ã€ŠThe Screaming Plague of Ash (A Medical Horror Fantasy)ã€‹


 Prologue

    Twenty moons before the Day of Akkavan, a trader walked into the town of Ash and could not stop screaming. No one knew his name or where he came from, but along the Loam Road this was not uncommon. After attacking those who assisted him, he was thrown in the town cell reserved for drunkards and beggars. Many in Ash thought that he would eventually tire out or die, but after three moons he did neither. He sat in his cell, screaming perpetually at a spirit that could not be seen. He screamed in defiance of food and water and sleep.

    Some suspected he was cursed by the gods and should be executed before the town became cursed along with it. Boah, the head of one of the nine trader families in Ash and a learned man, made the case that killing a sick and wounded man could just as easily curse the town as letting him live. With the debate at an impasse, the decision was made to send for a healer from the nearby village of Lockwood. A courier was sent to return with a healer within a fortnight.

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    Soon, some of the traders who had assisted the screaming man felt their heads grow hot and their posture heavy. Although many in Ash were habitual drinkers, few had felt hangovers to this extent. No amount of herbs could soothe their fevers. Soon, they stopped talking. Then, they too began to scream. The town cell had only ten cages, and near the end of the fortnight all of them were full and in danger of overflowing. At first, the guards plugged their ears to abate the screams, but it was no use. The guards abandoned the screamers to their cells, though they felt little remorse. The screamers needed no food or water, after all.

    Soon the screams echoed down the roads. Few in Ash slept those nights.

 Part I.I.I: A Healer from Lockwood

    Three Moons Until the Day of Akkavan

    ?

    The healer Appo rode atop an elephant along the northern ridge of the Thorne River. They were still on the Loam Road, but the path here was long neglected. Few traders ventured this far west from the coast, and most travelers had little motivation to traverse endless hills of sand and steppes and rock. The only information Appo knew about this region of Ostior was that departure from the river would mean certain death from dehydration and sunstroke.

    ¡°Curse this land, it¡¯s too hot,¡± he swore to himself. Appo pulled his scarf over his head, but he continued to sweat.

    Appo¡¯s elephant plodded along the path. If she was encumbered by her journey, she did not let it show. Appo was grateful for his sturdy companion and patted her head. This far north, elephants were the most convenient and reliable form of travel, provided they had consistent access to water. They moved at a steady pace, and their large size prevented most travelers from becoming prey. Appo wasn¡¯t unfamiliar traveling with them, but he was uncomfortable traveling alone, especially this far from the Republic. Elephants were normally far out of his price range, but the payment the courier provided had been generous.

    Appo knew the elephant had a name, but it was long and difficult to pronounce. He had forgotten it only moments after he left Lockwood. He doubted the elephant would care.

    The tediousness of the trek made it easy for Appo¡¯s mind to wander. He mostly thought of how he ended up here. Months prior, he had settled in the small village of Lockwood treating tooth rot and jaundice. Common ailments of northerners, indeed most in Ostior. Most treatments were simple and required little strategy. The most difficult part of jaundice was convincing its sufferers they need not drink the liquor that caused it. That liquor tended to be saved to treat those with tooth rot, which required little more than a hammer and a strong arm. They were frustrating and unappreciated duties, but Appo¡¯s methods were effective and his patients paid a livable wage.

    Appo would¡¯ve been content to continue his thankless job if he had not been found by the odd courier, adorned in nondescript beige robes commonly worn by desertfolk. ¡°Greetings healer,¡± the courier had begun, ¡°your services are requested at the city of Ash. A plague of which the cause is not known is in dire need of identification. Ash is approximately twenty five leagues west of Lockwood along the north bank of the Thorne. You will be greeted by a mediary four leagues from Ash, who will guide you the rest of the way. Coin will be provided for travel, and successful treatment and guidance will receive five times as much.¡±

    Before Appo could accept or deny the payment, the courier handed him a bag of coin, and continued eastward. Seemed the courier had absolutely no intention of returning to Ash.

    Looking back on it, Appo could have easily used the coin to travel east as well. He could have purchased a camel for a fifth of the price of the elephant and be well on his way to the coast, where the weather was cooler, and the environment was a little more forgiving. Still, it was in a healer¡¯s nature to help those in need.

    As the temperature continued to rise and the sun¡¯s rays bared down, Appo wished he had been a little more selfish.

    Appo consulted his map again. He had never been to Ash, and other than their extravagant holidays he knew little of the people from there. Ash didn¡¯t reside along the riverbank, which frustrated him. ¡°Do Ashfolk not drink?¡± he wondered aloud. He had no idea how to measure a league. How many had he traveled over the past few moons? A dozen? Perhaps he bypassed it. He didn¡¯t even know for certain whether his mediary would show. His gut told him he was making the right move, but he couldn¡¯t help but be cautious. Trusting people was a common way to get killed in the north.

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    Looking up, Appo spotted a lone figure in the distance. ¡°Bless Lowya¡±, he muttered under his breath.

    As Appo approached, he made out the features of this mediary. He was tall, which was unusual. Most desertfolk didn¡¯t have enough food to grow as big as they could. The closer he got, Appo saw why; this man was a mercenary. He looked as though he hailed from the savannas or even the steppes. His face was tan from the sun, and under his tunic Appo could make out a muscular frame. Like most mercenaries, he carried a scimitar around his waist. Unlike most mercenaries, Appo figured he knew how to use it. His posture was too confident to appear otherwise.

    Appo let the elephant stride until he could make out the mercenary¡¯s face. This man was unlike any other mercenary Appo had seen before. Most were young, overconfident children too big to stay at home and too foolish to do much else. From Appo¡¯s experience, they tended to strut around brandishing swords, talking too much and saying too little. They often ran at the first sign of a legitimate threat.

    When Appo read this mercenary¡¯s face, he sensed only boredom. That both intimidated and comforted him.

    The elephant halted and bellowed a light squeak. Appo looked as accommodating as he could to the mercenary, who continued to glare with disinterest.

    ¡°I take it you¡¯re the mediary to Ash?¡± Appo asked.

    The mercenary stood a second or two longer than Appo was comfortable with before responding. ¡°Anyone stupid enough to travel the Thorne alone must be a healer,¡± he said.

    Appo was surprised. Most northerners reacted with hostility to healers, and he tried to not let it bother him. However, most responded this way because they were afraid of what healers were capable of. Few had reacted to indifference. None had called him ¡°stupid.¡± He hated to admit it, but Appo was offended.

    ¡°Worry not,¡± Appo responded as courteously as possible, ¡°I¡¯m capable of defending myself, as deceiving as my looks may be. I know this land. I know that raiders will pass me in favor of the traders, and whatever beasts I encounter will do best to avoid picking fights with an elephant.¡±

    The mercenary was unimpressed. ¡°I¡¯m not talking about the beasts and the raiders, you ignoramus. Your supplies. You¡¯re not equipped to survive the desert.¡±

    ¡°Ignoramus?" Appo thought. "The nerve of the bastard.¡± Belittling was something he wasn¡¯t used to. Northerners were suspicious, but they were polite even in their roughness. Most traded for a living, and needed charm to survive. Appo was acquainted with their niceties, as superficial as they may be. This man had no such qualms, it seemed.

    ¡°Do you greet everyone this way?¡± Appo replied.

    ¡°Just ones I don¡¯t expect to survive.¡± The mercenary approached the elephant and rubbed its trunk. ¡°She is thirsty. Have you told her to drink?¡±

    ¡°You mistake me for a shaman. I don¡¯t talk to beasts, and I don¡¯t talk to trees.¡±

    ¡°Healers, shamans¡­ all the same. Magical fools.¡± The mercenary continued to caress the elephant, who relaxed a little. ¡°You need to remind them to drink. They suffer from the heat too, but their spirits are stronger. Won¡¯t complain until they¡¯re dead.¡±

    Appo huffed, but the mercenary had a point. He himself noted that the elephant had been moving slower recently. He hadn¡¯t thought anything of it.

    ¡°Have you come just to insult me, mercenary?¡±

    The mercenary released the elephant¡¯s trunk. ¡°You can call me Jere.¡± He beckoned the elephant to the riverbank, and the elephant eagerly dipped its trunk into the water. Appo could do little but begrudgingly scorn.

    ¡°Pleasure to meet you, Jere,¡± Appo said with just a hint of frustration. ¡°Can you enlighten me on the situation in Ash? Anything helps.¡±

    ¡°Nope,¡± replied Jere, ¡°I¡¯m but a lowly and humble servant of Boah Awil-Ishtar. My duty isn¡¯t to think. All I can tell you is that there¡¯s a plague. Nothing quite like it. If it were up to me, I¡¯d let it do what plagues are meant to do, and let it take the city. Place is cursed, after all.¡±

    Appo saw this as an opportunity. Most in Ostior couldn¡¯t tell the difference between a disease and a curse. ¡°What exactly do you think I plan to do once I get to Ash?¡± Appo asked.

    Jere grunted. ¡°If you were a shaman, you would say some words and splash some water. That¡¯s what holy men do. But since you¡¯re a healer, my guess is you¡¯re gonna ride up, say ¡®there¡¯s nothing I can do¡¯ and leave with our coin.¡±

    Appo understood. The unfortunate reality of being a healer was understanding how little you knew. ¡°I¡¯m not a raider,¡± Appo replied. ¡°I¡¯m not here to rob your people. I¡¯m here to provide guidance. Even if there is nothing I can do against this plague, there are ways to prevent it from spreading.¡± Although Jere had never quite looked away from Appo, it appeared as though he finally met his gaze. ¡°To put it in a way a mercenary would understand, ¡®I can¡¯t make money off of you if you¡¯re dead.¡¯¡±

    Jere couldn¡¯t help but smirk. As if he hadn¡¯t expected the gall from a healer. Appo may have butchered the creed, but Jere seemed to respect the effort. ¡°¡¯Those who are dead may not give thanks,¡¯¡± he recited back.

    Appo nodded. ¡°Ah, that¡¯s it.¡± At this point, the elephant appeared to have gotten its fill of the water. Appo turned the elephant back up the riverbank. ¡°Shall we move on, then?¡±

    Jere turned towards the hills. He brought his fingers up to his lips and blew a loud whistle. A short distance away, a camel groaned and rose to its feet from beyond a nearby rock cropping. Jere leaped with ease onto the camel and rode up the side of the riverbank. Appo followed suit, noting that his elephant¡¯s pace had improved.

 Part I.I.II: The Southerner

    In most maps of Ostior, the Eivett? was where the sketches ended. No one, not even those who chose to brave the hostile environment, could say for certain how large the desert truly was. Some suggest it could be as large or larger than the entirety of Ostior. North of the Thorne there are no rivers, streams, or oases. There are no beasts to hunt. There are no caves to shelter from the rays of the sun. It would be a land of the dead if there was anything to die.

    The healer and the mercenary continued northward, riding their beasts of burden side-by-side. The desert was unlike anything Appo imagined. He saw only cracked sand and stone, nothing like the dunes he had read about in parchments. Away from the ever so slightly cooling breeze of the Thorne, the air was even hotter and dryer. It tasted like sand, and it seemed to coat Appo¡¯s lungs as he inhaled. The sensation was sticky and uncomfortable. He had heard stories from those who traveled far west to the Fincur mountains; how the air seemed too thin, and how a breath of fresh air could feel like water for those who had gone moons without. Appo had never been there, but a breath of frigid air never sounded more appealing.

    He decided to talk to pass the time. ¡°Where do you hail from, mercenary?¡±

    Jere spat and said nothing. Appo was envious; he wished he had the moisture to spit.

    ¡°Do you come from the savannas? The steppe?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m from the south. The far south.¡±

    The south?! Appo doubted it. People in Ostior rarely traveled, and even the most ambitious of traders rarely detoured away from the Loam Road. Those who were well-traveled were typically those of great strength, and those who did not have the strength typically weren¡¯t alive to tell the tales. More likely than not, whatever Jere was about to say would be nothing more than stories.

    ¡°What brings a southerner to the Eivett?? The one thing I know for sure about southerners is that they don¡¯t like to travel.¡±

    Jere looked onward. ¡°I don¡¯t.¡±

    Appo subconsciously followed his lead and turned forward. ¡°This man certainly seems to have the attitude of a southerner, for sure,¡± he thought.

    ¡°The weather is too cold and the beasts are too big.¡± Jere continued. ¡°I won¡¯t bore you, healer. You likely wouldn¡¯t believe me anyway.¡± Appo was again irked by this man¡¯s ability to predict where his thoughts led.

    ¡°It seems as if the only thing trying to kill us here is the sun,¡± Appo said.

    ¡°Yep.¡±

    Suddenly, Appo became aware of how dry his mouth was. He hadn¡¯t drunk since he had met Jere, and he had forgotten to rehydrate at the river. He also was a little too stubborn to admit to this ruffian that he was running low on water.

    Jere tossed Appo a small root that was barely caught. ¡°Dried figweed,¡± Jere said, ¡°chew and suck on the water. It¡¯ll give you something to do other than die of sunstroke.¡±

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    ¡°He did it again. Bastard.¡±

    For as judgmental as Appo was internally, outwardly he simply thanked Jere and began sucking on the Figweed. Sure enough, he found his mouth becoming wet again. Without a second thought, he muttered a light prayer before chewing on the root.

    ¡°That name you just said, I don¡¯t recognize it,¡± Jere said. Appo looked at his companion. Jere¡¯s eyes never wavered from his forward gaze.

    ¡°Lowya. She¡¯s the patron of Healers. You could say she¡¯s who I worship,¡± Appo pulled out a pendant ¨C a pair of crisscrossed zig-zagging lines ¨C from around his neck.

    ¡°Strange name¡­ Don¡¯t pray so openly. Ashfolk won¡¯t take kindly to healers praising gods they don¡¯t recognize.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll take my chances,¡± Appo replied.

    ¡°You better hope your god is the god of coin, or the god of whores.¡± Jere chuckled.

    Appo was conflicted. He knew his god was far more reviled than praised, especially to those who were aware of her. Still, Appo¡¯s policy was honesty more than anything else, and couldn¡¯t help himself. ¡°Lowya is the Goddess of Pestilence.¡±

    Jere spat again. ¡°Pestilence? Like¡­ disease? You¡¯re going to be murdered.¡±

    Appo, his mouth rejuvenated, likewise spit in response. ¡°Men of my profession see disease all the time. Disease is a horrible thing, and I concluded that if there were any gods out there that should be my ally, it would be one who I come in contact with on a regular basis. The goddess of death has her hands full, and the gods of thunder and sand are of little use to me.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t think gods appreciate that. You can¡¯t be logical. You have to choose what is right.¡±

    ¡°Can I not do both?¡±

    ¡°The goddess of pestilence will do little to protect you from the sun and beasts, ignoramus.¡±

    The two rode in silence for a moment. ¡°What do you mean beasts, Jere?¡± Appo said. ¡°I thought you said it was too hot for anything to survive in the desert.¡±

    Jere¡¯s expression turned sour. ¡°Perhaps above the ground. Below the ground, however¡­¡± Appo was shocked, afraid of what would make this strong and stoic bully hesitate. ¡°Below the ground, the land is cooler¡­ Below the ground are the worms.¡±

    There was a brief pause. Appo chuckled briefly, before bursting into laughter. Jere turned with rage to his companion.

    ¡°What?! What¡¯s so funny?¡±

    Appo regained his composure. ¡°Ah yes, the Eivett?n Death Worms, I¡¯ve heard of them.¡±

    ¡°And you mock them?¡±

    ¡°Because, my dear mercenary friend, they don¡¯t exist.¡±

    Jere lost control of his camel for a moment before readjusting. ¡°They certainly do! That¡¯s why traders keep to the trail. That¡¯s why the dunes shift. They devour men and digest their bones into gemstones.¡±

    ¡°Have you ever seen one of these worms? Is that where the gemstones come from? Might as well shit petrified wood as well.¡±

    Jere frowned. ¡°Just because I haven¡¯t doesn¡¯t mean they don¡¯t exist. I¡¯ve seen enough from my travels to not discount the threats of the traders.¡±

    Appo laughed again. ¡°Jere, the Death Worm was created by them. Keeps people from diverting from the trails they set up. It¡¯s a trick. I¡¯ve met with patients ¡®suffering¡¯ from Death Worm bites. Every time, it¡¯s a snake bite. There are many things to be afraid of in this world, and the Death Worm is not one of them.¡±

    ¡°The worms are more real to me than your god, healer,¡± Jere spoke under a petty veil of embarrassment.

    Appo didn¡¯t want to come off as condescending, but he couldn¡¯t help it. He hadn¡¯t seen much of the world, but he knew what he knew to the best of his ability. Still, he didn¡¯t know everything, and this mercenary had supposedly seen far more of the world than he had. He decided to let the matter die.

    ¡°We¡¯re close. Look in the distance.¡±

    Across the horizon, Appo could make out the outlines of short stone buildings behind a wall. He could make out some commotion. The sun made his vision hazy, but he knew what was to come. Ash was in view.

 Part I.I.III: A City in the Midst of a Plague

    At the edge of the hamada, Appo stood atop a hill that gently sloped down to a rolling cliff face nearly thirty meters tall. This cliff face was continuous, extending east and west for leagues, with the exception of an abrupt flattening base where the city of Ash was squeezed into. A collection of two hundred buildings were condensed together between the cliffs, mostly homogenous with the exception of the massive four-story temple in its center. On its southern border lay a stone wall common to many Eivett?n settlements, but there was none like it on its northern end. It simply faded into the desert, stretching out as far as Appo could see.

    The first thing Appo noticed was Ash¡¯s open gates. Nearly all cities, even those up north past the Thorne, maintained at least some sort of barricade around its borders. Even if the monsters weren¡¯t a threat, surely bandits and raiders must be? Nevertheless, it seemed as if the city was open to the world. Ash had nothing to fear, for nothing could be feared more than the sun above and the air surrounding it. That, or perhaps the city had nothing to offer that was worth taking. Appo figured that was just as likely.

    Ash was far from being the largest city that lay along the Thorne, so Appo was surprised to see a bustling metropolitan hub. Appo and Jere passed dozens of stands that adorned the outside of the entrance, each with merchants chanting their most enticing bargains. Hundreds of people walked amongst the stands, shouting and cursing at each other and themselves. Hues of ruby and teal and copper flooded the streets, as men and women in fabulous clothes bartered amongst each other. Beggars interspersed between the stands, some dutifully holding their hands out in penance. Others entertained with singing and prancing and chanting.

    ¡°Doesn¡¯t look like a city in the midst of a plague,¡± Appo wondered aloud.

    ¡°Crowds are bigger than usual,¡± Jere muttered. ¡°For the Holiday. Many risk death to be here.¡±

    Appo and Jere rode their beasts through the crowd, which seemed to disperse without paying any extra mind. Appo looked past the sandstone buildings that marked the formal boundary of Ash. Like most desert settlements, the buildings rarely rose above a single floor. Carved into sharp rectangular edges and smoothed over, they had no semblance of artistic flair. They existed to create shade.

    The stalls continued as the pair rode into the city. They seemed to sell a wide variety of nonessentials. Gemstones. Pottery. Necklaces and beads. Jars of dirt. Jars of shit. Jars of dirt and shit. The streets were wide, which allowed several rows of camels and elephants to ride past each other without impairing the stalls and their customers.

    Jere raised his hand and his camel stopped. The elephant squeaked and halted as well, causing Appo to brace the front of his saddle. ¡°Wait here and let me get the big man.¡± Jere hopped off his camel and walked into an adjacent building, leaving Appo alone with his thoughts.

    Appo climbed off his elephant and rubbed behind its massive ear. He looked out at the crowd, trying to diagnose their ailments. He couldn¡¯t help it; he always played this game when he was bored. Finding tooth rot was never hard, neither were the obvious facial tumors. A man with clubbed fingers walked by; that wasn¡¯t especially common. Neither was the woman who walked with a gait that suggested a recently shattered hip. Appo pitied the man who strode with his left-hand swinging and his left foot dragging; he was too young to have suffered a stroke. Was the merchant across the street shaking his hand because he was angry, or was he afflicted with the shaking palsy? The one-eyed old man looking directly at him was blind.

    ¡°Hold on.¡±

    Across the bustling street stood a hunched old man with a dark complexion. His wrinkly gray skin stood out even amongst the rags that counted as his clothes. He leaned forward on a wooden cane. He wore a turban that covered his head. Sand coated his entire body, including his silver beard, his worn eyepatch, and his bare sand-coated feet. What stood out even more was the man¡¯s bright blue eye. Appo had seen that color hundreds of times amongst beggars who congregated outside of temples, which always seemed to glare upwards towards gods they tried to see, praying for their sight to return.

    Yet this beggar was staring right at him. It pierced Appo¡¯s soul. He couldn¡¯t look away. He was so hypnotized that he jumped when a strong, slender hand grasped his shoulder.

    ¡°It is a pleasure to meet you, friend!¡± The voice was booming and proud. Appo turned to meet the voice. It belonged to a towering beanstalk of a man. His head was shaved and smooth, though he sported a black bushy beard. His attire was uniform in color and elegant: gold piercings to match his golden robe and golden necklace. His bracelets twanged as he removed his hand from Appo¡¯s shoulder. He flashed a pleasant and disarming smile. The man was flanked by Jere on his right, and a smaller younger man on his left.

    ¡°Appo,¡± Jere spoke, ¡°May I introduce to you, Boah Awil-Ishtar, head of the Awil-Ishtar household.¡± Jere¡¯s tone was formal and unfamiliar with his usual blunt manner of speaking. It pained him to talk like that.

    Boah chortled. ¡°Now, now Jere. There¡¯s no need for formalities to an honored guest! Please overlook my attire, Appo. You must think it gaudy, but I wear it out for respect of my late wife ¨C she¡¯d haunt me otherwise!¡± Boah appeared to be unable to finish a sentence without laughing at his own joke. Still, Appo found himself charmed.

    ¡°The pleasure is mine, sir. My condolences to your wife.¡±

    ¡°No worries. It was years ago, and she went peacefully.¡± Boah gestured to the man on his left. ¡°This here is my son, Juddken. He works for the Guard Corps. He is my shadow, and soon I intend for him to take over my business.¡± Juddken silently bowed without expression, to which Appo bowed in return. He appeared like his father, only less so. He was slightly shorter, stockier, and wore considerably less jewelry. If he inherited his father¡¯s charm, he did not show it.

    ¡°Thank you all for the warm welcome,¡± Appo replied. He was still a little shaken, as it wasn¡¯t customary to touch another person anywhere in Ostior, even in the more metropolitan trading posts. Ash seemed full of surprises. ¡°I¡¯m shocked there are so many others. Are you sure we¡¯re in the right place?¡± Appo nervously grinned at his own joke, hoping it would land. Boah chuckled.

    ¡°Yes, yes, you¡¯ve come to the right place. Ash is the beating heart of the Eivett?, and the greatest source of trade this far from the coast. We¡¯ve put in a lot of work, as you¡¯ll see. Hard to believe this city was once sick.¡±

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    ¡°Once sick? You mean to tell me the plague has subsided?¡±

    Boah flashed that classic merchant grin. ¡°I believe so, Appo. During the last few moons, we¡¯ve uncovered the source of this dreadful disease, and are in the process of dealing with it.¡± Boah turned. ¡°May I lead us away from all this commotion? I¡¯d like to show you what we¡¯ve done.¡±

    Boah moved towards a nearby alley, flanked by Juddken and three masked men. ¡°Guards. I didn¡¯t even notice them, where were they hiding?¡± Appo turned back to his elephant. Jere had just finished tying their riding companions to a nearby post. He grunted at Appo as he walked past. Appo followed the group down the alley, almost skipping to keep up with the large strides of Boah.

    Appo looked back into the crowd for a moment. The old blind man was now looking away, seemingly lost in his own visions. Maybe Appo let his imagination run wild.

    ¡°Don¡¯t let our crowds fool you, we very much have our city under control,¡± Boah began, ¡°The traders are free to come and go as they please, but they only sell to outsiders. The entrance is open, as is the main street running to the temple. But no one goes outside of that.¡± Sure enough, after passing only one alley the crowds vanished. Other than the occasional guard and lone traveler, the roads were empty.

    ¡°We Ashfolk are proud people,¡± Boah continued. ¡°We are also cautious. Most have locked themselves in their homes with little encouragement.¡±

    Appo was impressed. Most people weren¡¯t knowledgeable about diseases enough to quarantine themselves, and they rarely listened to authority that attempted to enforce it. He wondered how this tall man managed to pull it off.

    ¡°Jere never informed me what type of disease we¡¯re dealing with here,¡± Appo replied. ¡°Is it leprosy? Consumption? Scarlet fever?¡±

    ¡°None of those.¡± Boah seemed somewhat reluctant to answer. ¡°But I can assure you we¡¯ve taken care of its source.¡±

    ¡°And what would its source be?¡±

    ¡°The source of all diseases, Appo. You know this better than I do.¡± Boah turned morose, which looked unnatural on him. ¡°It came from a wicked soul. Black magic with the intent to do harm to the innocent. A soul that is about to be removed from this plane.¡±

    Appo¡¯s pace slowed. He shouldn¡¯t have been surprised. To most, diseases and curses were synonymous terms. Shamans certainly believed so. Even amongst the more educated and experienced healers, there was furious debate. Appo hated to admit it, but he actually didn¡¯t know what a disease was. But he was certain it had nothing to do with magic. Leprosy didn¡¯t care if you were rich or poor. The Warts of the Steppe was a common affliction even amongst the more magically inclined. It had no goal; it simply spread. All Appo had learned was how to treat it. He knew diseases had more to do with sanitation than the supernatural. Still, the phrase ¡°I don¡¯t know¡± never really sat well with people, regardless of how educated they were.

    ¡°Boah,¡± Appo asked, ¡°who is this wicked soul you speak of?¡±

    ¡°A dirty shaman. I understand healers such as yourself don¡¯t get along well with them. You¡¯re right to be suspicious. She used her sinful blade and pierced the curse into the souls of the afflicted. You can see her for yourself.¡±

    The group entered a small plaza. In its center stood a dozen men and women in beige and unfitted clothes, looking far removed from the more vibrant masses outside the city. They stood in front of three guards, who in turn stood in front of a pillory. Within the pillory was a pitiful young woman, her thin body stripped naked and her arms confined near her head. Her face was grossly misshapen, her eyes were swollen from bruises.

    As Appo approached the crowd, he could make out their sudden gestures. They were furious. He was convinced that the guards would step aside if anyone dared to approach the woman. The sight made him sick to his stomach.

    ¡°This is barbaric.¡± Appo couldn¡¯t stop the words coming out of his mouth.

    Boah shook his head. ¡°Perhaps. I understand it¡¯s in your nature to alleviate pain, but I assure you, what she¡¯s going through now is nothing compared to what she has conjured from that black heart of hers.¡±

    A rock sailed from the crowd and slammed the edge of the pillory. Another followed shortly afterwards, hitting the woman in her cheekbone. An audible crunch echoed through the plaza, rousing the crowd to more jeering. The woman spat out a tooth and some blood.

    Appo turned to Boah. ¡°If you want my advice, let it be this: I can assure you this plague has nothing to do with this woman. Diseases are cruel, yes, but they¡¯re natural. They have a source, and they flow like water. We need not jump to conclusions just yet.¡±

    At that moment, the charming fa?ade from Boah¡¯s face vanished. The whites of his eyes contrasted with his dark skin and golden adornments. It looked as though he had seen a ghost.

    ¡°You¡¯re a learned man, are you not?¡±

    ¡°I studied at the Healer¡¯s Guild in Jyv?sk. I apprenticed under the surgeon Parbast for five years and have spent three years practicing in just about every village, town, and gathering place along the Thorne. I know how plagues work.¡±

    Boah approached. ¡°I too am a learned man. I too have been to Jyv?sk. I too have seen the underbelly of Ostior. I¡¯ve read countless books and heard countless stories.¡± He leered his head past Appo¡¯s, almost speaking directly in his ear with a cold sneer.

    ¡°There is nothing natural about this plague.¡±

    Boah continued past Appo, with Juddken and his guards following. Appo looked forward, trying to lock eyes with the young woman. The side of her face was becoming blue. Another rock slammed against the pillory, missing her head by a finger¡¯s length. Despite her youth, her eyes showed aged indignation. She knew she''d been condemned to die.

    Jere came to Appo¡¯s side. ¡°I¡¯m not a learned man, but I¡¯m well-traveled. He¡¯s right. Boah is a lot of things, healer, not many of them good. But I¡¯ve never known him to be scared.¡± He paused. ¡°There¡¯s nothing the Gods could tell me to explain what I have seen. Boah and the other fools are trying to keep the Holiday going and I don¡¯t agree with that, but if killing this woman takes the plague with it, so be it.¡±

    Jere beckoned Appo to follow him. Appo did so, though Jere let out one last thought. ¡°Don¡¯t let the big man fool you. The people aren¡¯t staying home because they were told to. They¡¯re staying home because they¡¯re too terrified to go outside.¡±

    ¡°What is going on here?¡±

 Part I.I.IV: Bjorn

    Boah led the six men to the outskirts of town. They walked down a brisk path before approaching a small hut assembled from fired mud bricks. Beyond the hut, Appo could make out a multitude of stones jutting out from the ground. It appeared to be the city graveyard, and many of the graves were freshly dug. The hut¡¯s entrance was flanked by two guards, through which a quiet moan escaped from inside.

    Boah broke from the group to speak to the guards. As he did so, Juddken leaned closer to Appo. ¡°This is where we¡¯ve been taking the most recent plague victims,¡± he said.

    ¡°Why here?¡± Appo inquired. ¡°Surely this can¡¯t be where you hold all of them?¡±

    Juddken shook his head. ¡°Some have had the fortune to ask for death before they lose the ability to speak. This is where we cure that.¡± Juddken spoke with a matter-of-fact tone. Whether he felt one way or the other about them was lost on Appo.

    ¡°How many people in Ash have the plague?¡±

    ¡°Not sure. A dozen, maybe? I forgot how many are in the cells.¡±

    ¡°And how many have come here?¡±

    ¡°At least five. Father won¡¯t let us cure them unless they¡¯re able to give the go-ahead themselves. Says it brings ¡®misfortune¡¯ to the city. After what they¡¯ve seen, if given the chance all of them come here.¡±

    Appo didn¡¯t like how Juddken spoke. The fact these men wanted to die seemed inconsequential to him. Still, Juddken wasn¡¯t attempting to hide anything. The more Appo knew, the better. ¡°Who are the people getting sick? What were their professions?¡±

    ¡°Mostly cell guards and traders. A few kids.¡±

    Appo felt like he was punched in the gut. Diseases truly spared no one. He continued his inquiry. ¡°To the best of your knowledge, did everyone contract the¡­ ¡®curse¡¯ after they visited the shaman?¡±

    ¡°Yes, as far as I know. Obviously not everyone told us where they got it, but at least three guards and two traders visited the shaman before they started feeling sick.¡±

    ¡°So that¡¯s five. What about the rest? Were they all proven to have gone to the shaman at least once at some point? Do we have witnesses?¡±

    Before Juddken could respond, Boah returned from his conversation with the guards. He spoke with urgency. ¡°I¡¯ve been informed that Bjorn has begun to pass over. If you want to see this plague in full force, Appo, I suggest we move quickly.¡± Boah moved behind Appo and Juddken and pushed them through the hut entrance. Jere followed closely behind them.

    The interior of the hut was lined with mud and a paste Appo didn¡¯t recognize. The hut would¡¯ve been adequate protection from the humidity, were it not for the source of heat in the hut¡¯s center. There stood a bed that contained a single bearded man. An older woman adjacent to the man placed a wet rag on the bearded man¡¯s forehead. He grunted in response.

    The first thing Appo noticed was the smell: it smelled like death. Appo was well acquainted with the sticky-sweet smell of death and decay, but its source could always be traced to a corpse or a rotting limb. This smell didn¡¯t make sense, though. It was concentrated, but Appo couldn¡¯t see why. From the outset, the bearded man looked no different than many other infected persons Appo had encountered over his lifetime. He was skinny, but not unnaturally so. His skin was white, and his forehead was perspiring. The hair on his beard was somewhat thinned. What stood out was the bearded man¡¯s face, as he appeared to be in an unbearable amount of pain. The bags under his eyes indicated a lack of sleep. He held his hands at his sides, guarding his abdomen. It was only then that Appo noticed the man was tied down to the bed at his feet and his neck, and that his left hand was bandaged.

    With horror, Appo realized where the smell was coming from. A pile of mush formed between the man¡¯s legs as they all stood around him. It looked to Appo like intestine. The older woman was quick to scoop it away into a bucket below the bed. Appo was used to gore, but he could tell the other men weren¡¯t. Several guards held their mouths over their faces in an attempt to not retch. One of them seemed to fail, for he ran out of the hut.

    Boah walked alongside the bearded man¡¯s bed and looked him over. He turned to the old woman, ¡°How far along is he, Eanna?¡± The woman simply frowned as she reached for another wet rag.

