lowering themselves as if he was some divine being who couldn''t stand being of same height with anyone, would do little to sway the Prince''s resolve. Raco didn''t dare raise her head to meet the Prince''s eyes but she felt her son beside her shift to mimic her posture.


    "She''s the whore?" Prince Benji asked.


    The Village Chief spoke. "Yes your eminence."


    "Eminence? What does that word mean? People keep calling me these titles and they don''t even know the meaning." The Prince asked, his deep husky voice sounding through the village square.


    The village Chief struggled to utter a word for a moment before Raco heard him lowering himself to the ground. "It is a word that speaks of your status among the Rad es Maalas, you are set above the rest and said word serves to make that clear."


    Prince Benji seemed satisfied with the answer. "Oh do get up! I was just making conversation, better to start on a light note before the blood starts flowing." And he laughed as Raco heard the Chief lift himself off the ground. "Now, that''s the whore. Look at her, Celyd, such an ample behind, look at that raised curve, and the arch of that back! Pity priests don''t indulge in carnal matters, eh Celyd? You don''t know what you''re missing out on."


    "Yes Prince Benji." Another voice, this one spoken softly, as if its owner wished not to be where he was. Wished to be anywhere other than where he was. Raco fought the urge to lift her head to see who''d spoken.


    "Such a fine woman, I understand why the villagers ensured she maintained her profession of Sin." The Prince continued. "I''m of half a mind to have my army take turns with her, fuck her bloody before the village so every young woman will know the price of such a proffesion of Sin."


    Raco trembled, struggled to maintain her position on the ground. The animosity spoken with such casualty indicated that the Prince was not deterred by a sense of morality, justice to him was whatever he could deal that would ensure he felt himself above the rest. Eminence. What would warrant the title? The simple occurrence of one''s birth? Basi Haya was a nest of Dragons and to survive the Rad es Maalas worshipped the flame, having it burn away their sense of justice until the least among men, those closer to the Dragon''s character, wielded the power to decide the fate of the others. If she was to be raped by an army, she would spread her legs willingly, she would stomach the pain and the death that would come of it, anything to ensure her son lived.


    "And who is this beside her? Why is he staring at me like that ¡ª with those eyes."


    Raco lifted her head and peered at Kaza, he wasn''t spread out as she was. He was on his knees, yes, but his back was straight, his eyes fixed intently on the Prince of the West. His eyes, those dark slits amidst the whites spoke of the hatred seething within him. Raco reached out and grabbed Kaza by the nape of his neck, trying to force him down but he did not bulge. Oh my son.


    "That is her son," The Chief said. He stood five paces away from the Prince, two paces behind the Prince was a man who must have seen fifty oscillations, burly and short with the white robes of a Priest of the Citadel. He didn''t carry a sword but had a large torch in his hands whose burning flame had shadows dancing upon his pate. Raco wondered for the need of a torch when the village bonfire was so brilliantly lit. Then she recalled the tales of the purge, the need for the Dragon''s breath to cleanse the Rad es Maalas. They were going to burn her alive, after they were done raping her.


    "Her son? Does he have a father?" Prince Benji asked.


    The Chief shook his head in the negative before realizing whom he was addressing. "No, my Prince. He is a child of Sin, born of a profession of Sin."


    "Does the Village lay claim to the son?" Prince Benji asked.


    The Chief then turned his eyes to her. With one word he could settle the anguish threatening to rip her apart, with one word he could rescue her son, save him from the fate that was soon to be dealt to her. There, before the old man who''d never spared her a glance, Raco''s lips moved to utter a silent word. "Please." She mouthed. If a child of Sin, one yet of age before the eyes of the Rad es Maalas, did not have one to claim him as a father would, then the punishment of the parent befell them unless those he grew up with spoke of his innocence, his deeds that were a contrast to the sin of his parents might sway the hand of justice, if only one spoke for Kaza or if the collective claimed him, Kaza would be spared.


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    "Please." Raco mouthed again.


    "We reject claim for the child, he is a bane to society just as his mother is." The Village Chief spoke so casually, as if passing mention regarding the weather. Raco felt weak, as if the burden she''d been carrying for the better part since she''d heard of the Purge tripled. They''d rejected him, her son who never stole from the villagers, who always kept his head down and ensured he drew little to no attention from all those around him.


    Raco turned her head to the villagers on the other side of the bonfire. She saw Filather, the cobbler who often visited her in the dead of night. He turned his face from her. She saw Huilop, the one who brought her fish in exchange for a dance beneath the sheets, and Lixil, who spoke about his love for her as they lay naked, the copper coins he paid for her services gleaming on the stool. They all looked away. Opirach, Segurion, Valdirim, Kentha, Shawaba, Listroy¡ª They all looked away, huddled amidst their families, their children''s smug faces observed her and her son as one would a show put on for entertainment. Their mothers with smug looks of satisfaction as if a prayer they''d repeated to Sin was being answered before their very eyes.


    "Please!" She cried out. "Have none of you mercy? Have none of you not watched my son grow among you? He is a part of you just as the Dragon is a part of the sky! You have a duty to your fellow Rad es Maalas! A duty!" She was frothing at the mouth now, all show of subservience vanquished in the face of dread and turmoil. She had to save her son. "Please¡ª" She made to stand but a blow to the small of her back had her sprawled on the ground once more, Kaza got up to confront the soldier who''d hit her from behind only for him to be pushed back on the ground.


    Kaza raised his head, the soldier''s armored foot pining him to the ground prevented him from doing no more than squirm. A savage sneer peeled back his lips to reveal white teeth. Those teeth, the incisors a tad bit too sharp and his reptilian eyes gave his face a serpentine tinge.


    Prince Benji made slow, languid steps to where Raco and her son lay on the ground. He lowered himself to squat before them, then lowered one knee to touch the ground before Kaza. A palid green hand, riddled with veins reached out and touched Kaza''s chin, lifting his head up.


    "Please." Raco pleaded. She was weeping now, shoulders shaking, split lip burning. The pain in her back was negligible compared to what she felt within.


    "Speak out of turn one more time and I''ll cut off your son''s tongue." Prince Benji observed. And Raco pursed her lips shut. "Fascinating! Celyd, come over here and observe this child." The Priest made his way to where the Prince held her son''s face. "Look at those eyes, Celyd what do they remind you of?"


    "A Dragon." Awe riddled the Priest''s reply.


    Prince Benji let go of her son''s chin and his head flopped onto the ground, chin biting hard into the ground, but Kaza still peered up at him. "Child, how did you come about such features? Can''t call them pristine, doubt a woman can swoon beneath your gaze. Shudder perhaps, but swoon no."


    Kaza didn''t answer.


    "You''re unclaimed and your mother is soon going to meet her end, it''s how you compose yourself that will sway on how horrid your mother''s death would be." Prince Benji said.


    Kaza struggled to speak but the weight of the metal boot on his back made it difficult, with a wave of Prince Benji''s hand the weight receded. Kaza sat up, then crossed his legs and hunched his shoulders. As he used to do whenever he pondered on what to say. As if he required his entire body to put across a point. Raco wanted to tell him to kneel but couldn''t risk testing the Prince.


    "I am Kaza, the son of a whore." Kaza said. "I am not loved in this village, among the Rad es Maalas or in the entire realm for that matter. I am shunned and ignored and I have no qualm with the hand dealt to me. But." And Kaza turned to Raco, she then saw the tears cascading down her son''s cheeks. "Through her, do I know that love exists, she has raised me the best way she could and I have never once strayed into a path of Sin, despite her profession." Kaza turned his head to Prince Benji. "I am yet to come of age, but I vow now upon the very breath I take, I vow upon the foundation of Basi Haya and the soaring of Dragons, I will give you my life to do with as you wish, if you would only spare my mother''s life." He bowed then, low, spreading his trembling hands before him. Lanky limbs with a slight touch of muscle flickered with an orange light from the bonfire and the Priest''s torch.


    "Kaza." Prince Benji spoke. "Your words have touched me, well, almost touched me. Almost moved me. By Sin I feel a tear almost coming on, do you feel a tear coming Celyd?" The Priest did not answer, he stared at Kaza. Seeing no reply forthcoming, the Prince continued. "I asked you a question, Kaza, how did you come about having a Dragon''s eyes? Your life and your servitude matter little to me. It''s those eyes looking at me, that''s what fascinates me."


    "I do not know." Kaza said. "I''ve been as I am for as long as I can remember."


    Prince Benji nodded. "Well then, I feel the call of sleep coming on. What say you Celyd? Have the men take turns with the woman until she''s on the verge of death then have her and her son burnt in their homestead?" Prince Benji stood up. "Sounds about the right thing to do, according to your three hundred principles and the Scorched book and whatever." Raco sobbed without making a sound, her shoulders shaking, she dug her nails into her palms until they broke skin and blood welled. Yet she could not speak.


    "No." Celyd, the Priest said. "Let them go, let them live, Prince Benji. For one of the Principles of living with Sin speaks of mercy not as a weakness but as a pathway to guide one away from Sin. Spare the mother and her child and you''d have done more for the Rad es Maalas than your predecessors ever did." And Raco pleaded to any God who''d hear for the Prince to heed the Priest''s words.


    Prince Benji cocked his head to the side as if considering the option. "You''re so wise, Celyd, so wise. Tell you what, I will show mercy." Could she dare hope? Could she dare believe that what dwelt in the hearts of men was not entirely confounded on evil? Prince Benji turned to the army, men in black armor standing still behind him like statues forged of marble. The Prince sighed. "Mercy." He uttered the word as if it were foreign to him. "How to show mercy?" He questioned himself.


    "Let them live, Prince Benji, please let them live." The Priest, Celyd, was begging on their behalf, Raco never thought such a man existed.


    "Okay, I will show mercy." Prince Benji said. "Beat her bloody, nail her to the wall of her dwelling that is witness to Sin, then burn it down with her in it."


    A harsh sentence but the sigh of relief that escaped Raco spoke volumes of how little she cared about herself. The Prince hadn''t mentioned Kaza, he had been spared. To what fate she did not know but he had been spared and that was enough for her. Kaza started screaming and a soldier held him to the ground, he thrashed and kicked as other soldiers made their way towards her. She looked at her son, trying to memorize his features as if she could take them with her where she was going. Kaza screamed as the gauntleted fists descended on Raco. She felt her cheek bone shatter, her left eye burnt. A rib cracked, another broke under the barrage of kicks and punches. She collapsed yet her face did not turn away from her son, her weeping, wailing son who would live on. That was enough for her.


    xxxxxxxxx


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 Chapter 30

    They beat her, grown men each of them weighing more than twice the weight of the woman, they beat her as a fish vender would beat a thieving dog. Men with mothers forgot where they came from, pummeling the woman as one would a drum without rhythm. At first she lay silent, peering over at her screaming son, not giving in to the pain, but as one soldier gripped her leg and broke it like a twig, leg bending awkwardly below the knee, then did she scream. An anguished cry akin to the dying wails of an infant Dragon within the maw of an adult male Dragon.


    "This is madness." Celyd said from where he stood beside Prince Benji. The Prince had this manic grin spread over his face, as if he was terribly pleased with himself. Celyd imagined what life would be like under the rule of the man standing beside him, not an ounce of morality within the Prince, not a smudge of mercy nor a dab of humility. Pride and animosity warred within him like Dragons over a mate. And animosity always prevailed.


    The woman''s loud cries tore at her throat until they came out gurgling, blood filling her mouth from internal wounds. Still, the soldiers beat her. The proud and mighty Black army of the West. The killers of the night, men who were rumored to be able to charge a Dragon upon command. Here they were now, beating a helpless woman. If the Rad es Maalas could see their army, the symbol of their pride, the echelon of military prowess. This here, this sight of the strong pounding on the weak spoke volumes about the hypocrisy their religion was confounded on.


    Celyd remembered himself at the steps leading to the Citadel whose teal marble towers rose in spirals that fingered the sky. The first time at the Citadel, an acolyte with big dreams. He''d thought himself on a path leading to enlightenment, an understanding of sorts regarding his place in Basi Haya. He''d gone there to become someone who could guide others in a way of life that negated violence and spoke of peace. A way of life that might turn the ire of Sin away from the Rad es Maalas and have the Dragons depart Basi Haya. He''d been young then, young and foolish, the two often went hand in hand. To think he could change the perspective and thus the actions of an entire civilization based on his understanding of some stupid principles people only pretended to follow and a book whose author was unknown and probably was some powerful drunk who got a hard on from being quoted.


    Here now, watching soldiers beat a whore half to death. A whore whose screams had died out and now the only sounds were that of gauntleted fists thudding wetly into bloody flesh, and her son, Kaza with the Dragon''s eyes, thrashing and groaning beneath a soldier who pinned him down, his throat scraped raw from his own screams. Here now, Celyd realized he wanted no part in this. He did not want to be a Priest of Sin, he did not want to be holding this stupid torch with the stupid flame that he catered for night and day like an infant simply because he was told its a Dragon''s flame and that it was holy. It does not need telling that if the torch was doused, Prince Benji would kill him.


    "Tell them to stop, please." Celyd said. The woman was a mangled mess, leg broken, limbs twisted. Face all botched and bloody, some of her teeth lay around her. She''d bit into her tongue and blood dribbled down her lips endlessly. She was as good as dead, that much Celyd was sure. She required an act of mercy, a simple quick death. More pain was pointless, she was past the point of pain.


    "You speak out of turn, Celyd?" Prince Benji inquired, his tone placed emphasis on the underlying threat.


    You stupid, incompetent and sorry excuse for a future ruler. You were definitely the spawn of a fucking goat rather than a man for you have the capacity of a beast. Celyd thought. "No." He said. "I''m begging you, to put an end to this."


    "Stop." Prince Benji shouted a command and the half a dozen soldiers pulled away from the woman who lay broken and limp on the ground in a pool of her own blood. The soft rising and falling of her chest the only indication she was still alive. Her son was crying now, those wide eyes with slits for irises could cry. It was odd, like looking at a Dragon weep, a sight nobody could say they''ve witnessed. "Kaza!" Prince Benji called out and the lad lifted his head. "I have shown her mercy, a death without humiliation is mercy in itself. And for that your life is mine as you promised."


    "The child promised his life if you''d spare his mother." Celyd pointed out. All care thrown to the wind, he didn''t care if this rotten prick beside him killed him, he was past the point of caring.


    "Speak out of turn once more, and I''ll peel your skin slowly over oscillations until you die." Prince Benji said with a glare sent Celyd''s way before turning back to Kaza. "What say you, Kaza?"


    Celyd had to give the lad some credit, in the face of what he''d witnessed and what he was going through, he kept a composed face as he lifted himself off the ground once the soldier pinning him to the ground eased himself off. Kaza tilted his head Prince Benji''s way but before he spoke, the torch in Celyd''s hands flickered as if blown by a strong gust of wind, one way then the other, then the flame abruptly roared, rising as if doused by Leviathan oil before subsiding to its usual intensity. Celyd peered at the torch in his hands, he looked around and realized he was the only one who''d seen what had just occurred. That was until he turned his eyes to Kaza and found the lad''s eyes on him. Those eyes! It was like standing within the Dragon''s discern.


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    "Prince Benji," Kaza spoke in a raspy croak. Only now did Celyd realize the boy''s face was swollen, so too was his neck, marred by dark blotches. "My Prince," He shifted until he was on his knees, then he bowed low, arms spread out before him in a feint mimic of his mother''s subservience. "My mother yet breaths, she still lives, the beating... She still lives... Let her be and I will be your slave until the Dragons are no more."


    Prince Benji took a moment to stare at the lad. And Celyd wondered whether such a plea from such an anguished soul could register to one like the Prince. And as if on cue, the Prince gave the signal for the Rankf Leviathan oil and the motions followed, the same motions that Celyd had witnessed repeatedly during the purge, the same motions that warranted action from him, his seal on barbarism. The soldiers, moving methodically, went to the wooden shack that had been the whore''s abode and started pouring oil out of clay jars, all over the walls, all over the floor, making sure it spread everywhere. Kaza shifted about, looking at all that went on. One soldier went and doused his insensate mother with the oil and Kaza started screaming anew, he was weak, what should have come out as screams was nothing more than anguished squeals.


    Prince Benji walked towards Kaza, a brisk pace that was unlike him. Celyd turned to face the villagers who stood as nothing more than mere spectators, some with mouths pursed in a thin line, others with a smug satisfied look. As if they didn''t know the child crying for his mother, as if they didn''t know the woman lying in a pool of her own blood and filth. It was as if the villagers had never seen the mother and son before, never greeted them in the morning or gave a nod of acknowledgment at noon. Never bartered with or spoke to, never sought the woman''s services....


    Celyd hated the Rad es Maalas at that moment, hated that he was a part of them, hated that he was privy to all that was going on. Hated that he had a role to play, failure to which the consequences would be dire.


    Kaza made to lunge for his mother as a soldier dragged her by the foot towards the shack that stunk of oil, leaving a trail of blood in her wake. But Prince Benji grabbed Kaza''s arm, twisted it and had the lad facing the direction of the shack in a solid grip that had his thin limb pressed to the small of his back, with the other hand the Prince grabbed the boy''s neck and forced him to face the shack where his mother had been dragged into. Another soldier walked into the shack, hammer and steel peg in hand, going to pin the woman to the shack''s wall to ward off escape from her fate.


    "You''ll offer your life to me if I spare your mother?" Prince Benji asked. He always did this, always gave one hope before crushing it, that way the pain would be more severe. Celyd knew Kaza''s mother was going to die, no matter what Kaza pledged, she was going to die. Prince Benji never went back on an issued command. He was just toying with the child. Celyd found himself wondering whether there was a way he could kill the Prince without touching a blade, as it was against the Principles followed by the Citadel Priests to wield any weapon other than fire. Then again, Celyd knew upon parting ways with Prince Benji''s retinue, he would not be returning to the Citadel, there was no God among the Rad es Maalas, no God would stomach such a putrid civilization.


    "Yes. I will give you my life if you spare my mother." Kaza said.


    Prince Benji laughed. "You think you can issue demands, boy? Your life was mine the minute you breathed your first. Your mother will die." A sharp thud sounded from within the shack together with a scream, the hammer meeting the metal peg driving it into the woman''s arm and into the wall of the wooden shack. Another thud and another scream. "She will die and I will take you with me to the West, oh you''ll love it there. I''ll put you in a cage and everyone will come traveling from far and wide to see the boy with the eyes of a Dragon. I have grand plans for you, Kaza, imagine what a fortune we shall make from the curiosity of the Rad es Maalas! Charging people to stand before you! Giving them the thrill of being in the Dragon''s discern! Hah!" Another thud and another scream.


    Kaza was straining against the Prince''s grip, trying to make his way to the shack where his mother was being nailed to the wall. "Celyd! Set the flames!" Prince Benji commanded as the soldier emerged from the shack with hammer in hand, wiping his bloody hands on his breastplate with this smug look on his face like he lived for the thrill of nailing people to things. "Celyd!" Prince Benji called once more.


    Celyd found he could not move, found he could not think, all he felt was a simple word that he did not know he had the power of giving voice to. "No." He said.


    "Celyd! Light the bloody shack!" Prince Benji shouted at him.


    "No!" Celyd shouted back.


    "You dare defy my command!" Prince Benji was practically frothing at the mouth. Kaza had turned his head to face Celyd, and there, within those vertical slits for irises, Celyd saw recognition and... gratitude.


    "I defy your command you insufferable piece of fish dung, you heartless murderer, Prince of the West my flaccid cock!" He flung the torch to the ground in the same instant two soldiers barreled into him, driving him into the ground as a third lifted the torch before it extinguished. Celyd laughed as the wielder of the torch stood perplexed, unsure of what to do. "You do not fully abide by the three hundred principles of living with Sin yet you''ve touched the breath of the Dragon! By the law of the Rad es Maalas, death is your portion!"


    "Soldier!" Prince Benji called out to the man holding the torch. "You are pardoned of your crime, you saved the Dragon''s flame and for that I give you a full pardon! Now fling the torch into the sorry excuse of a house and let the bitch burn!"


    "You cannot absolve someone of a Sin against Sin!" Celyd cried out. "Only I am worthy of carrying the torch, find another Priest perhaps to carry it but no man who wields a blade should hold the torch!"


    "Soldier!" Prince Benji called out, his yellow eyes had a deathly cast to them. Celyd had tried his best to prevent what was about to happen. He thought by not taking part in it, he could have saved the woman. Kaza squirmed as he watched the soldier holding the torch walk to the wooden shack that he''d called a home, he struggled in Prince Benji''s grip as the soldier flung the torch within the hole that passed as a door and all watched as the flames caught, feeding on the oil and spreading. Then the screaming from within started anew and Celyd found himself weeping.


    Kaza strained against Prince Benji''s grip, and the Prince laughed all the while, he then called out, loud enough for all to hear. "If you care about your mother so much, child, why don''t you go and save her!" And the Prince let go of Kaza and the lad, without a second thought, rushed into the burning house.


    "No!" Celyd cried out, but it was all in vain. All in vain.


    xxxxxxxxx


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 Chapter 31

    Kaza was exhausted from the crying and the screaming and the pain from Justeen''s beating. Yet when he saw the flames spreading at the doorway, he didn''t pause his stride when he leaped over them, met the stool that was on fire and somewhat in the middle of the small smoky room, tripped, tumbled and rolled to come to a halt at his mother''s feet. The pain that spread through his neck was horrendous, but he didn''t care. There was so much smoke, he turned his head and realized the torch the Priest had been carrying had been flung onto the cot, the fire leaked at the walls and the floor and was all over the place he''d known as home since he became aware of his existence.


    "Kaza?" A faint whisper, he coughed at the smoke, scrambled on hands and knees, it was too hard to see but he felt his way up his mother''s legs, one twisted the other way, until his hands cupped her face.


    "Mother it''s going to be alright, I''ll get you out of here." Kaza said, squinting his eyes at the smoke, trying to peer through the haze and see how he''d go about lifting his mother. He dug his skinny arms either side of her waist after feeling where her waist would be and tried to lift, at the same instance there was a sharp tug of resistance and his mother''s scream had him letting go. The flames had caught up to them, nearing his mother who was doused in oil, one lick of the flame and she would combust. He couldn''t let that happen to her, she was everything to him. He made to lift her again but a word from her, a weak whisper, stayed his hand.


    "Kaza, my arm, my arm." She said. And that''s when he realized the cause of the sharp tug, a metal peg had been hammered into her right elbow, held above her head, breaking bone and flesh and into the wooden wall. Kaza immediately jerked towards it, flapping his hands uselessly against the punctured wound. "Kaza, you''ll hurt me, please, stop, save yourself, please..." But Kaza wasn''t listening, how could he save himself when she was his reason for living? What would he be saving himself for? He tried to pull at the pinned arm but his mother''s anguished scream halted his efforts. And it was at that point, watching the flames approach his mother from the wall, from the roof, from the floor, it was at that point that he understood despair as something that lay beneath hopelessness.