    Boah moved to the far end of the bed and addressed the group. ¡°This poor soul is Bjorn. He is a cell guard. For the last few moons, our jail has served as the site for those afflicted with this blight. Soon, it became clear that the jail was no longer adequate for the cursed, so the decision was made to condemn the site. As the men boarded the windows, poor Bjorn here was scratched. This curse spreads by blood, you see. He immediately volunteered himself to the hut in case he turned. Unfortunately, it appears to be the case. He has not eaten since the attack, and he has not slept in three moons.¡±

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    Appo looked over his case yet again. The bearded man, Bjorn, had lost all muscle tone and fat reserves. The bandages covered the scratch, whose indentions seemed to protrude from the wraps. Bjorn pressed his hands deeper into his abdomen.

    ¡°Okkan, help me¡­¡± Bjorn muttered pathetically, ¡°it hurts so much.¡±

    Eanna approached Boah with hesitation. ¡°Sir, I¡¯m afraid that Enlil has yet to return. He hasn¡¯t read Bjorn his Last Rites.¡±

    ¡°Yes, so I was told. ¡®Too busy planning the Holiday¡¯, cowardly bastard. Some high priest he is¡­¡± Boah gestured at Appo. ¡°No matter! Appo, you¡¯re a priest, aren¡¯t you? All healers I¡¯ve met are.¡±

    Appo began to sweat even more than the stuffy hut had already done to him. Appo figured now wouldn¡¯t be the best time to admit that he worshiped the Goddess of Pestilence to these timorous people. She could forgive him for lying just this once. ¡°Um¡­ I¡¯m not a priest¡­ I know some of the words, but I¡¯m not consecrated with any of the gods, so the words would be meaningless. Perhaps maybe-¡±

    Jere cut him off. ¡°Stop blabbering, healer. Sir Awil-Ishtar, I admit I am not allowed to speak the words of the local gods, but I could speak the words common amongst those in the south. It¡¯s been a long time, but consecrations are forever binding. It won¡¯t be from Okkan, but they¡¯re something.¡±

    Boah nodded. ¡°Forgive me. I forgot who you once were in another life. The words don¡¯t matter as much as the person doing it.¡±

    Appo couldn¡¯t believe it. He had imagined Jere with a litany of former professions. Never in an eon could he have predicted Jere was once a holy man¡­ and still was. He didn¡¯t think Jere believed in any god. Perhaps a god of cynicism?

    Jere approached Bjorn and outstretched his hands. With his scimitar still attached to the waist, his look couldn¡¯t have contrasted more with what he was doing. He looked a little uncomfortable; it was clear he hadn¡¯t done this in a long time. He spoke to names of a god Appo didn¡¯t recognize. ¡°Bjorn, son of¡­¡± Jere looked to Boah with reluctance. ¡°Do you know his father¡¯s name?¡±

    ¡°Bjorn.¡±

    ¡°Ah¡­ Bjorn, son of Bjorn, I hereby read you your Last Rites. May these words comfort you as your soul leaves our plane.¡± Jere cleared his throat and looked to the ceiling, eyes closed, and arms rising.

    ¡°The end is the beginning

    Spirits pass through time

    As water returns to the sea

    Through the mountains

    and the riverbanks

    In the ocean they are free.¡±

    Bjorn was past the point of recognizing where he was. During Jere¡¯s speech, Bjorn began scratching his wrists. His eyes rolled into the back of his head. Still, Appo could sense in the air a modicum of comfort. The stuffy room that smelled of death became a little more tolerable.

    ¡°Now we wait,¡± Juddken said.

    Moments passed. Bjorn continued muttering to himself, praying to Okkan over and over again. After a while, he began whispering the names of other gods as if he were running down a list. It seemed he had given up on Okkan to save him.

    ¡°I see it.¡± Bjorn said. ¡°I see it. I see it. I see it.¡± He repeated it slowly, with increasing fervency.

    Eanna reached over to grab the rag off Bjorn¡¯s head. It was soaked in his sweat. As Eanna grabbed the rag, Bjorn¡¯s eyes widened, and he lurched forward.

    ¡°Don''t touch me you wicked bitch!¡±

    Eanna jumped back. Boah nodded to Jere, who reached for his scimitar. Bjorn flung his head back into his bed, his crisscrossed tracks of veins pushing through the skin. His muscles spasmed, and he thrust his abdomen as far in the air as he possibly could. He had bitten his lip earlier, for his mouth was bleeding.

    ¡°Don¡¯t fucking touch me, don¡¯t fucking touch me, don¡¯t fucking touch me¡­¡±

    Bjorn scratched his wrists with increasing intensity. His skin became red, followed by a low trickle of blood. Skin and hair pooled under his fingernails. ¡°The noise¡­ It¡¯s making me itchy. Oh gods, I¡¯m so itchy. Make the noise stop please I don¡¯t want to hear it anymore.¡±

    Thoughts were running through Appo¡¯s head. ¡°Insanity. That¡¯s what this is. That would explain the self-mutilation. It¡¯s the only logical explanation.¡±

    Bjorn¡¯s bloodshot eyes opened wide. Too wide. The creases at his eyelids began to bleed. He struggled to breathe, and his mouth sputtered. ¡°Oh, gods no, what is that? I see it! I see it! Make it stop oh gods please make it stop!¡± His voice rose louder and louder. ¡°It''s so loud please make it stop!¡±

    Bjorn opened his mouth wide, as though unseen hands were pulling his jaw apart. He took a deep breath and released a bloodcurdling scream. He screamed louder than Appo ever thought a man was capable of. He screamed for several moments, before taking a deep breath and screaming with the same ferocity. His back arched higher and higher, and he looked as though he was in danger of tearing his bonds. His eyes bulged from their sockets. He didn¡¯t sound human.

    Without a word, Jere walked over to the edge of the bed, lifted the scimitar over his head, and brought it down through Bjorn¡¯s neck. Bjorn¡¯s head dropped to the floor and rolled away. His face was left in a permanent shriek, eyes bulging and mouth agape in an eternal scream. Blood pooled from Bjorn¡¯s body as it gradually relaxed.

    Appo too, had his mouth agape. He had no words for what he just saw.

    Boah walked over to Jere. He patted him on the shoulder. ¡°Remember to leave the scimitar here. The blade carries the curse with it.¡± Jere nodded in response. Boah approached Appo, who stared dead-eyed at the corpse.

    ¡°Appo, things have changed since we called for you. You¡¯re not here to diagnose and cure these wretched men. You¡¯re here as a figure of authority. I need you to assure that those here for the Day of Akkavan are none the wiser to keep this city from panicking. You do this for me, and I promise you on my family¡¯s name you will receive your full payment. Does that sound like a deal?¡±

    Appo wasn¡¯t quite sure he heard everything Boah said, but the words were coming back together somewhat. He nodded. Boah stuck out his hand.

    ¡°I need you to shake my hand, Appo.¡±

    Appo did so.

    Boah beckoned to Juddken. ¡°Go tell the guards to take care of the body.¡± He turned to Eanna, ¡°clean this up as much as you can. I don¡¯t need to warn you not to touch his blood.¡± Boah left the hut.

    Jere pushed past Appo without a word. He was expressionless.

 Part I.I.V: The Cells

    Throughout his travels, Appo had found there was no unified penitentiary system along the Thorne. What was considered a crime and the scope of the punishment varied from town to town. For example, Appo was informed that thievery is considered highly taboo in Ash, and its punishment almost always severe. In a world that thrived on bartering, taking away a man¡¯s life was no worse than taking away a man¡¯s way of living. Ash had no formal executioner. Instead, those committed of high crimes were often sentenced to walk without protection into the Eivett? at high noon. The result was always the same.

    Before the first screaming man arrived in Ash, the cells held mostly petty criminals. Drunkards, beggars, and blasphemers made up its population. The jail itself was a modest building, made with the same mud bricks and stone combination common amongst the city. Its corners and windows were reinforced with iron bars, but otherwise it wouldn¡¯t stand out from the taverns.

    When Boah led Appo and the others to the jail, the most notable aspect of the building was that its iron windows were boarded up. Wood isn¡¯t exceedingly rare in a trading post as big as Ash, but it wasn¡¯t cheap. It was normally used for luxury items; rarely was it used in such a manner. Outside of the building itself, everything seemed off. Appo was unnerved by how quiet this section of Ash was. ¡®West Shell¡¯, Juddken had called it under his breath. It was an apt name: the far northwest corner of the city seemed utterly devoid of life. Outside of Appo, Jere, Boah and two of his personal guards, there was not a single breathing soul. Even the air, which Appo had imagined to still be sizzling under the setting sun, had gone silent.

    ¡°Where are the prison guards?¡± Appo asked, ¡°Is anyone watching over the sick? How are they getting food and water?¡±

    Boah shook his head. ¡°They require none. The first sign of the sickness is that their bodies lose their lust for nourishment. Bjorn refused food and water for three moons. Even if we forced it down his throat, he spat it back out.¡±

    ¡°That alone isn¡¯t uncommon,¡± Appo thought out loud, ¡°I recall cases of rabid dog bites turning beggars into vicious beasts who revolt at the sight of food. How long have the prisoners gone without food?¡±

    ¡°Almost a fortnight.¡± Boah approached the jail wall. ¡°I suppose it¡¯s possible to make it without food that long. But surviving more than two moons without water in the Eivett?? It¡¯s unnatural. It¡¯s a curse, Appo, I don¡¯t say that lightly. There are no souls behind those doors.¡±

    Appo went towards the boarded windows. He turned to Jere, who stood behind him. ¡°What is the purpose of these?¡± Appo asked, ¡°I can¡¯t imagine they reinforce the iron bars already more than they do.¡±

    Jere stared at the walls, ignoring him. He had not spoken to Appo since he shook Boah¡¯s hand. Boah answered for him. ¡°They not for protection. Listen for yourself. It¡¯s safe.¡±

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    Appo did so. The boards felt thick and solid, but as he pressed his ear against them, he could make out whimpers and moans. People were in there, sick or not. Appo felt a sudden urge to get to them. He wanted to tear off these walls and study this disease. Perhaps it wasn¡¯t as unique as the symptoms made it out to be.

    ¡°You must think us cruel for doing this,¡± said Boah, ¡°but this is for the best. What the curse has done to them¡­ it¡¯s irreversible. Were it not for our mercy, Bjorn would be like them, screaming and tearing at flesh. His flesh. Our flesh. We must destroy them, like we must destroy that vile woman. Our holiest of holidays is at stake, not to mention the lives of everyone in Ash.¡±

    Appo stared at the walls deep in thought. He knew that the disease would continue to spread even with the shaman out of the picture. Best case scenario, he knew only the situations of not even half of the victims. His only certainty was that he didn¡¯t know the whole story. For a healer such as himself, Appo knew that if he didn¡¯t have all the answers, he had to go in search of them.

    ¡°The accursed¡­ are they secured in their cells?¡± Appo asked.

    Boah laughed. ¡°You¡¯re not seriously considering going in there, are you?¡±

    ¡°If I want to advise you, I need to learn as much as I can about this¡­ ¡®blight.¡¯ I need to determine without a doubt what these men have become. You said it yourself that it defies tradition to execute those near such a holy occasion. If I can determine without a doubt that they are indeed dead¡­ putting them out of their misery won¡¯t defy your traditions.¡±

    One of the guards, a stout man who was a head shorter than Appo, stepped forward. ¡°If I may, Sir Awil-Ishtar, the jail was barricaded for protection against the sounds. The last we checked the prisoners were secured. With precautions, we could safely engage in the healer¡¯s curiosities.¡±

    Boah looked to the guard, turned to Appo, then back to the guard. He leered down over both men before smiling. ¡°Your call, Duncic. Take the proper precautions. I¡¯m sure he¡¯ll come to agree with us once he sees what we¡¯ve seen.¡±

    The stout guard, Duncic, beckoned Appo to the door of the jail. He began unfastening many of the several locks in place. ¡°There are a few things I need to make clear. Do not approach the cages. I repeat, do not get within an arms¡¯ reach of the cages. They will try to grab you. They will be very agitated by your presence. Once you come outside, our men will have to check the skin of your arms and legs. If there is a cut or scratch, we will throw you back in there and lock the door. Understood?¡±

    Appo hesitated slightly before nodding. Duncic carefully opened the last lock and opened the door. Appo looked inside, perceiving only darkness. The moaning from behind the boarded windows became more pronounced. He looked to Jere, who was sharpening his new scimitar with a rock, paying no mind.

    Appo was on his own, but he wasn¡¯t going to abandon his duties as a healer.

    Duncic handed Appo a small stick. Customary to the region, most guards carried torches at the ready. Duncic took a flint and lit the torch aflame. He handed it to Appo. ¡°Remember, keep your hands by your sides. I¡¯m going to lock the door behind you, don¡¯t be alarmed when I do. Knock when you¡¯re ready to return.¡±

    The healer stepped forth into the darkness. Duncic closed the door behind him.

 Part I.I.VI: Approximately Human

    It took Appo a moment before his eyes adjusted to the dark. Although the torch did its duty, he struggled to make out his surroundings. First, he found the counter. Then barrels. He saw runic stone carvings on the counter. Finally, he saw the entrance to the cells adjacent to the counter. It appeared he was in a holding room.

    The moaning was apparent instantaneously. It was long and guttural and echoed off the walls of the jail. Appo looked behind the barrels and the counter, making sure nothing hid behind them. He counted the steps as he turned the corner to the cells. Against every instinct, he walked towards the moaning.

    The cell proper was slightly larger than the holding room. Appo could make out at least five or six cages that were fused with the outer stone walls, though he couldn¡¯t see very far. Appo¡¯s vision was still adjusting, but the dim light of the torch could make out human-like figures in the cages. There were at least three voices overlapping each other, all of them producing moans and rattling noises with far more fervor than what Appo was expecting. Appo approached the nearest cage and stuck his torch at the bars.

    What Appo saw through bars could be best described as ¡®approximately human.¡¯ There were bony appendages that could be considered arms and legs, but they appeared shriveled and dried. It looked as if someone wrapped a skeleton in sandpaper and forgot everything in between. Claw marks were etched throughout the torso and down the legs, forming a bumpy mosaic along the skin. The figure was standing upright, with its legs stiff at the knees and arms at the elbows. Appo could make out a distended barrel-shaped chest under its emaciated ribs, which balanced carefully on a shrunken waist. The figure turned its head towards the torch where Appo could see its face, or more accurately, what was left of it. It was sunken in and gaunt. It was hard to tell whether it was man or woman. Dark bloody pits took place where the figure¡¯s eyes should have been. Bits of skin hung where the ears used to be. Matts of hair had been torn out in clumps, making the figure look as though it had been scalped. Its jaw hung low; it appeared that the jaw had been dislocated at some point and was now hanging by the threads of ligaments. The mashed remains of a tongue dangled from the gaping hole of the figure¡¯s mouth.

    The figure¡¯s jaw distended even more, releasing a guttural scream. Appo dropped his torch to the ground. The scream roused the others, creating a cacophony of shrieks that echoed off the room and inside Appo¡¯s head. He covered his ears, though the screams seemed to pierce through his hands. He fell to the ground as angular arms reached through the bars. Through the screams, Appo could make out shaking chains and the shuffling of feet.

    Appo grabbed his torch and briefly waved it around him. He made out the silhouettes of a jumbled mess of arms sticking out of the bars. There was more scar tissue and scabbing than skin. The hands themselves were elongated with sharp protruded fingernails, crusted underneath with bloody clumps of skin. They were reaching out, scratching at the air.

    The screaming got louder and louder. It was coming within now.

    Appo got to his feet and ran blindly in the darkness. He somehow found his way back to the door, slamming his body into it before banging several times. No answer. He couldn¡¯t focus through all the screaming. Was it getting louder?

    For a moment, Appo collected himself to think clearly. ¡°Knock. They don¡¯t knock.¡± He did so three times. The door opened and Appo fell through.

    Appo was on the ground now. He was looking up at Duncic and Jere. Both had scimitars at the ready. They grabbed him by his arms and rolled up the sleeves of his tunic. They ran down his arms, checking the entirety of the skin. They both held his wrists tightly. Jere briefly lifted Appo¡¯s shirt and panted his legs, probing there as well.

    ¡°No scratches,¡± Jere said.

    The two men released him. Duncic moved to close the door. Appo readjusted his pants and got to his feet. He took a deep breath, he felt as if he hadn¡¯t breathed in several minutes. He had yet to get to his feet before Boah came leering over him. His bald head blocked out the sun.

    ¡°Discovered anything that could be of use to us, Appo?¡±

    Nothing came to mind. Appo stood there, hands on his knees, catching his breath.

    Boah continued, ¡°I pity them, truly. Their souls are lost. But the end is near now. With your word, we can condemn this place along with the old woman. This curse will be but a memory.¡±

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    They were right, Appo realized. This was truly unlike any plague Appo had ever seen. Even amongst the most horrific diseases there was no comparison. He wasn¡¯t sure he had even read of such brutal effects, or even heard of it in apocryphal stories. His thoughts went back to what he saw. The bloody eye sockets. The stiff limbs. The sharpened fingernails. Not to mention the screaming that still echoed in his ears.

    Still, something about it made logical sense. Appo looked up at Boah. ¡°Plague.¡±

    ¡°Excuse me?¡±

    ¡°You keep using this word. ¡®Curse.¡¯ Soon this plague will be a memory.¡±

    Boah laughed, but there was no charm. ¡°What are you talking about?¡±

    ¡°What is in there,¡± Appo hesitated, ¡°is unlike anything I¡¯ve ever seen before. I admit, I know of no scholarly work that explains these symptoms, but I¡¯ve yet to see any proof that this is the work of a god, or the even work of a shaman.¡±

    Boah rolled his eyes. ¡°Are you daft? You must be suffering from sunstroke. And need I remind you that accusations of atheism are punishable by exile in Ash.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t claim to be an atheist. I follow the Goddess Lowya.¡±

    Boah¡¯s laughs seemed to get angrier. ¡°The Goddess of Disease? I almost wish you were an atheist!¡± Jere, who had finished assisting Duncic with the door, walked over to the two, caught off guard by Appo¡¯s abrasiveness.

    ¡°I don¡¯t mean to offend, sir,¡± said Appo. ¡°I am not belittling your authority and I don¡¯t wish to. However, it is my duty as a healer not to simply abide by convenient solutions. I¡¯ve come to discover that we know not of the cause of more than half of the cases. We can¡¯t afford to risk this plague escaping the prison, and there is a high chance that it may still be spreading under our noses.¡±

    Boah sneered, but he didn¡¯t stop Appo.

    ¡°I know what you¡¯ve been trying to do this whole time. You¡¯ve wanted to show me the horrors of this disease. You want to scare me into agreeing with you. Don¡¯t worry, if there¡¯s anything you¡¯ve done it¡¯s that you¡¯ve confirmed to me that this is far from anything I¡¯ve ever seen before. However, in my good conscience I can¡¯t simply follow your plan and return home. And as your advisor, I can¡¯t advise that these people are dead.¡±

    ¡°Such a conscientious soul you are, Appo the Healer.¡± Boah paced. ¡°What would you suggest then?¡±

    Appo pondered for just a moment. ¡°We want the same thing, Boah. Give me a few moons. Allow me to trace the source of this disease. Keep the jail up for now, boarded and secure. Let me talk to the guards and loved ones of the infected and let me trace the source. Spare the woman¡¯s execution until we prove without a doubt that it came from her and let me speak to her. I need to know exactly how this disease spreads and how many people have it.¡±

    Boah was frustrated, but he was considering his options. Appo liked that. Jere stood to the side, following the exchange with interest.

    ¡°I will give you three moons. That gives you until the Day of Akkavan to do what you think needs to be done. You can even talk to the old woman. However, I have two conditions. One: the old woman will die. She has already been sentenced to exile and I cannot rescind the word of the priests. Two: if nothing new comes from your inquiries, you get paid nothing, and you return to Lockwood on foot.¡±

    Appo nodded. He knew what he was risking when taking on this job. Out of the corner of his eye, he thought he imagined Jere giving just the slightest hint of a grin.

    Boah beckoned Duncic. ¡°As you can imagine, I have other matters I must attend to. Tomorrow, I will convene with my colleagues to discuss this. I trust you to not incite a panic while completing your duties.¡± In an instant, Boah, Duncic, and the other guard were on their way back into the city. Appo and Jere were alone once again.

    Jere broke the stillness. ¡°As I said, healer, you¡¯re an ignoramus.¡± Appo was annoyed that he was about to be berated by the mercenary again until he continued. ¡°Any healer with half a brain would have taken the coin and gotten out of this godforsaken city.¡± He paused. ¡°I may have been wrong about you.¡±

    Appo appreciated his approval. ¡°Healers are rarely in it for the coin. If they are, they¡¯re fools.¡±

    Jere nodded. ¡°That, and anyone foolish enough to speak to the big man like that is worth keeping around. People are beginning to sleep, and we should let them. How about tonight we celebrate with a drink? It¡¯ll be your treat.¡±

    Appo felt guilty even considering the idea. He was a habitual worker, and it had been months since he had been to a tavern. He blamed it on seeing so many cases of jaundice along the river. However, relaxing didn¡¯t seem like such a bad idea. He did what most had done before and what most will do since: he convinced himself he needed it.

 Part I.I.VII: Desert Culture

    The tavern was called ¡°Eevi¡¯s.¡± It wasn¡¯t the finest establishment of drink in the city, but it was far from the worst and attracted loyal clientele, along with the usual trader tourists. As there was little to do in Ash other than drink or pray, at night many would flock to taverns and attempt to do both.

    Eevi¡¯s stood at the northeast edge of the city, where the mud brick settlements faded away into pebbles. Outside of Eevi¡¯s, many would watch the sunset and pray for a cold night before settling in for a drink or a dozen. The building itself was a modestly sized outpost that distinguished itself with its teak wooden door. As teak only came from the faraway woods of Merkamensa, it was a sign of sophistication and care that few of Eevi¡¯s patrons ever appreciated. Jere and Appo certainly didn¡¯t as they pushed their way through the door.

    The first thing Appo noticed was how quiet it was. Many taverns across Ostior appreciated ambiance and hired musicians to fill the gaps between conversations. Strings of the kantele, the sitar, or the harp would sing their beautiful melodies in harmony with the laughter and the brawling. Appo had been to a few taverns along the coast in his youth and remembered how he couldn¡¯t hear himself think over the ceaseless shanties and shrieking woodwinds. Here however, there was nothing in the air other than isolated laughter and the pouring of drinks.

    ¡°Apparently culture doesn¡¯t exist this far north,¡± Appo thought.

    The tavern¡¯s patrons wore dusty and indistinct garb, which couldn¡¯t have looked more different than the meretricious robes of the traders and the Holiday crowd. These were the people of the desert, who worked and toiled in unbearable heat to earn just enough coin to spend their nights here. Some stood out, like the massive hairy fellow who roared with laughter and spat in a language Appo couldn¡¯t understand. Most were quietly sipping their ale, though.

    Jere led Appo to the tavern, leaning over the counter. Behind the counter stood a tall dark-skinned woman with a mesh of curly black hair tucked away into a long ponytail. She was especially muscular for a woman, and she walked with an upright and proud posture. Under her right eye was a series of three downward triangles tattooed into her cheekbone. Her face was pronounced and toned; she would¡¯ve been beautiful were it not for the massive black scar that took up much of the left side of her face.

    The woman locked eyes with Jere for a moment before turning to Appo. ¡°Earlier than usual, Jere,¡± she said. ¡°I didn¡¯t know you were capable of making friends.¡±

    ¡°You always know just what to say, Eevi.¡±

    Eevi grinned, seemingly well-acquainted with Jere''s brusque personality. She produced a mug of ale for Jere and turned to Appo. ¡°What can I get for you, stranger?¡±

    Appo felt how dry his tongue was before answering. ¡°Just water for now. Clean, preferably.¡±

    Jere quickly corrected him. ¡°Get the healer a mug of ale, for Okkan''s sake.¡±

    ¡°A healer?¡± Eevi chuckled. ¡°Definitely a stranger, then. I¡¯ll get you something I know healers like.¡± She moved away, leaving the two to themselves. Jere took his ale and moved to a nearby table. Appo followed his lead and sat down.

    ¡°Bold of you to order clean water in Ash,¡± Jere said as he took a sip from his mug. ¡°Might as well order from the top shelf, it¡¯ll cost the same. You can¡¯t get rid of thirst here.¡±

    Appo fidgeted in his chair. He couldn¡¯t remember the last time he¡¯d tasted alcohol and was nervous as to what Eevi was bringing out to him. If he was completely honest, he was still shaken from his journey to the cells. He kept seeing extended arms and distended jaws. He had been poring over his brain to find something that would explain the symptoms, any combination that would make sense. Nothing came to mind.

    Jere caught him lost in thought. ¡°If you plan on talking work, I¡¯ll leave. It¡¯s an inconvenient situation. Worry about it tomorrow.¡±

    ¡°How can this not be on your mind? I¡¯ve been thinking about it nonstop since the cells. I¡¯ve never seen anything like it.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m not sure what¡¯s got you riled up, healer?¡± Jere¡¯s voice dripped with sarcasm. ¡°Boah¡¯s figured it out. It¡¯s a curse. Dies with the old woman. Problem solved.¡±

    ¡°You don¡¯t actually believe that, do you?¡±

    Jere took a large gulp of his ale and exhaled. ¡°I don¡¯t know.¡± His eyes looked away, lost in his own thoughts. ¡°I killed a man this morning. A good man. That¡¯s all I know.¡±

    Appo wasn¡¯t sure how to respond. He was distracted. He knew who he had to talk to, and where to go from there. He didn¡¯t need to discuss it now. And it was true: Jere had acted as both the priest and the executioner. Perhaps there was a reason the two of them were in this tavern tonight. In the end, Appo pursued a different line of questioning. ¡°When you say ¡®far south¡¯, you exaggerate, correct? I can imagine you hailing from the steppe or even the savanna, but I can¡¯t imagine how one could travel that sort of distance in one lifetime.¡±

    Jere took another sip. ¡°I grew up cold, healer. I was raised in a world where it never stops snowing, where the pine obscures the stars, and the sun is a distant relative. When I say the far south, I meant it.¡±

    Appo was intrigued. The surest sign of strength was the ability to travel, and from what Jere had suggested he must have traveled the entire expanse of Ostior. Appo had never seen snow before and could never imagine a world where it could be cold enough to produce it. ¡°You must be strong.¡± He found himself blurting out words again.

    Jere slapped his palm on the table. He gave his classic sly grin. ¡°You don¡¯t know half of it, healer.¡±

    At that moment, Eevi arrived at the table. She was carrying several mugs and glasses, showing impressive dexterity. She dropped two things for Appo; a mug full of water, and a small glass full of a clear liquid that smelled of petroleum. Appo was all too familiar with the smell, as he carried a flask of it around his belt just in case of an emergency. Spirits were helpful for the prevention of bloodrot.

    ¡°Careful,¡± Jere said to Eevi, ¡°the water may be too strong for this one.¡±

    Appo had had enough. He had been reaching for the water, but instead grabbed the small glass and swallowed the entirety of the liquid. An intense burn hit his tongue and throat. It tasted horrible, but it was quickly followed by a soothing sensation that hit his entire body with a shiver. He showed Eevi two raised fingers.

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    Jere chuckled. ¡°Huh. Not bad.¡±

    Appo stuck out his tongue and collected himself. ¡°I was once a priest, mercenary. I never claimed to be priestly.¡±

    Jere laughed and raised his glass. ¡°I¡¯ll drink to that.¡± He took another swig. Appo could see that there was a chance Jere may be a light drinker.

    Eevi returned with two more small glasses of the spirit. Appo waited for Jere to take another swig of his ale before pushing one of the glasses across the table. Both raised them again, and both grimaced as they swallowed the spirit.

    ¡°When did you become consecrated, Appo?¡± Jere sputtered. ¡°With your strange¡­ disease god.¡±

    ¡°I pledged to Lowya during my apprentice years. Before I traveled up the Thorne, I studied seminary in Jyv?sk.¡±

    ¡°I knew you looked like cityfolk.¡±

    Appo chuckled. ¡°It¡¯s the greatest city in the world. No monsters, no famine, no sunstroke. Just an incompetent bureaucracy¡­ and occasional pirate raids.¡±

    Jere slurped what was left of his ale. ¡°Ain¡¯t that the truth.¡±

    Appo was starting to feel his drink, and the words began to spill out. ¡°When I was a lad, I worshiped Lord Atta like many others in Jyv?sk. I don¡¯t anymore. Once I moved away from priesthood and towards medicine, I figured it was my duty to improve upon my craft as much as I can. My faith in the gods is there, but outside of my profession I rarely call upon it.¡±

    ¡°And what challenged your faith, healer?¡± Jere leaned in slightly.

    Appo realized that may not be drunk enough yet to tell his entire life story. ¡°I suppose I¡¯ll tell you that when you tell me what challenged yours, Jere.¡±

    Jere put down his drink. He was annoyed but attempted to hide it. ¡°Then I won¡¯t know. As long as you do your job.¡± He waved over Eevi, who made it over in her usual diligent fashion. ¡°I¡¯ll take another ale, he¡¯ll take another ale, and get us two more shots each.¡± He gestured to Appo. ¡°Make sure he pays. And if he orders another water there¡¯s going to be trouble.¡±

    Appo couldn¡¯t help but laugh. Jere was quite the entertaining drinker. He wondered how much of his personality he hadn¡¯t seen outside of his hardened mercenary exterior. He certainly hadn¡¯t seen the priest in him. Still, he figured he needed to slow down. The last thing he needed to do was embarrass himself publicly. ¡°Just one shot, Eevi, if you don¡¯t mind.¡±

    Jere shook his head. ¡°Okay never mind, I¡¯ll pay for that one shot. The one he doesn¡¯t want.¡± He slapped down some loose change. ¡°He¡¯s getting it regardless.¡±

    Eevi chuckled at the considerable increase in coin she was soon to receive. She picked up the empty glasses and turned to Appo. ¡°I¡¯m surprised a healer isn¡¯t more intrigued by spirits.¡±

    ¡°If I had any self-respect I wouldn¡¯t even be drinking. I should save them for an accident. It¡¯s hard to drink them without thinking of gangrene. That being said, I¡¯m impressed by your product, I¡¯m curious to know how you distilled it.¡±

    If Appo were being completely honest, this was one of the worst spirits he had tried in his years of traveling. Still, he was impressed that distilled alcohol even existed in the desert. He thought only ale and wine traveled that far. He could also turn on the charm quickly with a little in his system. It seemed to work, as Eevi decided to engage. ¡°I have a distillation kit in the back. This is actually a spirit of my own concoction. It¡¯s much more affordable overall. I¡¯m surprised you like it, most people don¡¯t really care for it out here. In fact, most people don¡¯t even know what ¡®distillation¡¯ really means.¡±

    Jere stared blankly past the two. He hadn¡¯t heard the word ¡®distillation¡¯ before.

    Appo thanked Eevi and let her return behind the bar. Jere leaned over the table. ¡°Don¡¯t let her kindness fool you. Eevi has a more interesting story to tell than either of us.¡± Jere put his hand on the table, trying to keep himself balanced.

    When Eevi returned with the drinks, Appo took up the bait. ¡°So Eevi, have you always tended bar?¡±

    ¡°No. In another life, I was once a raider.¡±

    Appo hadn¡¯t been expecting that. He had been fortunate enough to avoid raider attacks throughout his travels along the Thorne but had heard about them frequently and he often treated their aftermath. Raiders were notorious for their ferociousness and were the reason why mercenaries such as Jere held the jobs they did. From the stories Appo had heard, raiders were almost inhuman, and some people doubted they were really from Ostior. Still, this woman¡¯s appearance almost seemed to collaborate with her story. Her being a raider would certainly explain the scars and her toned appearance.

    ¡°Interesting¡­ How does a raider become a bartender in a town like Ash?¡±

    As she leaned over the chair, Eevi folded her arms, showcasing a variety of tattoos and scars along her forearms. ¡°Well, healer, I hail from the steppe. At least, that¡¯s where I was born. Many raiders come from there. When I was young, I knew only the nomadic life. Raise cattle, feed cattle, butcher cattle. That was all I did. I was miserable, my parents were miserable, and my brothers and sisters were miserable. I was destined to marry a miserable suitor and sire a litter of miserable children who would go off to do what my family had done for generations. I decided that wasn¡¯t the life for me, so I packed three moons of supplies and wandered north. Better to be dead there than alive on the steppe. On the third moon, as I ran out of food and was preparing to die, I encountered a tribe of raiders.¡±

    Eevi looked to the ceiling, recollecting her story with clarity. ¡°The raiders had their way with me, as they did with most women. I cried, but I never expired. They had planned to sell me as a slave, but they saw I could hold my own against the other boys. I could shoot a bow, and I could use a knife. Eventually, they decided I would be a welcome addition to their tribe. Once there, I thrived. I rose the ranks and came to control my own band. We pillaged and ravaged settlements on the steppe. Eventually, we reached the home of my family. We pillaged and ravaged them just the same. I killed my brother as he defended his children. We moved on to the next village.¡±

    ¡°Eventually we came to realize that supplies were more plentiful in the desert than they were in the steppe, so I made the decision to join the raiders up here. Supply lines were easy pickings, you see. We could become rich off a single plunder, but soon that wasn¡¯t enough. We wanted more and became greedy. I had fought off insurrections more than a few times, but it was a constant struggle. Men would overthrow me. I was raped many times, but when I stabbed them, they never got back up again. I was tortured. I was burned.¡± Eevi pointed to her charred cheek. ¡°Yet, I would always get back in control.¡±

    Appo was appalled by the graphic detail Eevi spoke with. He wasn¡¯t sure how much of this story he was supposed to believe, but Eevi spoke so matter-of-factly that it appeared she wasn¡¯t even trying to impress them. She told her story in declarative bursts with little flair. Appo took another shot of the spirit.

    ¡°I found myself in charge of several bands of raiders. I wasn¡¯t a queen, but for them I might as well have been. Men laid down their lives for me. I had several children, some of whom will one day become impressive leaders in their own right. I had taken my life into my own hands and became something new. I was rich. I was powerful. I was a killer.¡±

    ¡°At some point I realized that I had committed my whole life to the raider lifestyle. I knew nothing outside of it. I killed those who disagreed with me and knew little outside of my bands. I realized I was still miserable, like my parents before me. They spent their entire lives siring cattle and cattle herders. I spent my entire life siring raiders and killers. I was no different. Eventually, I had enough with it all and left. I packed up supplies for three moons and walked back into the desert. I left most of the coin to my tribe, but I took just enough to manage. The first place I came to was Ash, where I bought out this building and turned it into a tavern.¡±

    Eevi¡¯s story ended with the same unapologetic tone she held throughout. Appo wasn¡¯t sure what he was supposed to glean from the story. Eevi told her life, plain and simple. She got up from the chair and stretched her arms. ¡°I¡¯m sorry boys, I didn¡¯t mean to ramble. Not too many people care to ask about me. I¡¯ll get you some more ale, my treat.¡± She returned behind the bar.

 Part I.I.VIII: A Fair Fight

    Throughout the story, Jere had finished half of his ale and taken both of his shots. He leaned over the table, swaying from side to side. ¡°Like I said, healer. Good with the stories.¡±

    ¡°You don¡¯t believe that she was lying, do you?¡±

    Jere was beginning to slur his words as he worked on the remainder of his ale. ¡°Listhen, I want to make somethin¡¯ very clear to ya.¡± He held up two fingers. ¡°There are two types of people in this world. There are people who can¡¯t fight, and there ar¡¯ people who are natural storyte¡¯ers. Everyone in this world wants to be a kil¡¯er. It¡¯s good fo¡¯ business.¡±

    Appo couldn¡¯t imagine why someone would make up a story the way Eevi just did. Maybe he was a little more trusting while he was intoxicated, but Appo couldn¡¯t detect lying when she spoke.

    Although Jere was getting drunker as the night went on, it appeared he could still read Appo¡¯s mind. ¡°Yo¡¯ think I¡¯m fulla shit, aren¡¯t ya? Well, I want ya to takea lookie over at the big fella.¡± Jere pointed at the loud hairy man. The man had three empty mugs on his table and was asking Eevi for a fourth. He shared the table with two others who looked at him in awe. ¡°Tink he¡¯s tough? I¡¯ll show ya just ¡®ow tough ee really is.¡±

    Before Appo could stop him, Jere rushed out of his chair and plodded across the room to the hairy man¡¯s table. Jere thrust his hands on the table, looking directly at the hairy man. He glared into his eyes. ¡°Ay, what¡¯s your name, fella?¡±

    The hairy man was also intoxicated, if not more so than Jere. His eyes were drooping, and he was holding onto the table. Still, he was massive. He looked much more like a stereotypical world traveler than Jere; his arms were large enough to wrestle a bull, and his beard was braided into intricate knots. He oozed confidence, and the fact he sat next to a giant hammer indicated he probably knew how to use it. Appo was terrified at what may happen.

    ¡°Kostya,¡± the hairy man growled.

    ¡°Ahhhh, Kostya,¡± Jere raised his hands as though he were about to punch. ¡°That¡¯sa name I can beat in a fair fight. What say ya?¡±

    Kostya chugged the last of his ale and rose from his chair, pushing away from the table in the process. He stood at least a head taller than Jere and was twice as wide. He wasn¡¯t quite as muscular as Appo thought, for his belly looked like ale was his preferred choice of drink. Still, with the weight difference alone, Appo knew Jere didn¡¯t stand a fighting chance.

    Eevi approached the two holding her usual amounts of mugs and glasses. ¡°Alright boys,¡± she said ¡°if you have a problem, I only ask you take it outside. Let the guards deal with your drunk asses.¡±

    Jere held up his hand to Eevi. ¡°Iz okay madam, this¡¯ll be ¡®ver soon.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m going to see another man die today,¡± Appo thought.

    Jere looked up at Kostya and approached him. He gazed down at his feet before moving up to his head, judging his size. He stepped forward, looking as though he was about to throw a punch, getting right under Kostya¡¯s nose.

    He never threw a punch. Instead, Jere tilted his head. ¡°Where are ya from, Kostya?¡±

    Kostya raised an eyebrow. ¡°West. Beyond mountain.¡± He spoke with a thick accent. He hadn¡¯t quite learned the local language just yet.

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    Jere stepped back. ¡°Beyon da moundains? You¡¯ a traveler as well, then?

    ¡°Da.¡±

    ¡°¡®Ow far beyon da moundains?¡±

    ¡°Far. Very far.¡±

    Appo was perplexed. Both men were drunker than anyone else in the room. They were just about to throw punches. The two could barely speak. Yet here they were, having a conversation.

    ¡°Do tell,¡± Jere slurred. ¡°Ow does un get pass da moundains? No one comes from da west.¡±

    Kostya grinned. He stuck out his chest and looked past Jere. ¡°I strong. Very strong. Secret weapon.¡±

    Jere leaned in. ¡°Do tell.¡±

    ¡°Passage not safe for man. Passage safe for bear. I become bear.¡±

    Now it was Jere¡¯s turn to raise an eyebrow. ¡°Come again?¡± Appo and Eevi watched from the side, utterly confused.

    Kostya continued. ¡°I am bear. One hundred moons, I am bear. Sleep, hunt, fish, I do all. Make to desert. Come here. Become man again.¡±

    Jere searched Kostya¡¯s face with intent. The two men swayed in unison. There was a moment of silence. Jere slowly raised his arm and placed it on Kostya¡¯s shoulder. He began laughing. It was a bellowing laugh that caused Jere to wheeze. Kostya was puzzled at first, but then he started to giggle. Suddenly, both men were wheezing from laughter. The crowd that had gathered to watch a fight break out had only just begun to catch on, and then they too started laughing. Laughter echoed off the walls of the tavern.

    ¡°I like you, crazy man,¡± Kostya said, ¡°come drink.¡± He invited Jere to the empty seat at the table, which Jere took readily. Appo followed, flabbergasted by what just took place.

    At that point, the night became a blur. Drinks were drunk, stories were told, and camaraderie was shared all around. Everyone slurred drunkenly; although the language wasn¡¯t clear the intention often was. The tavern became loud with frequent uproarious laughter. Soon Jere and Kostya were falling out of their seats. Appo, standing from afar most of the night, eventually had to drag a drunken Jere off the ground. The night was over, and most of the patrons had left by this point.

    Appo slung Jere¡¯s ragdoll body across his shoulder. As he did so, he looked up to notice a man sitting in the far corner of the tavern. Appo recognized his silver beard and his silver eyepatch: it was the blind man he had seen earlier that morning. He was leaning back in his chair, cane at the side, with his blue eye shut. He was snoring loudly.

    By this point, Eevi was herding her patrons out of the tavern. Kostya had long ago been carried away by his two companions, while Jere was doing his best to not retch. Before Appo left however, he inquired to Eevi about the blind man.

    ¡°His name is Isbibarra. He comes here often. Drinks water and smokes some foreign herb. I let him sleep here because he keeps the beggars away. Nice fella, doesn¡¯t say much.¡±

    Appo couldn¡¯t help himself. ¡°I have to know¡­ Is the man blind?¡±

    Eevi laughed. ¡°If you¡¯ve seen his eye you would know.¡± Jere, leaning on Appo¡¯s back, began to burp. ¡°You better get him home before he makes a mess of the place. Also¡­¡± Eevi held out her hand. Appo forgot he was supposed to pay.

    The thoughts of the blind man evaporated as Appo struggled to collect the appropriate amount of coin. He was dismayed ¨C it was a good chunk of what he had on him. Appo nodded to Eevi and dragged the limp Jere out of the tavern.

    The night was still humid, but the air was far cooler than when the two entered earlier. Jere mostly spoke in jumbled grunts, but he was able to direct Appo to a nearby domicile. The two were drunk, though Appo much less so. They somehow opened the door, lurched into the darkness, and fumbled their way through the home. Appo dropped Jere on his bed, and fumbled around for another cushion. He couldn¡¯t find any, feeling only clothes on the ground. He figured that was good enough. He was used to sleeping on hard mud floors, and with the extra alcohol in him he wouldn¡¯t have much difficulty falling asleep.

    Just as Appo was getting comfortable, Jere let out an elongated chuckle. ¡°Told ya¡­ Got em.¡±

    Appo was falling fast asleep and wasn¡¯t in the mood for a discussion. ¡°What do you mean? You never fought him? You just drank with him.¡±

    ¡°Exacty,¡± mumbled Jere, ¡°That¡¯s why I alwas win.¡±

    The two passed out simultaneously.

 Part I.I.IX: Another Sleepless Night

    Like all towns, Ash settled into a deep slumber after a slight drunken commotion. No one traveled after dark. During the hot season, the sun would bounce across the horizon, never quite setting before rising back up to the sky again. This time of year however, the sun spared them by falling just below the crest of the sky, casting the horizon in brilliant shades of crimson and amber. Maybe once or twice a year, the gods would bestow a forgiving breeze. Those who slept in Ash tossed and turned in their cots, never quite getting a good night¡¯s rest. Still, many looked forward to their few hours of reprieve from the sun. Rich and poor; travelers and settlers; drunk and sober; all were alike in this manner.

    The northern end of the town was completely silent, except for moans emanating from the condemned jail cell. At the far south, the town was slightly less hushed. This was mostly due to the traders who slept in and outside the town in various yurts and tents and huts. Animals bunkered down in the dirt, snoring beside their traveling companions. Appo¡¯s elephant and Jere¡¯s camel shared a stable alongside a herd of yak, exhausted after their arduous trek in the desert.

    The exception to this uniform quiet was the presence of a lone woman traveling to her tent right outside the walls of Ash. She wore a beige robe common among the desertfolk, which covered her head-to-toe apart from her face. She wiped the sweat from her brow; she found herself profusely sweating despite the slight drop in temperature.

    The woman opened her tent just one more time to check on her children. The tent was littered with items, as everything they owned was crowded inside. Yak jerky hung from the linings, and bags upon bags of spices surrounded the sides. Her two boys were still fidgeting in their bedrolls, but she was sure they were asleep. They hadn¡¯t seen their father in moons, and she didn¡¯t want them to endanger themselves traversing the city at night.

    Or worse: find their father in the state that he was in.

    Quietly reaching into the tent, the woman grabbed several items: a rag, a pouch of water, and a bag of herbs. Before darting, she grabbed her knife and stowed it away under her robe. She knew her best years were behind her, for her face was becoming sullen and puffy and would nary be the target of prowlers of the night. Still, she knew better than to underestimate the debauchery of men. She was not afraid to kill to ensure that her family would be safe.

    She crossed through the gates up into Ash. She was completely alone. She could see well, guided by the reddish horizon and the full moon above her. The guards remained at their posts, but most of them had nodded off by this time. It wouldn¡¯t have mattered anyway, as the woman¡¯s destination was far from the main street and away from the guards. She took a left at the gate, traveling west until she reached a derelict portion of the city.

    She had traveled this path thousands of times. Many years ago, the woman and her family called Ash home. They made their living as traders, selling spices and jerky and water and whatever else they could profit off. They did so until the Urash family cornered the market on spices, which removed much of their livelihood. Unable to afford even the most basic living conditions, they were forced into the desert, trading spices here and there and praying to the desert god Ati to provide them with means to collect water. The family had become used to suffering, but they were pious and dutiful. They prayed to their god whenever they woke, whenever they ate, and whenever they drank. They survived, but just barely.

    Almost a fortnight prior the family returned to Ash, like many others, to benefit from the Day of Akkavan, which brought reliable crowds from across the steppe and the desert. They prayed to Ati that they would not be forsaken for profiting off of the holiday of another god. It seemed to have worked, for their time in Ash had been the most profitable they have had in years. With the coin they had saved, it was likely they could afford to move on to another city along the Thorne, preferably one where they could sell their spices in comfort.

    As the woman recalled her trials, she reached the dilapidated house that had once belonged to her family. Despite what crowds suggested, Ash truly was a dying town. It was impossible to make a living there, as the rows upon rows of abandoned settlements proved. There was not a soul on this side of the city, it seemed. As such, she felt no concern as she passed under the shredded curtains that covered the entrance. The house was dark, but the woman¡¯s eyes had long been adjusted to the dim moonlight. It was the fourth moon she had returned to her former abode, and her movements had become routine. She passed through the parlor to the bedroom, obscured by another curtain. As she approached, the moaning she became acquainted with made itself known.

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    In her bedroom was her husband, tied down to the bedpost and blindfolded. He was straining against the binds that tied his arms, neck, and hands. He had been struggling all night again. The binds held as she expected. The gag around his mouth had nearly been torn through, but considering he was unchanged from the other days, the woman figured he had yet to be discovered. She abhorred his scream and would hate for anyone else to come across it.

    The woman looked over her husband. He was looking worse with each moon; he had somehow lost more weight, as his legs and arms were now as thin as walking canes. His elongated fingers were blackened and bruised, and his fingernails crusted with blood. He had been scratching at his hips and palms, evidenced by the ever-growing pool of blood around the bedpost. The hair around his scalp and beard had become white and was falling in clumps around his head. She knew by now not to look under the blindfold, knowing that his once beautiful green eyes were now as crimson as the sun.

    She wordlessly moved over her husband, knowing by now that he was past the point of speaking. She muttered a brief prayer and pulled out her rag. With a deft hand, she loosened the clasps of the gag and pulled it out of her husband¡¯s mouth. The husband was able to let out a light yelp before she shoved the rag into his mouth and fastened it against the clasps. She was getting good at it. No one had heard them yet, and the yelp was the quietest she had been able to keep him. She examined to see if any of the binds were in danger of loosening and they were not. Finally, she went to work rubbing herbs against his wounds, hoping they would lessen the blood loss, though she could tell they were doing little.

    Seven moons ago. That was when she first noticed that something was wrong. Her husband had come home feeling as though he was hungover. He had been to the taverns many times, but he had never returned drunk. He couldn''t rest. The pain in his stomach became unbearable. She remembered how silent he had become, always seeming doubled over in pain. He refused water and couldn¡¯t hold down the meals she cooked. She brought him to this room once she realized how bad he was. She treated him with her herbs and rest. None of it seemed to work. Then he started screaming. She was able to get him restrained, but not without great difficulty.

    She was okay running the stands; their bartering skills rivaled one another, after all. Still, the children asked about their father frequently. Then there was the matter of the curse that appeared to be spreading through the town. The trader Heads were quiet, but signs of the accursed was still the talk of the merchants. The lack of sleep. The inability to hold down food or drink. The screaming. It was clear that her husband was cursed. But it was also clear that they had found the witch that had caused it. She hated that witch, more than anything. During the day she would travel to the pillories and curse at the witch, occasionally throwing rocks and hoping that they would crush her skull.

    She wanted to get help, but she feared what would happen if he was discovered. Curse aside, her husband burned all his bridges when he left Ash years ago. He could get in trouble even if he were healthy. No, she could only hope for the best. She prayed that once the witch died, her husband would return to his normal self. She couldn¡¯t bear to live her life without him. He had sacrificed so much for her.

    The woman stayed with her husband for most of the night. She then did what she had done every night before: scrubbed his body clean and removed the putrid flesh that piled between his legs. As she got up to leave, she thought the words ¡°I still love you,¡± before kissing him on the forehead. He thrashed his head in response, his howling muffled by his rag.

    As the woman returned to her tent, her thoughts raced with increasing intensity. She wiped more sweat from her brow. She kept thinking about the pain her husband must be going through and pondered what the kids would think if they knew what became of their father. She was worried what would happen if she were discovered. Would she be thrown in the pillory along with the witch? Or worse, exiled?

    The woman was not destined to be caught tonight. She opened the flaps of her tent as she returned, carefully placing her water pouch and the knife back where they once were. She placed herself between her two children, kissing both on the forehead before laying down with the youngest. During the last three nights, she had cried to herself in her tent, unaware that her children had been awake the whole time and could hear her sobs. By the fourth night, she had stopped crying. Her feelings had become harder to grasp. She lay down assuming that this was the way of grief. Her husband was not dead, after all. He would get better, she knew it.

    Still, her fears were not assuaged as she looked across to her oldest child. His eyes were not closed, and he looked at her with fear. He was sweating too. She held her youngest as her stomach rattled within her abdomen, the pain intensifying. She lay her head down as she anticipated yet another sleepless night.

 Part I.II.I: Speak When Spoken To

    Appo awoke to a hand grasping his shoulder. He shook his head, still groggy from the night before. He clearly didn¡¯t drink enough water to excuse the amount of spirit he consumed. Appo looked up to Jere, who was already fully dressed in his mercenary garb. If he was hungover at all, he didn¡¯t show it.

    ¡°Wake up, healer. The Heads want to meet you.¡±

    It took a moment for Appo to get up, mostly because he had forgotten where he had slept. It never quite registered until he got to his feet that he was in Jere¡¯s home. Other than a bed there was little of note: Jere seemed to carry everything he needed on his person. It explained why Appo was on the floor covered in dirt, at least. He brushed off the dirt and adjusted his tunic. The room was still spinning.

    Appo looked at the clothes that consisted of his bed for the night. They were brown robes common to priests in the area. They were wrinkled, worn down, and dusty. It confirmed that at least at one time, Jere was a priest. He certainly didn¡¯t care that his clothes were strewn about on the floor. Appo could relate to the sentiment.

    ¡°Where are we off to again?¡±

    ¡°Got wax in your ears? Courier came by. The Trader Heads want to discuss something with us. Something to do with the demands you made to the big man. I¡¯ve been telling you all morning.¡±

    ¡°Trader Heads?¡±

    Jere lowered his head. ¡°Right, right. Forgot you knew nothing of this town. Classic ignoramus. I¡¯ll tell you on the way. Have everything you need?¡±

    Appo ran his hands down his outfit. He felt his bottles of water and spirits, his coin pouch, and his surgery kit. It wasn¡¯t much, as he had left most of his books and notes with his elephant, but he had the essentials. He thanked Lowya in his head that he lost none of his items during his drunken stupor the previous night, or that he wasn¡¯t pickpocketed or robbed. He nodded to Jere.

    ¡°Alright, let¡¯s move. We¡¯re already late.¡±

    The two hustled out of Jere¡¯s home and onto the streets. Appo was stunned by how lively Ash was. They were far from the main street, but the trading seemed to be spilling past the quarantine buffer. Rich foreigners and raucous barterers littered the streets, looking out of place in what was supposed to be a dying town. The Day of Akkavan crowd was getting larger as time went on, and the holiday itself was still two moons away. It worried Appo immensely.

    Jere pushed through the crowds, leading the way. ¡°Okay healer, I¡¯ll try to keep this simple for you. There are nine Trader Heads in Ash. They say no one rules the neutral grounds of trade in Ash, but they do. Boah is one of them. We¡¯re off to see Mendalla Ealamassi. She¡¯s who the Big Man answers to. Technically, no one rules any of the Trader Heads, but she does. As far as you''re concerned, she runs Ash. Remember that when you speak to her.¡±

    Appo could barely keep track of what Jere was saying. He was trying to keep up, avoiding contact with as much of the crowd as possible.

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    Jere continued. ¡°Few things to keep in mind. Mendalla will be there, as will Boah. In that case, you¡¯ll likely meet some of the other Trading Heads: most likely Harran, Shimsusa, and Nami. They all worship Okkan. Do not speak of Ati, not to mention your disease god.¡±

    ¡°Good to know.¡±

    ¡°Harran is the one with the mustache. He¡¯s in business with Boah. The two became rich off each other years ago. Sells silk around here. Harran was Boah¡¯s mentor once, but it¡¯s the other way around now. He''s more of a yes-man these days. He¡¯ll nod when Boah nods, he¡¯ll laugh when Boah laughs, and he¡¯ll piss when Boah pisses. Don¡¯t talk to him.¡±

    The two turned a corner down Main Street, with the crowds getting thicker and the sales pitches getting louder. A herd of yak blocked their movements, forcing them to halt. Appo moved closer to Jere to hear him.

    ¡°When it comes to Heads, save your breath for ¡®yes sir or madam,¡¯ or ¡®no sir or madam.¡¯ That doesn¡¯t apply to Nami. She¡¯s there on account of her grandfather, Namshi, who¡¯s technically still in charge of paint trade. She only matters when there¡¯s a vote, which there¡¯s not gonna be. Say what you want to her... Don¡¯t try to seduce her or anything, but you know what I mean.¡±

    They rounded the herd of yak, and the two marched across the street. ¡°And then there¡¯s Shimsusa. You may think that Boah is devout, but he¡¯s an atheist compared to Shimsusa. Can¡¯t go three words without thanking Okkan for the breath that drew them. Her brother is Enlil, the high priest of Ash. They also sell perfume, which is why I can¡¯t stand praying in the temple longer than I can hold my breath. Save yourself an earful and don¡¯t mention gods to her. In fact, just don¡¯t say anything to her¡­ On that note, try your best to just keep your mouth shut for as long as humanly possible. Only speak when spoken to, that sort of thing.¡±

    Appo nodded. ¡°Do you have any idea what they want?¡±

    ¡°Who knows? The Heads work in mysterious ways. Not complex or intelligent ways, mind you. Sometimes they like each other, sometimes they hate each other. Don¡¯t bother keeping track. It¡¯s impossible to say what it¡¯ll be when we get there.¡±

    The two arrived at one of the biggest buildings they had seen yet: the Ash Manor. It was the size of a small palace, with ornate designs sculpted into the stone. Other than the temple, it appeared to be the only building in Ash that had a second floor. The Manor¡¯s iron doors were massive and flanked by two guards on each side. The guards saw the pair and called them through, leading them into a large courtyard. Various plants were painted onto the walls with a lavish green, and four marble statues of mysterious creatures Appo didn¡¯t recognize filled each corner of the courtyard. In the middle stood an ornate water fountain. Appo figured the amount of water in the fountain cost more than he would ever make in his lifetime. As hot as the day was, the bright colors of the walls and the water had a magical effect. They could¡¯ve been on the coast.

    The pair spotted Boah standing next to a few others near one of the statues, some cross between a horse and a squid that looked like nothing Appo had ever encountered. Appo recognized Juddken and Duncic, but the rest were unfamiliar. As they approached, they overheard Boah speaking. He did not look happy.

    "I don¡¯t necessarily agree with the healer¡¯s beliefs, but I don¡¯t think we should discount him entirely. If he pries, he pries, at the very least he will track down all the cursed.¡±

    Boah was speaking to a rail-thin old woman with short black hair and piercing green eyes. She wore a ruby dress and gold bracelets like Boah¡¯s. She spoke in a haughty tone of an aristocrat. ¡°There¡¯s no reason to pursue this matter further than it has already gone, Boah. The healer is unnecessary.¡±

 Part I.II.II: Who the Big Man Answers To

    The conversation stopped as the Boah and the woman saw the pair arrive. Boah immediately turned on his smile. ¡°Appo! Good to see you haven¡¯t run off in the night. Hope you are well!¡± The last time Appo saw Boah, he was fuming and frustrated with the situation. He wondered whether Boah was repressing his true feelings or had just moved past them already. Boah put his lanky arm around Appo¡¯s shoulder and pointed at the crowd he had been speaking to. ¡°Allow me to introduce you to the most industrious men and women in Ash and some of my closest friends.¡±

    Boah introduced the rest of the crowd, though Appo already figured out their names well beforehand. Jere had done a good job. Harran was an old feeble man who wore an intricate cream robe, though it paled in comparison to his long white mustache. Nami¡¯s attire was far more modest, wearing an olive-green robe. She was a young woman with luscious brown hair and stood in an uneasy and stiff posture. Both Harran and Nami bowed politely when introduced.

    The thin woman, Mendalla, was introduced last. She held her head high, looking down on Appo despite her shorter height. She didn¡¯t bow, instead greeting him with a curt ¡°hello.¡±

    Boah continued. ¡°Unfortunately, Shimsusa wasn¡¯t able to make the meeting on account of her being occupied with Holiday business. I''ll relay any necessary information to her and the rest of the Heads as soon as they are available.¡±

    ¡°Of course, that won¡¯t really be necessary.¡± Mendalla paced the group as though she owned the courtyard. From what Appo could glean, she probably did. ¡°I believe I can speak for her and the others when I say that the crisis is solved. We have the shaman. She and her curse will be exiled tomorrow. The only matter of discussion is why this hasn¡¯t been done already.¡±

    ¡°Dates on exiles are particular, Mendalla.¡± Boah responded in a polite and friendly tone, though with an undercurrent of frustration. ¡°The priests are the ones that decided that, and we would be wise not to challenge their authority on such matters.¡±

    Mendalla scoffed. ¡°You¡¯re as green as the walls, Boah. In time you¡¯ll learn how to ask the proper questions to get what is needed.¡± Appo was surprised at how abrasive this woman was. From what he had seen, Appo figured Boah had been the final authority on all the town¡¯s affairs. Yet this woman was speaking to him like a servant.

    ¡°That is another issue,¡± Boah said. ¡°Please, we should stick to the matter at hand.¡±

    ¡°Ah yes, the matter of paying for a healer whose job was already done by the time he arrived. You¡¯re welcome to pay him as much as you like.¡±

    Appo was used to the petty politics of those in the desert. He knew by now that the wisest choice of action was to avoid involvement. Towns all had a different method of choosing leadership, whether by being the strongest, having the most money, or charming the biggest army, but in the end, they all settled into petty arguments over titles and naming everything after themselves. None had any idea of how to deal with medicinal issues. He knew he just had to wait for a lull in the conversation or until he was called upon, and then offer advice. By then, it was up to the leaders to deal with it.

    ¡°It is true that the curse is being handled, but Appo is being diligent,¡± Boah spoke with passion. It was hard to believe how stubborn he was just the night before. ¡°We need to pursue every person that has met the witch and confirm that they themselves are not spreading the curse to the rest of the city. Appo has generously offered to examine the very nature of this curse so that it cannot happen again.¡±

    This time Nami spoke. She didn¡¯t speak with confidence, but she was direct. ¡°Suppose you continue this inquiry for the curse. What¡¯s to say that it doesn¡¯t affect the markets? The last thing this town needs is an uproar over a ¡®plague¡¯ that has already been dealt with.¡±

    ¡°Are you not a man of the people, Nami? You don¡¯t converse with them every day as I do. Believe me, there is nothing to hide from Ashfolk, for they are aware of what we¡¯re doing.¡± Boah was a little more condescending to her than he was with Mendalla. She was nothing more than a representative after all.

    Mendalla gave a hearty laugh. ¡°Ah yes, the ¡®Big Man for the Little People.¡¯ Is that still what you call yourself in those speeches of yours? Come back to Ostior, Boah, you don¡¯t speak directly for Okkan.¡±

    Harran spoke up in a voice that registered just above a whisper. ¡°What Boah says is true, Mendalla. They speak of the curse in hushed tones, but they speak everywhere. They are frightened to leave their homes. They pray to Okkan, and to us, that we will save them.¡±

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    ¡°If they are so afraid, why is everyone out in the streets? Did you all forget the crowds you had to push through to get here? Did you all forget how much coin the stands have been bringing in? They are not afraid, because the situation is under control.¡±

    Mendalla turned to Appo, who was standing silently behind Boah. ¡°Young man, I appreciate that you¡¯ve traveled all this way to get here. Boah will pay you for your services and you will be on our way. That¡¯s all you want, I¡¯m sure of it.¡±

    Appo said nothing. He had a feeling he was still waiting for his turn, though he was getting frustrated at everyone¡¯s insistence that the town had a ¡®curse.¡¯ Sure enough, Boah spoke for him ¡°It would be foolish not to look into the matter! What if there are more like the witch? What if someone is attacked? All the work we put into this holiday would be for naught! The town would dry up, and we would lose favor with Okkan. The most faithful would certainly return to the old, barbaric ways¡­ The last thing we need to do is nothing!¡±

    The old woman stepped forward and shook her head. ¡°Enough with your games, Boah. You¡¯re lucky you even have a place at the table. You''re ungrateful, and I know what you want. You don¡¯t care about the curse, and you don¡¯t care about the people¡­¡± She looked up at Boah, reaching a little over half his height but looking far more imposing. ¡°You want to be me. Stop pretending otherwise.¡±

    ¡°He¡¯s not wrong.¡±

    Everyone¡¯s head turned to Appo. Mendalla sneered, as though she had stepped in yak shit. For a moment, Appo wondered why everyone was suddenly looking at him before he realized that his words escaped his lips yet again.

    ¡°Well, he is wrong. But less so than the rest of you.¡±

    Mendalla didn¡¯t say a word, instead nodding to the guards that stood behind them. Two of them moved towards Appo, about to grab him by the shoulders before Jere blocked their paths. He held out his hands.

    ¡°Forgive the idiot,¡± Jere said, ¡°he knows not where he is.¡±

    Mendalla spoke with spite. ¡°You have quite the nerve, Jere. Speaking out of turn could land you a moon in the pillory; interfering with the guards could land you three. And last time I checked, going to the pillory would make you bedfellows with a witch.¡±

    Appo seized the opportunity. ¡°Boah is right to be cautious. We need to consider our options and take the opportunity to discover the nature of this plague. Continuing the holiday without precaution would be dangerous, especially since we don¡¯t know where many of the cases come from.¡±

    Appo expected Mendalla to react defensively, but not for Boah to speak up first. ¡°You speak of caution, Appo, despite having thrown it to the wind. The audacity that you would come in here and mock us this way, speaking out of turn. You embarrass me with your outburst.¡±

    ¡°Forgive me, but I¡¯m afraid we have no time to sit around discussing how we¡¯ve already solved it. The plague is spreading right under our noses.¡±

    Nami seemed confused. ¡°There¡¯s that word again: plague. You refer to the curse as a disease?¡±

    ¡°I admit it is unlike any disease that I have seen before. Its effects are far more potent than anything I¡¯ve come across. But from what I¡¯ve seen it operates like one. It spreads from physical contact, and it can be contained. If I can find its source, we will know who has it and how we can stop it.¡±

    After a brief silence, Mendalla raised her chin and spoke. ¡°So you claim it is not a curse, then. What would you have us do? Be honest, healer.¡±

    There was no hesitation in Appo¡¯s voice. ¡°If it were up to me, we should cancel the Day of Akkavan, or celebrate it later. We don¡¯t know how the disease spreads other than by blood, but it could travel by other means. Many diseases I have worked on spread by just being in the vicinity of them. We should advise foreigners to travel elsewhere, and support the townspeople to stay at home. Let me investigate and determine a list of all known symptoms so we can close off those who have the disease. That would be the beginning, and we could go from there once I find out more information.¡±

    There was silence. Appo hoped that he had gotten their minds turning. From the looks on their faces, however, Appo couldn¡¯t have answered more wrong.

    ¡°Healer,¡± Mendalla began, ¡°if Shimsusa was here to have witnessed your blasphemy, she would have called for your death. Canceling the Day of Akkavan? Are you mad? If I were you, I¡¯d leave Ash as soon as-¡°

    At that moment, a guard burst through the iron gates. He wasn¡¯t wearing a helmet, and he was exasperated. It looked as though he had sprinted across the city. He trudged across the courtyard before falling to his hands and knees near the Mendalla. ¡°Madam¡­ urgent message¡­¡±

    Mendalla was annoyed but concerned. ¡°What news do you bring?¡±

    ¡°There is an attack¡­ main street¡­ inside the gates.¡±

    Boah stepped forward. ¡°What is it, son? Are we being attacked by raiders?¡±

    ¡°No¡­ woman¡­ crazed woman¡­ she is attacking the stands¡­ she won¡¯t stop screaming.¡±

 Part I.II.III: A Disturbance on Main Street

    It was chaos in the streets. People were pushing each other out of the way. Their expressions were uniform with confusion, for they followed the unheard commands of those who had long fled the scene. As his party pushed against the fleeing crowd, Appo tried listening to grumblings. He looked for words like ¡°raider¡± or ¡°invader¡± and found none. Instead, he kept hearing the words ¡°attack¡± and ¡°crazy.¡± At one point he thought he heard the word ¡°monster.¡±

    Jere and Duncic led the party with a few other guards, followed closely by the Trader Heads. Appo followed up in the rear behind Mendalla and six of her personal guards. He was shocked by the Heads¡¯ brazenness; he had assumed they would send guards to take care of the situation. However, it appeared that if violence threatened to disturb the peace in Ash, the Heads dealt with it personally.