    "Kaza, I love you. Live, my son, live¡ª" And the flames touched her and she lit up like a night sky as the Dragon raged. The sound she made wasn''t a scream, it was too short to be called that. Sound died in her throat midway and her mouth was left agape, she thrashed, squirmed, then her strength gave out and all she could do was lie there, pinned arm holding her sagging weight, the other hand raised towards Kaza, then fell to lie on the ground. The flames danced upon her body, and the smell of burning flesh almost made Kaza retch if it wasn''t for the pain that locked his body.


    There lay the woman that loved him. Who''d brought him into the world, taught him how to move his tongue and lips to make his intentions known. A woman whose laugh eased away all else, allowing him a brief respite from the burden of existence, there she lay, never to laugh again. Soon to turn to ash. The house was burning, oil sheathed his hands and part of the thin grey cloth that was wrapped about him. If the flames touched him, he too would meet the same end as his mother. He had to leave the wooden shack, get out and live.


    Yet he couldn''t move.


    She would have died for nothing! The thought was loud in his head. Yet it lacked the strength to drive him into motion. He remained kneeling before his burning mother, her clothes were now molding with her burnt flesh. Her head was a bare scalp, all hair having been consumed. Kaza understood then why Sin was associated with fire, to Sin would be to invite obliteration, according to the Scorched book. Sin consumed and transformed all that exists, turning everything into a state that was the furthest from what it was meant to be. His mother would soon be ash.


    And he would follow her. What was there to live for?


    Love? He heard a feminine voice call out from around him. Kaza didn''t even turn his neck, his eyes stayed glued to the flames crawling towards him from all directions, it was drawing him in, beckoning to him with a promise of warmth, and... more?


    His eyes relaxed on the orange glow, the flickering this way and that of the flame as it crawled towards him and the voice again asked. Love? And he felt the essence of companionship encompassing all that he was.


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    Kaza found himself speaking, his mouth moving of its own volition, words pouring out of him unbidden, baring his soul out to the flame. "The one I love is dead and all is dead now. Love is nothing to live for anymore."


    Time? A male voice this time, like pouring honey yet not withholding a touch of disdain. And Kaza saw a life stretch out before him, he saw his hands all wrinkled and knobbed, his hair grey. His joints aching and a bent back. And he found no appeal in the image.


    "The one worth my time is dead."


    Order? A feminine voice. He saw a way free of the pain, a sequence of actions born of thoughts that would guarantee his mother''s existence held meaning. Yet he knew...


    "There is no Order in a life without my mother."


    Chaos? A deep male voice and Kaza felt the appeal of the word, how right it was, how it suited his every emotion. Yet he somehow knew that in Chaos lay madness, and a mind free of understanding would never be able to recall the importance of the moments he''d shared with his mother when she''d been alive.


    "No." Kaza whispered.


    Depth? And Kaza fled from the woman''s voice as the emotion he felt heightened, going deeper. The feeling of abandonment and loss made his limbs tremble, still he managed to whisper.


    "No."


    The Void? And there was stillness, an absence of everything. Total annihilation, a lack of memory, a lack of identity. Only a deep endless cold, the complete opposite of all the other aspects represented, here Love did not dwell for it could not. Time was a mirage, oscillations a mere mockery. Order was absent, so too chaos, and depth had no purpose for nothing was shallow to begin with. Here, lay the very emotion that prevented him from leaving his mother''s burning shack, the very thing that made him crave the end she''d met. And he suddenly hated it, hated the void and all it stood for.


    "No." Again, a whisper. The corrugated iron sheet spread above the shack fell as the wood holding it in place burnt to crisp, around him the shack begun to collapse yet nothing touched him as the flame drew closer... An inch ... Another inch. The heat was unbearable, yet he did not move.


    Sin? And the sound was one of a multitude, male and female, all coalescing as one. It wasn''t a question but a plea, riddled with hope and desire.


    Desire for what? And then he saw it, Dragons, hundreds of them. Rising into the sky and he was among them, bathed in flame. His eyes akin to theirs, he felt one with his own kind, a part of something that mirrored what he''d had with his mother. There too, among the raging Dragons, lay vengeance. And it''s call was sweet, sweeter than a burn upon an itch.


    But Sin, wasn''t that the very cause of his current predicament?


    Touch the flame. A command now.


    "Who are you?" Kaza inquired, observing the stool that he''d toppled in his haste to reach his mother, completely engulfed in flames. The same stool his mother had sat in for the better part of four days, tending to her bedridden son.


    I am Sin. Power, the word carried power.


    Kaza obeyed, as if it was something ingrained into his very being. A command issued at birth, he heard a growl, no doubt that of a Dragon, coming from within the flame.


    He reached out without thought, Rankf Oil stained fingers of his left hand touching the flame. The fire spread over his hand, past his wrist, up his arm past the elbow. It looked beautiful before it started to act to its nature. The fire consumed, flesh burning. The pain was immense, yet, something urged him to focus on it. Not ignore it, not wish an end to it, opting instead to appreciate it. To be one with the pain, accepting its existence and living with it in harmony.


    Harmony. He understood the purpose of Sin.


    Kaza''s vertically slitted pupils blazed the color of fire. He saw it then, the face of a Dragon, dark scales sheathing a snout the size of a man. The Dragon''s eyes opened to him, it opened its maw and flames poured forth from between large serrated teeth. He knew he wasn''t before a dragon but within a burning shack where his mother lay dead. Kaza knew the Dragon he saw was from another place, another reality, a place separate from where he breathed. Yet when the flames emitted by the Sky Serpent touched him, he knew obliteration and rebirth.


    xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx


    The Dragons that slept woke, raising themselves on their hind legs, beating the wings conjoined to their flanks and arms, rising into the sky. Those on the ground beat their wings, rising as those who''d slept. Those already in the sky hovered, waiting. The sky above Basi Haya was filled with Dragons and in the dark of night the Rad es Maalas knew not what hovered above them. In unison, the Dragons raised their snouts to the sky, opened their maws and unleashed the breath of Sin. Fire, erupted upon the Basi Haya sky in an orange - red conflagration. The roar of the Dragons rattled the very windows of the Queen of the East''s bed chamber. The Rad es Maalas exited their houses in unison, each of them with faces turned to the sky, observing as night became day as a rolling cloud of flame spread across the horizon. Hundreds of Dragons, united in harmony, under one God, under one banner, under one element ... Unleashing a song of worship for the one they had been waiting for.


    xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx


    The Fire spread over Kaza, but it did not burn, he was one with it.


    The roar of hundreds of Dragons made him smile.


    Basi Haya would know his name, his purpose, Harmony.  The debt of his pain, Vengeance.


    "Kaza." A deep voice said to him from within him. He immediately knew who it was.


    "Yes, Wrath, first aspect of Sin?" Kaza answered.


    "Do you wish to make a Prince dance to our tune?"


    Kaza''s smile widened, "Gladly."


    xxxxxxxxx


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 Chapter 32

    Celyd watched Kaza run into the burning house to his mother, his every motion set on a rescue that Celyd knew was impossible. View of the lad was blocked by the blaze already licking at the wood and lining the doorway. Celyd closed his eyes and the fear he felt for disobeying a direct order from the Prince of the West simply could not compare to the sorrow he felt at the realization that his sacrifice for the better good, if one could call it that, had amounted to nothing.


    Prince Benji walked towards where he lay, pinned to the ground by three Black Army soldiers. A sword''s tip pressed to the nape of his neck to ensure he knew that resistance was futile. Futility. He came to realize, No action within Basi Haya nor within the realm at large, served any purpose other than to be a sharp contrast to futility yet when it was all said and done, the deeds carried out through the span of a life amounted to nothing in the grand scheme of things. Hence showing that everything, be it the gathering of dew upon a rose''s petal, or the breaking of ground with a hoe, served absolutely no purpose. He tried to take solace in this, repeating the thought as if it were a mantra, trying to enlarge it and bring about a touch of nonchalance that might smother, if not vanquish the feeling of sorrow that had sent a tear trailing down his cheek.


    "Oh look at that, the Priest is crying." Prince Benji pointed out and the Black Army soldiers who were nearest laughed as if the Prince was born to play the role of a court jester, a putrid, nefarious jester with a touch of barbarism and a dash of malevolence. "What did you call me, Celyd? An insufferable piece of fish dung?" That voice, how he''d grown to loath it over the weeks spent together. At first he''d treated the Prince as one would Royalty, basically tripping over himself to dip the lowest in a bow, hoping the Prince will see how willing Celyd was to wipe his arse with his tongue after the runny shits. That''s how everyone treated Royalty, and in his mind he''d had grand fantasies of pleasing the Prince of the West to the point where a friendship would blossom and the Prince would uplift him from a mere Citadel Priest to the position of Grand Holy of the West. Now, looking at the Prince''s silver coated metal boots from where he lay, his chin biting into the dirt. He realized he would find greater pleasure stripping himself naked and dipping himself in pig''s blood before swimming directly into the maw of a Leviathan bull hoping to befriend the parasites dwelling in the creature''s gut.


    The Prince spoke casually, his eyes on Celyd and the Priest... neigh, once Priest... opted instead to stare at the burning wooden shack, hoping against all hope that the boy would emerge. "Now what do you presume you''re if an insufferable piece of fish dung holds the power to take your life? What does that make you, Celyd? What''s lower than fish dung?"


    Celyd didn''t answer. What point was there in indulging the pampered fool? His eyes remained on the flames engulfing the wooden shack, there was no hope of the boy emerging, the smoke alone would kill, the fire turn him to ash. Kaza was no more, and Celyd found himself trying to remember the details of the boy''s features, specifically his eyes. Then he felt an urge to laugh, for what good would the memory of the boy serve a man who was soon going to join Kaza in the place beyond death?


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    A metal boot on the crown of his head, pressing down, spreading agony across his scalp and the point of his chin that dug into the ground. "I asked you a question, cunt, what is lower than fish dung?" An unsatisfactory answer and the Prince will stomp his head until it caved. A satisfactory answer and the Prince would look for another question, more absurd, more stupid, until he found a reason to stomp his head in either way. Celyd felt weary, not the weariness that came of delivering a sermon of Sin to the young acolytes at the Citadel for the better part of a fortnight. No. This weariness came of a desire to quit, to quit the next breath, the next thought, the next pump of the heart. To be no more. What relaxation that would bring, to be away from the cunt with the boot on his head.


    "You are not fish dung, your eminence. I apologize." Celyd spoke between clenched teeth, the pressure sandwiching his head with the ground eased a fraction to allow for better speech. "You know when a dog dies under mysterious circumstances and its carcass remains untouched for the fear of one becoming unclean, and the maggots come and eat away at the flesh and the stench is horrendous? Now imagine a man, a full grown man, making his way to the rotting carcass of the dog while naked. Stroking his cock until he spills his seed upon the maggots, then scooping the maggots with his seed and placing them in his mouth and chewing the mixture. You know that sight, when the man opens his mouth and you see the maggots and his seed mashed in an unholy paste? Well, that view and the reaction it warrants, your eminence, that is what you are." He paused.


    The sword pressed deeper into the nape of his neck, breaking skin and no doubt drawing blood. The boot on his head lifted and Celyd knew it would come down with a bone sickening crunch and he would be no more.


    Sweet release.


    He welcomed his end. Only to see the two boots of the Prince settle before his eyes. "Celyd." Prince Benji said. "A quick death is too big a mercy for you. I will send an emissary to the Citadel to proclaim your untimely death at the hands of moon worshippers, then I''ll take you to the lowest chamber of my father''s palace and there I will ensure you live a long full life praying for death in every ¡ª"


    The Prince''s words died out as the sky lit up. A cloud of fire spread to the horizon, hundreds if not thousands of Dragons unanimously unleashed the very breath of Sin. Up and up the flames went before the roar of the henchmen of Sin reached them. The flames were taken up by the wind, spreading, heat rained down on them and the Prince took three steps back. The soldiers holding Celyd down laxed in their tenacity for violence, fright and awe warring for attention as they eased back. Some soldiers and villagers collapsed on the ground and curled in on themselves, their backs exposed with their limbs drawn in to minimize the chance of being in the Dragon''s discern. Others just stood, staring at the sky, mouth agape.


    With the freedom afforded him, Celyd could do no more than lay on his side, propped on his elbow staring at the sky. He''d seen of Dragon''s raging in the night. Lighting up the sky, but in spaced bursts of flame, never in unison, never all at once.


    Something has changed.


    Celyd did not know why he turned to face the wooden shack, neither did he think anyone else turned their attention from the sky. But turn he did, and that''s when he saw him. The boy, Kaza, emerging from the wooden shack, engulfed in flame, walking as a King would taking a stroll in his Palace Gardens. He wore fire like a merchant wraps himself in a robe, the flames fell and rolled and climbed, sheathing his body but allowing for his outline and his eyes to be seen.


    And those eyes. They were those of a Dragon''s, only the once dark slits were now the hue of fire.


    Celyd smiled.


    xxxxxxxxx


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 Chapter 33

    Some lay on the ground, curled into themselves to draw the least attention from the Dragons raging in the sky. Others stood aghast, mouths hanging open with heads lifted to the heavens where flames transformed night into day. Only the Priest had his eyes on Kaza, only the man called Celyd saw him approaching and his face broke into a smile.


    Fire cannot conform to a shape, but its intent is pure as it serves a singular purpose. Sin, under the aspect of Wrath, spoke within Kaza''s mind. And the Champion of Sin, observed his limbs. Saw the fire flow up and down his arms, dripping free of his fingers. It was all over him, all over his chest, his groin, his hips and legs. His clothes had burnt to ash yet the fire remained as a second cloth and the glow it emitted soon caught the eyes of those around. Still, he continued his languid walk and where he stepped, his naked feet left a scorched print.


    A Black Army Soldier wondered at the glow in the sky, then the brighter glow that seemed to be approaching their retinue. He turned his head to Kaza, his eyes widened, and Kaza saw the man''s existence in relation to Sin. Kaza saw the number of women he''d raped, the children he''d killed, the lives he''d stolen, the wealth he''d horded. Lust, Murder, Theft, Gluttony. And as the aspects of Sin defined themselves, so too did Kaza feel the appeal of each of the acts, the reason behind them and the sense of power it brought the man.


    The Black Army Soldier raised his hand and pointed at Kaza, he let out a scream. A dangerous thing to do as Dragons raged in the sky. All the Rad es Maalas knew that silence aided obscurity, to be in the Dragon''s discern was to court death. And as Dragons raged your only purpose was to avoid their notice. Shortening the breaths one took in a span, speaking not a word. Pointing and screaming was the absolute opposite of one of the Rad es Maalas. The villagers and soldiers turned to Kaza, those on the ground lifting themselves to peer at him, those standing flinching away from him. Taking several steps back. Only Celyd didn''t move from where he lay smiling on the ground.


    As Prince Benji turned to see what was behind him, he found himself coming face to face with Kaza. He let out a sound that was unbecoming of him, something between a toad''s ribbit and weasel''s moan. The Prince scrambled back but a solid hand on his silver armored shoulder held him in place. The Prince was taller, so it looked quite the odd sight with Kaza standing there, pinning him in place. The image was akin to that of two siblings, the older supporting the younger.


    Silence ensued. Nobody moved, nobody made a sound. Sweat broke out across the Prince''s face, his limbs trembled and the sharp tinge of urine filled Kaza''s nostrils. There was nothing majestic or royal about the man beside him, Kaza realized, all that haughty air that comes of command, it was no more, vanished like a candle''s flame blown out by a gentle breeze. What then would happen if Kaza let his intentions known? That he was the furthest thing from a gentle breeze and the Prince was smaller even than a candle''s flame?


    "Kaza?" Prince Benji inquired. There was nothing rich or deep about his voice. Fear did that to a man, took all that he was and reduced it bit by bit until all that was left was a sharp contrast to what he once was.


    "My mother is dead." Kaza said and his words were the complete opposite of the Prince''s. His voice radiated power, blazing power.


    Surprisingly, Prince Benji broke into a smile. "Kaza, my dear lad," The man was good, he could revert behind a wall within his consciousness. A wall that ensured he kept face, ensured he remembered that he was royalty. His eminence. One above the rest. Sure, a boy stood beside him, gripping his shoulder with a flaming hand that heated the shoulder plate of his armor, yet the Prince still believed himself superior. "Your mother has paid the price for her profession of Sin," The Prince spoke casually yet there was an underlying strain behind his words. As if the wall he had in place was under an intense barrage from the mere proximity of Kaza. Kaza turned his inner eye to the wall, there was something there. "As you well know, I am of royal blood and hence it is my duty to carry out the Purge accords which is no fault of mine. Truly, what befell your mother was something that came of the consequences of her actions, and nothing more."


    The wall served to hide something even deeper, even greater. Something disgusting, something horrid that Basi Haya would not do good to know.


    Kaza, with his free hand, flicked a finger and a bright orange flame coalesced within his mind''s eye. It moved to the Prince''s wall and did as fire did, it consumed. Transforming the wall to ash and all the Prince''s Sins were left bare for him to see. So many of them, so pleasing in their existence. Each of them beckoning to him, hoping he would pick them as a reason for worship. But one particular Sin, caught his eye.


    Lust, my dear, whisper your truth. Kaza commanded.


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    And a woman''s whisper sounded within his ear. He has been fucking his mother since his tenth oscillation. And Kaza saw Prince Benji with the Queen of the West, tangled naked limbs, breath heaving and bodies jerking in an unholy union. Kaza smiled.


    Prince Benji, unaware of what Kaza had gleamed, smiled as well. "I see you understand that my intentions were pure. For I serve the Dragon''s breath."


    "And your mother''s cunt." Kaza said.


    The Prince''s face contorted with what was first surprise, then fear, then rage. "Attack the whore''s so¡ª" His words died and morphed into a scream as the hand on his shoulder blazed, turning the silver metal plate beneath it red, then into liquid metal that cascaded down the Prince in a fiery torrent, burning as it dripped.


    The Prince screamed and twisted free of Kaza''s grip, right hand going for the sword in its scabbard but before he unsheathed it, Kaza gripped his wrist and there too the armor melted and embedded itself to the Prince''s wrist.


    Prince Benji stumbled back, screaming, tripped on his own feet and collapsed on his behind. His army stood still, those brave men of the Black Army, unable to comprehend or act against what they saw. Kaza suddenly saw how pathetic they were, he couldn''t believe he once wanted to be a part of them. Yet some were beginning to stir, to move their hands to the pommel of their swords. They did have a duty to their Prince.


    "I will spare your life if you command your army to stand down, I do not wish Murder to take the place of Wrath." Kaza said to the Prince sprawled before him, chest heaving, face contorted in agony at the burns.


    "Wrath?" Celyd called out from where he lay.


    Kaza spoke without turning to face the Priest. "Wrath is the strongest aspect of Sin, at the moment. I am in harmony with Wrath, hence I am not overcome by the desire to obliterate. But the others wish a turn. If Murder takes over, you all will die for the Dragons will descend to carry out my will." He did not need to turn his head to the sky to see that the Dragons'' jubilation was far from over. The light from their fire lit up Basi Haya.


    "Prince Benji! Order your men to stand down!" Celyd shouted.


    The Prince peered about confused before issuing the command. "Stand down!" And his men eased their guard with an unmistakable expression of relief betrayed by their exhales. Kaza took a step towards Prince Benji and the Prince raised his hands as if to ward off evil.


    "You sentenced my mother to death." Kaza said, his voice was not his own but the pain he felt was entirely his. "Yet your mother is just as deserving of the fate you dealt my mother."


    "I''ve never slept with my mother!" The Prince objected.


    He lies! The aspect of Sin known as Deceit whispered in his ear, a woman''s voice, eager with the pronunciation of each syllable. Deceit strived to take control of him, to have Wrath flung into the background with the sole purpose of cutting off the tongue of every liar in Basi Haya. But Kaza pushed her back, in Wrath there lay a potent well of synchrony, as if Wrath and Kaza''s desires were one. And in this understanding between the aspect of a God and a mortal, Kaza was able to find reason and hence stay Wrath''s hand from delivering annihilation.


    Kaza stretched forth his hand and a flame welled at his finger tips, like a drop of water, stretching and tearing free of him. It slowly moved the distance between him and the Prince, and the man struggled to crawl away but his every motion quickened the flame''s descent. "Spare me!" Prince Benji howled, it sounded odd, as if he''d never begged before. "Spare me and my Kingdom is yours!" He twisted away and the flame touched his silver armor, spreading over it in a burning network that started to melt the metal. The Prince screamed and flung himself off the ground, he tore free his breastplate, vambrace and leg greave in a pace that would put an armor bearer to shame. The plates adoring his thighs and shoulders fell off too but as each piece was discarded of his body so too did the flame abandon it choosing to travel to what lay beneath. Prince Benji was left in his chain mail, intricately locked pieces of metal that made the embroidered dresses Kaza''s mother spoke of look meager in comparison. The fire spread over each link of chain, turning it red hot and the Prince had no option but to rid himself of it.


    "If you run, the flame will claim you, if you fight it, the flame will claim you, but it will not kill you, for it exists to Purge! How''s that for an accord?" Kaza said with a laugh.


    Naked, Prince Benji stood before Kaza, shame, hate and fear warring for a chance to be expressed upon his face. The flame rose from the discarded chain mail and danced around him, circling his body as a bee would a flower. Then the flame touched him, just below his neck to the right and the skin broke into burn blisters, the Prince let loose a grunt of pain and tried to jerk away but the flame moved again, down his arm to the nook of his elbow and there it touched him again, burning skin. This time the Prince cried out and fell to his knees, flinching away from the flame that followed him. He turned to Kaza and the Champion of Sin saw tears in those eyes, fingers crossed before him as if in prayer, the Prince sought the words that would free him from incarceration.


    But Kaza spoke before the Prince did. "You will go to the West, to the Palace of your father and mother, and you''ll sentence your mother to the same fate that befell mine, only slightly different. You will fuck her before your subjects, before your father and the Rad es Maalas in general, carrying out that which you did in secret for all to see, only then will the flame leave you." Kaza said. The Prince was blubbering now, spit dripping free of his lip, down his chin. His arms shaking as he peered at Kaza from hate filled eyes. The flame slid down, moving as a bird would amidst branches, to the Prince''s cock and touched the tip. The Prince wailed and fell back, hands going to his groin. "Your only thought should be the command issued to you, if you think of diverting from your purpose, the flame will burn you. May your every action and thought serve to fulfill the will of the one I serve, only then will you find peace from the pain. You shall go with the Priest, if any harm befalls him, well, you won''t like it. "


    "And who do you serve?" It was a whisper. Softly spoken by the man who''d tried to save his mother''s life.


    Kaza turned his head a fraction and smiled . "Sin" He answered.


    "Kaza Sijalad!" The Priest cried out and shifted to prostrate himself before Kaza.


    xxxxxxxx


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 Chapter 34

    Time was a cage, to step free of it was to draw its ire. Survive its ire and it shall ignore you but not fully, with an occasional prod it''ll make sure your guard is still up, time will morph from a string of moments into something quite irritating. But not as irritating as the four men chosen to act as Mairek''s bodyguards.


    He lay in his bed weaved of vines in the solitary narrow chamber without  windows. They''d done their best to scrub clean the blood from the five men he''d killed in the very room but the smell of blood was apparent to him still for his every sense was heightened with the blessing, or curse, of the God of Space and Time, Nielda. Though being the Champion of a God was looking more and more like a curse with every passing moment, especially now as the four bodyguards stood at his closed door, conversing in what they thought to be hushed tones.


    "Does he shit?" Lam asked. Mairek knew them, of course, each distinct voice had its owner and their calling out of each other enabled him to place each voice. Lam''s voice was shrewd, that''s all he could gleam of it. Shrewd in every sense, a man whose every action had a plan within a plan within a plan. "It''s been two days since he''s left his tiny prison, and not once did the chamber maid leave with his chamber pot."


    "By chamber maid you mean the Princess Tari?" Sagal inquired. His voice was distinct in its piping nature. One would have thought him a girl.


    "Imagine that, having a Princess for a chamber maid." Tok said. A calm voice that didn''t give off much.


    "I wish I could have sex with the Princess." Afur said, a man with no filters, who spoke the first thing that came to mind.


    "Shut the fuck up Afur!" Lam said.


    "You bloody idiot! You could have us all hanged with that stupid mouth of yours." Sagal intoned, it sounded like a child scolding an adult.


    "Afur." Tok said, "Afur, I''ve been in this realm for what, thirty three years? Yet, since I crawled to when I walked, to when I held my first spear, I have never, in my entire existence, thought that people were stupid. I saw fools as people hiding their intelligence. I saw ignorance as a Form of Sleight, aimed at creating confusion. I did not believe that there lived a man who was truly an absolute idiot. I did not believe such a man existed until I met you. You Afur, are one of a kind."


    "Thank you." Afur said and Mairek could hear the smile in his voice.


    "He didn''t mean it as a complement you idiot!" Lam said. "He was insulting you!"


    "Oh." Afur intoned, as if having just realized something. "Why was he insulting me?"


    "Because you''re an idiot, Afur! Gods!" Sagal sounded exasperated.


    "But what wrong have I done?" Afur sounded pained. "Is it a crime to speak of my heart''s desire? To be truthful in all that I present?"


    "How is wanting to have sex with the Princess something that''s considered truthful? We all bloody want to have sex with her but do you see us proclaiming it at the door of the man whom the Princess is in service of? What if he tells her?" Tok''s grim input gave off the air of a monologue. As if he was speaking for the benefit of himself, knowing full well Afur wasn''t taking anything to heart.


    "He can''t hear us. We''re whispering." Afur said.


    "I think he can." Sagal opined.


    "They say he can hear the exhale of a breath taken in the throne room of the Queen of Binoria." Lam said. And Mairek didn''t bother dispelling such a fact for it was partly true. Partly because to find the specific exhale would require an otherworldly focus, splitting his mind into fragments, each trained on every exhale being emitted upon the realm until he found the one from within the throne room. A difficult task and not worth the effort.


    "Can he have sex with the Princess?" Afur asked. Several grunts of dismay and annoyance answered him. "Look, the King said that the Princess is to serve him in any way he needs, what if he needs someone to give him the warmth of a woman? She would be obliged to meet his needs."


    "When was the last time you slept with a woman, Afur?" Lam asked.


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    Afur gave a heavy sigh and Mairek closed his eyes, allowing his pristine awareness to see the shift in motion all around him. And there, he saw Afur, a short man of stocky build, thick white beard falling beneath his neck, forehead creased with lines and a nose too prominent for his face. Mairek saw Afur look up at the ceiling, his mind in another place, another time.


    "The last time I slept with a woman was during the skirmishes with the Remu that one time we sought to extend our border to the Remu''s Galiu fields." Afur started.


    "A desperate measure, we needed fertile soil so as to plant crops we could sell, just so we could meet the Gift giving quota with Binoria." Sagal interrupted. shaking his head. Sagal was a man of average height yet he stooped slightly, as if carrying the burden of a weight none could see. His head was cleanly shaved, he didn''t have a beard nor a mustache. He was quite the odd sight among the Talisi.


    "Don''t deviate from the topic, Afur won''t be able to trace his way back." Lam said. He too was of average height, eyes the lightest green Mairek had ever seen. He wore his dark green leather armor as a Red Priest wears his robes, orderly, not a fabric out of place. His long hair was combed back and tied in a ponytail, a unique style uncommon among the Talisi. His hallow cheekbones gave his face a pinched look that wasn''t eased by the sharp jut of his beardless chin.


    "Tell us, Afur, of the last time you slept with a woman." Tok sought to return Afur to his tale. The tallest of the four with a swimmer''s build that was reminisce of the Remu who dwelt by the sea. His beard was neatly cropped, his head spotted a white stubble of growth but his eyes, as he observed Afur, spoke of deep seated intelligence, held back as a miser would his gold vigons lest anyone use his intelligence against him.


    "Well," Afur continued. "I remember it as if it were yesterday."


    "But that happened over a decade ago." Sagal opined.


    "It''s the touch of a woman, you see, it clings to memory despite the passing of time." Afur said and Mairek found himself sitting up in his thin vine weaved bed. Trying to figure out when last he''d touched a woman.


    "Go on." Tok urged.


    "So we fought against the Remu, weird lot those ones, they use their women in the army." Afur said.


    "Hence why they are more advanced than us." Tok said before waving his hands as the others sought to object. "If we get into the details of how effective a military might become with the inclusion of the opposite sex, we shall not complete Afur''s tale. Go on Afur, rescue us from this boring task of protecting a lad with Godly powers with tales of your passionate endeavors."


    "Okay, so I got captured by the Remu. It was a Regiment of sorts, a bunch of women and a handful of men." Afur continued and in Mairek''s eyes, marking the movement of limbs, the inhale of breath, the turning of necks and pursing of lips according to time''s dictation, Mairek was able to see the reaction of the men around Afur. All leaning in with an almost childlike eagerness.


    "How did they capture you?" Sagal asked. He seemed to be of the habit of interrupting Afur.


    "I was on surveillance duty, you know?" They nodded. "I was gathering intelligence, hiding behind the picket lines, observing the enemy?" They nodded him on. "I had been doing that for the better part of a day before I realized I hadn''t got any food on me just as the Remu were serving themselves fish broth thick with chunks of fish with a side of Galiu meal. I couldn''t help it, I left my post, went straight into their camp and asked for some food. Told them they can kill me after, just as long as they gave me food."


    A long silence ensued, each of the men regarding Afur with profound awe.


    "You''re a bloody idiot Afur!" Lam whispered harshly.


    "Did they give you the food?" Tok inquired.


    "Yeah they did," Afur went on as if he hadn''t just been insulted. "Gave me all the fish broth and Galiu meal they could afford to give one who wasn''t a part of them. Then they tied me with ropes and said they''ll torture me for any information I had about the Talisi. I did not give in."


    Impressed, Tok raised his thin eyebrows meticulously placed above his eyes. "You survived Remu torture?" The Remu were adept at all matters of things, it was rumored that it was them who came up with the Forms of Combat. It is said the Inquisitors of Binoria learnt their trade of torture from the Remu. To survive Remu torture was equal to surviving the blade of one with the Jojoh Meena.


    Afur paused a moment, "I did not give in to their suggestion of torture. I just told them I''ll tell them everything I knew if they''d just give me more fish broth." He paused, staring at the looks the men were giving him. "It was freaking delicious! They''d put mushrooms in it or something, and something else that burned the tongue and heightened appetite."


    "Gods Afur!" Lam was appalled.


    "You betrayed your freaking Kingdom over fish broth?" Sagal was disbelieving.


    "Tell me you gave them false information, please, a Form of Sleight or Empathy. Anything but the truth" Tok insisted.


    "Oh no, why would I do that? They were good people, kind people. They didn''t even tie me with ropes. Told them everything I knew, our plan of attack. Our purpose and our plan within a plan." Afur said. "They were so happy they let me sleep with two of their women."


    They all gave approving nods.


    "I guess treason is almost understandable at the cost of two Remu women." Lam said.


    "Remu women, fierce and strong. Like men with breasts and smooth faces. A blessing upon the realm. I too would be swayed by treason under the allure of two Remu women." Sagal agreed.


    "I am against treason, in every sense possible. But I quite understand its appeal under your circumstance, Afur. Tell me, what were the Remu women like? Were their quims as sweet as nectar as the Talisi bards tend to hint?" Tok asked.


    "Quims?" Afur wondered.


    "Their cunts."


    "Oh I wouldn''t know."


    "What do you mean you wouldn''t know? You did sleep with them, right?"


    "I did but I didn''t do anything to their cunts, on account of the fact that I was asleep." Afur said. A delicate frown creasing the lines above his brow.


    A short silence ensued.


    "What the fuck!" Lam cursed.


    "Wait, Afur, did you have sex with those women?" Sagal sought to better understand.


    "Sex? No. I just slept with them. You asked me when I last slept with a woman, it was then, between two Remu women. Best sleep I''ve ever had." Afur said.


    It was then that Mairek burst out laughing, he couldn''t hold it in. It started as a dry wheeze, built up to a chuckle. And soon before he knew it his shoulders were shaking and his cackling laughter was loud and sounded very foreign to his mouth. With his perception of time he saw the four guards outside his door turn to face the door. This is why the four men were irritating, they zapped him out of the cocoon of brooding he''d fashioned for himself. They gave him a glimpse of a life that could never be his, and as they spoke, it was as if they included him in their tales even though he knew he would never be a part of anything, he found himself belonging. And this irritated him for he knew the lie that it was, he very well knew there was no place where he belonged.


    xxxxxxxxx


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 Chapter 35

    Mairek dreamt. There was a glade where wind whispered through the grass yet the grass did not move. A solitary bird hang in the sky, its wings motionless rendering the bird''s flight impossible, yet hang in the sky it did, a freak of nature, a creature counter to the rules that defined existence. The trees bent one way yet straighten they did not despite the tag of the wind flowing in the opposite direction of their bow.


    "Nielda." Mairek whispered, knowing full well that this was no dream.


    Oblivion is coming, Diva.  Nielda''s voice sounded, rumbling like thunder clouds. Mairek turned either direction to get a glimpse of the God but his sight offered nothing to this action. Abruptly, the wind stilled. The trees straightened then what appeared to be a dark blotch suddenly appeared before Mairek amidst the still green grass. Locha, the bringer of the endless night has chosen a champion and has played his first cards, possession and the withholding of death to bind the will of the dying to his whim. And the black blotch, an anomaly amidst the vibrant green hues of the glade, expanded rapidly, faster than time allowed it to and Mairek found himself falling into it, screaming as the darkness swallowed him whole and a bitter cold made its company known.


    The Champions must unite, you must bring Sin back into the realm, you need a flame to guide you in the darkness. And those were the last words Mairek heard. Drowned out by his endless scream as his perception was cut off and he was lost in the darkness.


    He woke up screaming and immediately the door to his chamber was flung open, the four bodyguards making their way in swiftly, brandishing their swords that had been drawn faster than thought. Tok immediately gripped the hilt of his sword in a Form of Grind, bent low as he twisted behind the open door, having deduced it to be the most likely place an assassin would lay wait after carrying out the deed. Sagal and Lam went to either corner of the room to ensure their periphery was unlimited, holding their swords in the Form of Slight, as if it was a routine quite rehearsed, hilt of swords held in a languid grip that would enable an easy swipe with a shift in grip.


    Afur, however, went to Mairek and pointed the tip of his sword at him. Everyone turned to observe Afur. Mairek peered up at him over the point of Afur''s sword.


    "What the fuck Afur!" Lam lamented, "We are suppose to protect him! Not point a sword at him for fuck''s sake!"


    Sagal run a dark hand over an even darker bald scalp. "Afur," he sighed. "Why, Afur? Why are you like this?"


    "I think its a defect of birth." Tok said, straining and making his way to Mairek. With slim long fingers, Tok lowered Afur''s sword by the blade''s flat. "Champion, what happens to be the matter?"


    The dream returned to Mairek, the cold and the darkness and Nielda''s words. The God was arrogant, no doubt about that, a self obsessed prick who had power, more power than a mortal could fathom. Yet the impression the dream held wasn''t one of warning nor threat. It did not hold the gentle nudge of advice. Instead the dream, as Mairek believed it to be, was one of desperation, fright and worry. Attributes Mairek thought to be nonexistent to the God.


    Fear engulfed Mairek and he sat up and closed his eyes.


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    "Mairek?" It was Tok.


    "There''s something wrong." Mairek said.


    "Of course there''s something wrong." Afur said. "There''s always something wrong, look at Tok, for example, a tall handsome man like him doesn''t have a wife or children. Neither do I. Sagal had a child but turns out the child wasn''t his, looked more like the baker than Sagal. And Lam is gay and can''t attract a man. There''s something wrong! And you, Mairek, you just sit here all day and night when men your age are frolicking with babes. You''re a disappointment Mairek, you don''t embody the virtues one can look up to."


    Mairek opened his eyes and stared up at Afur. What the fuck is wrong with this man?


    "I''m not gay." Lam interjected. "Not that I have any quarrel with one''s choice of partner. But I''m not gay! And I can attract a man if I wanted to."


    Afur turned to Lam, raised his pudgy fingers with bruised knuckles and stroked his white beard. "You think I don''t know how you look at me? With desire and need? You want me, Lam, I know when I''m wanted."


    Lam lashed out with the flat of his blade but to Mairek''s surprise he was sprawled on the floor with Afur''s knee pinning him on the back, faster than Mairek could blink. "Look at you, so eager to be with me you literally fling yourself at me." Afur spoke, his voice calm and collected as if delivering an important point. "My mother warned me about men like you, men who''d stop at nothing until they take my virginity."


    "By the Gods!" Sagal pinched the bridge of his nose.


    "Mairek, what seems to be wrong?" Tok asked. Totally ignoring Afur and the squirming Lam.


    Mairek turned his eyes to the tall man, saw those eyes sunken within their sockets to be more warmly than their disposition allowed them to be. "I had a dream." Mairek started. Afur eased off Lam who rose from the ground while sheathing his sword, their attention on Mairek. "I saw, oblivion." It was the only word that could summise what he''d seen... No... what he''d felt.


    "What''s it like, oblivion?" Afur asked.


    "I hope my ex wife is there. Did you see my ex wife? That cheating whore." Sagal''s piping voice chimed in.


    Mairek wondered as to what was entirely wrong with this set of men who were his so called bodyguards. But their eager expressions spoke of their desire to gleam more from him, so he obliged them. "It''s cold, oblivion, and not a soul in sight. And upon entering it, it''s akin to entering the void. You are stripped free of everything that makes you who you are. You become a part of the darkness and the cold."


    Afur nodded as if he''d had the same thought on the matter. Tok''s gaze unsettled Mairek, it was too fixed, too intent. Lam tapped his fingers on the pommel of his sword, face veiled in deep contemplation. And Sagal shook his head from side to side, as if disappointed that his ex wife wasn''t in oblivion.


    "So." Lam started. "Can''t you use your... abilities... to learn more from the dream?"


    Mairek shook his head from side to side. "A dream exists in the deep, to venture there is to relinquish control, and to do so is to give away the abilities I posses. Maybe Ishar can do it, chaos defies reason."


    Lam clapped his hands. "Ishar, the Kolotian?"


    Sagal raised his head. "The King Killer?"


    Mairek nodded.


    "Now that''s a man with virtues one can look up to." Afur said. "I always thought I was the one who''d put down the tyrant. Gods know I did my best to get to him during the wars of my youth but I never could quite pierce through his seventh Legion''s flanks. Damn bastards!"


    "Why didn''t you charge him from the front? The seventh Legion were the crescent, there''s always a gap before a Vigon Champion." Sagal wondered.


    "You haven''t been at the front of an attack, Sagal, with you being primarily an archer and all." Tok opined. "The gap serves to limit an opponent''s options, to enter there is to step into the Vigon''s range. Instant death."


    Mairek started to understand the men given the task to protect him. They weren''t just ordinary soldiers, they were forged of something more potent. Afur whom Mairek had no doubt was a blistering idiot, had faced the Seventh Legion of Binoria and lived to tell the tale. Few could have accomplished such a feat.


    "Hey." Tok said, "Why don''t you ask the Kolotian for aid?"


    "You can''t summon chaos, only live in hope that it does not find you." Mairek said. Turning his back to his body guards, stretching his legs in an attempt to put across the end of their conversation and his need for them to depart his abode.


    "Champion of the Talisi, Mairek of the weak chin and half spear, I cannot, in my right mind, watch you throw away your life in this prison." Afur wheedled. "How about you use your powers to enjoy yourself?"


    Mairek twisted to peer at the short man. "What do you mean?".


    And his question was met by a sharp grin, spreading over the faces of the men crested around him.


    xxxxxxxxx


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 Chapter 36

    Mairek had avoided leaving the confines of his room, believing it to be the surest way to limit time''s need to see him dead. He tried to tell the four men who ushered him out of the Palace in the dead of night, a grey cloak draped over him, obscuring his green silk shirt and black breeches. Hiding their intentions from prying eyes. His moccasins tap, tap, tapped as he stepped over puddles as they exited the Palace gate. Puddles. His room didn''t have a windows so it was had to tell when it rained so the sight of murky still water felt quite foreign to him.


    "So have you thought about having sex with the Princess?" Afur inquired. Stepping into the puddles without a care in the world. His black breeches wet to the ankle.


    "I have no intention of having sex with the Princess." Mairek answered.


    "You''re into men, then? Lam here¡ª"


    "Shut the fuck up Afur! I''m not gay!" Lam interjected.


    Mairek fought back a smile. "I''m not into men either."


    "You nurse a broken heart?" Tok walked beside Mairek, Afur at the front, Lam to the side and Sagal slightly askew to cover his exposed side and back. If a Flame Seer had come into Mairek''s homestead and told him that there would come a time when he''d walk with four men tasked to ensure his safety, Mairek would have laughed until his ribs hurt.


    "Once." Mairek replied, remembering Jesnah. He found he could not quite recall her features. *Was there a sharp outward tilt to the edge of her eyes? Did she snort as she laughed or was it a cackle that marked her reception to humor? Were her fingers long or short?* Time heals all wounds, as the saying went, pondering it he realized that he was free of time yet not free of its effects.


    "I was once in love too." Tok said as they followed Afur who deftly maneuvered his way down the sharp incline of steps leading to the Palace gate. "She was the daughter of a shepherd, a robust woman with a temper to match." Tok smiled, to him, time aided his memory. Maybe being ignored by time rendered the opposite effect for Mairek. "I remember the time she let me kiss her beneath a Julwer tree, her lips were soft and her breath hot."


    "I remember my first love too." Lam said. "She was the daughter of the chief village elder. A petite woman with a smile that could light up the night. I¡ª"


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    "It''s a wonderful night isn''t it? Sure there isn''t a moon in the sky and the stars are hidden behind clouds but who needs celestial guidance when we can depend on Lam''s lies to light the path?" Afur interjected.


    Mairek saw Lam''s hand moving to the pommel of his sword, strapped to his right side, then the hand clenched into a fist, unclenched and fell by his side, swaying languidly with Lam''s stride.. "Pray tell, Afur, what was your first love like?"


    Coming to a fork in the road, branching off into the city of Central Talisi, Mairek was taken aback by the sheer immensity of the capital. The houses were all made of stone, chiseled as if by the works of an architect channeling the God of creation. Closely cramped buildings allowed for narrow passageways yet several large roads pierced through the congestion of stone to allow for easy movement of carts ferrying goods and the likes. The hustle and bustle of a tide of Talisi going either which wasn''t negated by the odd hour of the night. From the rise in the ground where they stood, peering at the city, Mairek could see throngs of bodies moving about and the sound of venders and merchants reached him with the urgent worship of commerce.


    "Here is as good enough a place as any." Afur intoned, pointedly ignoring Lam''s question.


    They crested around him, the four guards. Eyes looking expectantly at him. Mairek wasn''t sure what they were asking of him and it was as if his face betrayed the thought for Sagal spoke. "Delve into yourself, look for release in any way it presents itself."


    "Release?" Mairek wondered.


    "Pleasure, beauty, ecstacy." Tok opined.


    "And fat arses." Afur added, earning a scowl from everyone.


    It was then that Mairek recalled Nielda''s words: If you can hear everything why don''t you focus on the sound that pleases you the most? If you can see everything why not focus on an image that delights your soul? Perception is not confounded on the whole, you can focus on specific aspects of it that appease you.


    Mairek closed his eyes, relaxed his shoulders and allowed himself to sink into all that existed. Time touched on everything, from the laying of an egg to its hatching and the beating of wings that came of the creature stumbling free of the egg. And Mairek placed himself between the length of time from birth to death and sought something, anything that he might derive profound meaning from.


    He heard the grunting of lovers in the far off reaches of the City. A glimpse of them through his vision enabled him to see their sweat sheathed bodies moving in tandem, he focused on what his perception had gifted him and he gleamed the demise of the pleasure they shared. A glimpse of pain, shared between the lovers as what they shared came to an end and became a memory. The future! He saw the memory of what was once shared cease to warrant any emotion as they pain ebbed to allow for cold indifference. Mairek focused on the cold indifference, the end product of the death of something that was once valued. He gripped it within himself, enlarged it, spread it over the whole City of Central Talisi and there, amidst it all he saw strands of the final moments of everything occurring at the moment. He saw deaths and friendships turned into enmity. The end was a somber sight, but he focused on it and then slowly traced his way back to the beginning until something caught his awareness, something whose beginning and end warranted the same emotion.