    Upon reaching Main Street, the group spotted a crowd of thirty spectators that had formed a semi-circle around one of the stands. Two guards were keeping the crowd somewhat at bay. The spectators appeared apprehensive, though immensely curious. Jere and Duncic pushed their way through, paving a way for the Heads to get an unobstructed view of what the crowd was observing.

    The semicircle had maintained a distance several steps from a pottery stand. At one side of the stand was a short portly man who appeared to be the owner. He was leaning against the stand and holding his right arm, which looked to be a broken and bloody mess. He was sweating intensely and looked agitated. On the other side of the stand was a woman in a beige robe, her arm caught in a rope that had dangled under the roof of the stand. The rope may have held cured meat at one point, but now it wrapped around a different sort of flesh.

    The woman was violently struggling against the rope. She was screaming out in pain, alternating between reaching out at the trader and scratching at her arm. Her reach was just inches away from the trader¡¯s face.

    Duncic looked out at the scene before addressing the crowd. ¡°There¡¯s nothing to see here, keep your distance and move on.¡± His warning did little to disperse the spectators, but it gave the guards a little more room.

    With the crowd somewhat eased, Appo got a better view of the scene. The woman was rabid, with her free arm waving wildly, trying to claw at anything. The corners of her mouth were bleeding, and. her eyes were bloodshot and dilated. She screamed in intervals, partially because it looked as though her arm was mangled and broken in the knotted rope. She looked like a wild animal caught in a trap, close to gnawing off its arm to escape.

    Jere and Duncic flanked both ends of the stand, with Jere moving closer to the woman and Duncic making his way toward the injured trader. Both held their scimitars at the ready. As Jere approached the woman, she wildly flailed her free arm in his direction. She shrieked in gasps like she was struggling to catch her breath. She looked utterly horrified and enraged. Jere held out his scimitar with both hands just a foot away from her face, lightly dodging her wild swipes.

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    As the woman focused on Jere, Duncic moved towards the injured trader. The trader¡¯s eyes were darting and unfocused, but he recognized the help and moved to get on his feet. Duncic reached behind the trader and pushed him off the stand. Upon contact, however, the trader shrieked in pain and fell into Duncic, knocking him off balance. The woman turned her focus back to the other end of the stand. She rushed to the other side, with her momentum snapping the bones in her trapped arm. With her reach slightly longer, she swiped at Duncic, grazing his neck. Duncic let out a grunt and fell to the ground.

    At this point the woman leaped into a frenzy, screeching and grasping at Duncic, who was now just out of reach. Her mangled arm pulled out of the knot of the rope, and she fell onto the guard. The crowd let out a collective gasp and backed away. Duncic put up his arms as the woman swiped at his face, scratching the gauntlets on his forearms. Duncic, having dropped his scimitar in the commotion, pulled out a knife from his hip and stabbed at the woman¡¯s abdomen. Her belly bled, but her attacks didn''t cease. It was as if she felt no pain at all.

    Jere grabbed the back of the woman¡¯s robe and tossed her a few feet to the side. Jere positioned himself between the woman and Duncic. The woman steadied herself with her good arm, careening her head back to Jere, who held out his scimitar at her. She hesitated for just a moment before she screeched and lunged at Jere. As she did so, Jere stepped to the side and brought the scimitar down on the woman¡¯s outstretched arm, cutting it off at the elbow. The woman slammed face-first into the stand but managed to keep her balance. She turned around slowly, her facial expression not of agony, but of animalistic hatred.

    The woman stood for a moment, her bloodshot eyes and bleeding mouth seething at Jere. She then lunged again, her mangled arms dangling at her sides as she opened her bloody maw. Jere stood firm and thrust his sword into her chest. The woman gasped, trying to scream but only releasing a quiet croak. She struggled briefly before falling to her side. Jere let go of his scimitar, leaving it in the woman¡¯s chest. The woman¡¯s jaw chattered as she lay on the ground, before becoming still.

    During the commotion, Mendalla and the other Heads kept their distance and watched with intent. Throughout, Mendalla stared blankly with open eyes. Appo regained his composure and rushed to Jere¡¯s side. Jere held his hands out as though he still held his scimitar and looked blankly past the stands. The crowd followed slowly behind, eager to view the grisly scene. Before the crowd could meet the distance, Appo held his hands out to them, shouting ¡°Stand your ground! This woman is cursed!¡± It seemed to do the trick, for it kept the semicircle from encroaching any further.

    As Jere¡¯s senses came back to him, he turned back to Duncic, who had gotten to his feet. Duncic looked over his forearm; there were scratch marks covering the iron gauntlets, but none had pierced the skin underneath. He hesitated before he felt his neck and winced when he touched the two deep scratches that ran alongside it. Duncic locked eyes with Jere. In his eyes were terror and resolve.

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry, friend,¡± Duncic said. ¡°You and I know what comes of this.¡±

    Duncic, still holding his bloody knife in his hands, aimed it upwards. Jere¡¯s eyes widened as he realized what was happening.

    ¡°Okkan, forgive me.¡±

    Without hesitation, Duncic drove the knife into the side of his neck. Blood surged from the wound and leaked out his mouth. He staggered briefly before falling face-first into the sand next to the body of the woman. The crowd yelped, with some covering their mouths or their eyes, and others breaking out into tears. Appo and Jere stood between the two bodies and the injured trader, still trying to comprehend what just happened.

 Part I.II.IV: Playing with the Crowd

    As the crowd encroached again, the lumbering frame of Boah stepped forward. Whatever his initial reaction was, his face now betrayed nothing but stern calmness. He turned his back to the violent scene and held his hands up, urging restraint. ¡°Calm yourselves, people of Ash! Do not be alarmed, for you have just witnessed the carnage bestowed upon those who cast aside Okkan! Those who place themselves in the leagues of false gods!¡±

    The crowd hesitated. Most were watching the blood seep into the sand, but a few turned to Boah. He continued his speech. ¡°It is time to stop the silence perpetuated by the empowered minority and to inform you all of the truth of what is going on in Ash. For years, we have thrived under the freedom Ash has given its citizens, a freedom that consists not only of coin but of truth. I have always believed in these things, remember that as I tell you this.¡±

    Boah hesitated. As he did so, the crowd became silent. Harran, Nami, and Juddken all watched with fascination. Those coming down the street gathered into the growing semicircle, looking to see what all the commotion was. The only one who broke from the crowd was Mendalla, who moved past Boah and approached the corpse of the screaming woman.

    ¡°This city,¡± Boah said, ¡°is cursed!¡± Cries and sobs erupted from the crowd, momentarily breaking the trance Boah had cast. ¡°Not the soul of Ash, but of certain desertfolk. Desertfolk who have come in contact with the witch: a wicked and vile woman who has sought to ruin our most sacred of holidays with a curse that destroys the souls of men and women and children. What has transpired before us is her work, and as you can see it is all-encompassing.¡±

    Behind the Big Man, Appo, Jere, and Mendalla stood alone examining the bodies. Mendalla looked with sorrow over the woman¡¯s corpse as she muttered to herself. ¡°Oh Mena, you poor soul. What happened to you?¡±

    Appo approached from the side, keeping a safe distance between the two. ¡°I highly advise you to keep your distance. We don¡¯t know exactly how this disease spreads.¡±

    Mendalla sneered. ¡°That¡¯s peculiar. I could have sworn you called this woman ''cursed'' not a moment ago. Which is it then?¡±

    ¡°Does it matter?¡±

    Close by, Boah continued his speech. He was clearly a master at his craft, dictating his words with controlled gestures and vocal inflections. The crowd was enthralled by Boah''s words as if hypnotized. It was as if they had forgotten the bodies behind him. ¡°I know many of you in the crowd worship the old gods. I am not here to pick fights with you. I know many are upset by the transgression the Day of Akkavan brings every year. But it brings happiness to Ash, for nothing is stronger than Okkan''s godwill. May I remind you all that not too long ago, before we brought the Holiday to our city, we had forgotten the meaning of wealth. We had forgotten the meaning of sustenance. Okkan brought this land back from the throes of oblivion when the old gods stopped listening. Okkan has been good to us, and we must continue to be good to him. Under his guidance, he can protect us from the desert. He can protect us from the raiders. And of course, he can protect us from this wicked curse.¡±

    Appo was astounded. Boah had a way with words; it was almost as if he planned the speech. It was terrifying ¨C the fact that one of his guards had taken his life just moments ago appeared to have no impact on Boah. Still, it was playing with the crowd well, for they were hanging onto his every word.

    Boah¡¯s passion grew as he spoke. ¡°Do not forsake the Day of Akkavan! Do not run from destiny! With the exile of the witch tomorrow at high noon, this curse will be obliterated. Okkan''s godwill brought us back from the dead, and he can keep the dead away from us! As the faithful know, his will can bring back the harvest, and make this a thriving city once again! Do not forsake your duty! Do not forsake your god!¡±

    Appo couldn¡¯t believe it, but Boah was actually receiving cheers. He was practically standing atop warm corpses and gaining political clout. It was disgusting, but effective. Appo hoped that Boah was simply trying to calm the crowd. Still, he had a bad feeling. From that moment on, it would be impossible for him to trust Boah.

    ¡°Healer, may I have a word?¡± Appo turned, it was Mendalla. She looked stern, but her eyes could not hide her sadness. After meeting his gaze, Mendalla walked away from the corpses, beckoning her personal guards. As Appo followed, he took one last look at the crowd that gathered around Boah. It had doubled in size and was growing. If any of them contracted the disease from their bodies, Appo worried that the consequences would be devastating.

    Jere continued to stand between the corpses, seemingly unable to move.

    Mendalla led her group a few paces away from the crowd, to where her voice could be clearly heard. She pulled aside one of the guards. ¡°Penzer, remove the bodies off the street and dispose of them properly¡­ Clean up the blood in the sand¡­ Find Mena¡¯s family and inform them of what has happened¡­ Track down Duncic¡¯s brother as well.¡±

    The author''s narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

    ¡°It¡¯ll be done, madam,¡± Penzer responded. He was older than every other guard Appo had seen, but he spoke with authority. He turned away, barking a litany of commands to the other guards.

    After most of the corps dispersed, Mendalla turned to Appo. She looked as if she were about to plead with him, but she regained her composure at the last second.

    ¡°Healer,¡± she began, ¡°as you can see, my colleague has just made it impossible to do anything to affect the holiday. Unless we want a riot on our hands, there is nothing I can do.¡± She paused. ¡°However, I reluctantly admit that I need your guidance. I command most of the guard in this city, and I can direct them to do whatever we can to stop this¡­ "thing" from spreading, whatever it may be.¡±

    Appo tried hide his excitement at the prospect of being taken seriously. ¡°I¡¯m glad you¡¯ve come around to reason, madam.¡±

    ¡°Reason?!¡± Mendalla gawked. ¡°My city is cursed, men and women are dying in my streets, and Boah has just made a mockery of myself and the other Heads to gain favor. I hardly know of reason, apparently.¡±

    Appo let the silence linger. He understood her frustration. Finally, she spoke again.

    ¡°Tell me what to do, healer.¡±

    ¡°If we can¡¯t stop this holiday, and we can¡¯t stop the travelers from coming to the city, at the very least we should confine the diseased until it is better understood. We can use your guards to track down the source of the disease, and anyone who has come in contact with the woman should be rounded up and closed off. By contact, I mean even those who touched her. Unfortunately, I have a feeling the trader has become infected and we need to separate him from the rest.¡±

    ¡°You do realize that this includes your friend, right? He touched her during the struggle. Do you think Jere has the¡­?¡± Mendalla wasn¡¯t sure how to finish the sentence.

    ¡°The disease?¡± Appo was reluctant to admit that he hadn¡¯t even thought of Jere¡¯s contact with the woman. But it was true, he grabbed her robe as he tore her off Duncic. ¡°I pray that he doesn¡¯t.¡±

    Mendalla pondered for a moment. ¡°I¡¯ll arrange this with the Corps. I¡¯ll inform Penzer to round up everyone that has encountered Mena within the last few moons. I pray that she didn¡¯t go around shaking hands with everyone then. I¡¯m afraid to know what this means for her family.¡±

    ¡°Did you know the woman?¡± Appo asked.

    Mendalla shook her head. ¡°I run this city, healer, regardless of what the others may tell you. I make bedfellows with the beggars, even. The trader¡¯s name is Osijek, and he works for my nephew. He¡¯s not a nice man, and drinks more than what he is paid for. Mena on the other hand¡­¡±

    Mendalla looked away from Appo. It was hard to tell, but Appo thought he saw her sniff and wipe away a tear.

    ¡°Mena is my daughter-in-law. She was married to my son, Amaren, before she went away. The two sold spices together a long time ago, before they were run out by that devil, Urash. I haven¡¯t seen them in a long time. And with the condition Mena was in, I pray I don¡¯t find what¡¯s become of him.¡±

    Appo didn¡¯t know what to say. He offered her his condolences, but only in the confines of his mind. He didn¡¯t want to push his luck again.

    ¡°I¡¯ll have my guards do as you recommend,¡± Mendalla said. ¡°We will locate open houses in the western section of the city to house the suspected diseased. Is there anything else you¡¯ll have us do?¡±

    Appo had a list of things he had been building in his head but decided not to overwhelm the woman. ¡°I need just three things. One, Boah was correct when he said I needed to see the shaman. I¡¯m not sure what I can learn, but if I¡¯m correct in my assumption that the curse didn¡¯t start with her, there¡¯s a possibility that there are more infected like this woman. Two, I need to examine the woman¡¯s body and perform an autopsy. And three, I need to see the suspected infected and those who have come in contact with the diseased. I hope I can compile a list of symptoms and make it easier to discern who is and isn¡¯t infected.¡±

    Mendalla batted her eyelashes and raised her chin. ¡°I cannot have you desecrate bodies in Ash. I¡¯m not sure where you hail from, but it is highly unorthodox to do anything with the dead but bury them. Even if that weren¡¯t the case, I wouldn¡¯t dare let you bring harm to my daughter-in-law, though her soul be corrupted.¡±

    Appo gulped. He figured he shouldn¡¯t have tested that point. Even in the most progressive of cities he had come across, none had dared let him touch the dead.

    Mendalla continued. ¡°Nothing is stopping you from speaking to the guards, however. And you are welcome to speak to the witch if you wish. She remains in the pillory, though if you wish to talk to her I recommend you do so at dusk. The crowd wouldn¡¯t take kindly to you speaking to her, especially after all this.¡±

    ¡°That is enough,¡± Appo replied. ¡°Thank you, Madam.¡±

    Mendalla snorted. ¡°Get to work, Appo. Pray to Okkan that he will protect us from the disease.¡± As she turned away, Appo muttered a prayer into his pendant. He had nothing personal against Okkan, but Appo knew better than to rely on a god of harvest for protection against this disease. He prayed to Lowya instead.

 Part I.II.V: The Old Guard

    Penzer, the leader of the Guard Corps, was exhausted. At his age, this wasn¡¯t a surprise. It had only been hours since he received his onslaught of orders from Mendalla, but he had been diligent in following them through. He had sent the guards to work, and within an hour they had closed off Main Street and cleaned up the bloody corpses. The stands had been up and running since high noon. None were the wiser.

    Most of the guards in the city worked under the Guard Corps, which tended to serve the Heads with the most coin to spare. As Mendalla had been very generous to the Corps over the years, those under her command were quickest to respond to her. Penzer had not only worked for Mendalla her entire life but also for her father before her. He was familiar with her style. Like her, Penzer was a stern and uncompromising man, but he inspired what little loyalty that could be mustered from the Corps.

    Still, with all his organizational ability it wasn¡¯t easy to build a cordon from thin air. As the cells were at capacity, Penzer had gone to work establishing a new holding center for the diseased. An abandoned stable on the west side of town, called West Shell by the locals, had been located and quickly renovated into a shelter for the wounded. Osijek, the trader with the broken arm, was the cordon''s first inhabitant. He was given a bed and water, but he refused the latter and tossed and turned in the former. Penzer had tracked down Eanna the caregiver, as she had the most experience with the diseased so far. He had asked her to support Osijek however she could. Instead, she demonstrated to Penzer and the other guards how to tie the most effective restraints for the hands, feet, and neck. As she had done before with the others, Eanna asked Osijek whether he wished to forfeit his life. Osijek was unable to respond, for he had grown sicker by the moment. The injuries to his arm were extensive, and Eanna predicted that he would be screaming before moonrise. She advised the guards how to gag their guests as well.

    It was a lot for an old man to take in. At the slight of the trader being gagged, Penzer felt his chest become heavy. It was like he was a scrawny child all over again. He left the cordon to get some air. He couldn¡¯t let his men see him like this. Upon exiting, he pressed his head against the wall, trying to catch his breath.

    Someone was calling for him. It was Juddken, Boah¡¯s son and Penzer¡¯s protege, though Penzer didn¡¯t like him much. It wasn¡¯t just because he was forced to take him under his wing, though that certainly didn¡¯t help. He was too nosy. Juddken didn¡¯t react to things the way a boy his age should. When the other guards told a joke, Juddken always needed a few extra moments to laugh. He was stiff and unnatural.

    Penzer gathered his composure. He coughed, speaking with a slight huff. ¡°I¡¯m fine, I¡¯m fine¡­ Can¡¯t handle the heat at this age, son.¡± Penzer was sure he couldn¡¯t have fooled the kid, but if Juddken was concerned he didn¡¯t show it.

    ¡°Sure, boss. Just letting you know that we have three more men who were attacked earlier. Minor injuries, but they¡¯re secured.¡±

    Penzer gave a thumbs up. He coughed again, still struggling to catch his breath.

    Juddken continued. ¡°They''re all from the steppe. Argued with us the whole way, demanding to see my father. I told them that if they wanted to talk to my father they could talk to me, and I hit them with my club. That shut them up. When I asked them if they wanted any water, they all shook their heads. I think I saw one of them hold his stomach. They¡¯re cursed, I¡¯m sure of it. They¡¯ll be screaming soon.¡± Juddken made no expression as he told his story.

    ¡°Strange boy,¡± Penzer thought. ¡°Dad must¡¯ve kept all the personality.¡±

    Despite his apprehensions with Juddken, Penzer was at least glad he knew someone who could recognize the signs. He had been working closely with the guards and made sure they knew what to look out for. Juddken had been at the hut the last few moons, so he knew better than anybody else.

    ¡°Thanks. Do we have guards checking people at the gates? Don¡¯t want anyone slipping by.¡±

    ¡°They¡¯re checking legs, arms, and necks for scratches. Some are mad that we¡¯re getting in their business, and it¡¯s hard to tell which scratches are fresh, but we¡¯re checking everyone. Traders don¡¯t like it though, most have moved outside the walls.¡±

    ¡°Surprised they¡¯re still in the city at all... Any news from the mercenary? Are we quarantining him as well?¡±

    ¡°I wanted to, but he had no scratches. Mendalla thought about it and told him to stay home for the next few moons. She sent Adok to guard him for the time being.¡±

    ¡°Good to hear.¡± Penzer was relieved. He liked Jere. Both were men of few words and fewer emotions. The cordon wasn¡¯t meant for a person who was sane. It also reminded him why he respected Mendalla so much. Penzer wasn¡¯t a particularly thoughtful man, but he trusted her judgment. Adok wouldn¡¯t have been his first choice to watch him; he was too young for someone as rough as Jere. He would have preferred Heikk or Ipa, but he¡¯d do just fine.

    ¡°Good work, Juddken. Very good work. I¡¯ll make sure to let your father know that you¡¯ve been useful today.¡± Juddken didn¡¯t respond.

    In truth, Penzer knew that Boah had no idea what to do with his son. He didn¡¯t care about school, even though Boah had the coin to send him to the most prestigious institutions in Ostior. He had no heart for trading and he was by all accounts a terrible salesperson. The only thing Juddken enjoyed was frisking traders and arresting beggars.

    Penzer corrected himself. A year ago, he saw Juddken kill a stray dog. That may have been the only time he ever saw him smile.

    The two were interrupted by an arriving guard. His tone was urgent. ¡°Sir! We found another victim!¡± Penzer sized up the guard. He was a fresh-faced fellow; Penzer recognized him as a recent recruit. He couldn¡¯t have been more than sixteen, though the fear in his eyes made him look much younger.

    ¡°A victim? When was he bitten?¡±

    The guard floundered. ¡°I, um¡­ I don¡¯t know. He¡¯s tied up in a bed in West Shell. Looks like he¡¯s been there for some time.¡± He paused. ¡°To be honest, we¡¯re not sure how he¡¯s alive.¡±

    This caught Penzer¡¯s attention. No one had lived in West Shell for years. That was why the cordon was specifically built there. It warranted a look. ¡°Take us there immediately,¡± Penzer ordered.

    As the three pressed through the city, Penzer wondered what he would find. As far as he knew, everyone who had been scratched earlier was accounted for. As he walked, he thought back to the morning. He witnessed the woman, Mena, get slain by Jere, but only after losing both of her arms with little reaction. He saw Duncic - one of his finest men - effortlessly take his own life upon discovering that he was scratched. Both of their bodies were in the temple now, where they were to be blessed by the priest Enlil and given a full burial procession. He knew this was mostly due to the woman¡¯s relation with Mendalla, but he wasn¡¯t about to complain about Duncic receiving a proper burial. Most Ashfolk would never receive such an honor.

    Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

    The three were greeted by more guards as they approached the house. They each shared the same morose look. Penzer asked what the issue was, but none gave a straight answer. They explained how a few traders noticed a woman walking alone in the abandoned part of the city for the past few nights. That was how they found the house.

    Penzer turned to Juddken. ¡°You have the most experience with the accursed. Come with me.¡± Juddken nodded, seemingly excited at the prospect.

    The house smelled of some abhorrent mixture of death and shit. It was the worst thing Penzer had ever smelled in his life. The smell grew stronger as the two passed through the parlor and pulled aside the curtain to the bedroom.

    ¡°Oh, Okkan," whispered Penzer, "Amaren.¡±

    Penzer remembered working with Mendalla years ago. He remembered how he would teach the younger children the ways of the scimitar. He wasn¡¯t a master by any means, but he was more than proficient. He remembered how Mendalla had asked Penzer to give her son lessons, but the lad could never even lift the scimitar above his shoulders. Penzer remembered the look of frustration her son had as he threw the scimitar on the ground, proclaiming that he would never be big enough to kill anything. This was long before Amaren had been disowned by the family for trying to break into the spice trade. Before he grew a backbone.

    Penzer wasn¡¯t sure why he thought of that just now. He wasn¡¯t even sure how he recognized him. What he saw was a gaunt, twisted distortion of a human being. Amaren Ealamassi was long gone. What lay in front of Penzer, tied to a bed, was a skinny corpse. His hips were entirely scraped away, and Penzer was sure he could see bony protrusions. Pounds of putrid flesh lay between his legs. His head was bending off the side of the bed, pounding against the end. He was gagged, but it looked as though it was tearing through his cheeks. Whoever tied him up had done a great job, perhaps too great. It was a revolting sight.

    Juddken approached the body, enthralled at the sight. ¡°Amaren? This is Mendalla''s seed? What¡¯s he doing here? Last I heard he lived in the Eivetta.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s a good question,¡± Penzer replied truthfully.

    ¡°Do you think she knows?¡±

    Penzer didn¡¯t need a second¡¯s extra thought. ¡°No. She¡¯s not going to.¡± He unsheathed his scimitar, walked over to Amaren, and brought the sword down through his neck. The squeaking of the bed came to a sudden stop.

    ¡°What?!¡± Juddken roared. ¡°Why did you do that?!¡±

    Penzer glared at his protege¡¯s insolence. In truth, he didn¡¯t know how to respond. He wasn¡¯t thinking. It was a reflex, like putting a dying dog out of his misery. He looked down and saw that his slice wasn¡¯t clean. He cut through most of the neck, but the scimitar was stuck in the spine. Amaren¡¯s bloodshot eyes looked towards the ground as his nearly decapitated head gently swung off the side of the bed like a pendulum.

    Still, it was good enough. Amaren was unmoving, like the corpse he appeared to be.

    The other guards rushed into the room and stopped at the doorway, looking over the scene. Penzer let go of the scimitar, still lodged in Amaren¡¯s neck.

    ¡°Fools,¡± Penzer began, ¡°why wasn¡¯t this done earlier?¡± He approached the guards, staring them down. ¡°You realize what could have happened if he escaped?¡±

    The fresh-faced guard, the one that brought him here, responded. ¡°Sir, we were told to come to you with any victims. We didn¡¯t know how to deal with it-¡±

    Penzer slapped the boy before he could finish. ¡°Use your fucking head. When they look like this, don¡¯t call for help. You don¡¯t move them. You kill them. I didn¡¯t think I¡¯d have to explain, but when they look like that, put them in the ground.¡±

    The boy held his cheek. He was fine, but shocked. Penzer was known to get frustrated, but he was never physical with the other guards.

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry sir. I¡¯ll remember next time, sir.¡±

    ¡°No fucking shit. Get someone to bury the body.¡± The guards didn¡¯t need to be reminded. They left the room as fast as they could. As soon as they did, Penzer dropped his posture, letting out a couple of light coughs.

    Juddken, standing awkwardly in the corner, spoke up. ¡°Why did you tell them that? They did exactly what was asked.¡±

    Penzer shook his head. He paced back towards the body, trying to look past Amaren¡¯s bloodshot eyes. ¡°I know what it¡¯s like to look inside a man. I¡¯ve seen men gradually lose themselves, losing pieces of themselves in the stream of time.¡± He paused, trying to gather his words. ¡°This man had no soul. No mother should have to see that.¡±

    Juddken nodded after a delay. Penzer knew the lad couldn¡¯t understand. He doubted whether the heir to the Awil-Ishtar family had a soul himself. Still, Penzer knew he made the right decision and would have done it again.

    Suddenly, Juddken¡¯s eyes widened. He pulled out his club and approached the foot of the bed. Before Penzer could react, Juddken was thrusting the club toward the floor. Penzer thought he saw a small foot.

    ¡°There¡¯s another one!¡± Juddken yelled. ¡°I got this one!¡±

    Penzer grabbed Juddken¡¯s hand and forced him back. Juddken struggled, before falling in order. Penzer looked under the bed, coming face to face with a small boy. He was dirty and covered in beige rags too big for him. How Penzer failed to notice anything before was completely lost on him.

    Penzer stared directly into bright green fearful eyes. Again, he was reminded of when he trained with Amaren all those years ago. He noticed a fresh gash crossing the boy''s eyelid, blood trickling down the side of his face.

    ¡°Oh, please no.¡±

    The boy must have been horrified. How much he understood what was going on, Penzer had no clue. He hoped very little. His mother was long dead. What was left of his father was now gone too. If the curse traveled the way the healer said that it did, the boy was destined to become like his parents before him.

    That being said, Penzer could still see a soul behind those green eyes.

    ¡°I can take care of it if you want.¡±

    Penzer looked back to Juddken¡¯s dumb face. No expression. Penzer was overcome with fury. He wanted to punch him, and would have if were he not the son of the most powerful man in the city. How could anyone be so callous with the fate of a child?

    Even Juddken could make sense of the hatred Penzer was projecting. ¡°Don¡¯t make me the bad guy. It doesn¡¯t take much thinking to figure out who this boy is. His parents are dead. He¡¯s likely cursed. We have to act fast, just like you said.¡±

    Never before had Penzer wanted to kill someone as much as he wanted to kill Juddken at that moment. But he was right. He saw the gash. He could only imagine how much pain this boy had experienced, and how much pain he still had left to go through. And at this point, Penzer had already gone too far - he killed Mendalla¡¯s only heir, even if they were estranged. He would have to do the same to the grandson.

    He couldn¡¯t bring himself to remove this boy from this plane. Not as he was.

    ¡°Take the boy to the cordon.¡± Penzer sighed. ¡°The witch is set to be exiled tomorrow. There¡¯s a chance this curse will actually leave with her as everyone says. I choose to believe that his soul will remain intact.¡±

    Juddken reached for the child. It took some grappling, but he managed to pull the boy out. He appeared to be in shock, which was unsurprising.

    Penzer fell into another coughing fit, before catching himself. ¡°I will tell Mendalla¡¯s men that the accursed have been accounted for. The boy will go to the cordon and be given his own accommodations. I hope I don¡¯t need to remind you that this all stays between us.¡±

    Juddken nodded. He was still struggling with the boy.

    Penzer sighed. ¡°Let''s hope Mendalla doesn¡¯t ask too many questions.¡±

    By the time the three left the house, Juddken had already made plans. He needed to see his father.

 Part I.II.VI: Malefica, Servant of Vijar

    Appo sat at the end of the courtyard waiting for the sun to go down. He was tired, for he had spoken with nearly the entire Guard Corps. Or at least he tried to. Most were unwilling to talk or treated him with distrust, but Appo was finding commonalities in the few stories he heard. He was writing his thoughts in his journal. He found himself constantly scribbling, comparing ideas before scratching them out. There were definite symptoms that seemed universal amongst the diseased: fever, the inability to sleep, the inability to consume, severe stomach pains, and general irritability. And then of course, there was the inevitable screaming.

    Despite his progress, Appo found himself fraught with questions. He was unable to visit the new cordon, as the guards refused to let outsiders within for fear of infection. Despite Mendalla¡¯s blessing, he was far from having complete access to the city. He had seen the diseased on at least three separate occasions by this time, but each encounter was brief and terrifying. Appo never had the time to study either Bjorn or Mena before they were killed, and there was no chance he would ever willingly set foot in the condemned cells again. He needed to see more.

    Appo looked over his notes and listed the names of all the infected he knew of. There were five guards, three traders, three prisoners, and two children who were either held in the cells or had been exiled. The list did not include the four infected who were attacked by Mena that morning. That left a total of seventeen known cases in Ash.

    ¡°Potentially eighteen,¡± Appo thought, remembering Jere¡¯s situation. Appo was disheartened to be reminded of his cantankerous friend, who was ordered to stay at home for the time being. Still, the more Appo learned about the disease, the more he was convinced that it only spread by blood. In general, physical contact alone didn¡¯t seem enough for transmission. Otherwise, there would be far more cases by now.

    ¡°Better to be cautious until I know more,¡± he thought.

    From what Appo was told, the first person confirmed with the disease was an outsider. He did not live in Ash, and it is unknown whether he interacted with any traders or sold anything in the city. No one knew his name. In fact, nothing was known about the person. All anyone knew was that at one point, this person began screaming and running around the roads of Ash. A guard named Twol confronted the person and was bitten and scratched in the process of jailing him. Twol developed a fever and began screaming after three moons. Shortly after, a guard named Riina complained of she could no longer drink shortly after visiting the local shaman. From that point on, every person that had the disease either caught it after visiting the shaman, or after getting scratched or bitten by the diseased. The shaman was apprehended, tried, and sentenced to exile shortly before Appo¡¯s arrival in the town.

    The Heads had assumed the shaman had infected everyone, but Appo had reasons to be suspicious of this. First was this unknown first victim; no one knew with certainty whether he visited the shaman. Appo considered the possibility that this person acquired the disease elsewhere, as he had encountered numerous diseases that spread from town to town. Second was Mena; was it possible that she had visited the shaman before she was apprehended? Appo was doubtful. From what he understood, after contracting the disease people always began screaming within four moons. The shaman had been captured for at least six. The timeline didn¡¯t quite add up.

    Appo looked up from his journal. The courtyard was nearly empty, apart from two guards and a lone townsperson. The sun was touching the horizon, and although it never got incredibly dark in the Eivett?, Appo preferred not to be out at night. He packed up his journal and made his way over to the pillories.

    Before, Appo had to fight through the crowds to get a view of the shaman. Today there was no such obstruction. He saw three pillories upon a raised platform, though only the middle was occupied. The shaman was still naked, but now Appo could see how skinny she was. In fact, the woman was so skinny that she could have easily slipped out of the pillory. At first, Appo was worried that she herself was infected. Her face was black, her eyes were swollen, and her crooked nose was broken. She had a massive abrasion under her eye that left the right side of her face stained with blood. However, Appo noted how calm she looked. Despite how bruised it was, the woman¡¯s face was content.

    This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

    Two guards flanked the ends of the pillory and stared ahead. The only other person in the courtyard was a short woman in dusty clothes. She carried a large bag, from which she was tossing rotten pears at the shaman. She was quietly sobbing.

    ¡°May Ati curse you, witch¡­ May Ati curse you.¡± The woman repeated this as she threw more pears at the pillory, though most were far from hitting their target. As Appo closed in, he saw a rough line drawn in the sand that the woman stood directly behind. He assumed this was as close as anyone could get to the pillories. He noticed several footsteps that went well past the line.