    There! A spark that would become a furnace and never cease in its burning. Mairek opened his eyes, the four bodyguards flinched back, no doubt his eyes were shining blue. He started running towards the City and the four bodyguards followed close behind, he''d seen something, something so profound that his very fear of a death dealt by time was for the first time, pushed to the back of his mind. As they ran, Afur laughed hard which led to the similar outburst from Sagal, a curse from Lam and Tok''s calm face broke into a savage grin.


    xxxxxxxxx


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 Chapter 37

    The tavern Mairek stepped into was by far the dingiest place in the whole of Central Talisi. Where other buildings boasted blocks of chiseled stone, crafted to show Talisi heritage, the tavern was crafted entirely of wood. Rotting, creaking wood whose color made one think of a bog. And Mairek hesitated as he took several steps into the tavern, each step answered by the creaking of the floorboards in warning of immediate collapse if he continued on his chosen path. The smell wafting through the cramped room was one of wangi, vomit, sweaty unwashed bodies and stale ale.


    The inhabitants of the tavern were no doubt the bottom barrel of the Talisi society. Hideous whores with tattered gowns long out of fashion stood perched along the wooden tavern walls in various poses aimed at ensnaring the eye of the revelers. The revelers themselves were fixed around the dozen or so tables whose painted color had faded to a dull grey, heads dipped into mugs of ale. Some had vomited and passed out on the tables, breath bubbling upon their vomit. One man had passed out on the floor of the tavern, the stench coming off him was proof that he''d soiled himself.


    The barman stood at the far end, at the counter, brown apron that was once white hang loosely over his bony frame. Mairek made his way to him and his bodyguards followed.


    "I dare say when I suggested you use your abilities to enjoy yourself, I did not have this in mind." Afur said.


    "There''s no pleasure here, or enjoyment or ecstasy." Sagal added.


    "There''s probably cock rot, brew poisoning, the runny shits and skin disease." Lam said.


    "I dare say, this is quite an odd place. Mairek." Tok said while deftly stepping over another man sprawled on the tavern floor.


    "It''s here." Mairek said as he approached the barman. "I saw the spark here."


    "Spark?" Lam asked.


    "What will you have?" The barman asked Mairek, his eyes turning to the men cresting around him.


    "What''s there to have?" Mairek asked.


    The barkeep spat into a mug of ale and started wiping it with a cloth that was just as dirty as his apron. "The cheap stuff costs a single bronze gorrent, the expensive stuff costs three bronze gorrents."


    "What would a gold vigon get me?" Mairek asked. Every head turned to him, the whores, the revelers, even those who''d passed out lifted themselves at the word ''gold vigon.''


    The barman gave a toothy grin, revealing rotting teeth the hue of his apron. "By the Gods, with a gold vigon you''ll have all the ale in the tavern, all the whores and my arse served to you on a platter." And he winked at Mairek.


    Afur shoved Lam forward. "He might pay quite a hefty fee for your arse, Mr. Barkeep Sir." Lam''s hand twitched, nearly reaching for the pommel of his sword.


    Mairek pressed on. "Is there anything of interest that will happen within this tavern?"


    "What do you mean?" The barkeep cocked a questioning brow above a pupil void of white.


    Mairek struggled to explain what he''d seen. A beginning and an end with the same intensity, same feeling of intense emotion throughout, an emotion akin to... Passion. "You know, something special."


    "Aye. I understand." The barman said with a toothy grin. He turned to the whores lining the tavern. "Hey Jemima! This here lad wants the special thing."


    Jemima, a woman with a bust half Mairek''s weight stepped free of the wall. A dress she must have been gifted as a child was cut low over her crotch and Mairek heard Afur whisper. "She''s beautiful."


    "The special treatment? That''ll cost him a silver lesos." Jemima said, a voice quite husky from wangi.


    "What is the special treatment?" Mairek ventured.


    "I will shit on you as we fuck." Jemima said.


    Sagal started laughing. "Yeah Mairek, that''s the special treatment."


    The whore moved forward. "You''re a little young though, been a while since youth was beneath me. I can do it for half the fee." Mairek swallowed and struggled not to bolt.


    Tok decidedly came to Mairek''s rescue. Turning to the barman he said. "We''ll have the good ale, five jugs please." From a porch Mairek hadn''t seen, Tok took out a silver lesos and handed it to the barman who accepted it with trembling hands as if he held something holy.


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    They were ushered to an empty table at the center of the room, far from the whores on either side who were eyeing them as vultures would dying prey. Afur settled down and took the jug placed before him by a scantily dressed waitress who had a mole the size of a rat on her left cheek.


    Afur lowered his jug of ale, beard dripping the brown liquid onto the table. Afur peered at the jug with beady eyes, contemplating. Mairek raised the ale jug to his lips, holding it with both hands and topping his head back. It tasted just as it looked, like horse piss. He struggled not to wretch lest he shame himself before the men who took easily to the drink.


    "Tok."Afur started.


    "No." Tok said.


    "But you haven''t even heard¡ª"


    "I said no."


    "She''s the one, Tok, would you rob me of the pleasure of an eternity of love?"


    "I''m not paying to get you shat on by a whore."


    Afur leaned back in his rickety chair, a look of disappointment etched on his face. Mairek looked over at Lam and found his jug half empty, he did not recall seeing him drink. He took several gulps of the ale so as not to be outdone. That''s when he felt the warm fuzz spread over him. Everything started moving so slow and there was a sheen of light blue color wrapped over everything.


    "Mairek," Lam started, swirling the ale in the jug. "Why did you bring us here?"


    "I''ve come here because time dictates there would be an event." Mairek answered.


    "What''s the event?"


    "I don''t know."


    They each took another mouthful from the jugs of ale. Mairek looked fascinated as his eyes scanned the room, the blue concentric webs spreading over everything felt real. He reached out and touched the one spread over the table and was ensnared by the tale of time told. He found himself lost in the design of the table, seeing the shoot develop into a tree that would be cut for the wood to fashion the table. Seeing the carpenter who''d shaped the wood, from his birth until the moment when he set his hands on the table, putting hammer to nail. Observing the mining of the iron used to fashion the nails on the table¡ª


    With difficulty, he withdrew his hand from the strand of blue upon the table. To reach for it with intent would be to summon the origin and conclusion of time, an endless spiral that might have him losing his mind, trapped in an endless continuation of moments. But to touch the threads with no intent resulted in nothing.


    "Gods, it''s like he is in love with it." Lam said. Mairek raised his head and found everyone at the table staring at him.


    "You just wish he''d touch you like that, don''t you Lam?" Afur said while pointing at Lam. Before Lam answered a young man with a cleanly shaved face and long white hair falling to his shoulders placed himself on the edge of the table, close to Lam, looking down at him as an urchin would a bit of cake.


    "I hear your interests lie the other way." The young lad started in a voice like pouring honey. "For ten bronze gorrents I can take you to *Tabrimas.*" He crossed his legs, enclosed in tight cream breeches with holes at the thighs. "Come on sssssugar." He dragged the letter with need.


    "I respect you, sir, and your sexual preference. But I am not gay, never have been gay, never will be... " Mairek turned his head from Lam and his detailed explanation about how there''s been a terrible misunderstanding. He observed the solitary wooden door they''d crossed to enter the Gods forsaken tavern. If what was to happen would occur, then it''s through that door that convergence would occur.


    How he wished the moment would come. The warmth from the drink was oddly pleasant, he''d been drunk before from his father''s cask of fermented brew, but back then all he''d gotten from the experience was a thorough beating that soiled whatever feeling inebriation brought.


    How he wished the moment would occur. He wished he could spur time into action, for inaction threatened to fling him into boredom. I wish I could raise a hand and snap my fingers to bend time to my will. And he raised his hand, middle finger to thumb, observed the door into the tavern. And snapped.


    In the same instant a woman stepped in, dressed in baggy clothes akin to that of a man. A sight quite unfamiliar in Talisi where the line between the genders was quite clearly drawn. The blue sheen spread over everything was brilliant upon her, dazzling, iridescent. It touched on her brown coat, two sizes too large for her and Mairek saw that the original color of the cloth was beige. Her breeches were worn, torn at the knee revealing a patch of dark skin. Necklaces fashioned from wood and marked with runes on each bead dangled from her neck and collected over her moderate bust above a wine stained shirt. Her fingers had wooden rings tied to them and her hair, white as snow, framed her face in curly strands that would make a noble woman envious.


    But her face, heart shaped. Eyes the color of a field of grass beneath the sunlight. A pristine nose, not too sharp, not too flat. Lips that would have passed as small but their shape, as if curved by a master craftsman, rendered small the last thing one thought of as you observed her mouth.


    She walked like a lad who''d seen several wars, a bounce in her step. A lazy swing of the arm that spoke of confidence. When those within the tavern noticed her arrival, they lifted themselves free of their drunken haze, the whores pointed at her with smiles on their faces. The men raised their mugs and jugs of ale and the same word was repeated over and over. "Saive."


    Mairek''s eyes stayed trained on her, watching as she passed each table. Slapping backs and patting shoulders. Exchanging a joke or two and giving a lilting laugh that the revelers reveled in. It was her, he had no doubt, she was the reason why he was here. But why?


    Mairek raised his hand, and snapped his fingers once more. She abruptly turned to him, looked directly at him as if the sound of the snap was a tag on her puppet strings. She made her way towards him, deftly maneuvering her way through the passed out men on the ground and the closely pressed tables. She came to a stop beside him, looked down at him. Mairek noticed a scar running down one side of her cheek, faded with time. He saw that her lip had been recently split, only now fully mended. The end of her hair on one side was stained brown, as if it had never seen a wash in three moons.


    "You have a face only a mother could love." Saive said and took a hold of the jug in Mairek''s hand. She lifted it to her mouth and drunk like a sailor, emptying it all and as she drunk those in the tavern cheered. She brought down the jug hard upon the table, rewarded Mairek with a wink and walked with a sure stride towards the barman.


    "You''re just going to allow her to take your drink like that?" Afur spoke, a slight slur to his words. "She must pay for it! Mairek, if not with money then with oral gratification."


    "Hush, Afur, this might be the moment Mairek was waiting for." Tok said, earning a laugh from the other bodyguards.


    Mairek observed as the woman received several bronze gorrents from the barman, she rewarded him with a toothy smile and made her way to the nearest table which she expertly climbed on top of. She then raised her hands for silence and it was given. Turning her head to survey her merry party, she spoke, voice carrying out into each corner of the room, touching the ceiling rafters and drawing Mairek in deeper than he thought possible.


    "You all know me!" She called out.


    "I don''t!" Afur called back.


    "My name is Saive, out in these streets, I''m known as the Siren." She answered, pointedly facing Mairek''s table.


    "My name is Afur, out in these streets they call me Afur, but my Ma'' used to call me Piggy on account of the fact that I was born in a pigsty."


    "Best shut the fuck up Piggy before the butcher come calling." Saive said and was answered by cheers and laughter. Seeing Afur''s silence, she continued. "This here is a song I came up with last night as this guy called Tutsie was eating me out from behind." The whores cheered. "Tutsie got a cock the size of a shrimp and a tongue the size of a Telinete rhino''s." Laughter from the drunks. "I hope you like it, and if you don''t?"


    "Tip the Siren a drink until she can sing no more!" They all answered in unison.


    And then she started singing, and the spark lit before Mairek''s eyes and the blue sheen over everything... Exploded!


    xxxxxxxx


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 Chapter 38

    Fading in, fading out, on the edge of tranquility.


    Every inch, of your soul, is worth more than all the gold vigons


    I''ll touch you as a peasant touches their dreams, languidly with ease.


    For every moment beside you, is a moment spent free of time.


    As Saive sang, Mairek found himself sinking into the depths of his abilities.  Her words held meaning but the symphony captured him and stirred him away from the lyrics, taking him to a place he''d never known before.


    The song was a gateway and through it he found that which he never thought existed. There, between moments he was able to gleam something beyond meaning. There was grief, there was frustration, rage and then beyond it was desire, unbridled, burning like a furnace. And then there was something more...


    There''s a glade by the hills amidst the trees.


    A touch of light dappling upon all the seas.


    A blotch of darkness threatens to render all else to naught.


    But as long as we fade, in and out, on the edge of tranquility.


    I fear nothing but losing you beside me.


    Love... Mairek witnessed love. Beckoning him forth, and the blue around that had transformed into a covalence of various hues that were anything but blue, turned purple, then a pulsing pink light spread out, each shine like the beating of a heart.


    Several strands of purple rope shot out from Mairek, traveling the length of the distance between him and the singer to tie around the Siren. Then a pink light pulsed from Mairek''s end to Saive. And suddenly, he realized, he''d never seen anything as beautiful as the woman and her voice whose melody was otherworldly.


    Mairek assumed his reaction to be drink induced, a side effect of inebriation. Yet the feeling it warranted felt valid, it felt so right, and Mairek realized that he might abandon sobriety to be where he was now, for all eternity. Eternity!


    Love withers and dies, this sun will fall from the sky.


    Eternity is a whispered promise, undeserving of those that think themselves high.


    Take my hand, take my hand, fade in and out on the edge of tranquility.


    Let me show you the depths, let us drown in darkness.


    And as Saive motioned with her hand, stretching it in his direction. Her mouth wide, her bottom jaw trembling as she accentuated the high notes. Mairek raised his own hand towards her, without choice, without thought. He did as his heart willed of him, a heart he had long since thought of as dead, cold. As it lurched in his chest, he realized how wrong he''d been. How alive he was. Because of her!


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    Because of me, there''s a storm coming.


    Because of me, a tide that will swallow the realm.


    But as long as we fade in and out, on the edge of paradise.


    We won''t die, we won''t drown, but we''ll sure get wet.


    Her words were a promise, her voice a prophesy, her eyes that Mairek realized were glued to him, were that of an oracle''s.


    Time, shifting, fading, becoming, twisting, turning, straightening. Time in its unmatched intensity, its storm of moments and walls of infinity. Its power, both tested and untested, suddenly looked so meager to Mairek. The fear he held of death dealt by time suddenly became folly. Here, before him, was something that negated all he thought he knew, all he believed he knew.


    "She''s good." Tok said. "Really good." But Mairek could only nod.


    "She sends my mind back, back to my first love... To her." Lam said.


    "I''d rather you shut up than ruin this moment with your lies, Lam." Afur said. But this time Lam neither retorted, neither did his hand twitch towards his sword. He just sat there, arms crossed over the table. Eyes on Saive, as they all were.


    Sagal sobbed. Afur turned to him. "Sorry, something got into my eye." He said as he rubbed at his eyes with his fingers. Mairek saw all this yet his eyes remained on Saive, the Siren. His mind was split and each fragment held a pair of eyes. He saw everything, he experienced everything and all of it was blanketed under the weight of the Siren''s call.


    "You''re thinking about your ex wife huh?" Afur asked.


    "My fucking ex wife." Sagal agreed.


    Break free of her.  Nielda whispered in his mind, with urgency, with a warning.


    "I can''t." Mairek whispered.


    She''ll take you to her domain, and you shall be forced to bargain.


    "I can''t." Mairek insisted, not knowing whose domain Nielda spoke of.


    The blade''s point is sharp, I can''t dance free of its cut.


    The spear''s length is long, cut it in half and Binoria dies.


    I can''t be, I can''t fight this, but I know the blade and the spear,


    They stand no chance so long as you take my hand.


    And let us fade, in and out of the edge of tranquility.


    Tranquility... Mairek had never pondered the word before, he allowed himself to do so, using her voice to guide his every step towards deriving its meaning. And as he focused, on her voice, on her. The purple ropes traveling the length between them, glowed with numerous pink lights, all flowing one way from Mairek to Saive.


    The Siren stretched her hand.


    Take my hand,


    Take my hand,


    Take my hand,


    As we fade in and out,


    Fade in and out,


    On the edge of tranquility.


    Mairek found himself exiting his chair, standing, his legs wobbling. He took one step towards Saive. There, where she stood on the table, hand stretched out in his direction. The ropes'' purple hue brightened, the pink lights became blinding. Mairek took a step towards her, felt his heart lurch in his chest. He''d faced an army of Binorians, stood before swords and arrows. Never flinching, never fearing. His heart did not beat then as it was doing now.


    He recalled the spark, becoming a furnace whose flame never ceased. And as he approached her where she sang, hand outstretched, his own hand outstretched. He felt heat, as if he was walking into the furnace, getting closer. Closer.


    He knew all eyes were on him, he saw the confusion on Saive''s face as he neared. Yet her voice did not falter once, she did not fumble a single note, neither did she lower her hand. His bodyguards were on their feet, moving in tandem with him yet several paces back as if unsure what to do.


    "What the fuck is he doing?" A whore muttered.


    "The Siren''s got him." Another answered.


    "Wait, is he crying?"


    Tears were streaming down his face. He was as oblivious to them as the sun is to the acts of man. He was closer to her now, he could smell her sweat, her fingers were outstretched, so were his, tips inches apart. He took another step and touched her.


    Time''s flow stopped.


    The tavern, with its drunks and whores and ale. All disappeared.


    Magenta clouds, pink and purple surrounded him, all over, the woman before him vanished and in her place was someone else, a woman still but not one you could brand as mortal.


    "Mairek." She spoke, pink mists trailing down her naked voluptuous body, her eyes a brilliant pink hue. "I am Nyawe, the Goddess of Love, welcome to my domain."


    xxxxxxxxx


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 Chapter 39

    Mairek squeezed his eyes shut and opened them, hoping to find Saive before him and not the woman whose mere presence stirred his loins and made his knees weak. A horrid thing provided he was naked within her domain. Beautiful was too weak a word to describe Nyawe, for beauty was fixed yet her features kept on shifting, her face a multitude of separate features all sharing an uncanny symmetry. Eyes became narrow then wide, the space between them became stretched then equidistant, her lips became full then thin then full again. Her nose tittered on bulbous then moderate then small. Her skin was dark then light then brown... Then... Green?


    Nyawe gathered the magenta mist to her body, as if shielding herself from Mairek''s eyes. "Apologies, Champion of Nielda, I understand the effect I have on mortals." Her voice, Mairek realized, held the same tinge he''d gleamed from Saive''s melody.


    "Why am I here?" Mairek asked. Fear creeping up his spine as the thought of incarceration availed itself.


    As if sensing his thoughts, the Goddess answered. "You''re free to leave, whenever you feel like it."


    "Good," Mairek said. "I would like to leave now." He was already tethered to a crafty, ignorant God, adding one more who seemed just as sly didn''t sound like a good idea in the least.


    "Okay," Her voice lost the vibrance lacing each word, retreating to sound natural but still unable to shake off the beauty of each utterance. "You may depart but you will know pain."


    "Pain?" Like a fish biting on the hook, he felt himself being reeled in.


    "Yes," She continued. "Pain!" Grief suddenly blanketed him, the pain of loss threatened to tear his mind apart, crippling his will, rendering all that he knew to be far less than what he surmised it to be. His sight that could gleam beauty at a mere glance witnessed nothing but dull grey colors. His tongue that could taste the full extent of succulence with each bite suddenly tasted only ash. His ears that could derive the melody from the most meh of voices heard only the scratching of a fork upon a tin can. He found himself falling on his knees, unable to act he trembled, fingers scratching at the soft purple ground. Where was this pain coming from? What was its source? If he could stem it, he could be free.


    "The pain comes from her death." Nyawe said, and as she spoke he saw Saive, dead in an alley, stab wounds all over her midriff. Then he saw her again, flattened beneath a fallen cart, legs bending at an awkward angle. Then he saw her sprawled beneath a building, a pool of blood spread out around her. He saw a sword being driven into her, saw a horse trample her, saw her drown, burnt alive, poisoned¡ª


    "Stop, please." Mairek begged. "Make it stop." For each death he was made witness to, the pain within him doubled, then tripped. Growing in intensity and threatening insanity. He would lose his mind, he knew, he would lose it all to grief as Ishar had lost his to chaos.


    Abruptly, the revelations of Saive''s death ceased and he was free to take a trembling breath with a shallow exhale.


    "The woman you have witnessed, is someone you would never have taken note of if it wasn''t for your perception of time." Nyawe continued. "She is, how do we put it? A mortal who exists as an entity separate from the perception of mortal men. But you, champion of Nielda, were able to glimpse her through time and this may occur only once for its price is too high to be paid twice."


    "I don''t understand." Mairek muttered.


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    "Get the fuck away from her, Mairek!" A male voice, deep and quite familiar.  Mairek turned his head to see Rehny step up beside him. Naked as he was. Pink hair floating about his head. "What did you do to him, Nyawe?"


    Nyawe''s face gave a startled expression as if she could not believe what she was being accused of. "Me? Why Rehny, I''ve done nothing to him!"


    "What is he doing here then?" Rehny asked. "Naked and kneeling before you!"


    "Well, you do know that love cannot be hidden, same translates to my domain, a place without shame. To appear here is to be free of one''s need to hide. Hence the nakedness."


    "Send him away." Rehny ordered.


    "I can''t say I like your tone of voice, Rehny."


    "What you like matters not to me. Send him away!"


    "Fine." Nyawe said. " Good luck Mairek, I hope you shall be able to stomach the pain."


    "WAIT!" Mairek cried out just as the Goddess was about to wave her hand. Rehny turned to Mairek, confused. "She''s shown me grief, and loss. I''m not here because of her, but due to my own actions."


    "What have you done?" Rehny inquired, lowering himself then clutching Mairek by the shoulders and raising him off the ground.


    "I''ve fallen in love, Rehny, I don''t know how."


    "It''s actually ''fallen into a trap.''" Nyawe emphasized.


    "Expound." Rehny said.


    "Fine." Nyawe moved as she spoke, Mairek struggled to tear his eyes away from her curves, her ample behind hidden by the mists but whose silhouette was still quite visible. "Mairek, delved into time, seeking a profound moment that would enable him to experience something out of the ordinary. Time being a crafty aspect of Nielda, delivered what Mairek wanted. Showing him a moment that would change his life for good, and Mairek, being the greedy little puppet of his God, pounced on the moment."


    Mairek felt his body tremble. Time... Time was his enemy. Jailed him at first, forcing him to conform to a certain movement which he denied and which resulted in Time seeking to kill him. Then upon failing to kill him, Time sought to ignore him with the occasional prod to see whether he could be annihilated. He was a fool to think that Time would relent at that. A trap. Turns out Time was as crafty as Nyawe presumed Nielda to be.


    "So you see," Nyawe continued. "Mairek unknowingly used Time to find love, and Time answered, gifting Mairek the exact moment his soul would tether to that of another. But the thing about love, as you well know Rehny, is that it is shared."


    "Oh no." Rehny whispered.


    "Mairek is at war, every second of every day is spent facing an enemy that is all around him. And upon loving another, the war shall encompass one more. As time strives to deliver the killing blow to Mairek, so too shall it do the same to Saive." Nyawe continued.


    "But..." Mairek could form no word beyond that. He struggled to find something, anything to say.


    Rehny''s eyes glowed a brilliant pink. "I see the ropes of love, tethered to the two of them."


    "Quite numerous aren''t they?" Nyawe asked.


    Rehny pointedly ignored her. "The pink light flows one way, from Mairek to the woman. She does not love him, the love isn''t shared. She is safe as long as he stays clear of her."


    Nyawe gave a hearty laugh. "Roast a duck and place it before a starving man, tell him not to eat it and leave him alone with it. Will he obey?"


    Rehny turned to Mairek. "Do not make a deal with Nyawe, it will cost you as it has cost me. She has plans within plans, she works in secret, nudging and pulling, twisting everything to fit her will. You are here not because of your actions but because of what she desires of you." Rehny gripped either of Mairek''s shoulders, hard. "You must leave... Saive? Alone.. You must stay clear of her, avoid her, get her out of your mind and your life! If the love becomes shared she will die."


    "Or this might happen." And Nyawe waved a hand and Mairek saw Love and Time forge into one. Then his vision widened, and the future in relation to both Love and Time availed itself. He saw himself with Saive, perched on a hill, overlooking an army of men in green armor who numbered in the hundreds of thousands. Mairek and Saive raised their right hands in unison and the army answered, raising half spears to the sky. Mairek saw his hand in her curly white hair, massaging her scalp as she sung. He saw her straddle him, shifting either which way in a dark room, pleasure, desire and love warred within him. He saw her lean on him, overlooking a field of Galiu meal, the sun touching them, something in the orange rays bore witness to the joy he felt. He saw her heavy with child, his child, his ear pressed to her abdomen. Listening to the baby kick... He saw¡ª


    "I cannot, Rehny, I cannot." Mairek whispered. "She is..." The word came easily to him. "Everything!"


    "Don''t be a dolt," Rehny retorted. "You barely know her!"


    "I know her." And he found that he believed this. He knew her as one would know a friend from birth. He knew her as a bard knows the sound of his tunes. He turned to the Goddess, saw the coy smile spread across her face, that smile checked him a moment before he spoke. "What can I do? How can you help? How can you save her?"


    "A bargain must be struck." Nyawe said. "I will hide love away from time but this will cost you."


    "I will pay the price."


    Rehny groaned. "You know not what you''re doing."


    And Mairek found himself agreeing and not caring.


    xxxxxxxxx


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 Chapter 40

    A sharp slap and Mairek came to, blinking rapidly, vision a blur slowly redefining to reveal Afur hovering above him. Bulbous nose inches away from his face. The bodyguard leaned down and placed his lips on Mairek''s mouth, pushing air from his lungs into Mairek who struggled to shove him off.


    "He is awake Afur! Gods damn it he is awake!" Lam said, standing behind Afur.


    Afur pulled back and peered down into Mairek''s eyes, he shook his head from side to side then lowered his mouth onto Mairek once more. Lam and Sagal had to pull Afur off Mairek and the short soldier fought them and lost.


    Tok gripped Mairek by the arm and raised him off the ground. Mairek rose, turning to find the whole tavern crowded around him. The whores gave him worried, curious glances but the revelers had their eyes on Tok and the porch of coins strapped to his side. "Are you okay?" Tok asked.


    "What happened?" Mairek spoke, finding his voice a dry croak. He coughed and spoke again. "What happened?"


    "Well," Sagal said. "The lady was singing then you rose out of your chair and staggered to her with your hand raised before you, then you touched her and the both of you collapsed."


    Mairek suddenly remembered Saive. He turned his head, peering at the crowd around him, struggling to spot her features. He saw her then, at the far end of the tavern, perched on a table. A crowd of her own partially obscuring her from sight. She was smiling, jug of ale in hand. Tilting it and emptying its contents before snorting with laughter at something one of the whores around her said. For a brief moment, their eyes met and he felt as if he was standing before a Telinete Rhino preparing to charge. She looked away then, as indifferent to him as the weather is to the prayers of a farmer.


    "She passed out too?" Mairek asked Tok.


    The tall man answered with nod. "But she rose before you, started screaming something along the lines of, ''Tip the siren a drink until she can sing no more! You don''t freaking hit her!'' She''s a raving lunatic to be honest, it was her belief that you struck her senseless and put an end to her song. The whole tavern was set on lynching you for it. I had to pay a hefty fee to ease their rage."


    Mairek nodded. Understanding. Saive wasn''t there, in the domain of the Goddess of Love, she did not know the deal he''d struck neither did he pretend to know of it himself. Something was different, the clarity with which he''d observed things, the sheen of blue and the purple ropes with pink lights were all gone. No. Not gone, but hidden. There was a separation in the will of time and love, it was as if time was unaware of Saive in relation to Mairek and he found with all the powers of his perception, he could not perceive her as he did everything else.


    "I must speak to her." Mairek said. Taking a step towards Saive but Tok held him back.


    "Is she what you were expecting? The moment you ran for?" Mairek nodded. "What then is your aim here?"


    "I do not know."


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    "What do you wish to say to her?" Tok pressed.


    "I do not know."


    "Don''t you think it wise to step away from her, let her be, abandon all that you''ve deduced concerning her?" Mairek did find it wise. If he could just walk away, he''d be free of the game being played between two deities. He''d be able to go back to his solitary room, to keep up his solitary vigil, free of any obligation or expectation. Yet, he found he did not desire such a fate, without her there was nothing. He''d find more solace walking off a cliff than being without her.


    He thought he knew what love was when he''d met Jesnah, the woman whose features he could not recall regardless of how hard he tried. Now, looking over at Saive, he saw the folly in his belief regarding what love was. Her every movement was song, when she moved he was moved. Her motion under his perception could not be defined by all that he saw. There was more, so much more. And a word coalesced within him, bubbling to the brim of his conscience. Unforgettable.


    "I love her." Mairek declared to Tok and he found no truer words have ever left his lips. Tok flinched as if the word was a sword''s lunge. Then he let go of Mairek and nodded his assent.


    Mairek returned the nod and slowly made his way towards Saive, stepping through the crowd. Like a fish swimming against the tide he edged closer to her. Eyes resting on her. His heart lurching in his chest, threatening to break free of his ribcage and into her palm where he knew it belonged.


    She saw him, looked away, turned a glance to him, saw him still coming and turned fully to face him. She raised the jug to her lips, half full of ale and started draining it. When he came to a stop before her, she lowered an empty jug. She let out a very unlady like burp and tapped her belly with wooden ring studded fingers. "Well that was almost worth the abuse I''ve endured to get the drink." Saive said, eyes resting on Mairek with the lazy gleam common to drunks.


    Mairek mastered his voice, owning it under the mantra that he was after all the Champion of the Talisi, a mere woman should not deter his resolve. " Forgive me," His voice came out as anything but mastered. He sounded like an infant girl. He cleared his throat and tried again. "Forgive me."


    Saive arched a brow. "Forgive you? For assaulting me? Me? The Siren!" Those around her muttered their outrage, as if forgiveness wasn''t deserving of one who''d assaulted The Siren. As if Mairek''s only hope for forgiveness came at the cost of his life.


    Mairek wanted to point out that he hadn''t assaulted her, that he simply touched her and it flung him into a domain he did not think existed. And that what resulted of the touch was purely divine, something the mortal mind could only translate as an assault when it was the furthest thing. A domain forged of what he felt for her. But words, he realized, would do little to quench the fiery hatred dancing underneath the woman''s eyes. But words were all he could offer. "I am sorry, Tiyayo."


    Tiyayo? The word was foreign to his tongue, to his mind. He did not know from whence it came from or why he''d said it. But he knew that it held meaning, profound meaning judging from the way hatred receded from her features to allow for shock.


    "What did you just call me?" Saive asked. The temporary shock giving way to rage once more.


    Mairek opened his mouth to speak but found a presence beside him taking over. "Forgive the Champion of the Talisi, Saive." Tok intoned. Gasps followed his words, all around attention shifted to Mairek and whispers of ''Champion'' sounded throughout the tavern. "He channels a God, what all of us see doesn''t appear so to him. He was moved by your song, moved to the point where the blessing of a God heightened through his every action and resulted in your assault that I have paid for, handsomely." Tok smiled. Mairek wondered whether it was wise of the bodyguard to disclose such details. But Saive''s rage gave way to curiosity and he found the soft pout of her lip as she regarded him to be extremely adorable and the shift of emotions so clearly defined on her face to be as beautiful as the Goddess Nyawe was.


    "Champion is he?" Saive asked. "I want nothing to do with the powers ruling Talisi nor its politics. You''re forgiven, now leave me alone." She turned to those around her, seeking to continue conversation and Mairek felt a pang of pain.


    Tok as if having seen Mairek''s expression, pressed on. "The Champion of the Talisi would like you to perform at the palace, for the pleasure of King Mogich. On the second day from now." Mairek raised his brows at that. "For a fee of, a hundred gold vigons?"


    Three whores collapsed. The barman dropped a mug of ale he was in the process of passing. Saive''s mouth hang open, small white teeth flashing.


    "Yes." Mairek took over from Tok. "Do we have a deal?" And he held out his outstretched hand. Not knowing how he was going to get a hundred gold vigons or how he was going to get the King to play along to Tok''s suggestion. Saive lifted her own hand and pressed her palm to Mairek''s and the feeling he felt was one he never thought existed.


    "Yes." She spoke as their hands lingered in a soft grip. "We have a deal."


    xxxxxxxxx


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 Chapter 41

    Edda coughed, felt the acrid taste of bile in her mouth, and water, lots of salt water. She raised herself, the weight of her armor a surprise to her, and wretched her guts out on a carpet. She stared at the ground, puzzled, she peered about the room. The last thing she recalled was fear, fear of death. There had been danger and now she woke in a room with walls fashioned from coral stone. The carpet was embroidered with a pattern of what must have been a leviathan if it wasn''t for her vomit rendering it otherwise. There was a table with stew on it, a jug of a water and a roll of bread. She lurched for it, collapsed on the ground between the bed and the table. Edda felt very weak, but the hunger was stronger. She crawled to the food and water, took a long drink straight from the jug then began eating in a fashion unbecoming of a Knight.


    In a moment, the bowl was empty of fish broth and she chewed the last crumbs of the bread. That''s when she raised her eyes to the door and found Master Kissit framed within it beside a woman in a robe the color of dry leaves. The woman was of the same age as Master Kissit, of the same build too, spindly muscle stretching over hard bone. Face all sharp angles and void of expression with wrinkles that did not draw the eye.


    "Yeap, she ate the heavily salted food." The old woman said, her voice one of mild amusement.


    "She didn''t even notice it. It should have been the first thing she noticed." Master Kissit said.


    Edda wondered what they were talking about. "Are you two siblings?" She didn''t know why she asked it, there was such an uncanny similarity between the two.


    The woman laughed. "Kissy isn''t my brother, silly!" She waved a hand. Then her face turned serious. "He''s my sexual partner." Edda cocked a brow.


    "What?" Kissit retorted. "You thought I was a virgin?"


    "Yeah." Edda said. Her voice came out rich, and she noticed she wasn''t tired anymore. Edda shifted her weight, raised her arms. She found the armor she was still in weighed just as much as Master Kissit''s blue robes. She found it odd, the fatigue had vanished.


    "You feel strong?" The woman asked. And Edda nodded. The woman turned to Master Kissit and gave him a look that said, ''I told you so.''


    "This proves nothing." Master Kissit said. "She might have collapsed due to some deficiency whose remedy is salt."


    "All that salt we put in the stew, she ate it all without noticing and her strength returned. Let''s even discard that point. You said it yourself, Kissy, she drowned on dry land. Water emerging from the crown of her head. She wears the crown of Alietsi, Kissy, you know the old religion as well as anyone our age." The woman turned to Edda, an expression of awe mingled with pride on her face. "She is the one, Kissy, the Goddess is awake. The Depth is stirring, she must touch the sea, she must claim the Leviathans! Set us free of this prison of the Leviathan belt. So we can venture far, go to other lands. Away from war, a place we can build and thrive."


    "You are one superstitious woman, Daduts." Kissy said.


    Daduts rolled her eyes, then raised her hands before her face. "I had a choice between Master Fijit and you, and I made the dumbest choice!"


    "I have twice the penis length Fijit has and you know it. Don''t act like your choice in a partner had anything to do with my personality or character, you made your choice based on anatomy." Master Kissit answered.


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    "You said it yourself!" Daduts screeched. "She lifted a horse and flung it at someone! Lifted a horse! Kissit, a horse!"


    "I didn''t see her lift anything, I only saw a man get hit by a flying horse."


    Daduts crossed her arms beneath her chest and glared at Kissit. "Okay, explain it, scientifically, how a flying horse came to be."


    "I''ve thought about it." Kissit started, hand absently scratching the sandy beard on his chin. "And I think it might have been mass hysteria."


    "What?"


    "We were facing the Binorians and I''d already killed one of them, in quite a superb manner mind you, the other Binorians must have seen how adept I am at combat and the thought of death made them hallucinate. And me facing the same threat of death, hallucinated exactly the same thing as the Binorians had."


    "What the fuck?"


    "It makes sense if you think about it, odds are low but the probability of hallucinating the same thing is possible. Compared to the odds of a woman lifting a horse by the leg and flinging it at someone."


    "What about the water coming out of her head? Making her drown?"


    "It must be a disease of some sort. You know how diseases are, they just come out of nowhere. Speaking of which, avoid contact with her." And Kissit pointed at Edda. "It might be contagious and I''m too old to go looking for another sexual partner. Not after all the sex we''ve had, imagine having to start afresh? Learning someone''s sexual preferences anew and them learning yours! I won''t die from a blade but the mere thought of starting afresh with someone new makes me want to run into one."


    "You have an odd way of saying you love me." Daduts said with a silly grin and twitchy nose. Then her expression changed, it was quite impressive how she shifted her features so quickly. She put on a serious air, tilted her neck back and spoke. "What is the mission you''ve been given?"


    "It wasn''t a mission, Daduts. It is a punishment. The Council is punishing me for something. I''ve been on a lot of missions, kill this one, kill that one, save this one, etcetera. But never before has a mission been, ''Go to the sea and awaken a sleeping Goddess.'' Do you understand how absurd such a mission is? It''s like telling me, ''You see that sun? Your mission is to kill the sun.'' What kind of nonsense is this? When they told me the mission, I wept, Daduts, I wept and cursed the day I was born a Remu."


    Daduts took a step closer to Kissit. "The Kings of Binorian, you doubted their power too. How many times did you see them in the wars? How many times did you fail to bring one down?"


    Master Kissit broke eye contact with Daduts. Not facing Edda either, he faced the ground. "Their ability makes sense, to see Order, to move according to what it dictates until it serves you in turn. The Kings of Binoria fought without tiring, fast and strong, their every movement one of grace and calculation." Then Kissit lifted his eyes to Edda. "They were strong enough to punch a hole through armor, but not to lift a horse, Daduts." He turned to his lover. "Not to lift a horse."


    Edda maintained her silence, she''d learnt from the Masters the value of listening other than speaking.


    "Alietsi," Daduts said. "Is the Goddess of Depth. You said she came to Edda as a child? She is the Patron of the Innocent. Depth, Kissit! He Binorian Kings were strong, add depth to Order, what will happen to the strength? It will increase in intensity." Daduts motioned at Edda. "Every aspect has its ultimate degree, the furthest one could arrive at. This young woman can touch the Depths of Order, of Time, of..." She hesitated "Chaos, Madness."


    "Depth of Madness. Huh." Edda said. "Well, thank you for the food." Edda stood up. "I''m going back to the Remu court and reporting that our mission failed. Then we''ll both be on our separate ways, me a Knight, you a Master. Nothing more nothing less."


    "You have to touch the sea." Daduts said.


    Edda recalled the feeling of drowning, the inability to breath. She took in a deep breath just then, to make sure she wasn''t under water. "No thank you. Now, where''s my sword?"


    "You have to touch the sea." Daduts repeated.


    "I want nothing to do with the fucking sea!" She screamed the last words but her audience reacted as if she''d shouted them at the wall. "I don''t want anything to do with Gods. Or depth. Or whatever! I don''t want any part of this! I don''t! If I have Alietsi''s attention, I''ll ignore her until she chooses someone else."


    "To give in to rage is unbecoming of a Knight of the Remu court." Master Kissit said.


    "Yeah sure." Edda turned, looking for her scabbard.


    "What if instead of going back and lying about your mission, you can actually fulfill it?" Daduts asked.


    "What do you mean?" Edda turned to the woman.


    "Well you can contact the Goddess Alietsi and see what her will is, then you can report to the Remu Court. Isn''t it your duty to fulfill the tasks allotted to you by the ruling Remu faction?" Dadut''s casual way of pointing out the oath Edda took as a Knight did not deter Edda''s resolve.


    "If contacting Alietsi involves touching the sea, then I''m not doing it." Edda said.


    "It does not."


    "How then?"


    "Through a Salt Seer."


    Edda laughed. "Let me guess, a Salt Seer who resides somewhere out at sea?"


    "No, a Salt Seer whose standing before you, in fact." Daduts said with a smile.


    xxxxxxxxx


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 Chapter 42

    Stripped of her armor, Edda felt extremely light. She wondered whether she could jump thrice a man''s height, she thought she could. The brown colored breeches and white shirt two sizes too large for her made her feel as she did the night she snuck into Binoria with Ingah. She''d worn the same colored attire then.


    Daduts had built a fire on top of a sandy hill several leagues from her coral stone abode. Edda had refused to follow the two sexual partners when she''d realized the direction she was walking to was towards the sea, if she squinted towards the North, she could see the white outcrop of abodes that marked the outskirts of the City beside the sea. The sea. Edda could hear it, hear the waves lapping against the shore, she could smell it. It called to her, offering a promise on every crest of a wave. It terrified her.


    Daduts had assured Edda that they weren''t going to the sea, they only needed to be where they could see it for the ritual to have full effect. Edda did not know what the ritual entailed but everyone in Remu knew of Salt Seers. As there were Flame Seers and Entrail Seers, so too were there Salt Seers but only amongst the Remu. The techniques of the Seers varied but their purpose was the same, to peer past the fabric of time to glimpse meaning from beyond.


    Edda watched from where she sat as the flames licked at the tinder and spread, growing and staining the night with an orange glow. The sea was a dark blotch within the horizon whose visibility was aided only by a crescent moon and a night full of stars.


    Master Kissit stood several paces away from Edda, hands clenched behind his back as he used to do when waiting for the Acolytes to settle down so the lesson could begin. He quite clearly avoided Edda''s gaze, choosing instead to rest his eyes on the flames with an occasional glance in Daduts'' direction where the old woman bent over a leather bag filled with what Edda presumed to be salt and an assortment of odd things she couldn''t quite define and didn''t seek to inquire on.


    "Aaaah." Daduts started as she rose with a hand full of salt and a knife in the other hand. "It''s a beautiful night, don''t you agree Kissy?" An answering grunt was Master Kissit''s only reply. "What does the night remind you of?" Daduts pressed further.


    "Frogs." Kissit answered and Daduts''s shoulders slumped. Some salt slipped from her grasp and trickled to the ground.


    "Frogs?"


    "Yes. Frogs."


    "The ugly little green things?"


    "Some of them aren''t green. But ugly, yes."


    "So the night doesn''t remind you of anything else besides frogs?"


    "Should the night remind me of anything else beside frogs?" And Master Kissit cocked a brow with the question.


    Daduts stared at her lover for a span of moments before eventually turning to Edda. The sneer her lips held gave way to a bright smile that also relinquished control to a thin press of the lips. "Edda, as you can see the sea is far off. So do not worry about us clobbering you in the head and taking you there."


    "I doubt you''ll succeed even if you tried." Edda said. And for once she believed herself. In terms of combat, she was adept in some of the Forms but not lethally so. She had been bested after all by the Queen of Binoria when she''d been a Princess. A Spy''s means of overcoming adversity stemmed from the mind, not the limbs. That being said, she never thought she could best Kissit at combat. He did teach the craft after all, but here, now, with what she felt coursing through her, like a returning tide threatening to submerge her, she knew she could face him and win. Master Kissit, however, did not share the same view.


    "You''re overconfident, girl." Master Kissit said. "I am a match for a Vigon and¡ª"


    "Frogs, seriously?" Daduts interrupted while turning to Kissit. "Frogs of all things?"


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    Master Kissit raised a palm to his face and rubbed at his brow. "Is there something specific I am suppose to remember?"


    Daduts turned back to Edda, with quick strides she brought herself before the Knight. "I need some blood." Daduts said while brandishing her knife before Edda.


    Edda hesitated for a moment before offering up her palm to Daduts. The Salt Seer quickly dug the blade''s edge into the palm so as to pierce skin but pulled back puzzled, staring at her blade. Edda observed her palm, there wasn''t a scratch.


    "It''s a blunt blade." Master Kissit said while walking over and taking the knife from Daduts. He deftly cut his palm and blood flowed at the first touch. "Huh." He wondered. Master Kissit moved to Edda who stretched out her hand, he cut as he''d did himself but the blade did not break skin. "The moisture from the sea must have coated your skin, rendering it impervious to cuts."


    "You''re fucking stupid." Daduts said. "Like a frog, you even look like a frog! Gods! I should have chosen Figit!"


    "Figit''s penis is indeed the size of a frog''s." Kissit retorted.


    Edda, weary of their arguing, lifted her palm to her lips, bared her teeth and bit into it. She felt as her canines punctured skin and tasted the iron tinge of blood upon her tongue. She held out her hand to Daduts and the Salt Seer touched the salt in her palm to the blood.


    Daduts walked back to the pouch on the ground and pulled free of it a Kolotian finger. Ishar suddenly came to Edda''s mind, the young Kolotian who had all ten of his fingers, the chosen one of the God of Chaos. A man whose mere existence was a blight to Binoria''s name and whose victory over the late King Vayin Vigon spelt the end of an era.


    "No." Edda said. Both Daduts and Kissit turned to her.


    "No what?" Master Kissit inquired.


    "I''m not participating in a ritual with Kolotian fingers."


    "But Edda," Daduts started. "Kolotian fingers are a key element in Salt Seer rituals, as it is with Flame Seers."


    "Why don''t the Talisi Entrail Seers use it then?" Edda asked. "I have a friend who does not stand for the rituals where Kolotian fingers are used. If the price of gleaming the will of divinity comes at the cost of another''s suffering, then the price is too high."


    Daduts and Kissit stared at her for what Edda felt to be a very long time. Kissit looked as if he''d discovered a puzzle he couldn''t quite solve while Daduts looked as if she wanted to adopt Edda on the spot and raise her as her own.


    "Oh Kissit." Daduts said. "Do you still doubt that she''s the one?"


    Master Kissit''s intent gaze shifted to Daduts. "You''re easily moved by a strong sense of morality. Did you know Master Juvial visits the sick at the City beside the sea? Bringing them medicine and food? Why isn''t he flinging horses and shit?"