    ¡°Curse you, demon¡­ A thousand curses upon you.¡±

    The woman pathetically tossed more pears before her tears prevented her from more movement. After a moment of sniffling, she turned away and left the courtyard. Appo looked around and figured this would be the best chance he would have to talk to the shaman alone. He moved as close as he possibly could to the pillories, stopping at the edge of the line.

    Appo spoke in a whisper. ¡°I have questions for you.¡±

    The shaman didn¡¯t respond. Her eyes were so swollen that Appo was now having second thoughts on whether this woman was even conscious.

    ¡°Please, shaman. I don¡¯t have much time.¡±

    To this, the shaman reacted. She opened her one ¡®good¡¯ eye, which barely registered as a squint to Appo. ¡°A shaman?¡± She spoke in a croaky, drawled voice. ¡°That¡¯s one way to address a witch. Do you not fear me like the others, boy?¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t think you are a witch. I also don¡¯t think you¡¯re behind this plague.¡±

    The shaman gave a wounded chuckle. ¡°Oh, but I am, stranger. Descended from the lineage of Sabatath. You¡¯re foolish to think otherwise." She began a furious coughing fit, from which she spat out a glob of blood.

    Appo hadn¡¯t expected her to say this, but he wasn¡¯t shocked. From his experience, shamans were odd at best, and utterly insane at worst. It reminded him why he avoided shamans, and why he was annoyed by the constant comparison between shamans and healers. Nevertheless, he continued his inquiry. ¡°If that¡¯s the case, then why curse the town now? What do you have to gain from it?¡±

    ¡°It is not what I command, but what Vijar commands. I am but an instrument of his desires.¡±

    ¡°Vijar?¡± Appo was somewhat familiar with the name of the lesser god, but only in passing. He wasn¡¯t sure with certainty of the total number of gods in Ostior, but then again no one was. He knew there were hundreds, and that was mostly due to the endless number of lesser gods that were worshiped in small pockets throughout the land. He thought Vijar was the offspring of a major god such as Okkan, or perhaps the offspring of that offspring. Or perhaps he was a bird? Appo wasn¡¯t sure and didn¡¯t care. Shamans always flocked to lesser gods for the vague hope of becoming magi, or being blessed with magical abilities. Lesser gods were grateful to the foolish few who decided to worship them. It was rarely worth it; what the lesser gods have to offer is little, and it certainly wasn''t worth the social isolation that came with it.

    The shaman continued. ¡°Vijar has determined that the old gods are dead, and the new ones be false prophets. Through me, he has decided to wipe the slate clean and has presented me with his will. What you call a curse, I call retribution.¡±

    Appo wasn¡¯t convinced. ¡°I never said this was a curse, shaman. I said it was a plague.¡±

    ¡°A plague?¡± The shaman was shocked, as though she missed the word the first time. ¡°I¡¯m surprised you know of such terms. Are you a medicine man, stranger?¡±

    Appo hated the term ¡®medicine man.¡¯ It implied that he too was a shaman. Although shamans and healers both dealt with medicine, they had vastly different methods of practice. Healers were practical with their knowledge and learned through years of study, apprenticeship, and experience. Most were well-educated, and all had gone through the rigorous path of priesthood. Shamans, on the other hand, ate enough berries and herbs until they found out which ones weren''t poisonous. Both care for health, but Appo was angrier to be associated with one over the other. Few in Ostior made the distinction.

    Appo decided to give a safe answer without lying. ¡°I am a healer. Like you, I care for the sick and wounded. You may call me Appo. I hail from the coast.¡±

    The shaman smiled. ¡°Hello, Appo the healer. Vijar calls me ¡®Malefica.¡¯¡±

 Part I.II.VII: Bloodletting

    ¡°Greetings, Malefica.¡± That was an unusual name. Appo figured that the shaman must have made it up. At that point, Appo became acutely aware of the cut under Malefica¡¯s eyes; it was still bleeding and dripping down the pillory. He figured the wound was fresh. He looked to both sides towards the guards.

    ¡°If you wish to cross the line, Appo, the guards will not bother,¡± Malefica said. ¡°You can do whatever you want to me¡­ Provided you don¡¯t free me.¡±

    ¡°Okay.¡± Appo pulled out his surgery kit. He wasn¡¯t a fan of shamans, but it wasn¡¯t natural for him to sit still in front of someone with an open wound. He prepared a rag, washed it in spirit, and prepared a tiny needle wrapped around a long thread of yak hair. He crossed the line in the sand, taking note that the guards didn¡¯t respond. He stepped on the platform and brought the rag up to Malefica¡¯s face. ¡°Careful, this is going to sting.¡±

    Malefica nodded. She winced as Appo touched her face with the rag, but she didn¡¯t make a sound. She was a tough woman.

    Appo continued his inquiry as he wiped the blood off her face. ¡°So, tell me, Malefica, why is it your duty to spread this plague? Why did Vijar choose you?¡±

    Malefica shook her head. ¡°I wish it were not so. You know how we shamans are; we hope to cure men and repair them from injury. Much like how you are now. But Vijar has imparted me with a task, which he has told to me over the last few moons. I wouldn¡¯t have wished it upon anyone, but who are we to question the desires of the gods?¡±

    After wiping off the blood, Appo pushed Malefica¡¯s gray hair and parted it to the side. Appo took his needle and began to thread it through the skin. Malefica didn¡¯t react, as though she had lost all feeling on that side of her cheek. He sutured the wound with care as he continued his questioning. ¡°Do you honestly believe that? That Vijar decided to release this plague and only tell you that after the fact? Did you even know that you were spreading the plague?¡±

    Malefica frowned. ¡°I didn¡¯t know at the time, but why would Vijar tell me? I am but his conduit! Not his advisor! It¡¯s hard to understand for someone who worships Okkan, but I speak to my god. I don¡¯t waste away and hope he brings fertility back to the soil.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re mistaken. I follow Lowya.¡±

    ¡°Who is that?¡±

    Suddenly Appo felt judgmental for what he had thought about her god moments before. He forgot how out of place he was this far north. ¡°She is a god not from here.¡± He hoped the matter would drop, while he carefully sutured the upper half of the abrasion, tightening the yak hair on the lower half in the process.

    ¡°Hmm. I suppose you do understand me, healer.¡±

    Appo continued his work in relative silence. He had sutured enough injuries to easily work through distractions. Still, he enjoyed being able to sit down and focus on his job. He could get lost in his work easily, tuning out the rest of the world until his task was complete. It was incredibly satisfying.

    Malefica broke the silence. ¡°Why do you go to all this work? Restoration would save us both some time.¡±

    Appo laughed. ¡°Have you attempted restoration magic? I can assure you it doesn¡¯t work nearly as well as you think it does. The body is made an untold number of moving parts, and unless you have a complete comprehension of anatomy, the restoration won¡¯t properly heal even the most basic injuries. Many magi have tried and failed. The body is far more knowledgeable than I could ever be. It¡¯s best to let it do the hard work, even though I happily assist it in doing so.¡±

    Appo tied his suture as he finished his spiel, noting with satisfaction that the bleeding had stopped. Malefica huffed, ¡°I¡¯m not sure why you waste your time. Tomorrow this body is returning to the loam, and my soul will meet with Vijar.

    ¡°Sometimes it doesn¡¯t hurt to do a little good. Despite everything.¡± Appo dropped from the platform, somewhat disappointed. He was happy to do a little healing, but he hadn¡¯t learned anything from the shaman. In fact, if he didn¡¯t get anything tonight, he would lose his one contact to the source of the disease. Something in his gut was telling him that although this woman didn¡¯t intentionally release the plague, she was a part of it in some way or form.

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    Appo decided to go for one more line of questioning. ¡°Malefica, what exactly did you do? When you help people. From one medicine man to another.¡±

    Malefica huffed again. ¡°Too much for one soul. I treated all afflictions to the best of my ability. Many are wounded not of the body, but of the mind. To this, I gave them whatever I could. I gave them the precious weed flower. I had them smoke the fumes of the will-o-wisp. Sometimes, they just needed to talk. I¡¯ve noticed talking does the best good.¡±

    Malefica continued. ¡°Many came to me with fevers and other ailments of the blood. There is much of that here in the desert. Blood becomes too much, so I would purge it from the body. I did these many times.¡±

    Something clicked in Appo¡¯s mind. ¡°When you say you ¡®purged¡¯ the blood, you describe bloodletting, correct? The removal of blood from the body?¡±

    ¡°Of course. The leeches were suitable, but they dry up too fast. Vijar doesn¡¯t permit wet things in the desert. I became much better at using my knife.¡±

    ¡°You wouldn¡¯t happen to have used the same knife every time, would you?¡±

    Malefica raised her hands as far as she could in the pillory. ¡°I have no choice. Vijar would only bless me with one knife. Used it for many years. It wasn¡¯t the best, but for some, no other choice was available. When blood rises to the head it causes great pain. Purging is the only option.¡±

    Appo knew much about bloodletting from watching other healers. They rarely used anything other than one specific cutting knife. Some would clean it with a rag, but most wouldn¡¯t even do that. It was incredibly unsanitary, which was one of the reasons Appo never practiced it. The other reason was that it made people sick: an unclean knife easily transported disease from one body to the next.

    Appo came to a realization. If the shaman had encountered only one infected person, it would¡¯ve been possible to infect everyone who came to her afterward for bloodletting. It could have been used on anyone who was even remotely ill. And it would explain why everyone she saw became infected.

    He had to be absolutely sure. If Malefica had truly been behind the disease, then she would recall the man who attacked Twol. ¡°Malefica, I have just one more question for you. Who was the very first person you cursed?¡±

    Malefica pondered for a moment. ¡°I never cursed anyone. I never wanted to. I was merely an instrument for Vijar. That being said¡­ the first one was the big fellow. He was a prison guard, I believe. Got involved with the spirits at a tavern and the spirits fought back. Came to me with a fever. Couldn¡¯t sleep. His name was Twol.¡±

    The name hit hard. Appo felt his stomach sink into his feet. ¡°Of course,¡± he thought, ¡°it all makes sense. Malefica never started the plague. She cared for Twol, who was already infected. She spread the disease, but she had no idea!¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re innocent,¡± Appo said.

    Malefica squinted through her bruised eyes. ¡°What?¡±

    ¡°You didn¡¯t cause the plague! You simply came in contact with it, don¡¯t you see? Twol was already infected before he came to you, not the other way around! There was another man who he caught the disease from! You¡¯ve committed no crime!¡±

    Malefica didn¡¯t respond.

    Appo continued. ¡°Please, let me help you. I know Mendalla. I know Boah. They know the priests¡­ We can all figure something out.¡±

    She sighed, not unhappily but not elated, either. ¡°Appo, understand¡­ Vijar works in mysterious ways. He is the arbiter of my life, and he has judged me to be his conduit. Even if I did not start this plague, I have acted through his desires.¡±

    Appo was furious. Furious and frustrated. He nearly roared as he spoke. ¡°You¡¯re wrong! Your god is not capable of this! No god is capable of this! Vijar can¡¯t even get you out of these pillories and you want to die for him!? Even if he wanted to, he couldn¡¯t make a plague like this! I was educated by the smartest men in Ostior and nothing has ever taught me that any god, even an evil god, would want to make men and women and children die like this! And you assist in sitting idly while you proclaim credit for your god? Doesn¡¯t your life matter?!¡±

    The courtyard was silent for a moment after Appo¡¯s outburst. Malefica flashed a sly smile. ¡°I¡¯ve made peace with this, Appo. Even if you have not. You may not realize it, but this disease is a disease. It is also a curse. I¡¯ve seen visions of it. I¡¯ve seen what this town will become after I die. Cruelness and greed will pave the way for savagery and suffering. My suffering is nothing compared to what¡¯s to come. I only hope that Lowya will save you the same way that Vijar has saved me.¡±

    Malefica began laughing. Her laughs bounced off the walls and echoed through the streets. Her laugh became an evil cackle. Although her eyes were swollen, Appo swore that he could see them now better than ever. The sun had fallen behind the buildings, casting Malefica¡¯s silhouette in a crooked formation. He became frightened. So frightened that he turned away. The laughter kept getting louder and louder. He couldn¡¯t escape.

    Appo decided to run.

 Part I.II.VIII: Quarantined

    Jere was terrible at meditation. He picked up the practice many years ago during his travels. He recalled the tranquility of its practitioners, how they seemed so at peace, and how they utterly removed themselves from their surroundings. It was a magnificent ability, and despite years of practice Jere never quite got it right. He often found himself staring at the inside of his eyelids waiting for something to happen. It frustrated him more than it relaxed him.

    The fact that he could be dead in a few moons did little to keep his mind from racing. He kept thinking of Main Street. Distended jaws. Flailing arms. Blood erupting from necks. He feared he¡¯d see these images for the rest of his life.

    ¡°Add it to the rest of them,¡± Jere thought.

    Having lost his battle against enlightenment, Jere grunted and opened his eyes. He was at home, where he had been quarantined since this morning. He was to stay there for the next two moons unless he developed any symptoms. He hadn¡¯t been moved to the cordon, partially because he had no scratches from his encounter on the street. He suspected that his relatively good standing with the Heads played a role in his special treatment. He appreciated their kindness, but he still felt like he was going mad. Always a minimalist, Jere had little in his room to keep himself occupied for long. He had sharpened his new scimitar more times than needed, and already counted all the cracks in his walls. Three hundred and forty-seven. He couldn¡¯t imagine being locked away in solitary confinement.

    ¡°How was your meditation, sir?¡± The guard, Adok, entered the room. He was young, dedicated, and diligent. It annoyed Jere to no end.

    ¡°Fine.¡±

    Technically Jere was free to do as he wished, but Mendalla saw fit to ensure that he was incentivized to stay home for as long as possible. Adok was the poor fool chosen for the duty and had been working tirelessly since then. Jere had known of the guard from his skill at archery, but because Adok was too young to drink, Jere knew little else about him. He had made sure Jere was well-supplied, checked in multiple times, and kept him busy with conversation. Granted, Adok was mostly the one talking.

    ¡°I like that you meditate, sir,¡± Adok said, ¡°my uncle used to practice meditation, but now he prefers using the weed flower. He says it¡¯s more beneficial to your soul and it brings on enlightenment faster. He¡¯s even tried Drawstring, that Merkamensan flower, and told me of all sorts of visions he''d see. I¡¯d like to try it at some point, the job gets stressful for sure.¡±

    Jere didn¡¯t like the idea of dying, but after listening to Adok ramble for hours on end, it suddenly didn¡¯t seem like a bad alternative.

    A loud knocking on the door interrupted Adok¡¯s tangent. Adok quickly pivoted towards the door, grabbing his sword and unsheathing it. He braced against the door, taking on a professional tone. ¡°State your name and business before you proceed any further.¡±

    ¡°Um¡­ Appo Ilonnorot,¡± the voice said, ¡°I¡¯m visiting Jere.¡±

    ¡°Jere is undergoing isolation and must refuse guests at this point in time. You can leave a message with me if you wish and I¡¯ll relay it to him.¡±

    Jere wasn¡¯t about to deal with this for the next hour. He got up from his bed and pushed the young guard aside. Adok yelped, regaining his posture as Jere reached for the door. ¡°Don¡¯t let him in! We don¡¯t know whether he¡¯s cursed! He could be an enemy!¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll handle myself, guard. I¡¯d prefer to listen to anyone else right now.¡± Jere opened the door and backed away. Appo was sweaty, as though he had just run through the city. Jere chuckled. ¡°Being in a hurry can kill a man in Ash, healer. What brings you here?¡±

    Before Appo could say anything, Adok jumped between the two. He started frisking Appo, checking for scratches and cuts on his forearms and legs. ¡°I have to clear you before you¡¯re allowed to pass. I¡¯m under direct authority to check anyone who comes through.¡±

    Jere grunted. ¡°Sorry about the guard. He¡¯s very passionate.¡± He walked over to the two, prompting Adok to recoil. ¡°May I remind you that your services are ¡®recommended¡¯, not a direct command, no? You should take a break.¡±

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    ¡°My duty is to serve the Corps and they have entrusted me with you. I won''t leave my post.¡±

    Jere leered at Adok, halving their distance. Jere could be incredibly intimidating if he wanted to be. ¡°Take a walk, Adok. Clear your head. If you don¡¯t, you¡¯ll need to restrain me. Remind yourself why that could be a bad thing.¡±

    Adok held his head high but backed towards the door. ¡°I¡¯m going to discuss this with Penzer. If he disagrees, Appo will have to leave.¡±

    ¡°We¡¯ll behave.¡±

    Adok nodded and shuffled away as quickly as possible. As the door shut, Jere sighed. ¡°He¡¯s a good lad, but he¡¯s driving me mad. Can¡¯t stop talking about weed flower and his uncle.¡±

    ¡°He¡¯s young and excited, I wish more were like him," replied Appo. "How have you been, Jere?¡±

    Jere shook his head. ¡°Oh, I¡¯m great. I killed a woman, saw a friend kill himself, I could have the plague, and I share a room with the hardest working guard in the city. Pretty sure I¡¯m not sick though, so that''s nice.¡±

    Appo pulled out a flask from around his belt and offered it to Jere. ¡°You can have some of my spirit. I use it for wound care and it tastes terrible, but it¡¯s no different than what you¡¯ll find at Eevi¡¯s. It¡¯ll help with the relaxation.¡±

    Without a second thought, Jere grabbed the flask and took a generous sip. ¡°Don¡¯t sell yourself short. This is far better than Eevi¡¯s. Not bad for an ignoramus.¡±

    Appo smiled. ¡°Do you know any other insults, Jere?¡±

    Jere ignored this and handed the flask back to Appo. ¡°What brings you here?¡±

    ¡°I just finished my conversation with the shaman. It was¡­ interesting. But I confirmed one thing: she didn¡¯t start the plague.¡±

    Jere walked over to his bed and sat down. ¡°Of course the witch would deny it. What makes you think she would tell you the truth?¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s the thing, Jere: she didn¡¯t deny it. She said she started it. Insisted it, actually.¡±

    ¡°Huh. Doesn¡¯t that make things easier on our end?¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s just it!¡± Appo leaned against the wall. ¡°I questioned her and played along with her story. If she started the plague, she would¡¯ve willingly told me who her first victim was. We would have discovered his name. Instead, she told me the first person she infected was the cell guard, Twol.¡±

    ¡°What are you saying?¡±

    ¡°It means that plague didn¡¯t start with the shaman! She spread the disease to others with her knife. She¡¯s convinced her god told her to do it, but she never realized what she was doing. She¡¯s innocent, and it means that Twol and the person who attacked him never got it from her.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t know if that makes her innocent, healer.¡± Jere rubbed his chin. ¡°She¡¯s still responsible for spreading it to everyone. They all died because of her. And if she¡¯s openly claiming that she started it¡­ that¡¯s a hopeless battle any way you look at it.¡±

    ¡°I know," Appo sighed. "The whole thing makes our situation more complicated. We still don¡¯t know the identity of this first person, and I don¡¯t want to risk returning to the cells to find them. I¡¯ve been talking to people all over the city and no one knows anything. I feel like I¡¯m at a dead end, and there¡¯s still so much we need to learn.¡±

    ¡°No one ever said this job would be easy, healer.¡±

    ¡°I never expected it to¡­ But I still need more access. I need to learn as much as possible about this plague, but I keep running into obstacles. The guards won¡¯t let me into the cordon, and all of the infected are either dead or locked away.¡± Appo began pacing around the small room, lost in thought. ¡°What I need to do is an autopsy.¡±

    Jere sighed. ¡°There¡¯s a better chance of the witch becoming a Head tomorrow than that. Why on Ostior would you want to rip apart a dead body?¡±

    ¡°Corpses tell a story; they tell us what organs are attacked, how long they were attacked, and so much more. Medicine has come so far by looking at the dead. You may find it despicable, but it is a valuable tool that I learned in Jyv?sk. It¡¯s not as if any harm comes to them.¡±

    ¡°And you wonder why people don¡¯t like healers.¡±

    Appo became lost in thought again. He was formulating a plan. The strides in his pacing grew. ¡°The woman¡­ Mena¡­ I understand her body is being held in the temple, correct?¡±

    ¡°Mendalla has chosen her and Duncic to be buried on the Day of Akkavan in accordance with the sacred ritual. It¡¯s complicated, though. Both worshiped Ati. To be buried, their bodies will be preserved and stored there for the next two moons, in order to ¡®convert¡¯ them into acceptance with Okkan. It¡¯s a bizarre process. I have no idea how it works, but I guarantee the priests don¡¯t either. They typically don¡¯t perform ceremonies on non-believers.¡±

    ¡°Do you know where they are specifically being stored?¡±

    Jere raised an eyebrow. ¡°I don¡¯t like this line of questioning, healer¡­ I¡¯m unsure, but it would have to be somewhere private and somewhere sacred. I could think of a chamber or two where they could be.¡±

    ¡°And only priests can enter these chambers, correct?¡±

    Jere¡¯s eyes widened. He stood up from his bed, placing himself in Appo¡¯s pacing circle. ¡°Okay healer, if you plan on doing what I think you¡¯re doing, I don¡¯t want a part in it.¡±

 Part I.II.IX: A Fascinatingly Awful Idea

    ¡°What exactly do you think I have in mind, Jere?¡±

    ¡°I think¡­ you want to use me to get you into that temple. You want to ¡®act¡¯ like a priest to give you access and defile those bodies without anyone the wiser.¡±

    Appo wasn¡¯t deterred. ¡°I¡¯m not going to ¡®defile¡¯ anything. I¡¯ll treat them with care and dignity, and I¡¯ll leave them the same way they were before. If it helps, I only need Mena¡¯s body. I won''t touch Duncic.¡± He pointed to the dirty brown robe on the floor. ¡°I only need you to get me in and get me out. You won¡¯t have to do anything else.¡±

    ¡°First of all, sneaking into a temple will get you exiled. Tearing open a body in the temple? They''ll throw you in the cells with the screamers. Also,¡± Jere pointed to his robe, ¡°you¡¯re not going to put me in a costume to do it.¡±

    Appo sighed. ¡°I know the risks, Jere. I¡¯m not asking you to help. I just need your robe. I was once a priest too, remember?¡±

    Jere shook his head. Appo wondered why he thought Jere would be willing to help him. He knew Jere had good common sense, but that didn¡¯t mean that he could understand the scientific importance of an autopsy. Personally, Appo believed that after death, the soul was removed from the body. Its subsequent dissection would bring no harm to the soul. It was frustrating to be surrounded by ignorance, but he could understand why autopsies were so loathed. Especially when the autopsy in question involves friends or family.

    ¡°I don''t have much time. If we wait until tomorrow, we lose the last lead we have. We can avenge Duncic if this goes right. We can avenge all those who died.¡±

    Jere pondered for a moment. ¡°You''re not a bad person, healer. But this is still a fascinatingly awful idea.¡±

    Appo gestured again to the robe. ¡°In that case, I¡¯ll let myself in. Let me take the robe and I can figure out where to go next.¡±

    Jere walked over to the robe, picked it up, and examined it. It was worn and dirty. Despite their high social status, priestly robes were rarely lavish. The plain brown robes were indistinguishable from one town to the next. Jere patted off the sand as he turned to Appo. ¡°If you plan on doing this, you¡¯ll have to act the part, right? Do you know what you say to the guards? What if you encounter another priest? Will you know what to say then? Do you know the customary greeting priests share with each other on the eves of the Day of Akkavan?¡±

    Appo hadn¡¯t considered any of that. He had no idea. He kept silent.

    Jere continued. ¡°It¡¯s not just a matter of putting on a costume. You have to play the part if you want to get anywhere near those bodies.¡± He threw the robe on his bed and began dusting it off. He was intricate, as though he had cleaned it thousands of times before.

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    ¡°I have to try, Jere. This may be our only chance.¡±

    ¡°I know, I know. You¡¯re a persistent one, healer. You feel the need to defy authority every chance you get, and as much as I enjoy it, I¡¯d rather not see you get killed¡­ You¡¯re going to need all the help you can get, and I don¡¯t want to be the one who has to examine your corpse.¡±

    Appo smiled. ¡°So, you¡¯ll help then?¡±

    Jere shrugged. ¡°It doesn¡¯t make sense to me, but if you think looking at a dead body can help us beat this plague, I¡¯ll do what I can. I hope you have a plan to get yourself in there though.¡±

    ¡°I have an idea or two... Thanks, Jere.¡±

    Jere chuckled. ¡°Don¡¯t thank me yet. There¡¯s still the matter of the guard. I doubt he¡¯ll be okay with me breaking their protocol.¡±

    A third voice broke between Jere and Appo. ¡°I don¡¯t think that he¡¯d be okay with that.¡± The two turned towards the door: Adok was coming through. He looked saddened. ¡°Is this how you treat me? After all I¡¯ve done?¡± Appo had completely forgotten about the guard, and it was very possible that he had heard everything. They could be in serious trouble.

    ¡°There is a time and a place, guard,¡± Jere said. ¡°What have you heard?¡±

    ¡°Enough. I know you¡¯re leaving, and I don¡¯t think it¡¯s a smart idea. Penzer is already upset with me for letting the healer through, but he would be livid if he found out you left under my watch.¡±

    ¡°Whew¡± thought Appo. He didn¡¯t hear about their plan, or the guard would¡¯ve reacted far more harshly. Still, he was becoming an obstacle.

    Jere stepped forward. ¡°Here¡¯s a solution: don¡¯t tell Penzer. Save yourself a lot of talking and let us go on our way. I ask again: what have you heard?¡±

    Adok flustered. ¡°Please, don¡¯t do this. If you two get caught, I¡¯m going to be in major trouble. I could be expelled from the Corps.¡± He tried to act strong, but Adok was clearly intimidated by Jere, who was about a head taller and far more muscular. Adok''s skinny frame and his nervous demeanor stood in stark contrast to Jere¡¯s stoic bravado.

    ¡°I¡¯ll make this simple, Adok. You got two options: making this a problem with Penzer or making this a problem with me. Neither of those is good for you. I¡¯m offering you a third way: let me and the healer go about our business for the night, and you write a boring report to your superiors. Sound okay to you?¡±

    Appo repressed a laugh. Jere knew how to build tension when he needed to. He saw Adok fold almost immediately to the pressure. ¡°I guess Penzer isn¡¯t quite as scary as Jere.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m going to ask one more time: what have you heard?¡± Jere spoke with resounding finality, as though he was no longer asking a question.

    ¡°¡­ I heard nothing.¡±

    Jere patted Adok on the shoulder, making him jump with fright. ¡°Excellent answer. Don¡¯t worry. We¡¯ll be good boys.¡± Jere pushed past Adok and went out the door. Appo did one last sweep of the room, grabbing the robe before he left. He leaned to Adok as he passed, who looked as though he had just been given a death sentence.

    ¡°I wouldn¡¯t worry so much. It spreads by blood, not by touch.¡± Appo, too, left the house.

    Adok, now the lone occupant of the house, let out a sigh of relief.

 Part I.II.X: Corpses Dont Talk

    The exception to Ash¡¯s decrepit mediocrity was the magnificent Temple of Okkan. Towering a massive four stories each terraced upon each other, it was by far the largest structure in the city. Its top terrace, a shrine lined with gold, glistened for leagues. Temples such as these weren''t unique to Ash by any means; its architectural style was derivative of many temples along the Thorne. They were built by the Shaddon Empire, a civilization that vanished centuries before the founding of Ash. Still, it wowed and awed most who witnessed it. Even for the most obstinate western travelers, it is a sublime sight.

    As Jere approached the temple, he was reminded of the first time he crossed over the hill into Ash and witnessed the golden shrine. Its impact had lessened over time, but the temple was still a humbling presence. He was reminded of his early years as an apprentice, and how passionate he once was. He missed that passion. Wearing his priest robe now felt like blasphemy. He didn¡¯t deserve to wear it. The robe felt uneasy against his skin. The fact that he was wearing it with the goal of eventually dissecting a corpse wasn¡¯t helping his conscience.

    Jere approached the temple pulling a rickety tumbril. Inside the tumbril was Appo, wrapped in a white sheet. Bugs swirled around the sheets, buzzing quietly. Before getting too close, Jere put down the tumbril and walked over to Appo. He was impressed with his work, for Appo made a rather convincing corpse. He doubted the neurotic healer would be able to pull off any other disguise than a dead man.

    ¡°If medicine doesn¡¯t work out, you could always make a living as a court jester.¡±

    Appo grunted. ¡°Easy for you to say.¡± He gagged momentarily, breathing in a putrid stench that had been coming from the sheets. ¡°By Lowya, what is this smell?¡±

    ¡°Rot flower. Most buy it as a deterrent for insects since it smells of decomposing corpse.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m doubtful of that,¡± Appo whispered. ¡°There¡¯s bugs everywhere.¡±

    ¡°Yeah. Seems some bugs hate the smell of rotting flesh. Others love it.¡± Jere circled around the tumbril, inspecting his ¡®fresh¡¯ corpse. ¡°Point is, you¡¯ll smell like death. It¡¯ll sell the story. I just want you to be reminded that getting caught here means death for both of us. Then we¡¯d be actual corpses.¡±

    ¡°Can we move on, then? I can only stay still for so long.¡±

    ¡°Before we go,¡± Jere reached into his robe and grabbed Appo¡¯s flask of spirit. He pulled the sheet off Appo¡¯s face and offered him some. ¡°Hope you don¡¯t mind. I¡¯m keeping some of this on me. It¡¯ll relax you a bit. Makes it easier for you to be still.¡± Appo nodded and took a generous sip. He wanted to gag, but the strong alcoholic stench was a nice reprieve from the rot flower. Jere put the sheet back over Appo¡¯s head, but not before taking swig from the flask as well. Seems he needed to be relaxed too.

    ¡°I¡¯d say follow my lead, but since you¡¯re dead, don¡¯t move until I say otherwise.¡±

    ¡°Just don¡¯t get drunk before we do this, Jere.¡±

    ¡°Shhh! Corpses don¡¯t talk.¡± Jere picked up the tumbril and continued onward.

    Stolen novel; please report.

    Under the sheets, Appo did his best to remain still. The spirit did its best to calm him, but he found himself becoming anxious. He couldn¡¯t see, and although he was well accustomed to the smell of death through his work, having it pressed directly into his nose was gag-inducing. He wanted to squirm, but there was little he could do now. His life was in Jere¡¯s hands now.

    ¡°Halt! State your business.¡± It was the voice of an adamant woman; she must¡¯ve been one of the temple guards. The tumbril came to a stop.

    Jere spoke slowly and carefully. ¡°Just a priest here to drop off the body of a recently departed soul.¡± It sounded nothing like what Appo was used to. He imagined Jere hunched over in a much feebler stance than his usual proper pose.

    ¡°The temple isn¡¯t open to any commoner, priest. Ritual services require approval. I¡¯m afraid this is going to remain your problem for the night.¡±

    ¡°Oh, but this isn¡¯t a commoner, madam. This body belonged to Warassuni, a noble trader from the Thorne. He traveled fortnights to get here, but he developed a sickness and passed on near the gates. He had worshiped Ati his whole life, but had a change of heart in his later years. He came here to pledge his soul to Okkan and now his soul is in limbo. Without my help, he will never move on from this plane.¡±

    ¡°Wow,¡± Appo thought. There was no way he could have come up with that story on the spot.

    Appo heard the temple guard pacing around the tumbril. He could feel her gaze through the sheets. She gagged as she walked into the stench of the rot flower. ¡°He smells terrible. The ritual is going to be jeopardized if the body is too decomposed.¡±

    ¡°You can understand my haste, then. It appears heatstroke was the culprit that done in poor Warassuni. His body was out all day in the heat. I¡¯m afraid tomorrow won¡¯t be any good, or his body will start falling apart.¡±

    Appo understood why the temple guard wouldn¡¯t want to check under the sheets then. She sighed and circled back to the front of the tumbril. Her tone became very formal. ¡°Very well. Are you a traveling man?¡±

    Jere responded with a formal tone in kind. ¡°In my more vulnerable years. Now I live for the harvest.¡±

    ¡°What have you planted?¡±

    ¡°Seeds that bear the fruit of blessings.¡±

    ¡°What do you hope to sow?¡±

    ¡°That is for Okkan to know.¡±

    Appo felt embarrassed. He had no idea he would have to be questioned about anything, much less know a formal greeting.

    Jere and the temple guard ended their greeting in unison: ¡°Praise him!¡± The tumbril began to move again, and Appo made out a red haze from beyond the sheets. It must¡¯ve been the torches outside of the temple entrance. The tumbril came to a second stop.

    ¡°Hold on,¡± This was a new voice, a man¡¯s. It sounded like another temple guard. ¡°I know you...¡± Jere said nothing. Appo felt his heart stop.

    ¡°What¡¯s the issue?¡± the female guard asked.