    "And what do you do, Kissy? What do you do that''s worth divine recognition?"


    "I kill people, and I teach others how to kill people."


    "That doesn''t seem like it would catch a deity''s favor."


    "But it would get their recognition, won''t it?"


    Daduts abruptly shoved Kissit back but he deftly switched the momentum of the shove into a quick stride in Edda''s direction as he talked. "Edda, the Kolotian whose finger was severed, does not need it anymore. What do the Knights say about fulfilling a mission? The mission is the purpose for life. If a sense of morality hinders one''s ability to fulfill a mission, then they are not worthy to bear the title of Knight."


    There he went again, hanging it over her head like a halo, the same thing most at court believed but couldn''t voice. That she was not worthy of being a Knight, that she lacked what was needed to pass as one.


    "Fine." She said. "Do as you will. But this is the last time I shall partake in this."


    "Fine by me." Master Kissit said and turned to Daduts. "On with it then woman."


    "Don''t talk to me like I''m one of your frogs!" Daduts answered.


    "Listen." Master Kissit said while pointing at Daduts. "I remember our first night beneath a crescent moon by the shore. I remember what it felt like to be one with you, to feel you and to attune to a shared sensation. I also remember another night beneath a crescent moon, submerged in a swamp with my nose sticking out of the muck with Binorian Legions roaming around. And the sound of the frogs that night told me of where the Legionnaires were hunting, and the sight of the crescent moon brings back the sound of the frogs. It''s not my fault the crescent moon brings back memories of looming death compared to that of sex. Not everything is about sex, Daduts."


    Daduts turned away from Kissit and dipped the Kolotian finger into the palm holding the salt and Edda''s blood. She clenched her hand into a fist, ensuring the finger, salt and blood compacted within. Then she walked over to the flame. "As you well know, Edda." Daduts said. "The Kolotian finger and the flame are linked to the Goddess Meena, as proof of her will to see the Kolotian race extinct. But, put salt to it and the will of Order acquires a touch of Depth, and Meena is usurped of her purpose. But, with your blood, the attention of the one we seek may be drawn."


    Daduts walked over to the flames and threw the finger, salt and blood into the flames. Edda expected the flames to change hue, as was known of Flame Seers when the ritual was done. She expected Daduts to peer into the flames and Prophesy, instead Daduts turned to Kissit. "You know, not everything is about sex, but sometimes a sexual act carries more than just the physical aspect of it. And there are some aspects that are more memorable than the threat of death."


    "Wait." Edda interrupted. "That''s it? That''s the ritual?"


    Daduts turned to Edda. "Oh yes, dear, that''s it. Now, I understand that Salt Seers prophecy but Alietsi isn''t one for prophesy, this is a summoning, by your blood your intent is known and if the Goddess is awake, she will come."


    Edda begun to stand. "Well then, this has been a waste of time." She stretched. "I''ll be heading back now, and come first light I''m going back to the Remu Court to report on what a waste of time all this has¡ª" She noticed that both Kissit and Daduts had their faces turned in her direction but none of them were looking at her. Instead they peered at a spot to her right, just below her thigh. Edda turned to observe what had the two lovers'' attention and froze as her eyes met the steady green eyes of a young girl holding a transparent canteen.


    Alietsi broke into a smile.


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 Chapter 43

    "Little girl," Master Kissit started, "are you lost?"


    In Edda''s entire life, she''d always regarded Kissit as a man of intellectual fortitude. A man who could read a room and morph himself to fit the paradigm expected of the ruling class within said room. He was eloquent, steadfast in his beliefs and a lethal foe to anyone who stood against the closed council. In that moment while standing, as the three of them observed the little girl dressed in a green dress fashioned of sea reeds who''d appeared out of nowhere, Edda realized that Master Kissit might actually be a fool.


    On the night Edda had met the little girl, her eyes had been brown, now green pupils peered up at her and the gaze held a weight so immense the small curve of her tiny lips did little to draw the eyes away from them.


    "Edda!" The little girl said in a squeaky childlike voice and reached out with a small pudgy hand, Edda stumbled backwards, tripped on her own feet and had her bum meet the ground. She crawled away, eyes on the girl and the transparent canteen in her other hand. The girl, puzzled, cocked her head at Edda as if regarding something she''d seen for the first time yet wondering as to how it held a tinge of familiarity.


    "Get away from me!" Edda shrieked. Panic warred with something else within her, a recognition of sorts of how utterly helpless she was before the being who stood before her.


    Patron of the innocent. Daduts had spoken of the title of the Goddess of Depth. In the days before Binoria rose to yoke the realm. The Goddess Alietsi lay claim to the lives of children, seeking to ensure that they knew neither pain nor torment. She was a symbol of protection, and beyond that a paragon acting as a beacon for all to find the way to lead a life that would ensure children within every society lived a shielded life. Now she appeared as a child, but behind those green eyes, Edda knew she was anything but.


    "Why are you afraid of me?" The girl asked. "I thought we are friends!"


    "Little girl, we are quite busy here. You seem to have wandered far from your home." Master Kissit said while walking towards the little girl. She was so small, she barely reached Kissit''s thigh. The old Master stooped so his eyes would be level with hers. "Odd eyes for a Remu, that''s for certain, must be a malady of sorts. Best stay clear of her Dadu¡ª" Kissit turned in the direction of his lover and his words cut short in his mouth at what he saw.


    Daduts knelt on the ground, hands held above her. Tears streaming down her face. Her face, contorted in what one could only deem as an expression of immense emotion, took on the full weight of her age. The wrinkles lining her face becoming stark and her trembling lower jaw threatened to fall free of her face. "Goddess!" She cried out and fully prostrated herself on the ground.


    Master Kissit stood upright and peered at Daduts as if she''d sprouted another head. "Daduts, have you lost your mind? Can the Kolotian''s influence truly reach this far?"


    Daduts raised her head and spat at Kissit. "You fool! Can''t you see this is the same girl who Edda had encountered? You''re in the presence of a Goddess! Act like it!" And she lowered herself to the ground once more.


    Master Kissit tilted his head back and laughed. Edda had only heard Kissit laugh once before, when a fellow Master had tripped on his robe and met the ground with his face. He''d laughed hard but only for a few seconds. This time round his laughter was louder and not as brief. Once done, shoulders shaking to a halt. He turned to the little girl. "Little girl, are you a Goddess?"


    Alietsi lifted her head and observed Master Kissit in that fascinated way children regarded everything from a sword to a mbengo. "Little? I''m not little, I''m very big!"


    Master Kissit smiled. "How big are you?"


    "Kissit¡ª" Daduts started but an irritated wave from Kissit silenced her.


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    "I''m very big!" The little girl insisted.


    "Okay, okay, you''re very big. But are you bigger than a building?" Master Kissit asked.


    "Building?" The girl wondered, a small frown touching her features, making her look terribly adorable if it wasn''t for the fact that Edda knew what she saw wasn''t truly what was.


    "Yes, a building. A big building, you know, where people live?" Master Kissit pressed.


    The girl turned her eyes to the flames and Edda had an uncanny feeling she was looking beyond the flames, towards the sea. "I have been asleep for a very long time." The girl said, her words sounding odd now that she was taking on the mannerism of an adult. "Back when I was awake, the realm wasn''t divided, further back and the one whose finger you''ve burnt to summon me, did not hold the essence of a departed Goddess. Neither was the essence linked to my sister Meena. Back then there were no... Uhmm... Buildings? Mankind existed as we willed them to."


    A short silence ensued, a silence that was abruptly broken by Kissit''s hearty laugh. Thrice now Edda had heard him laugh. "Little girl, your parents named your sister after the Binorian Goddess?" Of all the girl had said, Kissit had picked one small part and made it the basis of his reply. Edda understood it to be a common trait of most men, but at the time she wondered how potently stupid was one to bank on masculine ignorance in the face of divinity. "What fanatics we have among the Remu!" Kissit continued. "Imagine if we''d maintained a strong grip on our heritage instead of imbuing the beliefs of another civilization!" Kissit bowed to be level with the girl once more. "Let me give you a piece of advice, girl, the Gods do not care about us. Our prayers fall on deaf ears hence why the young no longer pray and the old no longer hope. Your parents named your sister to tie you to their wayward belief, seeking a glimpse of divinity they force the only proof of supernatural existence on you through naming. What is your name?"


    "Alietsi." The girl answered and Kissit laughed. The girl laughed with him and together their cackling laughter sounded across the night. Edda trembled where she was on the ground, and Daduts gawked at Kissit, no doubt wondering as to the extent of the Master''s denial. "Why did you stop praying, Kissit?" The girl asked and the Master''s laughter abruptly cut short.


    "Well," Master Kissit started after a moment of pondering. "We were forced to abandon our ways to take on the ways of another Kingdom. Our King was burnt alive, our traditions burnt with him too. We took on the worship of Meena, and lost the name of our Goddess. The one you are named after."


    "But you still prayed to her, right? To the one I''m named after." The girl said.


    "Once, and then no more." Master Kissit said. A melancholic haze touched his features, his mind transported back into the past. To a time when he had hope.


    The little girl shook her head from side to side. Then lifted the transparent canteen to her lips and drunk from it. Edda felt a sudden thirst overcome her, making her aware of her dry throat, she wanted water, not just any water but one that came from the sea. The girl lowered the canteen and stared at Kissit. "I remember your prayer, Kissitavicho." Daduts gasped. Kissit took a step back. "You said, ''Alietsi, where are you? Look at us! We are dying! The children are dying! Patron of the innocent! Where are you you insolent bitch? Where are you!''" The girl lifted the canteen to her lips and drunk once more. Kissit visibly paled. "I doubt that was a prayer, does it sound like one?" Kissit did not answer. "No, a prayer must be laced with humility. A vanquishing of anger in favor of providence. Yet you called to me with insults, then abandoned my worship with rage when I failed to answer. Tell me, Kissitavicho. Do you know when I raise myself from the depth of the sea, my head breaks surface of the water while my feet stay rooted to the darkness far below? Do you know what such movement would cause to your Kingdom, the closest to the shore? When a wave crests, larger than all your buildings perched one above the other from my awakening, a wave carrying my children, the leviathans. Do you know what such a thing would do to those children who aren''t dead within your Kingdom? If I came to you then, answering your so called prayer, what gratitude would I have received from you once you were dead from my mere stirring?"


    Master Kissit took a step back and away from the girl. Then another step.


    "ANSWER ME!" Alietsi screamed, the voice of a child gone from her. And Master Kissit brandished his knife from his blue robes. Alietsi stared at the knife and to the Master''s credit, he flung it away and went down on his knees. Prostrating himself before the Goddess of Depth.


    Alietsi turned to Edda. "Child, touch the sea. Or drink from the crystal cup. Take me on in full and you might have a chance of surviving what is to come. What I will give you will require something of you but I am sure you will meet my demand." She held out the transparent canteen to Edda but Edda shook her head from side to side. Alietsi sighed. "I understand you, Edda, that''s why I like you. Each step is calculated, each decision weighed and tested before ventured into. YES, a desire for power lies at the heart of all men, but you are hesitant in accepting it for you know its burden. I will not rush you, but I know potential when I see one." She turned her face from Edda, staring in the direction of the sea. " The realm needs the Rad es Maalas, the realm needs Sin." Alietsi turned back to Edda, a look of immense sadness etched upon her small features. "The realm needs you."


    "What is the Rad es¡ª" Edda started but a jerk of Alietsi''s neck silenced her. The Goddess peered below the sandy hill, in one specific direction. It was too dark to see what had Alietsi''s attention and¡ª


    "He comes."Alietsi said.


    "Who?" Edda wondered.


    "The champion of Locha, the bringer of the endless night. He comes now, he comes for you. I cannot intervene, the laws deny me this and even if I am to break them, this is not my strongest form. I am sorry, run, run for your life Edda. Run towards the sea!"


    Edda turned to observe the place Alietsi faced as she talked, then she turned back to her to find the Goddess vanished.


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 Chapter 44

    He came out of the darkness, shrouded in what looked like a midnight cloak. Edda could not explain what she was seeing, he looked like a man merged with shadow and then he looked like a man blanketed with darkness. One eye socket was empty and trailed a dark fluid down his cheek and the other eye was a sky blue that peered at her with something she could only translate as... Need.


    Leba Vigon did not step into the ring of light provided by the fire, and Master Kissit made the move he''d repeated every time he was in the presence of a Binorian threat, with a deft flick of the wrist, a dagger appeared in his hand. Together with Daduts, the pair moved to flank Edda on either side, a slight tremble to Kissit''s hands unnerved Edda, for the Master never lost composure. Yet in the span of a few days, he''d been made witness to the existence of the divine, and here stood a man who was clearly touched by something, something unusual.


    Leba Vigon did not venture into the light of the fire, but he stared at it with the same need he''d stared at Edda with. There was a deep melancholy etched upon the remaining features of the Prince of Binoria. A certain lust for a past life he could not afford to return to.


    Leba Vigon raised his head to Edda. "Alietsi was here," He spoke casually as if talking of the weather the weather. "Have you drunk from the crystal cup?" The empty eye socket seemed not to be empty at all, there was something lurking in there, something that sent chills up Edda''s spine. "It doesn''t seem like you have."


    "I have." Edda lied.


    "My, my, my," Leba started a slow strut, cresting the light of the fire, moving towards Edda''s direction. The trio purposefully mimicked Leba, moving in the other direction, away from him. "Lies, lies are a part of Sin." Leba said, coming to a stop directly from Edda and her company. "There are no Rad es Maalas here, none who can play with Sin or dragons."


    "I''m not lying." Edda lied again. That''s the thing about lies, you have to fight to defend them, whilst when it came to truth, the words themselves fought to be understood. "She gave me the cup and now I can control Leviathans and the sea."


    Leba Vigon titled his head back and laughed. "You''re a fool, Edda, you were a fool when I took you out of the dungeons to grace you with a glimpse of the sun, you are a fool now as you teeter beyond reach with the aid of stupid, puny lies."


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    "Look at yourself." Edda answered. "You look like a corpse that''s still alive." The words didn''t make sense yet they captured in great detail what Edda knew to be true.


    "A corpse that''s still alive." Leba said, pondering over the words. "That''s a silly analogy."


    "Well, I am a fool as you claim me to be." Edda retorted.


    "Why not come closer then, I just want to chat." Leba answered. Reaching out with his hands and drawing them back the minute they entered the brightest part bathed by the fire.


    "I''m not that big a fool." Edda said, then she relaxed her shoulders. The tension easing out of her, beside her she could feel Kissit and Daduts do the same. As long as the flames roared, Leba could be held back until dawn. She had a feeling he cannot stand in the sun if a mere flame could keep him at bay. "What happened to you Leba?"


    "I made a bargain." Leba Vigon said.


    "Was it worth it?"


    "Yes."


    Time, time, time. She needed to buy them time, she wasn''t worried about herself. But Daduts and Kissit might be in grave danger, sure they could be adept at the forms of combat but something told her that they could not face Leba. That doing so would spell their doom that¡ª


    Leba Vigon flung himself back, into the darkness, one swift motion and he was gone. Edda opened her mouth to¡ª


    Leba Vigon appeared behind them, Kissit and Edda allowed their sixth sense to drive them into a forward roll, closer to the fire, but Daduts was too slow. Hands like stone grabbed Daduts and pulled her out of the ring of light afforded by the fire. Daduts screamed and Kissit made to rush to her aid but Edda wouldn''t let him, there, beside the fire, Edda held down her Master. His limbs felt feeble, easy to break. His torso felt soft, easy to cave. Edda held Master Kissit down and there, outside the fire, Leba did the same to Daduts only with a different motive in mind.


    Edda watched as Leba started working on Daduts, first he placed two fingers beneath her jaw and yanked her lower jaw free of her face. He moved to her eyes, tearing them free of their sockets. Then he held her dangling tongue and yanked it free of her throat. Next he moved to her limbs and for some reason Daduts was not dying, Leba slowly, meticulously broke each of her fingers, then he broke her wrists then her ankles. Her femurs, the bones between her shoulder and elbow. It was like watching a craftsman at work. Kissit screamed all the while, screamed and screamed until his throat became raw and all that could escape him was a weak squeal. Edda did not let him go, she held him back and wept at the pain being inflicted on her Master and the woman who was his partner.


    Pain. That was the symbol Leba represented in her life now, pain and torture. And the Prince of Binoria had a smile on his face as he worked, as if he was pleased with himself at what he''d accomplished. And still, Daduts did not die. With one fling Leba flung whatever that was left of Daduts into the ring of light afforded by the fire. The thing that was once Daduts wheezed and just lay there, a grotesque sight. None of the cheer and abrupt change in expression that Daduts once held. All of it had been transformed into a thing of sorrow.


    "A night will come when there will be no fire for you to cower close to, it is then when I''ll claim your life." Leba said, and flung himself backwards. It was as if the gloom of the night opened up for him like a gate would and took him away from sight.


    Edda let go of Master Kissit who shoved her away and crawled to Daduts, he held her mangled form in his arms and wept.


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 Chapter 45

    It was quite obvious that none of the Water seekers would go back to sleep after the debacle with the Binorian hunters. The lone survivor of the Binorian Hunters, Zigzil was his name as Indomil recalled, who had accosted them at the base of sand dunes that had been their refuge for the night had run off into the night after seeing that Ishar had gone back to sleep after having been given the apology he''d so avidly murdered the Binorian Hunters for.


    The Water Seekers were a scattered lot upon the base of the sand dunes. Some saught to run, others were in shock while the rest were too perplexed and paralyzed with fear to even know how to act. Ishar alone lay sleeping peacefully and all feared to wake him from said sleep.


    As the sun rose, its yellow blotch piercing the horizon and offering light to the gruesome aftermath of Ishar''s rampage; blood soaking the ground, guts and limbs scattered all over. The dead lay there with their unseeing eyes peering either which way. Binorians fallen to a single Kolotian. Indomil would have laughed at the circumstance if she hadn''t been there to see it.


    Dora approached Indomil where she sat alone several strides from the rest. The nimble girl lowered herself and offered Indomil half a loaf of bread. Indomil shook her head and pushed Dora''s offer away. She couldn''t stomach anything, not with all the human entrails about. Dora nodded her understanding and tucked the loaf into her Grey garment. ''For later.'' She mouthed and all Indomil could do was nod.


    "We have to leave soon." Dora said. "Before they return with more." Of course they would return. The Hunters were many, all knew this. There would always be Hunters roaming the desert as long as there were Kolotians hiding within them. It was an unfair fate, Indomil believed, to be the only living thing that can reason being hunted for sport. For her fingers. She flexed her left hand before her, observing the tips that were stained blue. Dora misunderstood and clutched at Indomil''s outstretched hand. "We''re going to be okay." The ever optimistic Dora. Here they were among Binorian corpses and she still had something positive to opine about.


    Indomil wondered why Dora had approached her and then it suddenly hit her. Dagaa, the leader of the Water Seekers for this expedition was... Changed. Ishar had placed his hand on Dagaa''s chest and now the lad was gone. His mind was gone. You could see it in his violet eyes, their brightness was too avid, tainted as if by an inward force. Pupils too large and there was a gleam there that she was familiar with, she remembered the look on Secundo, the mad Kolotian who''d been banished from the colony for his antics that would have put them in danger. Would Dagaa be banished too? They had the same eyes.


    "No." Indomil muttered. Dora turned to her. "No Dora! I will not lead the Water Seekers!"


    "We''re half way to the colony. We just need someone to lead us fast, we''ll still carry the stone cans with the heads as evidence of what has transpired since we met... Ishar." She whispered his name as if fearing he would awaken and curse her with madness too. "Please Indomil! We don''t know how long until another Hunting Party comes here. We need to move fast and reach the safety of the Colony."


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    "Safety of the Colony?" The words felt like a lie. What safety was the Colony going to offer? Binorian Hunters had died by the hand of a Kolotian and the remaining Hunters were going to gather in their thousands. They were going to turn the desert on its side in search of the Colony and when they found it. Well. She shuddered to think what would happen.


    Her eyes moved to Ishar, still asleep, one might mistake him for an innocent boy, a little lean with developing brawn. Yet the stranger had killed in a manner never seen before, fought as he prayed, whispered, talked. Even laughed. His speed and strength were unmatched and his prowess at combat was alarming. Did he use the Forms of Combat her mother once told her the rest of the realm used? Or was his technique something otherworldly? She turned her gaze to Dagaa who sat muttering to himself, shoulders hunched over and face stretched into a manic sneer. There was something here, something she needed to look into.


    But for the moment, the Water Seekers needed a leader. She stood up. "Gather round!" She commanded and to her surprise all the Water Seekers shumbled to her side. "We''re not taking any more heads. We carry the ones we had. We travel fast and reach the colony before sundown."


    "Who made you the leader?" Lupin asked, still clutching the hand Ishar had bit.


    "Would you rather take the responsibility?" Indomil asked. She peered at him and she knew a part of her was begging him to take the role from her, and said part showed quite vividly upon her face. She didn''t want to be here. She didn''t want to lead the Water Seekers. She didn''t want to be hunted for her fingers, she didn''t want to live in fear. She didn''t want any of the things that her life had been dishing out to her without cease. And most important of all she did not want to deal with Ishar. She let her face depict all this and Lupin looked away.


    "Right, we start back." Xelif said and moved to howl his stone can. The rest of the Water Seekers moved to do the same except Dagaa.


    Indomil approached Dagaa. "Dagaa, we have to go."


    "There''s a line in the horizon and there''s fire coming. Fire from scales made of iron! The realm will burn! The realm will burn!" Dagaa was muttering nonsense. Indomil helped him up by his arm and to her relief he didn''t fight her. She guided him to where the rest of the Water Seekers were preparing to leave then she turned for the final member still asleep.


    Indomil approached Ishar as she presumed a mortal would the Goddess Meena. She shuffled slowly forward across the sand, making sure to make as much noise as possible so as not to startle him with proximity. When she neared him he suddenly sat up, causing her to jolt and shuffle back several steps.


    Ishar looked around, seeming a little dazed. He yawned and rubbed at his eyes before scratching at his back. He turned his head to Indomil and smiled, a smile so full she fought the urge to kick him in the face. It was as if he had no comprehension of how much his presence had just ruined her life and that of the rest of the Colony not to mention Dagaa who was forever changed.


    "Had a weird dream." Ishar said. "Fought some Binorians."


    "That happened." Indomil answered.


    "Yeah I know." Ishar said. "It''s happened a lot to be honest."


    "We are departing for the Colony. You must come to testify before the Colony Chief, Thegir." Indomil spoke slowly, as if she were addressing a Yendw wolf.


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    "Splendid." Ishar answered and rose to follow.

 Chapter 46

    Rehny rode in the middle of the column of those who''d been sent to bring him to Binoria on account of treason. Those riding with him showed signs of fatigue, hands gently resting on reigns, shoulders relaxed and necks bent. They''d ridden for an entire night and during the whole time nobody said a word. Rehny found himself enjoying the company of this lot. Silence was a rare delicacy of late, especially within a crowd.


    Yet he could feel it, a clear line of magenta trailing from the head of the column where Satheth rode to where he was. The one sided love bond that had formed between her and him unnerved him. These powers of Nyawe were uncharted territory and he was not of a mind to explore them. A simple life, that was what he''d wanted. Away from the politics of Kingdoms and the wars birthed of said politics. Away from humanity in general. He''d almost had it, peace. The thing bards speak of with much longing.


    What bards speak of with much longing is love. Nyawe spoke in his mind. Sometimes she could do that, grip a strand of his thought and give voice to it as if telling him that she knew all that passed through his mind. Though sometimes she was clearly unaware of thoughts that passed through his mind, as long as he didn''t put much emotion behind a thought.


    Rehny observed his hands on the reins of his horse. The creature was practically leading itself, boxed in on all sides by other steeds, he had no need to stir its direction. So he bowed his head as the others were doing and closed his eyes. He inhaled once, sharply then exhaled slowly while focusing on his heartbeat, the blood rushing through his veins, the feeling of life that stirred emotions, up bubbled passion and he peered at it from within until magenta clouds formed all around him.


    And the Goddess Nyawe sat engulfed in a magenta cloud before him, her nakedness partly covered by the mists of her domain. He stood before her naked, once he was uncomfortable with this, now he found himself used to it. Once her voice had rendered his mind incapable of functioning due to the complexity of power lacing each word, now he could look straight at her shifting face with a feeling of... meh?


    Rehny wanted out! Out of all of this God nonsense and wars and deaths. A battlefield is a pit of horror and exulting and as the champion of Nyawe these aspects of war held a deeper meaning for him.


    "You look at me as if I am the reason you''re being dragged back into your past." Nyawe spoke, voice a lilting melody.


    "I want a way out of this." Rehny said. He went over his words, now that he knew how important wording was with Gods, he always went over his words. "I need your help with a way out of this."


    "The woman¡ª" Nyawe started


    "Satheth."


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    "Yes, Satheth, your bond with her. Use it."


    Rehny saw it then, the purple rope tied to his foot with a magenta light pulsing one way along it. He made to move for it when a sharp ringing tore through his skull, the magenta light burst apart, so did the vision of Nyawe and her domain of colorful lights. He found himself on the ground, quickly pieced together that he''d fallen off his horse...how?


    He raised his head to find twelve blades trained on him. Six wielders having decended from their horses to press the tips of their blades at him while the other six stayed on their horses. Those crowding him parted to reveal Satheth, basked in the midday sun, her blue eyes had a Savage gleam to them.


    She descended her horse and came to stand before him. "Dahli gave us a job, Rehny, to bring you in. The Goddess you are bound to is one of love so the squad selected is forged of lovers save me. Save one tiny hot headed woman who happens to be the leader of this group. Do you know why I was selected?"


    It suddenly made sense to him then. Why she''d visited him in the night and shared his bed with him. Why she''d been generous and... and.. Loving?


    Plans within plans, the work of Meena. Nyawe hissed in his mind.


    Rehny looked at the woman before him, her posture, her voice and gestures, everything spoke of her affection for him but there, beneath it all was a strong sense of duty. She knew! Satheth had known that she would be the one to fall in love with Rehny, but it wasn''t a weapon in his hand but one in her own.


    Satheth walked closer to Rehny as he picked himself up to tower above her. Those pointing blades neither lowered them nor wavered in their resolve to make sure he understood his predicament.


    "I can tell, when you talk to your Goddess. When you try to touch on love, we all know, when you try to touch on love regarding me, well, I''ve been trained these past few months for this exact reason." She took a step closer to him, head barely reaching his shoulders. "Try anything again and it''ll be your head we cut off." Satheth said.


    Rehny abruptly reached out with a curled fist and punched a sword straight out of a man''s grasp, the weapon broke in two as it twirled in the air to land some distance away from the contingent of soldiers. "You''ll need sharper blades for that." Rehny said.


    They stared at him. A span of moments passed, one, two, nobody moved save the wind tagging at the grassland they were in, pulling the blades of grass one way then another. The tension was at a breaking point and Rehny was already preparing himself to launch in one direction, fists blaring, strength and power his answer and way out of his current situation.


    But Satheth raised herself on tiptoe and planted a kiss on his lips. Soft, his lips and hers were like soft puzzle pieces setting and resetting with movement. He was lost in the intimate gesture, but there was...


    He felt it then, the rope between them was burning unusually bright. His strength ebbed, he felt like he was made of lead, it became hard to lift his arms, the emotion Satheth felt was solid and it blanketed him, twirling and wrapping him in weight that dragged him down... Down... Down.


    The last thing he saw before he collapsed was the coy smile on Satheth''s face as she pulled away from the kiss. .


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 Chapter 47

    When Masutap came to, she was puzzled as to her whereabouts. As far as she could tell, there was motion hence why the ground was passing by at an even pace. The motion wasn''t on her part, she could feel her head bumping against the broad back of someone. Someone in black leather.


    She thrashed, twisting herself free of the one who carried her but strong arms steadied her back in place. She wanted to deliver an upward hit with her elbow to the nape of whoever carried her but something caught her eye. Something following in the wake of whoever carried her.


    People ¡ª No, those aren''t people. Black guards and those who''d been at the tavern were giving chase. Their eyes! Their eyes were black, some of them had blood all over their bodies, others were dismembered but they moved as if none of these things mattered. She could make them out though dusk had been long underway and the cover of night had settled in. She could see because the Goddess Meena gave her sight.


    "Put me down!" She shouted.


    "If we stop we die!" Orgeeg said, his voice sounded panicked and for a moment she wondered whether it was truly him.


    "What are those things?" She wondered, feeling dazzed. She remembered darkness, claws piercing through her and lifting her up. A voice, raw and bestial in its guttural intensity speaking from behind her. She shivered, remembering the cold, remembering...


    "Leba." Orgeeg said while panting. "Leba." And it seemed that was the only thing he could bring himself to say. One name, one word. As if it encompassed everything and was the paramount purpose behind his stride.


    They''d come for her, the black guard. She''d run to a domain, deeper than Meena''s and there she''d found Leba and she''d, struck a bargain? Things were unclear. Her mind felt like mush, every bit of thought fractured and sticking out irregularly. It was as if someone else had used her body for a while and she was only now receiving it back.


    They were being chased by people who didn''t give off a heat signature, who ran despite missing limbs and who were silent, the whites of their sclera totally black. They had a head start but the chase didn''t seem to relent meaning sooner or later they''d have to stop and fight.


    "I can kill them," She said. "Let me go so I can kill them."


    "They can''t be killed." Orgeeg said.


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    They were running through a thick forest, by the moss she could tell they were on a steady pace north, hoping to find the road linking the West local to Binoria, the capital. Orgeeg was taking her to Dahli but something told her he didn''t treat her as the main objective of his mission anymore. Otherwise he would have killed her while she was passed out.


    "We can''t run forever." A voice said from ahead. It was the man who''d tricked her into drinking tainted brew. Dulab, was it? "We have to stand somewhere and fight, might as well be here."


    "They can''t die!" Orgeeg screamed and Masutap felt his frustration. Here was someone who''d climbed the ranks, bit by bit. Overcoming adversity and all matters of foes to catch the eye of the King of Binoria. Here was someone her sister favored and Masutap fought the urge to kill him. If Orgeeg was this shaken by something then¡ª


    He came to a halt abruptly. Turned back to watch the approaching hoard of the undead coming their way. There in the glade, Orgeeg set her down. From his side he took out his short blade that gave a crisp rasp as it was unsheathed. His hands trembled. Dulab took to the left of her, long sword in hand. The trio looked on as the bloody hoard approached.


    "They can''t die." Orgeeg whispered. "They can''t die." He said it again. Eyes wide as saucers. Masutap had never seen Orgeeg show fear yet here he was, panicking. He was a man who''d charged the mad Kolotian Ishar at the Ganidan Plain and lived to tell the tale, yet here he was, his bearings totally robbed of him, looking like he was one gust of wind from collapsing on the ground.


    They were dead, yet they lived. By moonlight and her enhanced senses, she took in those who''d been chasing them. They were roughly twoscore. Some carried weapons but most did not. Many missed limbs and and majority were bleeding from slit throats and punctured flesh yet they refused to die. Undead!


    As a child her mother had told her stories, passed down from her mother about the past, before Binoria even existed, before Meena favored the mortal Selarch and bestowed power upon his bloodline. Stories of when the Gods had walked the physical realm, a period when there was a great war at the gathering of the Gods. A period called Tunega. When the Gods united to fight one God, a God who''d ruled an army of the undead!


    Here they were now, before her, charging headfirst towards her, a thing of myth. "It''s just a story." Her mother had consoled her when she''d shown fear as a child. Yet here they were, a story made flesh. She charged without a second thought. Fast as light, neither waiting for Orgeeg or Dulab to react. She plunged headfirst into the charging undead, and with a gallant effort she said a silent prayer, not to Meena or any of the Gods. No, those ones would never know her piety. She prayed to her mother, prayed that she would be proud of all she''d done with her life in case it was cut abruptly short.


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 Chapter 48

    Orgeeg knew what despair was like, he had trained in the ways of the Remu Masters and knew how to overcome any emotional barricade that might prevent him from fulfilling his duty. Raw tenacity and the capacity to prevail were his strong suits after all and he would like to believe them to be the sole reason he was the Rank One of the Royal Black Guards.


    But in that glade, before the undead. Despair developed a new meaning. Dulab was the perfect air of ease beside him, barely showing even the slightest hint of distress, it was like he''d gone outside for a walk and had come upon some grotesque creature that drew sorrow from him in the slightest of ways. Dulab was totally calm and collected and his long sword barely even trembled in his grasp yet Orgeeg felt like the world had ended and he was only moments away from ending with it. His sword arm shook ferociously like a twig before the east wind.


    He watched Masutap charge, too afraid to even trail in her wake. He watched her plunge into the horde of undead, a scream emanating from her as she was swallowed up by their deathly silence. They worked methodically, as if sharing the same mind, they surrounded her and worked on her from different sides, she was doomed. She was¡ª


    "Your train of thought is weighty with fear." Dulab said, drawing him free of his reverie. "Observe the mind''s eye." He instructed.


    Orgeeg calmed himself with deep even breaths, Masutap was holding them off, preventing them from charging towards where he and Dulab stood. He breathed and sought a place of silence within. He closed his eyes and sought a moment of peace from the past, and he saw himself floating upon the Rankf Sea, the one place he found peace within the realm. His mind''s eye opened and suddenly the undead were just another foe. Just different in the way they should fall, but how can they fall? Sliting throats and puncturing flesh did nothing. And his short sword couldn''t decapitate so he needed¡ª.


    An undead flew from where Masutap fought them, its head smashed in with a punch that rendered it senseless, all it could do was twitch on the ground. Masutap had the Jojoh Meena meaning her strength was enough to shatter the skull of the undead.


    Mastering himself, he spoke. "We aim for the limbs and the legs, severe tendons and joints. Puncture knee caps and blind them. Make it easier for Masutap to hit their heads." He said.


    Dulab smiled and together they charged. Masutap wasn''t employing the Forms of Combat, she moved quickly, employing all her limbs to keep her in a steady motion that prevented her from being overrun and dragged down. She would grab the weapon of one of the undead and use it to cleave heads before the weapon stuck through skulls, forcing her to abandon it then she would dive and force a way to prevent being circled. She''d noticed too, he could tell, that damaging their brains significantly didn''t kill them but instead prevented them from moving.


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    Dulab enforced a Form of Grind, going in low and cutting through hamstrings that rendered opponents unable to stand. Orgeeg, breathed evenly, eyes focused on the dark silhouettes of the undead, he let out a cry and plunged in their midst and in that moment of fear, an emotion bubbled to the brim of his conscience. A feeling of total abandone and with it, rage.


    The short blade couldn''t be wielded in the double hand but he plunged it through the lower jaw of one of the undead, making sure the tip of the blade pierced through the undead''s upper skull. This didn''t cause significant damage to the undead and it lunged at him, he let go of the blade and rolled out of reach. His feet touched something, steel, he picked it up and found it to be a long sword. He smiled and gripped the hilt in both hands.


    On the mornings when he couldn''t risk oggling at Dahli as she practiced with the sword. He would watch Desan instead. The once Prince of Binoria was one of the most adept at the Form of Rage. He planted his feet apart, turned in two motions, a lower strike at limbs and an upper one at the heads of those surrounding him. He grunted as the blade bit flesh. He circled, blade going neither up or down but in a cylindrical pattern that waved outward and inward and with deft movements focused on precision and strength.


    And where the blade moved, it bit flesh. The arms of the undead that stretched out to him were severed. The undead that charged him were gutted, falling back to charge again with their intestines tripping their feet. He refused to acknowledge that his foe could not die. Indeed such a train of thought would only extinguish his rage. He flowed through the motions of the rage stance, focusing on power and might and he soon found himself fighting back to back with Masutap.


    With their backs pressed together. The former Rank one and the current Rank one of the Royal Black Guard focused their attention solely on their foe. Neither bulging but moving in a fluid motion that ensured the enemy lost something. Whether it was a limb, or sight, or the absolute shattering of a skull, their motion never ceased, with Orgeeg ensuring the undead could not press and Masutap ensuring the undead cannot function due to her strength and well timed blows to the head. Soon they found themselves standing in the glade, just the two of them. Around them bodies thrashed on the ground, missing limbs and shattered skulls. Many had been injured by Orgeeg''s deft sword play, injuries that would have been fatal but for now only served to render the foe incapacitated.


    Back to back they stood heaving. Masutap observed around her. "They still refuse to die." She said, thin sweat sheathing her face. Even one with the Jojoh Meena found difficulty in keeping up with the undead. The undead lay on the ground, some thrashing and some moving in sudden miniscule jerks. They made not a sound yet their every motion was aimed in inching closer their way.


    A groan sounded.


    Masutap and Orgeeg turned to the outskirt of the battle where Dulab lay, the hilt of a blade protruding from his stomach.


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 Chapter 49

    The dagger had been lodged deep in Dulab''s gut and any movement resulted in the blade tearing his insides and driving the man into pain. Orgeeg knelt beside Dulab while Masutap stood several paces away. Death was something she was used to, it''s something she dealt in and knew thoroughly of. Dulab was going to die, the stench from the wound said as much. He''d raptured something vital, his face was an oblique pale glow in the moonlight. His lips trembled and his eyes lacked even the strength to peruse either which way.


    Yet Orgeeg was stuck to Dulab''s side, never mind the thrashing of the undead all around them. He knelt by Dulab, consoling him. Speaking to him of the sun of all things. Promising a dying man that he would see the sun again, what use is the sun to one who was dying? Will the promise of a ball of heat in the sky inspire one to live? Thinking of the sun reminded Masutap of Meena''s domain where four suns etched the sky. She shivered and it wasn''t due to the cold of the night.


    "Save your strength. Don''t speak." Orgeeg was insistent.


    Masutap walked to what was once a former Royal Black Guard, now lying mangled on the ground. She remembered when she''d dropped him, two consecutive punches, one to the head and the other to the neck. Now the man''s head bent at an awkward angle, his brains riddled the ground and looked almost silver in the moonlight. Yet the man still twitched, moving and stirring as if forcing himself to finish the mission regardless of whether or not his body was whole.


    She squatted next to the undead. The thrashing heightened with proximity to her, with a hand she forced her way into his exposed skull, grabbed all she felt in there and pulled it out, tissue and brain matter felt wet and sticky to her grip. She counted heart beats, waiting for the undead to finally relinquish its soul but no such thing happened, it continued to twitch, defying the odds.


    "Dulab will turn." She said and felt Orgeeg turn to face her.


    "You know nothing." Orgeeg answered.


    "Proximity to death spurs the undead to rise, as long as he has died by their hand he will turn."


    "Shut your mouth you... You..." She waited for him to say it, it was at the tip of his tongue and she very well knew it will not be held back. Never mind that they''d fought back to back, Orgeeg employing a Form of Rage she''d never seen before. Instead of upward and downward strikes he moved in a circle, cleaving in waves. She''d been amazed, her blood lust had stirred, she''d felt¡ª "You traitor!"


    She spun. "And why am I a traitor Orgeeg? Do you know my story? Do you know how I''ve suffered under the people you so diligently serve?"


    "Nothing excuses turning your back on duty."


    "Everything does! You dolt! Can''t you see some of us harbor pain the likes of which duty ceases to matter in its presence? Do you think I slept peacefully at night knowing the Royalties were safe? I wanted death. I wanted them to feel pain I wanted a raging," She paused. "A raging inferno."


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    Orgeeg stood up, finally leaving Dulab''s side. "A raging inferno? Do you presume this life to be a bards tale? You framed me for the murder of Desan. Turned the whole of Binoria against me. Forcing me to become a fugitive and for what? So you can kill those you swore to protect? Do your oaths mean nothing? Want kind of human are you!"


    "I am human!" She shrieked. "Humanity is something I touch on more than you since I grasp the very order of things. From the budding of a shoot to the death of a mighty Jiganda tree, I see it all and I feel it all. I see the patterns within patterns. I see oblivion inching ever close by with the steady march of time so don''t lecture me on what it is to be human."


    "You have no soul!" Orgeeg exclaimed.


    Masutap fought back tears. How was this Rank One hurling her into a place she swore she''d never trod? How were his words breaking the walls she''d so carefully laid about her to prevent tears from ever welling in her eyes? He doesn''t understand. Yet she found herself wishing he would. As if his belief mattered. She wanted to tell him about her mother, about how she''d been raped by King Vayin Vigon and had sired her, a thing that rendered both her life and her mother''s life obsolete before the throne.


    She recalled running, her mother screaming out to her to escape, to go past the walls of Binoria, to disappear as the soldiers closed in on her mother. Blades rising and falling. Her mother had been branded a traitor and thus was the punishment for treachery in Binoria. The loss of one''s life, the loss of all life connected to you too. She''d run, just a child, running, ever running without looking back. She didn''t look back as the glow of a fire roared from behind her, their shack being set ablaze by the Binorian soldiers. She''d run until she could not and once far off enough, she''d collapsed and cried. And it was then she''d sworn never to cry again. Yet here she was, blinking away tears.


    "What can you do to me Orgeeg?" Masutap asked, turning to face the Rank One. She saw his jaw tighten, his eyes narrowing. The signs of Order were wrapped around him like a mesh. This blonde man, too young to be in the lead and too qualified to have anyone else take it. "There is nothing you can do to me." And she meant it, with her strength she could rip him in half.


    "I need you." Orgeeg said, his shoulders slumping. He ran a hand through his trimmed hair and sighed. "I need the Masutap I knew, the one..." He hesitated. "The one I thought of as a friend."


    Pathetic!  She wanted to scream. Yet all she could do was nod. As if she understood, and in a way she did. Orgeeg had been on a mission to kill her. Capturing her wasn''t even part of his objective. But they''d encountered something else, Leba. The lost Prince wasn''t so lost, he was alive and changed. And with him came extinction. With him total annihilation and she understood that Orgeeg saw this and wanted a reprieve from all the unnecessary feuds. They needed to unite, the whole realm needed to unite to bring down Leba.


    "Orgeeg," Dulab said, his voice barely a whisper. "My soul, it''s trapped in my body, I feel it in my flesh, it refuses to let go. It refuses Orgeeg." He coughed a mouthful of blood.


    Orgeeg looked shaken, his face ashen in the moonlight. "Don''t speak Dulab, everything will be okay."


    "No Orgeeg, things won''t. But¡ª" He coughed more blood.  "But we have a chance, don''t you see? A live specimen."


    Orgeeg only stared, fear making him dumb, rendering his acute mind incapable of comprehension. He opened his mouth to ask what Dulab meant but Masutap spoke first. "He wants to be taken to Dahli, to the Queen of Binoria where he will be proof of what Leba ... has become."


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 Chapter 50

    The sand was cold, the wind was cold, the humidity from being close to the ocean felt like bits of ice upon his skin. And the night sky looked odd, as if there were no stars yet he knew them to be there.


    I have failed. He thought as he took step after delicate step across the shore. But failure wasn''t something he regarded as he once did. In another time, failure would have resulted into serious ceaseless thoughts that all aimed to fix the disappointing result of whatever had transpired. Now, he didn''t have ceaseless thoughts, just one, a hunger to see everything die. And from it was a singular emotion, as cold as all that was around him.


    Leba Vigon, once Prince of Binoria stopped in his tracks to regard a boulder that was in his way. The shadow the rock cast across the sand was thick with layered darkness. He could tell the different shades of black the boulder cast, he needed one that lay at the centre, a darkness that permeated everything. He saw it and reached out a hand, changing the pitch of black smoke that twirled around the length of his arm and hand to fit the permeating darkness, he touched the boulder''s shadow and was sucked into the darkness.


    He appeared a moment later in a place of pitch darkness with a singular white circle upon the ground. He walked and stood in the middle of the circle. The dark mist around him sometimes formed into liquid, and darkness dripped down his legs but when it touched the white circle it receded back up his legs as smoke.


    When was the last time I felt warmth? He remembered the beginning, at the chasm within the cave. The place he''d gone to summon an ancient darkness and succeeded in the most unlikely of ways. He had tried to feel warmth then, after he had climbed out of the chasm and killed everyone who''d helped him summon the Bringer Of The Endless Night. He''d gathered their clothes stained with blood, and wrapped them around himself to ward off the chill, but nothing could fight off the cold. Not even the sun, oddly enough, the sun made it even colder.


    "Did you find her?" A bestial voice spoke from the darkness all around.


    "I did." Leba said. He should have been afraid of the voice, and the face behind the voice. But he wasn''t because fear didn''t hold the same meaning it once did. He treated the deity bound to him not as a mortal would treat a God but as a servant would their master, a master they''ve served their entire life. Not that his relationship with Locha carried the same affection long years of service would. No. Affection wasn''t something he related to anymore. "But, she escaped, I couldn''t get close to the fire she used to keep me at bay. It was too..." Cold, he wanted to scream the word at the deity. Why was it all the champions of the other Gods didn''t suffer as he did? Why was warmth something he no longer could feel?