    ¡°I¡¯ve seen this man before. He works for the Heads, but not as a priest. Something isn¡¯t right here... Explain yourself!¡±

    ¡°Oh no.¡±

 Part I.II.XI: A Delicate Process

    After a moment, Jere sighed. ¡°Alright, you caught me. I do mercenary work for Mendalla. I am a priest, though it isn''t my first job.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s right!¡± the male guard exclaimed. ¡°Your name is Jere!¡±

    ¡°Why are you masquerading as a priest, Jere?¡± asked the female guard. ¡°Could get you in a lot of trouble.¡±

    ¡°Tell me about it,¡± Jere said. ¡°Look, I was hoping to avoid a situation, but it seems like I have no choice.¡± His voice dropped to a whisper. ¡°This man is one of Mendalla¡¯s¡­ um¡­ ¡®concubines.¡¯ Long history. She¡¯d rather not deal with the situation publicly, as you can imagine.¡±

    ¡°No wonder. That woman has so many secrets.¡± The male guard¡¯s tone seemed to relax somewhat. ¡°Have you heard who we currently have in the chambers?¡±

    ¡°Can¡¯t say I have.¡±

    ¡°Her daughter-in-law, supposedly. Apparently, she was cursed and started an incident earlier. Was killed in a scuffle. Attacked a guard named Duncic.¡±

    Jere nodded. ¡°Yes, I was there. I saw the whole thing. Terrible incident. I had no idea she knew Mendalla though.¡± Appo couldn¡¯t help but notice that Jere didn¡¯t mention he was the one who personally killed the daughter-in-law.

    ¡°I understand the privacy, then,¡± the female guard said. ¡°Having your daughter-in-law and lover die on the same moon would be overwhelming for anyone.¡±

    ¡°Truly. She wanted to ask Enlil personally, but the priest has his head twisted too far around as is. So, she left the task with me. I apologize for any misunderstanding that¡¯s happened here.¡±

    The female guard spoke with empathy. ¡°Don¡¯t apologize. We¡¯re just being cautious, crazy times as it is. Send my regards to Mendalla, please.¡±

    The male guard laughed. ¡°Do no such thing for me. She¡¯s stayed in power too long as is. Ash needs a new face, someone who isn¡¯t a century old.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯d support Boah? But he¡¯s so young.¡±

    ¡°Of course I would! ¡®The Big Man for the Little People.¡¯ He¡¯s going to change this town, and I like that he¡¯s not afraid to criticize the other Heads. Mendalla has been using the Corps for years now, and what good has that done us? There¡¯s no more excitement in this job, and need I say anything about the pay?¡±

    As the guards descended into political discourse, the tumbril jerked and carried on. ¡°Thank you both for your kindness!¡± Jere nearly shouted. Appo was able to keep his mouth shut, but he had to exhale the moment they moved on. The guards carried no mind.

    The halls of the temple felt tight, as the rickety wheels of the tumbril kept scraping the sides of the walls. The tumbril shifted as Jere took it through what felt to Appo to be an endless series of corridors and chambers. Appo let his body go limp and toss in the tumbril, and found his head pressed against one of the back corners. He allowed himself to breathe only slightly. The rot flower smell was becoming slightly more bearable, but Appo felt as though the repugnant sheet was seeping into his skin.

    After an uncomfortable amount of time of shifting and tilting, the tumbril finally came to a stop. Appo heard Jere groan as he pushed what sounded like a heavy object, before picking up the tumbril once more. He pulled it just a little further before coming to a stop again. Jere whispered. ¡°We¡¯re here.¡±

    Jere pulled the sheets off Appo¡¯s head. Appo repressed a cough and took a quick look around the room. They were in a cramped chamber, with the ceiling rising just above Jere¡¯s head. Numerous urns and trinkets of assorted sizes lined the walls. The room was wide, and four mud brick slabs took up the middle. On top of middle two slabs lay two bodies wrapped in linen.

    You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.

    As Appo took in his surroundings, Jere moved to the entrance. A massive stone slab consisted of the door, and Jere grunted as he heaved it to the side. The slab moved slowly, but Appo was surprised it moved at all; it looked as if it would take several men to move the stone slab even a little. Here Jere was, moving it by himself. He must¡¯ve been stronger than he looked, and he already looked incredibly strong.

    After pushing the slab against the door, Jere huffed and moved to Appo. ¡°Had to check a few chambers. This was the only one that was closed off. No one will be coming here any time soon.¡±

    Appo stretched his legs and climbed out of the tumbril, nearly hitting his head on the ceiling in the process. ¡°Thanks, Jere. I couldn¡¯t have done this without you.¡±

    ¡°I pray you find what you¡¯re looking for, healer. This is a remarkably dangerous position to be in. If Adok decides to be a hero, we¡¯re done, not to mention everything else.¡±

    Appo reached under the sheets and pulled out his surgical bag. He paced over to the bodies with care, placing the bag near the legs of the smaller one. ¡°To be frank, I¡¯m not sure what exactly I¡¯m looking for. This may not help us understand where the disease came from, but a little scientific inquiry is the best hope we have at beating this.¡±

    Jere scoffed. ¡°So, we¡¯re endangering ourselves for a gamble then.¡±

    ¡°Yes.¡±

    Appo unrolled his surgery kit. Several iron blades and scalpels were lined in the bag, along with forceps and scissors. He pulled out some leather gloves and an apron. Jere stood awkwardly near the door, looking with concern at Appo¡¯s presentation.

    ¡°I know this looks barbaric,¡± Appo began, ¡°but I assure you that when we are done, she will look good as new. I will not desecrate her body. This is for the good of the town, remember that. Besides, how do you think I learned human anatomy?¡±

    Jere said nothing. As Appo checked his equipment, Jere walked toward the longer of the dead bodies. The corpses were both lined in linen wrappings and topped with beads and amulets. Their faces were unwrapped, and as he approached Jere could make out the gray-bearded face of Duncic. The side of his neck was a dull red, but he otherwise looked content; his eyes were closed, and his silver hair was combed back behind his head. It was very possible that if the circumstances were slightly different, Jere could have been on the slab alongside Duncic. There was still a chance that would happen anyway.

    ¡°Jere, I¡¯m afraid I¡¯m going to need your help.¡±

    Jere scowled. ¡°How? I know nothing about medicine.¡±

    ¡°I need someone to hand me tools whenever I need them, and I need someone to hold the linens apart while I make the initial incisions. If any blood gets on the wrappings, they¡¯re going to know that someone was here. I¡¯m going to cut through these in a way where we can wrap her back up as soon as I¡¯m done.¡±

    ¡°And how long will that take?¡±

    Appo shook his head. ¡°This is a delicate process even under better circumstances. It¡¯ll take all night, for sure. I won¡¯t be able to observe her head or her limbs, but I should be able to look at the abdomen and her chest cavity.¡±

    Jere grimaced. The thought of cutting open this woman seemed revolting to him. Still, it was too late to turn back now. Jere walked to the side of the corpse.

    As Appo continued cutting through the linen wrappings with his scissors, Jere looked over this body. Her face was gaunt and covered in scratches, with the edges of her mouth torn apart. Her face was still in a painful grimace, in sharp contrast to Duncic¡¯s calm and peaceful expression. Her scalp was missing mats of black hair. Aside from the obvious injuries, something was off about the corpse. Jere kept looking at her pained expression as if waiting for her to open her bloodshot eyes and mouth and scream.

    Jere looked towards Appo. He had just finished his cutting, and the linens were strewn on top of the woman¡¯s chest. Appo¡¯s cuts were intricate and precise, though he cut them fast. He moved from the feet to the other side of the slab across from Jere.

    ¡°Okay,¡± said Appo, ¡°are you ready? This is going to be a dangerous job. You need to wear gloves, and whatever you do, don¡¯t get blood on your skin. Don¡¯t wipe your forehead, don¡¯t scratch an itch, anything like that.¡±

    ¡°Healer, what makes you so sure I don¡¯t already have this disease? Why trust me?¡±

    Appo put his hands down along the side of the slab. ¡°I have two theories. One, the disease spreads by blood, we refer to it as ''bloodborne.'' You see all these lacerations on her face? Before he turned, Bjorn kept saying he was ¡®itchy¡¯ and needed to scratch himself. That pools blood and flesh under the fingernails due to his pruritic responses. When they start screaming and go on the attack, they swipe at you with their hands. If they scratch you, their blood gets into your body. I haven¡¯t come across too many diseases like it, but they exist. If that¡¯s the case, you¡¯re not infected. You were never scratched.¡±

    That put Jere at ease. ¡°And the second theory?¡±

    Appo hesitated. ¡°The disease is like most others and spreads by close contact, or spreads through the air. Just being near it is enough to transmit. If that''s the case, you and I, along with the rest of the town, are doomed.¡±

    Silence fell over the two. Appo looked over the corpse and grinned. ¡°I¡¯m much more confident about theory one. You may not believe it, but I¡¯m normally right about these things.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t think you have a single idea as to what this is.¡±

    ¡°Welcome to medicine.¡±

    The two carefully pulled aside the cut linens, taking care to not displace the bindings. Underneath was a covering of leather, which Appo made through with careful cuts with his scissors. Pulling apart the leather revealed Mena¡¯s concave bare chest. The fumes building up under Mena¡¯s wrappings seeped upward, though the smell wasn¡¯t nearly as bad as the rot flower. A large bloody gash where Jere had thrust his scimitar lay right below her right breast, alongside the many scratches and abrasions that seemed to cover Mena¡¯s entire body. Her stomach was bloated and misshapen, yet her ribs almost pierced the skin. It was an unusual corpse.

    Appo brought his scalpel up to Mena¡¯s right clavicle and made an incision.

 Part I.II.XII: Nowhere to Go

    A young boy walked alone somewhere in Ash. He had no destination in mind. He was crying and frightened. He had nowhere to go.

    His mind was racing. He kept seeing his mother, screaming and wide-eyed. She was a monster then; a monster wearing his mother¡¯s skin. She scratched at him, scraping his arm in the process. His brother had run away, leaving him alone in the tent. His mother chased his brother, screaming and screaming. Where his brother was now he had no idea, though he had run in the direction of their former home. The two had followed their mother there for a few moons. Unlike his brother, the younger boy waited in the tent for hours until he realized that his family wasn¡¯t coming back. Eventually, he left the spice tent, making his way to the main city. He hid under and around stands until the vendors chased him away like they did with all the street kids. He kept doing that until nightfall.

    He tried returning to the tent, but discovered the guards had burned it to the ground. He didn¡¯t know where anyone was. He had nothing on his person. He was scared that he wouldn¡¯t be able to find any water, but he wasn¡¯t thirsty. All the other street kids kept asking for food and water. He was glad he didn¡¯t need that at the moment.

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    Still, the boy¡¯s stomach was throbbing. His legs felt stiff, and he had an awful headache. The pain was so bad, just as much as his mother¡¯s the days before. He missed his mother. He knew that she would take care of him. She would give him herbs that would take the pain away. He just had to find her.

    But when he thought of his mother, he only saw the monster. The gaping mouth and the red eyes.

    The boy kept looking for shelter. He just needed to sit down. He didn¡¯t expect to sleep; he often defied his father¡¯s orders for bedtime and stayed awake with his brother as long as he could. They would stay awake and tell stories of monsters and the legendary heroes that defeated him. He thought of Enmerkar, the great warrior that conquered the Seven-Winged Lion with nothing more than a slingshot. Enmerkar fought the Seven-Winged Lion for fifteen moons and he never needed any sleep. The boy didn¡¯t need any either.

    There were more guards out than usual, but they always ignored the street kids since they carried lice. The boy figured he had lice too. His body was so itchy and he couldn¡¯t stop scratching. The guards made sure to keep their distance.

    The boy carried on, teary-eyed and holding his scratched arm. He¡¯d find his mother soon. It was only a matter of time.

 Part I.III.I: Autopsy of a Cursed Woman

    One Moon Until the Day of Akkavan

    ?

    Appo¡¯s forearms were drenched in thick, lumpy blood. He stood over Mena¡¯s torso, staring inside her exposed abdominal cavity with an inquisitive and perplexed look. Jere stood at Appo¡¯s side, holding a pair of scalpels that Appo had just used to debride some excess flesh. Jere had spent the better part of the last few hours avoiding the corpse as much as possible. He was feeling the full weight of his nausea.

    ¡°Do you see anything unusual, Jere? Anything catch your eye?¡±

    Jere shook his head without looking. He had caught glimpses of Appo¡¯s work but had no idea what to make of it. Not that he was trying particularly hard to look. He had been in enough fights to know what blood and guts look like. ¡°I just see flesh, healer.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re right. There¡¯s only flesh.¡±

    ¡°I could have told you that before we went and cut her open.¡±

    ¡°No, I mean¡­ there¡¯s nothing to see. Literally. The human body should have organs. But as far as I can tell, I can¡¯t make out anything discernable.¡±

    Jere raised an eyebrow. ¡°Are you saying she¡¯s missing all her organs?¡±

    ¡°Um, not exactly¡­ She clearly has a heart and lungs, though they''re a little hypertrophied. But her digestive tract has been completely liquified. Stomach, intestines, liver, spleen¡­ It¡¯s all dissolved.¡±

    Appo took off his gloves and wrote a few notes in his journal. As he did so, Jere willed himself to look. He held back his repulsion but could understand what Appo was saying. Mena¡¯s abdominal cavity was nothing more than mass of chunky flesh and blood. He could make out the deep maroon lungs and heart covered in a tangled mesh of veins, but not much else.

    ¡°It explains why the screamers lose their appetite,¡± Appo said to himself, ¡°they have no stomach to deposit food into. The esophagus appears atrophied past the pharynx, almost like a vestigial structure. Instead, the epiglottis appears to be fused to the trachea, opening to the bronchi alone.¡±

    Jere did his best to keep up with Appo¡¯s musings, but he could only make out every other word.

    ¡°The lungs are certainly hypertrophied, looking about one and a half times larger than they should be, and appear to have increased blood flow in its direction,¡± Appo continued, ¡°I wish I had more time to pry, for I feel as though this unique respiratory system could explain the source of the afflicted¡¯s screams. Perhaps this is how they survive without food and water?¡±

    Jere groaned, albeit quietly. ¡°Healer, what have we learned here? Was this worth risking our lives?¡±

    Appo pondered for a moment. ¡°It confirms a couple of theories. A lack of appetite and hydrophobia are undeniable symptoms of the disease. I theorize that the liquefication of the gut begins immediately after infection. It¡¯s the only explanation for why it has deteriorated to this extent in such a short amount of time.¡±

    ¡°So it confirms something we already knew. Great. What else?¡±

    Appo looked frantically around the room, as though he had so many thoughts running through his head that he was struggling to arrange them into something coherent. ¡°Well, there are no fat reserves. The muscles are hypertrophied as well, though it''s nothing like I''ve ever seen. They''re denser than the muscles of warriors... Most troubling, as far as I can tell, decomposition has occurred at a rate much slower than what is normally expected. I dare say I¡¯ve yet to find any sign of it.¡±

    ¡°What about sleeplessness? Anything that explains that?¡±

    Appo shook his head. ¡°I would have to look at the brain. We don¡¯t have enough time to dissect that, as much as it would help.¡±

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    ¡°So what¡¯s next?¡±

    ¡°I present what I¡¯ve found to the Heads. I¡¯ll have to explain how I got access to a body, but at this rate, it¡¯s more important to let them know that what we¡¯re dealing with here necessitates much further study. Perhaps this can convince them to take precautions against celebrating the holiday.¡±

    Jere stood silently. Appo put his gloves back on, returned to the corpse, and grabbed the flaps of skin around the open torso. He wordlessly motioned toward Jere for his suturing needle, which was ignored.

    ¡°Jere?¡±

    Jere didn¡¯t respond. His hands were shaking.

    ¡°Jere, I need your attention. We can¡¯t be caught down here, remember?¡±

    Jere finally spoke, his voice cracking slightly. ¡°I haven¡¯t slept since I pushed her. I don¡¯t feel tired either.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s been a long night,¡± Appo reassured, ¡°That doesn¡¯t mean anything.¡±

    ¡°What if you¡¯re wrong? What if we¡¯re both infected? I can¡¯t tell whether I¡¯m even hungry. I could be cursed! We could both be cursed!¡± Jere¡¯s voice was dangerously close to becoming a shout.

    Appo turned to him, raising his hand in his direction. ¡°Listen to me. You are not infected. You are going to be fine. I need you to be fine.¡± He spoke softly, but with authority. ¡°Here¡¯s what we¡¯re going to do: we¡¯re going to take care of Mena, and then you¡¯re going to take us out of here. After that, you¡¯re going to go back home, you¡¯re going to take a long nap, and then you¡¯re going to eat a large meal. But you can only do those things if you¡¯re with me on this, okay?¡±

    Jere was struck by Appo¡¯s composure. It instilled him with confidence, even if it was fleeting. At that moment, he could have trusted Appo with anything. He nodded his head, and the two got to work.

    It took another hour for Appo to return Mena to her original state. The work was demanding and tedious, but as Appo promised, Mena looked good as new. The sutures held Mena¡¯s chest together remarkably well, and the linen wrappings were easy to tie back together. Once completed, Appo gathered his belongings, carefully packed everything coated in Mena¡¯s blood into a separate knapsack, and loaded himself back into the tumbril. Jere covered Appo with the white sheet, pushed aside the stone slab with ease, and pulled the tumbril out of the sacrificial chamber.

    Jere carefully navigated the tumbril through a different exit of the temple, hoping to avoid coming across the same guards that accosted him earlier. Fortunately, the new temple guards he encountered upon exiting allowed Jere to pass without incident. The sun was still below the horizon, though it was rising quickly. They had left with just minutes to spare.

    After navigating a few streets away, Jere pulled the tumbril into the alley where he had found it. He lowered it gently and removed the white sheet on top, only to discover that Appo was fast asleep. Jere was furious. Not just at the fact that Appo had risked blowing their cover by snoring as a corpse, but that he had been able to fall asleep at all. Already anxious, Jere had to repress a growing fear that he would never be able to close his eyes again.

    Jere shook his unconscious partner awake. Appo groggily raised his head. ¡°Did we make it?¡±

    ¡°No thanks to you, ignoramus! Get out of here before we¡¯re seen!¡±

    Appo wanted to thank Jere for everything he had done, but at that moment words were struggling to come to him. Instead he nodded, grabbed his things, jumped out of the tumbril and walked away.

    Jere rushed back to his home, making sure to take back alleys and lesser traveled streets to avoid the patrols. He was certain he made it back without anyone the wiser, but his thoughts were scrambling. He wondered if the temple guards would be able to keep a secret. He was terrified that Adok grew a backbone and reported him to Penzer. And of course, he wondered whether his anxious thoughts were a growing sign that he was destined to lose his humanity to the disease. He was always one to push darkened thoughts aside, but doubt was creeping in every second he was awake.

    He opened his door to see Adok passed out on his bed. Jere was angered by the affront, before realizing it meant that Adok did as he asked. Upon closing the door, Adok leaped out of bed with the discipline of a trained soldier, collecting himself as though he were preparing for a scolding.

    ¡°Jere! You made it back! Did you accomplish everything you set out to do?¡±

    ¡°Guard,¡± Jere said with impatience, ¡°Get the fuck out of my bed and return to your post.¡±

    Adok didn¡¯t have to be told twice. He made sure to stay away from Jere as he passed him.

    Jere removed his priest robe and sat on his bed. He tried his best to keep his mind from racing, but he couldn¡¯t help but contemplate death, or worse. He tried coming to terms with dying in Ash after all his travels; trapped as a mercenary with nowhere to go and no one to turn to. He was lost in his own selfish thoughts, becoming increasingly certain that he would be experiencing his last moons with control of his body. He wondered if he could just follow Duncic¡¯s lead, and simply slice his throat with the scimitar, just so he wouldn¡¯t have to wait.

    Suddenly the bed felt soft. His eyelids became heavy. He leaned over on his pillow as his thoughts drifted away. Jere fell into the deepest sleep he had in years.

 Part I.III.II: For the Betterment of Ash

    Appo didn¡¯t have time to sleep. He was used to his work keeping him up for moons, depending on the circumstances. When his mind was running, he slept only as a necessity and preferred it that way. If it were entirely up to him, he would deny sleep the pleasure of his acquaintance. Still, he was tired and weary from the night¡¯s events, and there was still so much he had left to do.

    The first thing to do was meet the Heads and update them on his findings. Hopefully, they would request his advice on the next course of action. That was the hope, at least.

    As Appo walked through the streets, he once again witnessed Ash come alive. The traders paid no mind to others, speaking openly and shaking hands without a care in the world. He had secretly hoped that the recent events would have persuaded them to avoid the city altogether, but the allure of coin seemed stronger than any rumor of curses. Main Street was still clamoring with activity. Appo elected to avoid pushing through the crowds and turned down an alleyway, running almost headfirst into Mendalla and her guards.

    ¡°Ah, there you are Appo! I was beginning to think you were becoming overwhelmed with your task and left us. The Corps has been looking for you all night.¡±

    Appo rubbed his baggy eyes and smiled. ¡°My apologies. It¡¯s a pleasure to see you, madam.¡±

    Mendalla suddenly grabbed her nose. ¡°By Okkan, what is that stench?!¡± She glared at Appo, realizing that he was the source of the smell. ¡°Appo, did you spend the night inside of a corpse? You smell rotten!¡±

    ¡°Shit.¡± Appo had spent so much time under the tumbril that he had gotten used to the putrid smell. He tried not to panic, but lying had never been his strong suit, especially when he was caught off guard.

    ¡°I slept in a tumbril¡­ I think it was carrying rot flower.¡± It wasn''t quite the truth, but it wasn''t an outright lie, either

    ¡°Now why on Ostior would you do that? Did that bastard Boah not even think to give you living accommodations? The nerve¡­ you should have mentioned something to me. Tonight, I¡¯ll rectify this error and contact one of our finest inns. For now, unfortunately, we will have to make do with the smell. You happened to catch me on my way to the meeting with the rest of the Heads. I¡¯d like to join us.¡±

    Appo stuttered. ¡°Are you sure? Can I at least clean up somewhere?¡±

    ¡°There is a bath at the manor. And don¡¯t you dare try to reject my offer, I won¡¯t have you speaking to anyone smelling like that.¡± Mendalla trotted forward, beckoning Appo. ¡°Come along now.¡±

    His hand forced, Appo followed behind Mendalla, flanked by two of her guards. ¡°What is the purpose of this meeting?¡±

    ¡°The Heads wish to discuss you and your work. I¡¯m sure a considerable amount of time will be spent bickering over trite nonsense, but we¡¯ll make sure to give you time. Believe it or not, the Heads are immensely interested to meet the person who wants to shut down Ash on one of our most profitable Holidays.¡±

    Appo didn¡¯t doubt her. ¡°I have information to give, but I haven¡¯t reviewed everything yet. I don¡¯t want to mislead anyone-¡°

    Mendalla waved her hand dismissively. ¡°You don¡¯t have time for that. This is the one chance you have to say your piece unless you want to wait until after the holiday.¡±

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    The group walked on, taking shortcuts past familiar landmarks. Mendalla led the group, standing out from the crowd in her elaborate turquoise dress. Her beaded necklaces clattered as she walked, her strides were so fast that Appo almost had to jog to keep up. ¡°Why is everyone in this town in such a hurry?¡± he thought. When the manor came into view, Mendalla¡¯s pace slowed. She let Appo catch up with her.

    ¡°I do have to ask,¡± Mendalla inquired, ¡°have you spoken with Boah since our last discussion?¡±

    ¡°No.¡± In fact, Appo had been avoiding Boah as much as possible since his improvised speech.

    ¡°I¡¯d advise you to continue to do so. Boah is not to be trusted, despite what our allegiance may suggest. We believe in the same god, but our similarities end there. He is like all self-made men: egotistical, opportunistic, and thirsty for power. I can tell he senses weakness within the Heads; in fact, I guarantee he is elated by what happened to my daughter-in-law. He hopes it will break me. He is mistaken.¡±

    Appo hated getting involved in petty city politics, even if he could see where Mendalla was coming from. ¡°I understand what you mean.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll be honest, Appo, I never had to struggle like he did. My family has quietly ruled its corner of this city for generations. I know naughtt of what it¡¯s like to be in need, or to suffer. But don¡¯t mistake that for callousness. I am firm and I am feared, but I am not cruel. Understand that my intentions are solely for the betterment of Ash. That is why I am giving you a platform today.¡±

    Mendalla stopped right as the group approached the manor gate. Her emerald green eyes met Appo¡¯s gaze. ¡°You¡¯re friends with the mercenary? Jere, right?¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t think he would say that we¡¯re friends, but he¡¯s been my companion, yes.¡±

    ¡°How is he?¡±

    Appo thought it best to not relay the full extent of their travels together. ¡°From what I¡¯ve heard, he¡¯s been doing fine.¡±

    ¡°Good. I¡¯m curious to hear your thoughts: have you ever thought that perhaps Jere is overqualified for his job? He¡¯d be more efficient running the Guard Corps, don¡¯t you think?¡±

    Appo laughed. ¡°You flatter him, madam. I¡¯m sure he¡¯d agree with you.¡±

    ¡°Here¡¯s the thing: Jere isn¡¯t paid. He doesn¡¯t have a salary. He was bought by Boah.¡±

    ¡°Bought? As in¡­ Jere¡¯s a slave?¡±

    ¡°He may not look the part but trust me when I say so. Jere was brought to Ash by slave traders many years ago. Boah paid a month''s salary for him, back when that used to be significantly less. Obviously, he is treated with respect as far as slaves go. He''s too good of a fighter to get that much disrespect. But there¡¯s a reason he stays in Ash. He is a prisoner here, and Boah refuses to release him.¡±

    Appo¡¯s mind was racing with questions. Before he could ask any, Mendalla cut him off. ¡°If you wish to know how he ended up there, you¡¯re wasting your time. I don¡¯t know and he won¡¯t talk about it. But that¡¯s not important. The point is that Boah uses others for himself and himself alone. He doesn¡¯t see people. Only tools. Remember that.¡± Mendalla turned to the gate, knocking a few times before it opened.

    The group passed through into the courtyard. Mendalla pointed to a corridor straight ahead. ¡°Walk down the hall and take a left. Look for a pretty girl named Loos and tell her I sent you. It should take her one whiff to figure out why. She will provide you with a bucket of water, appropriate clothes, and will wash your current attire while we¡¯re in the meeting. After that, have her lead you to the Great Hall. Again, she should be able to put two-and-two together. Don¡¯t take long, we won¡¯t wait on you.¡± With that, Mendalla turned away with her guards, leaving Appo alone in the courtyard.

    Despite all he had done and seen, Appo couldn¡¯t help but be excited. He hadn¡¯t had a bath in years.

 Part I.III.III: Zaman Urash

    Outside Ash Manor, an old man in a crimson robe approached the iron gates with a contingency of guards. His limp was balanced with a cane, which he used to firmly tap the front gate. The manor guards opened the gate, looking the old man over. With his eyelids covered in a web of crow¡¯s feet, wispy white hair growing out of his ears, and his left eye gazing upward at the sky, the man was instantly recognizable. This was Zaman Urash; the Head of the Urash spice trade and once the most influential man in Ash. For as long as most could remember, an Urash was the authority in the goings-on of the city, to the point that many wrongly suspected that the city¡¯s namesake was derived from his family name. Even though he was far from the authoritative figure he once was, Zaman Urash still carried considerable respect among Ashfolk.

    Urash briskly walked through the courtyard without a word, dragging his left foot behind him. His six companions, cloaked in crimson masks and brandishing curved daggers, eyed the markedly different manor guards with distrust as they passed by. Unlike the rest of the Heads, the Urash family favored a long loyal mercenary band for protection instead of the Guard Corps. These mercenaries came from the desert, and as such saw most in Ash with contempt.

    Urash and his guards entered the manor hall, passing the adorned statues and ornate paintings of greenery. Urash scoffed at the excess; not that he had a problem with the lavishness per se, he just hated to be reminded of how much the Manor had changed. He ached to see his family portraits framed on the walls, to see the founders of Ash in their rightful places. Mendalla, along with the rest of the Okkan faithful, never had respect for the traditions.

    As Urash continued, he turned to enter a large hall framed around a massive oval table. Dozens of men of various professions had taken their place on the sides of the room, conversing amongst each other. A few noticed Urash and greeted him kindly, but most continued chattering away. He was used to this after spending years under Mendalla¡¯s rule, but the indifference still stung ever so slightly. He grimaced as he moved towards his seat near the close end of the table, his guards flanking to the walls as he did so.

    Urash took his place between Ky?sti and Kirashi: two of the three other followers of Ati at the table, and Heads long loyal to the Urash family. Ky?sti, a heavyset man with a thick beard covering several beaded necklaces, nodded as Urash took his seat. ¡°Gizzal says Boah may not show,¡± Ky?sti grumbled in a deep bass voice.

    ¡°Gizzal couldn¡¯t find Boah if he shat on his feet,¡± said Urash. ¡°It doesn¡¯t matter as long as Mendalla shows.¡±

    Kirashi, a gray-haired, proper woman in a similarly gray robe leaned towards Urash. ¡°She should be here any moment. Supposedly she lost her healer and had to recover him.¡±

    ¡°Sounds about right, the foolish bitch. She¡¯s wasting all of our time.¡±

    Urash felt comfortable between these two. Ky?sti oversaw the stables and held a monopoly over the yaks and camels in the city, though he had made most of his fortune through his beaded necklaces. Kirashi owned nearly all the inns and taverns in the city, collecting a heavy tax for their upkeep. The three of them were some of the richest in the city, and Urash trusted them more than anyone else, which assured that they always had considerable bargaining power even at their minority status. They typically held sway over Gizzal as well, though none of Heads found him particularly trustworthy.

    A wrinkled hand grasped Urash¡¯s shoulder, startling him. He turned to see a matt of curly red hair and a scolding face powdered white and marked with garish red eyeshadow. ¡°What have I said about watching your tone during a holy meeting, Urash?¡±

    Urash clutched his chest as he gathered himself, just as the perfume overwhelmed his senses. ¡°Shimsusa.¡±

    Shimsusa flashed a toothy grin, showing just the slightest bit of contempt. ¡°Fear not, Urash! I only tease. Okkan cares not for what you say, provided all goes well tomorrow. Speaking of which, I figured I¡¯d ask now only so I don¡¯t have to ask in the meeting: have you given any thought of adding to the extra shipment of brown ash for tomorrow?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll need to speak to my bookkeepers, I only have so much left. I need to save some for myself, otherwise I won¡¯t make a profit this year.¡±

    Shimsusa threw her head back in laughter. ¡°You humor me, old man! The desires of Okkan are above any price! We can discuss this after the meeting.¡± Shimsusa moved to take her seat at the far end of the table.

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    Urash snorted. ¡°I hate that zealous coot.¡±

    ¡°She¡¯s going to spend hours reviewing the precise nature of her speech tomorrow,¡± said Kirashi, ¡°We¡¯re going to discuss every ¡®thou¡¯ and ¡®lo¡¯ and ¡®is.¡¯¡±

    ¡°Her god brings in more coin than we will see for the rest of the year,¡± said Ky?sti. ¡°I¡¯ll let her talk for a week if it lets me live comfortably.¡±

    Kirashi eyed Ky?sti¡¯s rotund midsection and chuckled. ¡°Perhaps you could do to live a little less comfortably?¡± Ky?sti grunted dismissively.

    Urash eyed the rest of the room. At the other end of the table were the mustached Harran and the young Nami. Next to Nami sat her crippled grandfather, Namshi, a skeletal-looking man wrapped in yak skin blankets and staring into the distance with gray eyes. Shimsusa took her seat next to Nami, inquiring about whether she had done the appropriate amount of prayers for the day.

    Next to Ky?sti sat Digram Gizzal, the only other devotee of Ati at the table. A short-statured bald man wearing all manners of jewelry, Gizzal sat in silence. He stuck his chin into his chest, his jowls quivering as he twiddled his thumbs. Although Urash could typically rely on him when the time came to vote, he couldn¡¯t bring himself to have too much faith in the man. No one knew for sure, but Urash suspected that Gizzal was on the brink of losing his wealth. Many generations ago the Gizzal family had become rich through the discovery of a plentiful gemstone mine, but they failed to translate that wealth into perpetuating influence. In Ash, the word ¡°Gizzal¡± was synonymous with ¡°miser¡±, as he hoarded much of his family¡¯s remaining wealth. Urash thought that if anyone were to save the Gizzal family legacy, little Digram was not the man to do it.

    A thunderous knock forced the doors open. Mendalla pushed through and rounded the massive table. The men hugging the walls fell silent. The clattering of Mendalla¡¯s shoes echoed in the once lively room as she strolled to her seat. She was followed closely by a young man in a black robe. Urash assumed this was the healer he had been hearing about; he was too clean to have lived in Ash for long. His demeanor screamed "cityfolk." All the eyes in the room gravitated around the healer as he entered.