    "I cannot tolerate weakness." Locha said. "The cold isn''t something you should avoid but embrace. Through the burn of something cold do you truly appreciate the congruence"


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    "It''s not a weakness I chose to bear." Leba said. "I would very much prefer to go about my duties without having to be hindered in any way."


    "You seek a solution?"


    "I seek an end."


    The voice laughed then, cackled and hacking with a rasp like a blade being drawn. "Our desires are the same. You must prevent Alietsi''s champion from touching the sea, if she does so she will draw strength from the puny Goddess and that will make things difficult for you."


    Leba understood, of all the Gods, Alietsi held the key to a land beyond the Rankf Sea, a land where the banished God Sin and his worshippers dwelt. A land ruled by fire, the bane of Locha. If Edda managed to bond Alietsi fully by either drinking from her chalice cup or touching the sea, she could withdraw the Leviathans ruling the Rankf Sea and the Rad es Maalas and their wretched sky serpents who spit fire would enter the fray.


    "It is my belief that the woman Alietsi has chosen, has no desire to bond the Goddess." Leba said. "The next time I go for her, she will draw her last breath."


    "What of the Goddess Meena and her champions?"


    "Unite them for a singular strike that would end both their lives. I believe Masutap is on her way to Dahli."


    "That would give me the opportunity to devour Meena, it''ll weaken her enough.". He sounded pleased and Leba wondered why, being that he''d just come from a failed mission. "What of Nyawe?"


    "Kill her champion and she is no more."


    "Yes, love will cease to exist entirely. She''s done more than bond Rehny, she''s using his life line to extend her own, the bitch has made a mortal immortal. What of Nielda?"


    "His champion must never master space, he should only ever remain in the construct of time, ever losing himself to it until madness prevails."


    "And the God of Chaos, Ovek?"


    "I''m yet to figure out a way to bring down Ishar. Madness lacks cure, it is uneven and unpredictable."


    "Perhaps this will help."


    A woman fell out of the darkness, naked and whole. Blonde hair and blue eyes with pale skin. She shivered and cried out at the sight of him. Leba felt neither desire nor arousal. "In what way will she help me?" Leba asked. He knew Locha had just pulled out the woman from somewhere in Binoria. She''d maybe stepped into a dark alley or had blown out the candle to retire to bed and made herself susceptible to darkness.


    The woman cried out when she heard Locha''s voice. "Her blood, spill it."


    Leba moved like an arrow shot from a crossbow at short range, his fingers drew a line across her neck and blood spilled out. The air was stained with the tinge of rust and his hands touched the red liquid that carries life and with the touch he felt... Warmth.


    Sweet warmth. He tore at her gaping wound, willing more blood to spill. He lathered himself in it, broke her wrists until the bone pieced skin and blood sprouted in squirts. The blood was warm and it drove away the cold, he bathed in it and rejoiced. All the while Locha laughed.


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 Chapter 51

    The Water Seekers kept up a brisk pace. They avoided the upper levels of the sand dunes, choosing to skirt the bottom so as to avoid being noticed by any searching party. They walked in a single file that had Ishar thinking of a large meandering snake that never crested the dunes but only ever scaled across the flanks. They spoke little, out of fear or out of dedication to the march, Ishar couldn''t tell which.


    He tried to strike up conversation with them but they all seemed either too scared or unwilling to acknowledge him, as if him being there was premonition of impending doom. Ishar found himself wondering yet again about the consequences of his actions, had he done wrong by killing those who''d sought to hurt them? Where then was the hero''s welcome he''d envisioned he''d receive when he finally met his fellow Kolotians?


    He''d spent nights with Niada, talking about his dream, this need to unite those of his race who were scattered across the realm. To build something with the power he had that would enable him to create something that would blot out the past of suffering his race had endured. But here, amongst his own kind he suddenly felt himself an outcast, someone who nobody wanted to associate with. Someone¡ª


    "We''re getting close." Phesoj said from beside him. The short skinny Water Seeker had been matching his strides without his knowledge. Phesoj walked with such silence, as if afraid of making his presence known. And there, in the slouch of his shoulders there was a weight that didn''t come from the stone can he was carrying across his back. They were tired, all of them. As if resigned to a fate worse than death at such a young age.


    "How did you do it?" Phesoj asked. "How did you kill them?"


    "I''ve come to learn that the best way to kill someone is to ensure their body is either broken, their heads bashed in or a clever cut or puncture upon the body ought to do the trick." Ishar answered.


    "They were many." Phesoj said. "You moved like, like a wild man."


    "I think the word that better suits me is, a mad man."


    "Are you mad?"


    "It depends on who you''re asking."


    "But I am asking you."


    "How the hell am I supposed to know? I don''t watch myself."


    They walked in silence for a moment before Phesoj decided to opine again. The sun was overhead and the carrion birds who''d dotted Ishar''s killing field from the previous night were now black spots in the distance. "What did you do to Dagaa?"


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    "To who?"


    "That one." Phesoj pointed at the one who was muttering to himself. "You put your hand to his chest and he suddenly lost his mind."


    "Why don''t you help him find it?" Ishar asked. "You''re telling me this guy lost his mind back there and we all just left? We should have stayed back, combed the sands for his mind until we found it."


    Phesoj stared at Ishar as if he wasn''t making any sense. This was something that irritated Ishar a great deal, a lot of the time when he said something people looked at him with this contemplating stare, as if they were trying to piece him together. Which is odd provided many weren''t pieced together themselves. There were even some who were losing their minds for gods sake!


    But he enjoyed the presence of his fellow Kolotians. The violet eyes that avoided his, the fingers with their tips stained blue that trembled in his presence. And that dark lustrous hair, he especially liked the hair of the one who''d recently taken charge. Indomil was her name? There was a beauty to that woman that was reminiscent of Niada.


    Where was Niada? They''d parted ways in the desert, she''d gone with Carrot to divert the attention of the Binorian Hunters while he searched for the Kolotians. He knew she''d avail herself when the time was right, he found himself longing for her. For those almond shaped eyes and that delicate curve of her neck where his kisses fell like they belonged.


    "They say you''re insane, that you''re going to be the doom of the Colony. That bringing you was a mistake." Phesoj broke the silence once more. "They believe the moment we''d seen you among the Binorian dead, we should have turned back and ran."


    "What do you believe?"


    "I believe you''re a harbinger, as they say. But not ours, I believe you''re destined to save us from oppression. To be a bane to those who hate us." Phesoj said and there was something in his eye, the gleam of fanaticism that would soon spark a furnace


    Ishar wanted to tell him that he had nothing to worry about since the recent King of Binoria died by his hand but he saw it fit instead to ask Phesoj something that related more to where they were going. "So the colony, how many are you there?"


    "We number in the thousands."


    "Do you have warriors?"


    "Thegir, the colony chief, has the Hundred. Special Kolotians whose fingers are holy and shouldn''t be cut who served to bring order to the colony and punish wrong doers." Phesoj answered. "It was my dream to join the Hundred but this is my last Water Seeking, upon our return all of us will go through the finger ceremony where we shall give back to the colony."


    "Give your fingers?" Ishar asked


    "Yes, for the good of the colony."


    "Does Thegir have his fingers?"


    "Yes."


    "All ten of them?"


    "Yes"


    "Why hasn''t he cut his fingers like the rest of you are going to?"


    "Because he is holy." Phesoj answered.


    "We''re here!" Indomil shouted from ahead.


    Instead of passing beneath a dune they crested it. And at the peak Ishar could see level ground going as far as the eye could see, flat ground made of stone. An anomaly in the desert. And there, an opening that seemed to lead underground, shaped like the mouth of a cave where four hulking Kolotians stood guard.


    "Thank Meena we''ve arrived!" Xelif said from beside Ishar.


    Ishar scoffed and said. "Meena? I beat the crap out of her once you know."


    xxxxxxxx


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 Chapter 52

    Indomil led the Water seekers down the sand dune, their pace was even more hurried now that they''d spotted home. Dora gave a sigh heavy with glee as she walked beside Indomil. They had arrived, finally. It was as if all they''d gone through, all they''d suffered while away could simply be swept away the minute they were all embracing their parents.


    Indomil recalled when the Binorian Hunters had descended on them, there amidst the dunes. She''d found herself hoping she''d see her mother and father one last time, if only they would just grace her sight before she died to the blade, she would have been content with whatever outcome that might have transpired. Now here she was, whole and well. Alive and eager to see her parents, yet there was this foreboding feeling that gnawed at her insides, scratching her from within with the purpose of drawing blood. She felt as if this might be the last time she saw her parents.


    "Can''t wait to eat the cakes Simona normally cooks." Dora said. Of all the things that were going on the girl still thought about food. Cakes for that matter, cooked by a woman who had a total of six fingers. Indomil should have shared in Dora''s delight yet she still couldn''t shake off the foreboding feeling, that this might be the end of the Colony. That when the four of the Hundred standing guard at the entrance saw the heads they carried in their stone cans, everything will change for the worst.


    They came to a stop where the four of the Hundred stood, tall hulking Kolotians with all their fingers intact, acting as sentries in case Binorian Hunters were to find them. As custom would apply, the Water Seekers would have passed by the four while showing the water they''d brought and thanking the sentries for staying vigilant. But as matters would have it suddenly none of the Water Seekers wanted to be the first to have their stone cans examined.


    They huddled behind Indomil, pushing her to the front. The four Kolotians looked at them with puzzled eyes, eyes that perused their faces. Indomil had played it all in her mind, she would explain what they''d come across then they''d offer proof of what had occurred and then they would be taken to Thegir who will in turn pass judgment and decide the best course of action. It was simple and easy to play through the process but for all her certainty, she suddenly found herself unable to move let alone to utter one word.


    "Is that one one of ours?" One of the Four asked while pointing at Ishar.


    Ishar stepped out of the huddled group and walked to the sentries. He came to a halt before them and didn''t even deem it fit to offer the customary bow. "Hello," He waved and smiled. "My name is Ishar, I have come to take the Kolotians out of the desert and to a land of prosperity where my race can thrive."


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    The Four stared at Ishar in silence then all at once they all laughed. Booming laughter, shoulders shaking at the effort to hold back the tickles of humor. But their laughter died down when Ishar started laughing with them.


    Suddenly one of the Four stepped forward and put a hand the size of a paw on Ishar''s shoulder. "If a stray wants to join our Colony, they must give something in return." And the hand went down to Ishar''s hand and pinched one of his fingers.


    It happened faster than Indomil could track. Ishar moved and the one who''d pinched his finger was suddenly five feet away, on the ground completely dazed. Half his face was swollen and bloody already, eye swollen shut. A single slap from Ishar had debilitated him. He tried to raise himself from the ground but ended up collapsing and lying flat on it. Dora screamed and her stone can tumbled from her grasp, two Binorian heads rolled free of the can to come and lie before the three remaining sentries.


    A moment of silence ensued where nobody said a word. Then as if on cue, all the Water Seekers placed their cans to the ground and more heads rolled free. The silence that followed was almost painful. Indomil wanted to speak but her eyes stayed glued on Ishar, the lad had something to him she simply could not understand.


    The way he''d struck the Sentry just spoke of what he was capable of, and now that their proof was laid out bare for all to see, Indomil foresaw a future where everything hinged on Ishar''s every gesture. She was afraid war would break out, and she wasn''t afraid for Ishar. No, she was afraid of him. The lad could very well take down all the Hundred. What then would her Colony have if protection was ever needed? How then would they survive?


    "Where did you get those heads?" One of the Sentry asked.


    "Heads? That imbecile has just struck one of the Hundred! The punishment for that as you very well know, is death." Another of the Sentry opined.


    "Calm, Hithriel, calm. Juspit is weak if someone as small as this foreign Kolotian could bring him down. Thegir did not raise us with weakness so his fault is his. But look," And the Sentry who''d posed the question leaned down and pushed over one Binorian severed head with a thick finger, the head rolled, tongue lolling past lips, sightless eyes turned to face Indomil and she faught the urge to puke. "This here is Binorian hunter, all of these heads belong to Binorian Hunters."


    "What is your point Kilthre?" Hithriel asked, eyes still locked on Ishar.


    "My point is how can a bunch of weak Water Seekers, none of them capable of even raising a blade what with all their skinny limbs and all, how did they bring down Binorian Hunters of this magnitude?" Kilthre asked.


    All the Water Seekers save Dagaa who only muttered to himself, lifted their arms and pointed at  Ishar. "It was him." They chorused in unison.


    xxxxxxxxx


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 Chapter 53

    Ishar sometimes found himself going through the motions without participating in any direct way. Sometimes, as others spoke, he would just sit there as if separate from all that occurred, it wasn''t that he wasn''t aware, far from it, he listened but he found meaning to be corrupted by other things, other emotions that painted the mosaic of his experience as something entirely different from what was.


    The Water Seekers all talked in unison, their faces scrunching up with what Ishar could only articulate as excitement. They spoke of him as one would a God but there was the underlying tone that spoke of him as a harbinger of sorts. Those who''d walked silently for majority of the journey suddenly couldn''t be silenced. With gestures, moving their arms about like geese preparing to take off, they spoke of him and all he could do was just stare straight ahead of him.


    He wasn''t looking at the hulking Kolotians who acted as sentries to the gaping hole that led to where the Kolotian colony actually was. He just stared straight ahead of him, as if unsure of what else he should do. But he didn''t suffer the nervousness of a bride to be, he felt rather like a groom whose bride was uncertainty and his every motion should aim to mirror her composition lest he drew her ire.


    He licked at his lips. So far everything had gone according to plan, he was finally among his own kind. But instead of the jubilation he thought his heart would exult in, he instead found himself under a blanket of melancholy. Deep seated sadness set perch upon his heart. A sadness that could only be heightened with every glance at all that was around him.


    Here were his people, hiding in the desert.


    Ishar had charged the late King Vayin Vigon. Stripped him of his dignity and made a mockery of his throne. The servants of Meena who so avidly debilitated his people were a floundering mess who''d just tasted the consequences of their actions by his hand. Yet, out here in the desert his people remained, out here they did not know of what went on in the realm. Cut off from society, cut off from progress. They hid, every breath borrowed and every idea snuffed out under the yoke of suffering that was fixed to them.


    He''d dreamed of this, seen himself at the head of a grand procession of Kolotians, traversing the desert. Heading to where water flowed freely and everything was a lush green, a different tone from the brown sand all around. It was his purpose, he knew this. He had to act at the moment, stir his limbs into motion. Demand an audience before the Kolotian Colony. Demand change!


    But wouldn''t it be better to just observe everything until something happened that would tilt things in his favour? And here he found himself at an impasse, unsure as to whether to act or not.


    So he stood as the Water Seekers talked, as one of the sentries went into the hole and later emerged with ten more hulking Kolotians who circled him on all sides. The Water Seekers picked up their stone cans and placed the severed Binorian heads where they''d been for the better part of the past few days. And in they went, trailing behind Ishar who was boxed in on all sides.


    Within the hole in the ground, things took an unpleasant shift. The ceiling was too low. The walls too narrow. They reached a part where they had to march single file, the big Kolotians trailing ahead and behind Ishar. It looked as if they were heading deeper towards darkness, the walls getting narrower then suddenly a gust of wind from ahead spoke of a wider space. Squeezing through a particularly narrow slit, they emerged into a dome formed from rock crusted with green slime that glowed. The glow was enough to enable Ishar to see all that was around him.


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    Kolotians. Old Kolotians, young Kolotians, sickly Kolotians, healthy Kolotians, curious Kolotians, frightened Kolotians. Everywhere he looked there were Kolotians and they all had the same thing in common. Most of them were missing fingers.


    Dirt caked cloth made tents that seem to have been perched in a box set with a path cutting across each set. There were close to two score tents per box set and the stench of unwashed bodies permeated the surrounding. The glow from the walls gave the place a luminous glow that would have looked beautiful if the dirt didn''t infringe so much on all that was around.


    The tents seemed to go on forever and as they walked throngs of Kolotians joined in, some hugging the Water Seekers and pestering them with questions. The once eager to opine Water Seekers now walked in silence and when the Kolotians peered into their stone water cans, screams ripped the air and it seemed the roof would come down from all the commotion.


    Through all this Ishar maintained a languid air, his every motion simple and his bearing as mild as an emperor''s in a golden palanquin. This were his people, scorched and suffering. They were his people, weak and shriveled. His people!


    He balled his fingers into fists, this checked the large Kolotians flanking him. Soon they emerged from the rows of tents to a wooden contraption in the likeness of a house that stood at the far end. From this contraption a man emerged, flanked as Ishar was flanked by tall brawny Kolotians.


    The man had a pinched face, almost rat like in its severity. Thin whisps of hair marked what was once a lustrous mane. His smile revealed missing teeth but his hands had a full set of fingers. He was dressed in silk, something none of the other Kolotians wore. A ring made of gold decorated the little finger of his left hand. He walked with a cane that looked fashioned from ivory and he approached with the air of one who was used to giving orders and seeing them followed.


    The whole congregation of Kolotians bowed, from the Water Seekers to the dust caked urchins who riddled the place. Everyone exhibited picture perfect humility before the man in silk and the very air was thick with the rancid anticipation of what would come next. They all bowed but Ishar remained standing.


    He never bowed, not to Desan and not to Vayin Vigon. And certainly not to the man who stood before him, taking him in with eyes two sizes too large for his face. The man gave a gapped tooth smile and spoke, a raspy voice that bounced across the dome, "Alright, what''s this then?"


    "Your end." Ishar answered and all rose to regard him. He smiled and he knew his eyes flashed amber and the man before him stumbled back a step. His people were beaten and worn out. His people were forgotten and ailing. His people starved and thirsted. His people did not know what comfort was. All this would change when he stood in the place of the one regarding him, and there was only one way to do that.


    But still, the thought of letting things be until a tilt occurred that would pour everything into the correct sequence that would be favorable for him plunged him back into the impasse. And Ishar found himself floundering, unable to find meaning to every thought strand within his mind. Madness is for the few. Ovek spoke from within him and he found himself finally having a glimpse of something with understanding.


    xxxxxxxxx


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 Chapter 54

    The heads were placed before Thegir, the Colony chief and the Water Seekers abandoned their stone cans and took two steps back. Gasps and screams lit the air, the Kolotians bore witness to something as damning as venturing beyond the Colony on your own. Dead Binorians, dead Binorians within the Colony.


    Thegir twisted the gold signet ring upon his little finger, he licked the gap between his teeth and spat. The Hundred who''d received them at the Colony entrance spoke of what the Water Seekers had told them. From the moment they''d met Ishar at the oasis, to the events of the previous night up to the arrival at the Colony. From the crowd Indomil saw her mother, tears in her eyes. She looked away, unwilling to dwell more on the sorrow blanketing all of them.


    There was no doubt, there would be a reckoning. The Binorian Hunters will not let the deaths of their comrades pass, they will avenge. Maybe even storm the Colony itself. Everyone knew Thegir bribed the Hunters with fingers so as to prevent them from coming for the Colony, now what price would be demanded for the lives taken? It was inevitable, death was coming.


    Death is already here. Indomil jerked her head at the mad Kolotian Ishar and found his gaze on her. Violet irises, large within clear whites stared straight at her, it was as if he was oblivious of everything but her, the eyes seemed to say, it was her presence he recognized the most, not Thegir, not the Colony... Her.


    XXXXXXXXX


    Ishar caught the eye of the Water Seeker, Indomil. He needed someone to plead for him, to speak in his stead for he was certain that if called upon, little would escape his lips. What was the point of airing out grievances, proclaiming assurances and stilling the heart with phrases? What could he say that would capture the hearts of all the Kolotians, tilt them in the direction he saw fit, the grand procession at his tail?


    They were his people, copper skin as rich as his own, and the tips of their fingers, those with them anyway, were stained blue just as his was.


    "So what do you have to say for yourself, wanderer?" The man in silk with the gold ring asked him. A hush blanketed the Colony, every Kolotian stood with lips pursed, eager to hear the wanderer, a title he deemed was given to those without a Colony. But his eyes stayed fixed on Indomil, there was something to her, a finality of sorts that drew him in the manner sheep were drawn to grass.


    A slap, hot and heavy landed on his cheek. But he barely moved a muscle, he turned and faced the large Kolotian who''d struck him. "The Colony Chief Thegir has asked you a question, wanderer!" The man said, spitting out the last word.


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    "Pardon? What did he ask?" Ishar asked.


    "What do you have to say for yourself? Did you kill these Binorians and what purpose is my Colony to you?" Thegir repeated.


    "I''m here for one reason." Ishar said, turning to face those congregated. He raised his voice for the benefit of those who were further out. "I am here to shed light on the plight of the Kolotian. For centuries we have been hunted for our fingers, killed for sport and oppressed for simply existing." He observed each face peering at him. "The Goddess Meena favored the Binorians, and it is through her power that we have been enslaved. This is no more, for the God of Chaos has chosen one from among us, bestowed upon him power for the sole purpose of liberating those of us who are oppressed." He bent and picked up a Binorian head. "I killed this man, just as I had killed King Vayin Vigon, former King of Binoria. I have the power, the strength necessary to free us of our bonds. And all I ask is that you follow me, and you shall know¡ª"


    Another slap cut his words short. Several hulking Kolotians encircled him, they each started beating him as he stood there, collapsing his knees they pressed him to the ground and as their blows fell Thegir spoke. "You imbecile. You are heat mad! You wander the desert and dream up nonsense that has very well doomed us all! The Hunters will come for us now, you bastard, because of you they will follow the trail. They will find you in chains Kolotian, we will gladly hand them your life if it means the salvation of our lives." He turned to those Ishar had heard of called the Hundred. "Beat the delirious fool to a bloody pulp, then bound him in chains. We''ll hand him over to the Binorians when they come."


    XXXXXXXXX


    Indomil watched as the Hundred descended on Ishar, reigning blows that brought him to the ground. The young man didn''t defend himself neither did he beg for mercy, all he said was the same words over and over." But you are my people! But you are my people! But you are my people!" He shouted the words. Willing them to be true, hoping some camaraderie of sorts would avail itself at that moment. But no such thing happened, he was beaten and he did nothing. He did not bring them down as Indomil knew him to do. Neither did he protect himself, all that could be heard was his cry, the same words over and over. "But you are my people!"


    She found herself weeping, agony clutched at her chest. Making it hard to breath, her lips moved a silent "No"  to mirror Ishar''s cries. There was an injustice here of sorts, a man having his kind turn on him, a man''s dream being crushed to dust. An end to a desire that nurtured growth. And she bore witness to it, and it sought to drive her mad with grief.


    Thegir walked away from Ishar and was thus unaware of when the young Kolotian''s eyes suddenly glowed a brilliant amber.


    "But you are my people!" A voice, deep and impossibly powerful rumbled from Ishar''s throat, and everything came to a stand still.


    xxxxxxxxx


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