    As Mendalla took her seat, she took a quick glance around the room. She sighed. ¡°Does anyone know of Boah¡¯s whereabouts?¡± A few shook their heads. "Very well then. Shimsusa, may you lead us in prayer?¡±

    Shimsusa almost leaped out of her seat, stretching out her hands and spitting out Okkan''s prayer, as had become customary. All of the Heads stood and bowed slightly, though Urash and the other devotees of Ati said nothing. In his mind, Urash gave his brusque tribute to Ati.

    ¡°From the beginning, through time. From the sand, through hardship. From love, through devotion. Blessed be Ati.¡±

    With prayers completed, the Heads returned to their seats. Mendalla took command of the proceedings. ¡°I know there¡¯s much to discuss, most of it involving tomorrow¡¯s holiday. With that being said, we need to prioritize a subject that has been on all of our minds.¡± Mendalla waved over the healer, who had been standing awkwardly behind her chair. ¡°This is Appo. He was the healer we had called upon to visit Ash more than a fortnight ago. I know most of you haven¡¯t had a chance to meet him yet, but for the last few moons, he has been busy studying what has been afflicting this town. I propose that we allow him to present what he has discovered first, so we can send him on his way.¡±

    Urash chuckled from across the table. ¡°Why are we still wasting time with the healer, Mendalla? Hasn¡¯t Shimsusa taken care of this issue for us? Let us move on to more... financially pressing matters, shall we?¡±

    Mendalla glared at Urash. She was used to dealing with his verbal taunting, because it rarely led to action outside of scolding. ¡°I¡¯m afraid this is the most pressing matter we have right now, Urash. Were you lost in the dunes? Do you know of the bodies left in the street?¡±

    ¡°My condolences to your sworn daughter, Mendalla," Urash replied, not even trying to hide the monotony of his tone. "Still, those bodies came from Boah¡¯s man, including himself. Besides, why are we talking about this now? From what I recall you strongly opposed the healer¡¯s arrival before Boah convinced you otherwise.¡±

    ¡°That was before I knew the full extent of this affliction. As of right now, as many as twenty souls are being held in solitary due to this disease, and just as many have departed from this plane. Unfortunately, inaction is simply not an option at this rate, especially with tomorrow to keep in mind.¡±

    Urash leaned back in his chair. ¡°I¡¯m not wasting my time with this trite. Let¡¯s put it to a vote. You¡¯re missing your man, so it¡¯ll be a tie and we¡¯ll move on to discussing the terms of the holiday as planned. I¡¯m not going to waste my breath with debate.¡±

    Ky?sti put up his hand. ¡°All in favor of pushing the healer¡¯s inquiry to the end of the gathering, say ¡®Aye.¡¯ Aye.¡±

    ¡°Aye,¡± said Urash.

    ¡°Aye,¡± said Kirashi.

    Silence. The three turned their heads to Gizzal, who held his interlocked hands by his chest. Mendalla quickly took advantage of the situation. ¡°All opposed? Aye,¡± she said.

    ¡°Aye,¡± said Harran.

    ¡°I speak on behalf of Namshi, Aye,¡± said Nami.

    ¡°Aye, but let¡¯s move quickly to Okkan, praise be to him,¡± said Shimsusa.

    Gizzal remained silent. Urash frowned. ¡°You spineless, destitute bastard,¡± he whispered loud enough to be heard by the entire room.

    ¡°Votes are 4 to 3, one absent and one abstaining,¡± declared Mendalla. She smiled at Urash. Urash leaned back into his chair and folded his arms. ¡°Appo, the floor is yours.¡±

 Part I.III.IV: Politics

    Appo stepped forward next to Mendalla. He looked awkward and uncertain, as he didn¡¯t have a clear platform to speak to the table. He cleared his throat a few times. ¡°Hello everyone¡­ I am Appo, as Mendalla mentioned.¡±

    ¡°We know,¡± Kirashi coldly replied.

    ¡°Ah¡­ well, let me get right into it. I¡¯ve spent more than two moons in Ash, and I¡¯m the first to admit that that¡¯s not nearly enough time to interpret everything. However, I¡¯ve still uncovered much of the nature of this disease and much of how it spreads.¡±

    Shimsusa shifted awkwardly in her chair. Urash almost chuckled. He had been listening to her prattle on and on about the nature of the curse, and how it had to be godly in nature. ¡°This meeting would tear at her conscience, if she had one,¡± Urash thought.

    Appo continued. ¡°We know the disease spreads by blood. This includes scratching and biting. It does not seem to spread by physical touch alone, nor does it travel by air. Upon contact, the prodrome seems to take three moons to develop, the most common symptoms seeming to be insomnia, lack of appetite, fever, abdominal pain, anxiety, pruritis, and hyperalgesia. At some point, the infected pass into a second stage, which notably begins when they start screaming. The infected become hostile, and communication is no longer possible. They are overwhelmed by the desire to scratch themselves and no longer react to pain.¡±

    Urash grimaced. He was always particularly sensitive to gory details. The others at the table seemed to be faring no better. Urash briefly locked eyes with Mendalla, who was the only one staring without expression.

    ¡°Eventually the infected begin extensive self-harm. They pull out their hair. Their eyes bulge and become bloodshot. The incessant screaming unhinges their jaws. Weight loss is rapid due to the inability to eat, and the infected¡¯s joints become fused, leading to a distinctive locked shuffle. At this point, most organs have become completely liquified and defecated from the body. After this-¡°

    ¡°How long do you plan on prattling on, Appo?¡± Urash interrupted, his face still contorted from the mental image in his head. ¡°Your descriptions are detailed and disturbing, but so are the stones I have to pass through my cock every other fortnight.¡± Hecklers from the sides of the room chortled in response.

    ¡°They don¡¯t have to travel far,¡± shot back Harran, leading to laughter from his corner of the room.

    Urash ignored him and focused on the healer. ¡°Just tell us what you want from us. Just tell us that you think the holiday needs to be canceled and we should all stay at home because of a curse that we¡¯ve already gotten rid of.¡±

    Appo fell silent. Urash wasn¡¯t surprised ¨C his usually abrasive manner of speaking was enough to shut down anyone who he disagreed with. In all honesty, he wasn¡¯t sure what to make of the disease or the curse or whatever it was. He didn¡¯t know for a certainty what exactly it was doing to the town, but it didn¡¯t matter to him. He didn¡¯t know anyone that was infected, and even if it were to spread, he had his guards to keep him safe. The only thing he knew he was in danger of losing was the profit to be made in the holiday, and that would be an utter certainty if Mendalla had her way.

    Urash and Mendalla had always been opposed in their views, but their vendetta was deeper than petty politics. Urash recalled how many years ago her son, Amaren, had attempted to break into the spice business in Ash. He was a rambunctious, if foolish spirit, and had no interest in leadership like his mother. Urash had done what his family did to anyone who attempted to break into the trade; he lowered prices and held as many deals as possible. Maybe occasionally Amaren would lose a supply yak to ¡°raiders¡± in the desert. Last Urash had heard, Amaren and his family had fled Ash, as they couldn''t repay a loan to Beyshran debt collectors. Urash was never particularly bothered by the thought; Amaren had chosen the wrong profession, after all.

    Mendalla was never pleasant to talk to after that. Not that Urash cared.

    Appo had been standing silently for an uncomfortable amount of time. He finally spoke up after some of the jeering had died down. ¡°That depends, sir. How many lives are you comfortable losing in the moons to come?¡±

    ¡°So, he has a backbone after all?¡± Still, Urash wasn¡¯t persuaded. ¡°Boy, you know little of our way of life. You ask me to consider this curse, but how many families do you think will starve if we don¡¯t have this holiday? I am but a humble follower of Ati, but even I can put my differences aside when it comes to feeding my family. I¡¯m sure many in Ash would agree.¡±

    The Heads murmured amongst themselves. Urash had to suppress a laugh; arguing for profits was never enough to convince the more religious members but arguing in favor of the poor starving families typically did the trick. As if anyone in this room cared in the slightest.

    Shimsusa cleared her throat. ¡°Urash is right, even if he doesn¡¯t speak for Okkan. Mendalla, think of the young ones. Besides, what would Okkan think if we cancel the Day of his kin? I say we continue forth with the witch¡¯s exile and move forward.¡± A fervor of hands slapped the table in response.

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    ¡°I¡¯m sorry ma¡¯am,¡± said Appo, ¡°but I¡¯m afraid that getting rid of the witch won¡¯t be enough to contain the disease. I think the disease was here before she was ever involved.¡±

    Shimsusa gasped. ¡°You¡¯re treading the line of blasphemy, healer!¡±

    Mendalla held up her hand to silence her. She looked back to Appo. ¡°What do you mean by this?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m not saying she wasn¡¯t involved. Many of the early victims of the disease were due to her hand, but her hand was unwilling in the matter. I have it on good authority that a guard named Twol, was infected before he ever saw her.¡±

    ¡°How can you be so sure?¡± Kirashi asked. ¡°The witch herself claims responsibility.¡±

    Appo lowered his head. ¡°This ¡®witch¡¯, Malefica, is a shaman. A shaman pushed to the edge of society, living off herbs and latching to the desperate. She has only spoken to lowly gods and has never commanded respect in her life. In her exile, she commands fear, which is more than she has ever known. She told me that the first person she infected was Twol, but Twol was attacked by an infected person before he visited her. When the disease began to progress, Twol sought help and asked to be bloodletted. There, she touched the disease with her knife, and spread it to everyone who visited her afterward.¡±

    ¡°These are quite the accusations,¡± Urash began. ¡°However, I don¡¯t trust anything that woman would say. Furthermore, I¡¯m curious to know how you are so knowledgeable about the symptoms of the accursed. How would you know about their organs, for example?¡±

    As Appo began flustering a response, the doors burst open. Everyone turned to the source of the noise. Boah, leering tall and walking with a purpose, made his way to the front of the table. Urash noted his confidence; he had long envied Boah¡¯s resolve, even if he disagreed with him on just about everything.

    Mendalla snorted. ¡°The disrespect you bring to this table is abhorrent.¡±

    ¡°Mendalla,¡± Boah began, ¡°I have urgent news-¡°

    ¡°Not so urgent as to be on time for the meeting. Your conduct in the last few days has been abysmal, and honestly, it makes me ashamed to share my seat with someone with your candor. Please leave us.¡±

    Boah locked eyes with Mendalla, speaking with little emotion. ¡°Your son is dead.¡±

    ¡°What are you on about?¡±

    ¡°An inquiry into the trader Mena was conducted, and the curse was traced back to an old family home. There, Amaren Ealamassi was discovered tied to the bed, the curse having taken its toll on him. The acting guard on duty, Penzer, executed him on the spot. This was brought to my attention only moments ago.¡±

    Mendalla didn¡¯t say anything, as though the words she was hearing were being delivered in another language. ¡°Why am I learning of this now?¡±

    ¡°Penzer covered it up. Guards under my watch informed me that he ordered it to not come to your attention. He is currently being disciplined as we speak.¡±

    Several of the Heads gasped. Shimsusa began whispering prayers. Ky?sti held his hands to his chest. Appo fell back, melting into the wall behind him.

    Urash said nothing, as did Mendalla. They stared ahead expressionless, for once in complete uniformity.

    ¡°There¡¯s more,¡± Boah continued, ¡°upon further inquiry, we discovered that Amaren¡¯s son had been scratched. As he is showing signs of being cursed, he is currently being held in quarantine. I wanted to let you know that you won¡¯t be able to access him, upon your orders.¡±

    Mendalla turned to Boah. ¡°Son?¡± Her lower lip quivered. ¡°He had a son?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m¡­ sorry, Mendalla.¡±

    For a brief moment, the room fell into total silence. Mendalla shook her head, propping it up with her hands. She then let out a deep, harrowing wail. Everyone stood in shock as Mendalla sunk into her seat, utterly defeated.

    Urash looked at Boah. He looked into his eyes, sensing something other than pity. ¡°Boah knows what he¡¯s doing. He¡¯s not lying, but how he¡¯s presenting this to us, right now¡­ No, what I¡¯m seeing is victory. He just did what I¡¯ve failed to do for years: he broke her.¡±

    As Mendalla wailed at the loss of her family, Urash met her in spirit. In less than a minute, Boah had defeated his greatest adversary. Not only breaking her spiritually but making her look foolish as well. Her long-trusted guard was also out of the picture, and no one would be able to deny that Mendalla wasn¡¯t mentally stable enough for the job, at least for now. That just left one person to take her place: Boah, the jewelry merchant who came from nothing.

    Mendalla was escorted out of the room. Shortly after, the meeting was adjourned.

 Part: I.III.V: When the Flames Die Out

    It was high noon and the air was heavy. The sand sizzled under the sun. The rocks were hot enough to sear flesh. This all did little to diminish the crowd of a thousand that congregated on the north side of Ash. Men, women, and children packed together, sweating through their robes and bumping into shoulders. Water traders pushed through these crowds, selling full pouches at exorbitant prices. They stood at the northern boundary, right as it sloped away into gravel and sand. Other than a few weathered limestone towers in the distance, there were no discernable features in the Eivett?; the heavy mirage made it difficult to make out anything with certainty. There was no civilization, no people, no beasts, no life whatsoever. Nothing.

    There was little entertainment in Ash. Competitive sports were confined only to the biggest cities, and there was little game to hunt. Public humiliation of criminals did little to appease the public. On the few occasions they happened, exiles were the closest thing Ash had to a city-wide bonding experience. They attracted most Ashfolk, even the ones who were opposed to them. And few in the crowd were opposed to seeing a witch meet her doom.

    The crowd clamored to get a view of Boah, who stood atop a raised stone slab. Most of the town knew him already, for it was impossible to ignore the impassioned speeches he made on the streets. Outsiders were immediately struck by his physical appearance: his towering build and his reflective gold robe attracted eyes with ease. Boah himself was pacing his platform, carefully locking eyes with as many as he could.

    ¡°Newcomers to Ash, I can hear your thoughts!¡± Boah yelled. ¡°¡¯Why must we persevere in this heat? Why must we know thirst so well?¡¯ The reasons for this are many. Is it to avoid the raiders? Possibly, though I can¡¯t remember the last time we were raided. Is it extra protection against the beasts of the land? They are not a part of our lives, for sure. Of course, if you¡¯ve heard me speak before you know what I am trying to say.¡±

    Boah held up a water pouch for all to see. ¡°There are no springs here. Every moon, traders walk eight leagues carrying their body weight in water. We do this out of thirst, but not for water. We thirst for something more than that. We thirst for a better life. For us, and for our children. We thirst for a closer connection with our god. Without any of that, water is meaningless to us.¡± He threw the water pouch into the crowd, resulting in applause.

    At the edge of the crowd was Appo, standing closely by Juddken and a few of the Heads. Mendalla was nowhere to be seen, as Appo expected. Where she was, no one could have guessed.

    Juddken followed his father¡¯s every word, nodding and grinning with every turn of the tongue. Appo followed as much as he could, but he was busy looking for Malefica. She was supposedly coming soon, but he¡¯d be shocked if she could still walk after all she had been through.

    ¡°You look nervous, healer. Not a fan of crowds?¡±

    Appo turned to find the source of the shrill voice, locking eyes with Gizzal, the Head was adorned in more gemstones than could be counted. Gizzal¡¯s eyes darted from place to place, as though he were looking for something. If anything, Appo was certain Gizzal looked more nervous than he did.

    ¡°Not usually. Considering our circumstances, I feel vindicated for not wanting to be surrounded by others.¡±

    Gizzal snorted and laughed. ¡°Fair point.¡±

    Appo looked at the small man. He was having trouble keeping track of the complicated dynamics in the town, and he didn¡¯t know where Gizzal fit in. As far as he knew, he was in the minority of those that worship Ati, but his abstaining vote at the meeting seemed unusual.

    ¡°Gizzal,¡± Appo began, ¡°what are your thoughts on the whole matter? Who do you think is right?¡±

    ¡°This is going to do nothing. I know it, many of the Heads are in denial, but I think they know it too. This is all spectacle.¡±

    Appo didn¡¯t expect such a candid opinion coming from a Head, but as he turned to press the matter, Gizzal locked eyes with something in the crowd. ¡±Yes¡­ definitely all spectacle. Appo, perhaps we should continue this another time. I have places to be.¡± With that, Gizzal disappeared into the crowd. Whatever he had been looking at, Appo couldn¡¯t make it out.

    Meanwhile, Boah continued his speech. ¡°Most people know that I worship Lord Okkan, but does anyone wonder why we celebrate the ¡®Day of Akkavan¡¯ instead of the ¡®Day of Okkan?¡¯¡± Boah paused for emphasis. ¡°Long after the creation of the world, but long before the dominion of people, there was nothing but rock and water. Ostior and Eivett? were the same; there was no water, no husbandry, no people.¡±

    ¡°Okkan wanted life to thrive, so he harvested water from the ocean and spread it across the land. He planted the rivers, grew the lakes, and returned it back to the ocean. He would take the water and share it with the people as rain, allowing fields to grow full of wheat and maize and sugarcane. He was a generous god, and as much as he wanted to harvest crops, he also wanted to harvest civilization. People eventually moved away from the coast and started to live inland.¡±

    ¡°Akkavan, Okkan''s firstborn, was a jealous god. He was envious of the love Okkan cultivated. This jealousy turned to resentment, which eventually bore rage. When Okkan would share his rain, Akkavan would strike down those who worshiped in a bolt of fire. His rage knew no bounds. Forests were burned to the ground, and people died by the thousands. He tormented them, pushing them to the brink of humanity and forcing them to live off excessive tribute and sacrifice. We know this now to be an evil thing, and although we have no right to question the gods, surely Okkan would be opposed to the killing of the people he loves so much?¡±

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    Boah scanned the crowd, waving his arm in a transverse motion. ¡°Many of you are parents. Many of you know the overbearing love you have for a child, regardless of how many tantrums they throw. Akkavan was a bad child, but even the all-powerful Okkan could only do so much to stop it. He learned to compromise. He could do nothing to stop his son¡¯s tantrums, but he could give us warnings. With that, came thunder. Now, whenever his son unleashes his wrath, Okkan provides us with the means of escape and warns us of his son¡¯s misgivings. Perhaps many of you do not comprehend, for it does not rain here, and it never has rained here. But I want you to understand this: the Day of Akkavan is not for his namesake, rather it celebrates the birth of compromise. Compromise begets progress, which eventually begets happiness.¡±

    The crowd murmured in agreement. Boah continued. ¡°This is why we do not execute evil in this city, for it is holy ground.¡± A few made blessings to Okkan. ¡°No, we simply return them to the wicked desert from which they came, so the gods may do what they wish to them. Here, we commemorate the most important aspect of the Day of Akkavan: to compromise, but to not sacrifice what is dear and important to us.¡±

    Boah looked out into the crowd and smiled. ¡°Instead, we do our duty by sacrificing the witch that has brought this brutal and evil curse to this town!¡± The crowd roared in a mesh of agreeing jubilance and malicious condemnation of Malefica. Boah pointed towards the front of the crowd to a carriage. There, battered and bruised behind a small iron cage, was the old woman. As the crowd slowly realized her placement among them, they began pelting rocks at her. Most bounced off the cage bars.

    Appo grimaced. She looked worse. Her face had swollen even more, and what skin wasn¡¯t bruised was blistered red from sunburn. Most of it was already peeling. Appo noted that his handiwork from the night before had held; his suture was still intact. Not that it would do much good.

    The carriage came to a stop at the front of the crowd. The guards opened the cage door, pulling Malefica off the carriage. She wore no shoes, so she hesitated before being forced to the ground. Her feet were scalding on the pebbles, but the guards managed to get her standing. She looked around aimlessly, her vision blocked by swollen eyelids. The crowd laughed as she struggled to balance. She held her hands, which were bound with rope, blindly out in front of her.

    In front of the crowd stood Enlil, the high priest of Ash. He wore an elaborate scarlet robe and was adorned with a bright ruby necklace. He was a young man, no more than forty, but he carried the air of one much older. Despite his heavy garb, he was not affected by the heat - not a single drop of sweat could be found on his brow. He was flanked by his sister, Shimsusa, and Boah, who had climbed off his rock slab in the commotion. The three were surrounded by ten temple guards, collectively forming a line facing away from the desert. Enlil raised his hands, and the crowd¡¯s rowdiness dissipated.

    ¡°Anna Olavintar, that which answers to Malefica, you have been accused by your peers of perpetuating the crime of witchcraft. A crime that has been outlawed within our city since the years of Pax Wiccana. A collection of priests and myself, have consulted with our savior Okkan, from which we have declared you guilty and sentenced to exile.¡± The crowd roared with excitement, prompting Enlil to wave his hands. ¡°This is not a moment of celebration, for we have suffered greatly under your misdeeds. Nevertheless, Ati does not permit the killing of souls where he is worshiped, however impure, and for that we pray to Okkan to deliver you back to the loam. You are condemned to walk into the Eivett? as long as Okkan permits.¡±

    It was impossible to tell whether Malefica could see the priests in front of her. Appo had a poor view, for he was in the back of the crowd, but he could see that she was swaying. He doubted that she could take ten more steps.

    What Appo couldn¡¯t see, but what was clear to the priests who stood in front of her, was that Malefica was smiling, showcasing her rotten teeth. Enlil continued, ¡°as is customary, you are granted a moment of reprieve and last words if you wish. However, no family has been accounted for-¡±

    ¡°I need no family,¡± Malefica spat. ¡°I do not need Okkan. He is weak in comparison to my Lord Vijar. I have already been saved.¡± Her voice, strained and cracking, was barely a whisper.

    Enlil chuckled. ¡°Do you wish this to be your last words? Say what you wish to Vijar, he has no power here.¡±

    ¡°I have said all that needs to be said to my Lord, heathen.¡± Malefica chuckled, swaying her bound arms back and forth. ¡°By the setting of the moon, I will be dead. My body will decay, and my soul will be intact. Will you be able to say the same?¡±

    Shimsusa approached Malefica and spat in her face. Enlil grabbed her dress and pulled her back in formation. She glared at her brother. ¡°How dare we let this demon continue to make a mockery of us! Let Okkan be done with her, before she curses us further.¡±

    Malefica released a shrill croak of a laugh. ¡°Vijar has shown me what lies ahead for you, followers of Okkan. I see only the void. I see shrieks, and cries, and tears, and fire! And screams¡­ so many screams. Then there is nothing. When the flames die out, not even ash will remain.¡±

    Enlil had had enough. ¡°If those are your final words, then so be it. The town has bestowed our judgment. Walk.¡± Enlil and the others parted, giving way to the Eivett?. A guard standing behind Malefica slapped her back with the hilt of his scimitar. She didn¡¯t need to be reminded further. She trudged forward, dragging her feet over the gravel.

    The crowd had been silent, save for the occasional slur. As she progressed into the desert, they began to rouse. They called her names again. ¡°Witch.¡± ¡°Slut.¡± ¡°Demon.¡± A few tossed rocks. The name-calling became shouts, and the shouts became a cacophony of jeers. They continued yelling at her as time stretched on.

    The crowd watched her walk for ten minutes. Just as she was becoming one with the horizon, she collapsed. She was dead.

    With that, the mood had completely turned. It was as if the holiday had come early. Water was splashed around, men were hugging each other, and women were crying tears of joy. Even the guards were mingling with the Ashfolk, playing with children and laughing with each other. It was a scene of complete elation. Appo looked on, thinking that this may have been the happiest the town had ever been.

    Before he could be swallowed by the crowd, Appo caught something approaching him fast. He saw a gray face with a singular bright blue eye. It was Isbibarra: the blind beggar who had been sleeping in Eevi¡¯s tavern. The one who had ¡®looked¡¯ at him when he first arrived. The old man ran straight into Appo, catching him off balance, sticking his mouth next to his ear.

    ¡°I know why you¡¯re here, Appo,¡± Isbibarra whispered. He spoke with an aspirated and soft dialect. It sounded out of place in the Eivett?. ¡°I know what you seek. We share the same goal.¡±

    ¡°What?¡± Appo was barely keeping up with the interaction.

    ¡°To find the first screamer, ask Eevi about the red stone. We will discuss this later.¡± With that, Isbibarra pushed past Appo, waving his cane at the ground.

    ¡°I don¡¯t understand-¡±

    ¡°Ohhh don¡¯t mind me, young fellow!¡± Isbibarra¡¯s tone was drastically changed, speaking now in a crooning falsetto. ¡°I don¡¯t see so good!¡± Before Appo could register what was going on, Isbibarra had vanished back into the crowd. Appo tried to follow, but he was long gone.

 Part I.III.VI: The Red Stone

    ¡°Thirty-five percent?!¡± Eevi exclaimed. ¡°That¡¯s preposterous!¡± She was yelling at Kirashi, one of the nine Trader Heads and the authority of the taverns within Ash. Kirashi had just entered Eevi¡¯s, claiming that her usual sales tax would be increased on account of the holiday. Kirashi had long claimed part-time ownership of the taverns, as only she had the ability to sway the priests to allow them within the city walls. She was also responsible for much of the transport of ale and wine to the city. However, her blessing came with an exuberant sales tax; she demanded twenty-five percent of all alcohol sold from any tavern, lest they be banned by the city.

    Kirashi rubbed her hand through her grey hair. ¡°That will only be for this moon. Tomorrow it will be fifty percent.¡±

    Eevi folded her arms. ¡°You¡¯re joking.¡± Eevi was used to Kirashi¡¯s price hikes during the Day of Akkavan, but this was far beyond what she was accustomed to. ¡°You do realize I need to stay open, right? That¡¯ll barely even pay for upkeep.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s where you¡¯re mistaken. We counted over a thousand camped outside the walls and rising. We predict that number to double by tomorrow. Even with the tax you¡¯ll see your coin.¡±

    ¡°Sure,¡± Eevi explained, ¡°but that¡¯s a lot of extra work to be making the same amount of coin.¡±

    ¡°Remember why you have this extra work, Eevi. They are here because of the rigor of myself and the other heads. All the other taverns I¡¯ve spoken to have been more than happy with the arrangement.¡±

    ¡°Only because the bastards have no spines.¡± Eevi bit her tongue. ¡°I can make do, but you understand how this hurts us, right?¡±

    Kirashi laughed. ¡°Then by all means, move Eevi¡¯s elsewhere if you¡¯d prefer a better deal. I hear the land in Digerraki can be sold for beggar¡¯s change.¡± Eevi cringed at the thought of having to travel through the ghost city again. Kirashi, having made her point, turned to the doors. ¡°I will send a guard to collect the payment later tonight. Hope this goes smoothly for us.¡±

    Before Kirashi could exit, Appo made his way through the doors. Kirashi glared at him as he entered.

    ¡°Healer? Bit early for a drink, isn¡¯t it?¡±

    Appo smiled awkwardly. ¡°Hi... madam.¡± Eevi could tell that he couldn¡¯t remember the woman¡¯s name, but probably knew her position within the town. ¡°I was just here for a few questions.¡±

    Kirashi chuckled. ¡°Don¡¯t think your little escapade with Jere the other night didn¡¯t go unnoticed. I know as much as anyone that men need a little bit to drink before they get anything done. Besides, with the witch gone you probably have much to celebrate.¡± She turned back to Eevi. ¡°Make sure his thirst is quenched. May Ati protect you both.¡± With her farewell, she exited the tavern.

    As Appo approached the bar, Eevi grabbed a mug and poured some ale. ¡°Free of charge, healer. I insist. I¡¯d rather not take the coin than have most of it go to her.¡±

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    Appo waved his hand. ¡°I can¡¯t, Eevi. I¡¯m still working.¡±

    ¡°You are? But wasn¡¯t the witch just exiled?¡± Eevi gasped dramatically. ¡°Do you think there¡¯s another witch among us?¡± Eevi didn¡¯t really care one way or the other. She doubted the ragged woman was actually dangerous and hadn¡¯t even attended the exile. She was used to exaggerating her emotional investment to engage with her patrons more, but she had a feeling Appo wouldn¡¯t fall for it. He seemed more level-headed than her usual clientele.

    ¡°Yes¡­ I mean, no to the second part. I was actually here to discuss the beggar. Isbibarra, right?¡±

    Eevi hadn¡¯t expected to be asked about the blind man again. Most try to ignore him whenever possible. But Appo appeared to have a fascination with the man. ¡°Haven¡¯t seen him in a while, actually. There¡¯s a good chance he may have run off. Good for him, honestly.¡±

    ¡°He said you knew about the first screamer. The first one who caught the disease.¡±

    ¡°Oh.¡± Eevi frowned, ¡°I¡¯m not sure what you mean.¡±

    Appo shook his head. ¡°I don¡¯t know. I had a feeling he was leading me somewhere. He said to ask you about a red stone.¡±

    Eevi raised her unscarred eyebrow. ¡°A red stone, huh? So Isbibarra really did speak to you.¡±

    Appo nodded. ¡°What¡¯s all this about, Eevi?¡±

    Eevi glanced from side to side. There was no one in the bar except her and Appo. It was still mid-afternoon, so she figured she wouldn¡¯t have to worry about stragglers for at least a little while longer. Still, she had no idea how long it would be before those who attended the exile would be closing in.

    ¡°Okay, I¡¯ll tell you. But not here. Follow me.¡± Eevi grabbed Appo¡¯s hand and dragged him behind her bar. She was surprised at how little he resisted. Appo wasn¡¯t the smallest man by any means but she could have thrown him across the room if she wished. That being said, she was also incredibly strong herself.

    Eevi led Appo into the back room in her bar. It was a cluttered mess of empty barrels, broken chairs, and stained glass mugs. The room reeked of spilled alcohol, though Eevi had been long accustomed to the smell. Appo spotted a thin bedspread tucked away in the corner of the room. On top of it was a crossbow, fully armed. On the other side of the wall was a table with a large assembly of interconnected pipes and rods that consisted of Eevi¡¯s distillation kit. As Appo admired the intricate display, Eevi closed the door behind her.

    ¡°You must understand, I was sworn to privacy regarding this matter. I have to be sure no one will come across us.¡± Eevi reached inside her pocket, pulling out a massive ruby gemstone.

    Appo¡¯s eyes went wide. It was no bigger than a marble, but from what Appo could tell it was purely cut. Earlier that day he had been overwhelmed looking at Gizzal, who was covered head-to-toe in gemstones, but he was still amazed at the quality of this rock.

    ¡°This,¡± Eevi began, ¡°is more coin than I make in a month. This is pure gemstone. There¡¯s not much left like it in the Eivett?.¡±

    ¡°Isbibarra gave you that?¡±

    Eevi nodded. ¡°Under the condition that he be allowed to sleep inside for a few moons and that I don¡¯t tell anyone why he is here. He¡¯s been here for more than a fortnight but he¡¯s been so little trouble to me that I¡¯ve let him stay even longer. He¡¯s barely said a word since he¡¯s been here.¡±

    ¡°He¡¯s a beggar,¡± Appo said, ¡°why would he give you a gemstone just to stay here?¡±

    Eevi chuckled. ¡°I don¡¯t think he¡¯s a beggar. You didn¡¯t see him when he first got here.¡± She pointed to a stool behind Appo. ¡°Wanna take a seat? I have some explaining to do.¡±

    Appo did so.

 Part I.III.VII: Treasure Hunters

    Eevi told Appo how almost twenty moons prior, she had been closing down the tavern. All of her usual patrons had left, with the exception of a single out-of-towner. The stranger was desertfolk, as she could tell by his beige robes and scraggly beard. He had said little most of the night, ordering an ale every hour or so. His pace was so slow that Eevi doubted he was even drunk despite the fact he had ordered seven or eight. Eevi had been polite, leaving him to his own vices. She was ready to ask the man to leave when she heard stumbling outside.

    Two men pushed their way through the doors. Both were completely coated in dirty sand, their desert cloaks well-weathered. One was an older dark-skinned man with a white beard and a bright blue eye, the other had been concealed by bloody linens wrapped around his head. He was shorter and stouter than his companion, who was a younger gaunt man with locks of curly hair. The older one carried the younger one on his shoulder, dragging him inside the bar. The young man¡¯s face was contorted into a grimace. He was in severe pain.

    ¡°Water,¡± the old man croaked, ¡°please.¡± His cracked lips bled as he spoke. The old man lost his footing, dropping his companion before falling to the floor himself.

    Eevi wanted to get a closer look at the men. She had known of situations where bandits would fake injury, only to surprise potential do-gooders with an ambush. She moved to the door, looking outside to see if there was anyone waiting. She only saw the purple haze of the night sky - no camels, no elephants, or any animals that would indicate that they rode in from the desert. She was immediately suspicious.

    ¡°Where are your beasts?¡± Eevi asked.

    ¡°Camel died outside the city,¡± said the older man. ¡°Please, water.¡±

    This time she did as he asked. She returned behind the counter, grabbing two mugs and filling them with water from a bucket under her bar. As she did so, the lone bar patron leaned towards her, not having left his seat.

    ¡°Bandits?¡± he asked.

    ¡°Not sure,¡± Eevi whispered, ¡°they could be.¡±

    The patron nodded. ¡°I have a knife, if you need extra help.¡±

    ¡°That won¡¯t be necessary, I have my own.¡± Eevi pointed at her belt, from which dangled a large serrated blade. ¡°Thanks though.¡±

    Eevi returned with the two mugs of water to the men. The older one grabbed his without a word and chugged it, splashing the remainder of it in his face. The younger one was still writhing on the ground. He had yet to reach for his water.

    ¡°Thank you,¡± the old man whispered. His voice was still coming back to him. ¡°Another?¡±

    ¡°Sure. Have the coin for it? Water isn¡¯t cheap.¡±

    The old man nodded. ¡°I can pay.¡±

    Eevi fetched more water. ¡°What were you two doing out in the desert anyway? You don¡¯t look like water traders.¡± She repressed a giggle at her own poorly timed joke.

    The old man shook his head. ¡°Treasure hunting.¡±

    Eevi couldn¡¯t help but laugh. Treasure hunters occasionally came through Ash searching for gemstone mines. Many well-established desert towns were around mines, though most had been discovered centuries prior. It was seen as a foolish endeavor. Treasure hunters arrived optimistic and eager to explore the expanse of the Eivett?. Some returned empty-handed after weeks of fruitless searching under the scorching heat. They were the lucky ones; most were never seen again.

    ¡°Treasure hunting, huh? How¡¯s that going?¡± The old man responded with a series of coughs, almost falling over. Eevi decided not to harass the man about it. Whatever his reason for exploring the desert, he likely had already been punished for it. No reason to kick the man while he was down.

    Instead, her attention fell on the old man¡¯s companion, who was shaking on the ground. His mug of water was untouched. ¡°Is he okay?¡± Eevi asked as she refilled the older man¡¯s cup. In hindsight, the young one was clearly not well. He was pale and mumbling nonsensically to himself. He had been scratching his arms to the point of bleeding. At the time, Eevi hadn¡¯t considered much more than dehydration.

    The bar patron finally got up from his stool. ¡°I think your pal there has sunstroke. Get him water now or he¡¯s going to die.¡± The patron walked over to the younger man, knelt down and put his hand on his head. The younger man yelped in response, though his eyes remained shut. ¡°We need to cool him down now. His forehead is on fire.¡±

    Eevi returned with water. The older man had gotten to his feet by this point, and snatched the mug out of her hands, chugging it with just as much gusto as the first time. Whatever doubts in her mind were starting to fade. Regardless of who these people were, they were severely dehydrated. It made the younger man¡¯s situation all the more dire.

    Eevi looked at the bar patron. ¡°Give him his water. Force him to drink it if he can hold it down. Slowly¡­ make sure he doesn¡¯t choke.¡±

    The bar patron nodded, offering the mug to the younger man. The water poured mostly down the sides of his face, but the patron was able to open his mouth wide enough to sip some. The man tried to slurp a little bit, but once it started pouring he spat out a stream of water, hitting the bar patron in the face. The patron gagged in response, spilling the rest of the water on the man¡¯s shirt.

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    ¡°Shit!¡± the patron exclaimed. ¡°Spit got in my mouth.¡±

    The younger man began to convulse. Eevi stood unsure at the side; she had dealt with spirit poisoning almost every night, but she had never seen someone have a seizure before. She turned to the old man. ¡°Okay, what is wrong with him? Where have you two been?¡±

    The old man leaned against the bar holding his mug. He stared at an empty corner - Eevi did a double-check to make sure he wasn¡¯t looking at anything specific. ¡°Attacked¡­ Lost supplies¡­ rode here as fast as we could¡­ barely made it out alive.¡±

    ¡°Out of where alive? Who attacked you? Was it raiders?¡±

    The bar patron wiped the water off his face with his robe. ¡°Ma¡¯am, I think the man here can''t see.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s ridiculous. He just walked here without being able to see? You hear how that sounds?¡± Despite this, Eevi quickly realized what the patron meant when she got a better look at the man, she realized that the man¡¯s eye hadn¡¯t moved. She waved her hand in front of him. His pupil didn¡¯t react.

    ¡°I get by,¡± the man croaked. ¡°We were attacked¡­ Didn¡¯t stop to ask questions.¡±

    Eevi was getting more confused by the moment. Her attention momentarily slipped back to the patron, who was still soaking wet. ¡°Uh¡­ let me get you something to wipe that off.¡± As she rushed behind the bar, she heard a piercing screech. She covered her ears. Looking back, she saw the younger man thrashing his arms and legs. He violently shook his head from side to side.

    ¡°MY SKIN IS TOO TIGHT! I CAN¡¯T BREATHE!¡±

    The younger man rolled to his belly and sprinted towards the door. Eevi was astonished at how fast the man moved despite not having had a drop of water. He sprinted through the doors, but before he did, Eevi caught a glimpse of his eyes. They were bright red.

    ¡°Mikal!¡± the old man yelled. He turned and tried to walk out the door, but stopped before he could leave. Blind or not, he was at least aware of his surroundings, though he was clearly still exhausted from his journey. It made the sprinting of the younger man much more perplexing. Eevi called for him to stop, but the older man lumbered out the door.

    The bar patron looked at Eevi. ¡°Is this a trick of some kind?¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t know.¡± Eevi paused for a moment, deciding not to take any chances. She went to her backroom, pulled out her old crossbow, and loaded it with a steel bolt. When she returned she was surprised to find the bar patron, still soaking wet. She thought maybe he was afraid to go outside for the moment. She didn¡¯t blame him.

    The two stood in silence for a bit. Both stood and watched the door. Eevi held her crossbow, and the bar patron pulled out his small knife. They both flinched when they heard a light knock on the door, before it was opened by the older man. The younger man - Mikal - was not with him. The old man didn¡¯t react to the crossbow and the knife. He instead shut the door behind him, fell against it, and slid down to the floor.

    ¡°They got him.¡± The old man leaned his head back. ¡°They got him.¡±

    Eevi moved towards the man. She lowered her crossbow, though it was still pointed at his heaving chest. The man paid no mind.

    ¡°Who got him?¡±

    ¡°A guard... Mikal attacked a guard. I don''t know why he did that.¡± The old man looked as though he was about to cry. ¡°He kept screaming and screaming. Then I heard the guard yell. The others came out of nowhere and grabbed him. Said they were going to take him to jail.¡± He lowered his head, both from defeat and exhaustion.

    Eevi didn¡¯t know what to say. She didn¡¯t know whether to comfort the man, or to tell him to loosen up. She didn¡¯t know what the younger man meant to him. She still didn¡¯t know whether this person was blind or not. Nevertheless, she lowered her crossbow.

    ¡°They don¡¯t keep them there for long,¡± she said, ¡°most are let out after a moon or two. They deal with drunkards all the time here. As long as he didn¡¯t steal anything, he should be okay. They¡¯ll make sure he¡¯s taken care of.¡±

    The man kept his head pointed at the ground. After a brief silence, he said ¡°I need a place to stay. At least until he gets out, or at least I know he¡¯ll be fine. I can pay.¡±

    Eevi laughed. ¡°Sir, this isn¡¯t an inn.¡±

    The man lifted his hand. ¡°I don¡¯t need a bed. I make do with very little. But my presence must be unknown. I have enemies here.¡± Eevi didn¡¯t like that at all. She gripped her crossbow slightly tighter. The old man continued, ¡°I can feel you tensing up. I understand I¡¯m burdening you with my situation, but trust me when I say I can make it worth your while.¡± The man reached into his pocket, pulling out a bright red gemstone. He tossed it to Eevi, who reflexively dropped the crossbow to catch it. She was astounded.

    ¡°I¡­ don¡¯t even know what to say. This is too much.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t need food, I don¡¯t need water, and I don¡¯t need special treatment. I just need a roof, a place to not be seen. I can make do with the rest. I also don¡¯t want you telling anyone about tonight. How I got here or what just happened... At least until I¡¯m gone. That goes for you too, sir.¡±

    The bar patron had been standing behind Eevi for some time. The old man threw him a gemstone as well, this one bright violet. He attempted to catch it with one hand and scrambled when it fell to the ground.

    The old man continued. ¡°I ask only for simple accommodation. That and silence. If you can do that and not ask questions, you will be paid generously.¡±

    Eevi looked at the bar patron. They caressed their gemstones tightly. They said nothing, but it was more money than they had seen in years. Eevi considered the risks of the situation. She knew nothing about the man; he claimed to be blind but seemed acutely aware of his surroundings. She didn¡¯t know where the older man got the gemstones, and it wasn¡¯t improbable to think that he stole them. Additionally, the man¡¯s ¡°enemies¡± could be anyone. They could be in the Guard Corps, or even one of the Heads. She shuddered to think that this man was involved with Zaman Urash in any way. Not to mention what had just happened with his companion. There was a lot of danger involved with the situation. She didn¡¯t get this far taking blind risks.

    She looked at the gemstone again. It was all the convincing she needed.

    ¡°If I¡¯m going to let you stay here, what do I call you?¡±

    The man chuckled, finally rising to his feet. ¡°You may call me Isbibarra. You are?¡±

    ¡°Eevi.¡± She approached Isbibarra and shook his hand. He had a firm grip, much stronger than she anticipated.

    ¡°And you, good sir?¡± Isbibarra stared beside Eevi and the bar patron, looking at neither as he asked. The patron, still cradling his gemstone, stashed it in his pocket as he stuck out his hand.

    ¡°You can call me Amaren.¡±

 Part I.III.VIII: Amaren

    ¡°Wait.¡± So far Appo had been listening attentively to Eevi¡¯s story, but that name struck him. ¡°What was that other man¡¯s name again? The one who was there with you?¡±

    ¡°Amaren, I think.¡± Eevi had barely caught it after all that happened between the two. ¡°I¡¯m not sure, though. I haven¡¯t seen him since then. I figured he left town - this is a year¡¯s wage to desertfolk.¡±

    Appo gulped. ¡°Eevi, recently I just sat in on a meeting with the Heads. Boah confronted Mendalla earlier today. Said that her son had recently been killed by a guard. His name was Amaren.¡±

    Eevi¡¯s eyes widened. ¡°That was Mendalla¡¯s son? I find that hard to believe.¡±

    In truth, Appo wasn¡¯t sure how common the name was. But the man¡¯s age and his description would have matched with Mendalla¡¯s Amaren. The fact that Eevi hadn¡¯t come across him again was as much evidence as he needed.

    And there was the fact that Mikal had sprayed water on Amaren¡¯s face. And in his mouth.

    ¡°Eevi, I need you to tell me with complete certainty. Did Mikal ever scratch Amaren at any point? Or get blood on him? Was his mouth bleeding?¡±

    ¡°I can¡¯t say for sure but I don¡¯t think so.¡±

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    Thoughts raced through Appo¡¯s mind. "Was this Mikal the first person to be infected? Was he the one who attacked Twol so many moons ago? The timing was almost too perfect. If that were the case, then would this contact have been enough to spread the disease from Mikal to Amaren?" If so, that would mean that this disease was more deadly than Appo had previously imagined. It wasn¡¯t just transmissible by blood, but by any bodily fluid. Possibly even water.

    ¡°How does the town get its water? Is there a local supply? Is it all brought in from water traders?¡±

    Eevi was perplexed. ¡°There¡¯s a couple of wells. Some people sell water locally. I don¡¯t understand why you¡¯d ask though.¡±

    Appo had seen diseases ravage towns from little more than a spoiled well. But convincing the towns to give up their water was a daunting task. He couldn¡¯t imagine trying to convince a town like Ash not to drink water. He considered explaining his thought process to Eevi but thought better of it.

    ¡°Eevi, if you can, try to stay indoors for the next few moons. Don¡¯t get close to people who are sick. If you can, stick with the water you own. Don¡¯t drink from any wells. Can you do that?¡±

    Eevi nodded. She had a massive cauldron of water saved alongside her collection of spirits. She couldn¡¯t follow exactly what Appo was going on about, but she could sense enough fear in his voice to listen to what he was saying. She was completely self-dependent.

    Appo rose from his seat. ¡°I need to find Isbibarra. If he returns, tell him to look for me. Otherwise, I need to have a conversation with Mendalla.¡± He turned and left the room.

    Alone, Eevi pondered her situation. She looked at her crossbow, tightened with the one steel bolt she owned, the only one she owned for several years. She considered going to the armory to get some more.

 Part I.III.IX: Black Eyes

    Jere was staring at the ceiling. He had no idea how long he had slept, but it had been a while. He wanted to get up and search for the healer, but his body wasn¡¯t listening to his commands. He wasn¡¯t sure whether he was still sleepy or exhausted or both. The scraping noise had been keeping him up all night. As he tried to move he was suddenly struck with dread. He did not know why; all he knew was that he had to keep looking at the ceiling. He knew that if he looked down he would see her. She was in the room with him. He heard heavy wheezing and the sound of blood dripping on the floor.

    She hovered into his periphery. Jere couldn¡¯t see her face save for an oval blur that bent at an odd angle. She shuffled closer to Jere. He still couldn¡¯t move. He didn¡¯t want to move. He kept staring upward as her features became apparent. Long black hair. Distended jaw. Bloodshot eyes. Jere finally recognized Mena. He tried to breathe as she climbed on top of his body. His arms and legs were completely numb. We wanted to scream but his body wouldn¡¯t let him. He could feel the blood from the gaping hole in her chest drizzle onto his torso as she pressed her body into his. She moved her head over his view, blocking the ceiling with her crimson eyes. The scraping noise was getting louder. More ferocious.

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    Jere felt pain in his arm. The only thing he could move was his eyes. He glanced to his right and saw the shaman Malefica. He recognized her lattice of wrinkles and her frizzy gray hair. She was kneeling beside his bed, staring into his face, her eyes black as tar. She was furiously scraping her fingernails up and down his arm. It was covered in deep scratches.

    Malefica¡¯s crooked grin split her entire face as she ripped more skin from Jere¡¯s arm.

 Part I.III.X: A Particular Level of Common Sense

    Jere screamed as he rose from his bed. Mena and the shaman were gone. In their place, at the corner of the room, was a somewhat perturbed Appo.

    ¡°Didn¡¯t mean to disturb, Jere,¡± Appo muttered.

    Jere clutched his chest. He could still feel the dead woman¡¯s body crushing his ribs. Her organs pooling out across their squished abdomens. The pressure was fading, but slowly.

    ¡°Knock next time.¡±

    ¡°You had a nightmare.¡± Appo approached with apprehension. ¡°But that means you were asleep. That¡¯s good, right?¡±

    Jere didn¡¯t want to think about it. His thoughts were coming back to him. Sneaking into the temple. The desecration of Mena¡¯s body. Pretending to be a priest. Surely the Gods were not looking kindly upon him as of late. He remembered how terrified he was of his wakefulness. He was terrified that he would never be able to sleep again, and that he would turn into one of those screaming monsters. He thought about how if he hadn¡¯t fallen asleep, he would have slit his throat with his scimitar, just like Duncic before him.

    More than any of this however, he realized how he had acted in front of Appo. How fearful he was. It was utterly embarrassing.

    Jere glimpsed out the thin slit in his wall. The desert light was dimming. ¡°How long have I been out?¡±

    ¡°Most of the moon. I would have been here sooner, but Adok was¡­ less friendly and refused to let me in. I waited until he left.¡±

    Jere nodded. He had put the young guard through a lot of trouble the previous night, and he hadn¡¯t exactly given him the warmest welcome upon his return. No wonder he was cranky. But Jere had trouble believing that he had slept as long as he did. He missed a lot.

    ¡°What of the witch?¡± Jere asked.

    ¡°Exiled.¡±

    ¡°You did all you could have done. More than anyone else.¡±

    Appo frowned. ¡°I discovered who infected Twol. Who actually did.¡±

    ¡°Who?¡± Jere leaned forward, intrigued.

    ¡°A treasure hunter named Mikal. He came from the desert twenty moons ago and attacked Twol. Eevi told me, it appears he and his partner almost died of dehydration crossing the Eivett? and came to her for water.¡±

    Jere laughed. ¡°Eevi and her stories. You need actual friends, healer. She offer a drink too?¡±

    ¡°Well, she did before she told me-¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re convinced this plague is real, healer, yet it seems as though you enjoy witch hunts yourself.¡± After years of listening to Eevi¡¯s ridiculous tales to patrons, Jere had grown to distrust the woman. They were too plentiful and too entertaining for someone who poured drinks for a living. ¡°If I were you, I would just ask for the Big Man¡¯s coin and be on your way. Stop talking to Ashfolk before you attract worse attention.¡±

    ¡°I can¡¯t do that.¡± Appo sighed, ¡°Twol wasn¡¯t the only one attacked that night. Before Mikal ran out of the bar, he attacked a man named Amaren.¡±

    Jere recognized that name. He hadn¡¯t heard it in years, but he was rocked with the significance of it. ¡°Amaren Ealamassi.¡± He almost whispered it. ¡°The desert woman¡¯s husband¡­ and Mendalla¡¯s son.¡±

    ¡°You knew him?¡±

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    Jere shook his head. ¡°Not personally, but Mendalla¡¯s told me stories. Suppose we have to find him then? Or what¡¯s left of him.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s too late for that,¡± Appo sighed. ¡°He¡¯s dead as of this morning. We received the news during a meeting with the heads. Mendalla¡¯s distraught, understandably.¡±

    Jere rose from his bed. He realized that was still wearing his trousers from the day before, but he didn¡¯t care. He thought of what to say, but nothing came to mind.

    Appo continued. ¡°Did they have a falling out? I gathered they weren¡¯t particularly close.¡±

    ¡°Amaren was a fool, nothing more. Doomed himself by competing with Urash and falling in love with a desertfolk girl. I pity Mendalla but I¡¯d rather us not waste time tracking every idiot that travels through.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re missing the point. Amaren wasn¡¯t scratched! If Eevi is right, Mikal spit water into Amaren¡¯s mouth that night. We know the disease travels by blood, but if water gets contaminated then everyone could be infected.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s not a problem. None of the wells are being used right now.¡±

    ¡°What? Eevi told me the city had a multitude of wells.¡±

    ¡°Yes but¡­¡± Jere¡¯s thoughts trailed off as it occurred to him why the wells weren¡¯t being used. He felt a pit in his stomach.

    ¡°But what?¡±

    ¡°They¡¯ve been closed off for the Day of Akkavan. For the last fortnight. They save the water for the holiday. Try to purify it. They rely on water traders until then.¡±

    ¡°Jere, we need to talk to the Heads now! If this plague spreads by water, the entire town will be infected tomorrow! We need to tell them before it is too late!¡±.

    ¡°Was Mendalla at the execution?¡±

    ¡°No, I didn¡¯t see her. Boah took her place.¡±

    Jere¡¯s said nothing. He turned to the bed, lifting his mattress to the wall. Underneath were several knives and scimitars, along with accompanying straps. There were at least ten of each. He took one knife and lifted up his trousers, showcasing his muscular legs. He began wrapping the knife to the inside of his thigh.

    ¡°What¡¯s wrong?¡±

    ¡°If the Big Man is in charge, that is a very bad thing for us.¡±

    ¡°What do you mean? Don¡¯t you work for him? Isn¡¯t he on our side?¡±

    ¡°Boah is on Boah¡¯s side. He does what is best for him. No one holds a better grudge.¡±

    ¡°But he¡¯s been helping us, right? He was the one that called for me in the first place. Wouldn¡¯t he want to know about this disease?¡±

    Jere tied the strap to his leg, grabbing another to wrap around his waist. ¡°I was at the vote. He only called you to undermine the others. Boah broke rank to make Mendalla look foolish. That is the only reason he has brought you here. Now that there¡¯s no one to undermine, he has no reason for you. He will toss you aside, especially now that he¡¯s in charge. He won¡¯t want you stopping anything.¡±

    Appo was stunned. ¡°What makes you so sure?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ve worked for him for five years. He hides behind a friendly face, but I know his mind. I¡¯ve seen him use his son - that dimwit, Juddken - to rip out the teeth from beggars and cut off the feet of thieves. He revels in it.

    Appo sighed. ¡°To be honest, I was becoming suspicious. I had planned to go to Mendalla-¡±

    Jere waved his hand. ¡°Don¡¯t. If Boah is conducting exiles then Mendalla is irrelevant.¡±

    ¡°Then what should I do?¡±

    Jere sighed. For as smart as the healer was, he was lacking a particular level of common sense. ¡°What do you mean? You leave Ash, now.¡±

    ¡°I can¡¯t do that.¡±

    ¡°Yes you can. If you don¡¯t leave now, you won''t be able to later.¡±

    Appo paused. ¡°I don¡¯t even know if I believe you.¡± He met Jere¡¯s concerned gaze. ¡°You¡¯ve been skeptical of every single person that has crossed our way. You¡¯ve doubted me the entire time, belittling me and criticizing my methods. Why should I trust you that Boah would want to do all these things to me?¡±

    Jere hated to admit it, but he had grown to respect the healer. Not that he liked him - his righteousness grated Jere to no end - but he was impressed by the healer¡¯s resolve. He was unlike any he had ever met before, and he had met plenty of priests, shamans, and healers over the years. All of them, without question, were either con artists or condescending sycophants. But this unassuming healer had surprised him at times. Jere smiled, and sat again on his bed.

    ¡°You¡¯re right. I don¡¯t speak your tongue. But understand the last thing I want is for you to travel all this way just to die. Besides, ¡¯those who are dead may not give thanks.¡¯¡±

    Appo couldn¡¯t help but chuckle. ¡°That creed would make sense coming from a mercenary, but from what I¡¯ve heard that¡¯s not even true.¡±

    Jere scoffed. ¡°Most seem to have forgotten. I often forget myself.¡±

 Part I.III.XI: A Brief Moment of Reprieve

    ¡°Ever since I¡¯ve gotten here I¡¯ve wondered why you stay. Why you tolerate the desolation and the heat and the politics for so long. It would make sense that you¡¯re not here of your own accord, I¡¯m just curious as to why.¡±

    Jere wanted to chastise Appo for wasting time. He should be on his way down the Thorne by now, trying to forget the faces here. But before thoughts could become words, Jere noticed Appo¡¯s necklace; a simple thread adorned with a humble tin plate of the criss-crossed lines of Lowya. It had been many years since Jere carried any vestige of his god. And longer still since he carried the role of priest. He longed for when he could put the trust of anyone other than himself. God or human.

    ¡°Those jagged lines you wear,¡± Jere sighed, ¡°they protect you, right? I once wore one much like it: the Scales of Pike. Pike watched everywhere I went, and asked little in return. When my ship was destroyed by a Lavast fleet in the Valta, he provided me with soft currents to swim ashore. When I was chased by bandits on the steppe, he would guide their arrows off their target. When I needed Coin, he provided me with many fools as a source for my labor. Many Gods are greedy, demanding ¡®sacrifice¡¯ and ¡®tribute¡¯, but Pike only admires those who can fend for themselves. He rewards the cunning.¡±

    Appo had never heard of Pike before. As ignorant as he was of the gods in the desert, he knew next to nothing of the ones in the south. ¡°He seems like someone you would admire.¡±

    ¡°Yes,¡± Jere said. ¡°He was.¡±

    ¡°But you¡¯re no longer a priest?¡±

    Jere laughed. ¡°Not since I was a boy.¡±

    ¡°So what happened? Are you not still consecrated? Is that not for life like it is up here?¡±

    ¡°Have you ever been in love?¡± Jere looked directly into Appo¡¯s eyes, catching him off guard. Appo hesitated, before lightly nodding his head. ¡°You¡¯ve done dumb things for that person, right? ¡®Give your life for them¡¯, that sort of thing?¡± Appo nodded again. ¡°Well, my person convinced me to do many dumb things. Dumb things that cost me many homes. I robbed, conned, and killed for her. Instead of blaming her, I blamed everyone else. Even Pike. I blamed him for not watching over me, and I overlooked every other way he influenced my life. A fool I was¡­ Pike doesn¡¯t ask for much, but he doesn¡¯t offer second chances. I cursed his name once after a long night of drinking, my damned mouth¡­ I felt as though I lost a barrier to the world. Like a coat of steel that evaporated into mist.¡±

    By this point Jere was sitting on his bed, staring at the wall behind Appo. ¡°In one day I lost everything. Abandoned by everyone I knew. Attacked by the beasts of the Steppe. I would have died, were it not for the slave traders, though their help came at a cost. They captured me, and for months I was transported up north until we reached Ash, where Boah happened to spot me. His sense of style may be shit, but he has good taste when it comes to quality slaves.¡±

    Appo tried to hide the pity in his eyes. ¡°And he''s made you work for him for the last five years.¡±

    Jere held his arms out to his barren walls. ¡°He provides a roof.¡± Jere chuckled. He had long prior come to find humor in his situation. ¡°For years I¡¯ve waited for freedom. But I¡¯ve learned long ago that Boah is not a man of kindness. He will grind me down until I am dulled¡­ What¡¯s unfortunate is that I no longer know if I want to leave. If I even could. My god has forsaken me, and I am unprotected from the elements. This town - this wasteland - is all I know now.¡±

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    Both men sat in silence for a moment. Neither knew what to say. Jere had said far more than he was accustomed to, and Appo was worried he would say the wrong thing. Both were unsure how to proceed. It was not like men to share each other¡¯s stories to such a degree. Most preferred to keep discussion to trivial matters, like men they had fought or women they wished to bed. Very few, even the closest of friends, knew the intimate details of each other¡¯s lives unless both were drunk, and fewer less remembered them.

    Appo broke the silence. ¡°I never thought I would be a good priest. In Jyvask, I knew a man who could talk to Lord Atta for years at a time. Claimed he could feel the verberations of his voice coursing his veins.¡± Appo chuckled. ¡°I never could. Not once did we ever speak. And what¡¯s strange is that I¡¯m not convinced the others did either. But they were convinced.¡±

    ¡°Worship isn¡¯t always a conversation. Even I know this.¡±

    ¡°I know. But there was no connection. I don¡¯t feel the warm glow of the limestone pillar. I never did.¡±

    Jere shook his head. ¡°You speak like an atheist, healer. I thought they only lived in dungeons and asylums.¡±

    ¡°I worship Lowya,¡± Appo said, ¡°but I don¡¯t speak to her through prayer. At least¡­ I don¡¯t believe she hears me. I speak to her in my actions. My bidding is done through the healing of the sick and the destitute. I pray with suture and disinfectant. When I debride, I hear her echo in the air, her guidance in my moves. We do not speak, but we understand each other more than I ever could with Atta. With her, even when I am alone I am at least myself, and I feel like I can go anywhere and be whoever I want. I wish Pike can forgive you, but if he cannot I hope you can forgive yourself.¡±

    Jere smiled. ¡°Thank you, healer.¡± He meant it.

    As Jere pondered an appropriate response, he became aware of a creak coming from the other side of the door. As if it was being pushed against. His hand went instinctively for a scimitar.

    ¡°What¡¯s wrong?¡± Appo asked. As the question came out Jere¡¯s door was forced open. Several guards shuffled into the room, pushing each other out of the way. They glared at the two with intensity, though focused more on Appo. Jere hollered, but held his scimitar at his side. After six men forced their way into the room, they moved aside to the walls. In the doorway stood Juddken, who held a stone club and a rope. He was smiling.

    ¡°Juddken!¡± Jere yelled, ¡°What is the meaning of this?¡± Juddken ignored him, focusing instead on Appo.

    ¡°Appo the healer, you have been accused of conspiring with witchfolk, and are requested to respond to these accusations. You are to report immediately to the manor where an investigation will determine the severity of these crimes.

    Appo was dumbstruck, still taking in the situation. Before he could respond, Jere put himself between him and the guards. ¡°Conspiring with witches? What ¡®conspiring¡¯ took place?¡±

    ¡°Last night, the healer was spotted fraternizing with the witch. We have a witness who saw him sharing curses with her and treating her wounds before her exile.¡±

    Jere laughed. ¡°This is absurd. The healer asked your father to question the witch. If talking to an old woman called for an investigation than you¡¯d speak to the entire fucking town.¡±

    Juddken shook his head, as though he wasn¡¯t surprised by Jere¡¯s boldness. ¡°That¡¯s your word against his. Regardless, we¡¯re going to sort this all out at the manor.¡± As he said this, he and a few other guards pushed aside Jere and grabbed Appo¡¯s wrists. Juddken handed his rope to one of his men, who began tying Appo¡¯s hands together.

    ¡°In that case I¡¯m coming too. I¡¯m not leaving the healer alone with you.¡± He approached Juddken, glaring into his eyes much like he had done with Adok the night before. If Juddken was concerned, he didn¡¯t show it.

    ¡°Come along then.¡± Juddken pushed Appo out of the room, with Jere following closely behind.

 Part I.III.XII: Hasty Behavior

    Appo¡¯s skin chafed against his binds as he was pulled through the doors of the Ash Manor. The guards showed no ease as they pulled, dragging him several times in spite of Jere¡¯s incessant protesting. Whatever the reason, the guards were more concerned with haste than any care for Appo¡¯s comfort.

    The group made their way through the manor courtyard. There were two guards posted by the gates, but otherwise, they were alone. Eight torches dimly illuminated the enclosure, casting dull shadows on the corner statues. Boah stood near one of the corners, pacing thoughtfully. He was adorned in more jewelry than usual, now with opulent carcanets that matched his golden bracelets. As the group approached, Boah smiled. He stuck out his hand before realizing that Appo¡¯s were bound.

    ¡°Gentlemen, please. You¡¯re treating him as if he stole a kilo of ash!¡± The guards hesitated before grabbing Appo¡¯s wrists, slowly untying the rigid knot. Boah looked to Juddken, who stared at the ground near his father¡¯s feet. ¡°Your idea?¡±

    ¡°He hesitated, father,¡± Juddken declared in his monotone drawl. ¡°I didn¡¯t want him to run.¡±

    Boah approached Juddken, chortling as he slapped his shoulder. ¡°That wasn¡¯t necessary. No need to treat a guest like this, especially after he has done so much for us. At least¡­ not until we let him hear his side of this whole situation.¡±

    As the guards freed the knot, Appo extended his forearms. His fingers had gone numb. His wrists were rubbed pink from the friction of the rope, and dead skin peeled forward onto his hands. Before Appo could reply, Jere made his way toward the front of the guards.

    ¡°What is this, Boah? Juddken tells me Appo is in league with the witch.¡±

    Boah waved his hands in response. ¡°I have no desire to parade the healer through the streets like a common criminal. I can¡¯t help that some in the Corps are eager in their desire to please¡­ We obtained a lead that a figure sharing the silhouette of Appo had been in constant contact with the witch long before her death and suspected that curses were passed. Now, normally I would write this off as conjecture, but my source is reliable with the information they provide. I¡¯m sure there is an explanation, and I do want to apologize for any hasty behavior.¡±

    ¡°¡®Hasty behavior?¡¯ I¡¯d call destroying my door more than ¡®hasty.¡¯¡±

    Boah, who had been jovial and chuckling if a little annoyed, turned stone-faced. The lines of his smile faded as he eyed Jere, his face going blank. ¡°Control your tongue, slave.¡± Jere acquiesced.

    Boah paced forward, placing himself between Appo and Jere, turning his back to the latter. ¡°I apologize for this predicament, Appo. However, I have multiple witnesses placing you at the square talking to the witch. I know I gave you permission to talk to her, but from what I understand, you didn¡¯t just interrogate her.¡± Boah pointed to his face. ¡°Those stitches didn¡¯t appear in her cheek overnight. There was only one person who would be willing do that. Now, that in itself is not criminal behavior, but it certainly raises eyebrows. It¡¯s not a good look. I simply ask for you to clear the air and explain what you did.¡±

    Appo inhaled slightly before answering. ¡°I interrogated her. Like you asked. I saw an open wound and I fixed it. That was all. No obscene talk occurred between the two of us. Two guards witnessed everything. If it were not allowed they would have stopped me.¡±

    Boah grinned, placing his hand on Appo¡¯s shoulder. ¡°See, that wasn¡¯t hard.¡± He turned to the other guards who had formed a semi-circle around the group. ¡°You all are not needed at the moment. Return to your posts. Everyone except for Juddken.¡± After a moment of hesitation, the guards turned away, heading inside the manor. Other than the two guards posted against the walls, only Appo, Jere, Boah, and Juddken remained in the courtyard.

    ¡°You have done a lot for me these past few moons, Appo, and because of you, we have lifted this curse. I owe you my gratitude, and because of you, I now understand this curse more than I ever would have otherwise. And just in time, too, thank Okkan.¡±

    Appo knew that this was wrong, but after everything Jere had told him, he was skeptical of being so open with Boah. He simply nodded in response.

    Boah raised an eyebrow. ¡°Unless of course, you¡¯ve come across any new knowledge that I should know about.¡±

    Appo rubbed his skinless wrists, knowing that his words would be much more scrutinized now. He was willing to tell Boah anything, as long as it meant he could have a conversation with Mendalla.

    ¡°Is Mendalla even a factor at this point?¡± he thought. ¡°Even if I could somehow break away from Boah, could Mendalla even change anything? Besides, with the holiday due tomorrow, it¡¯s too late to make any drastic actions. Perhaps Eevi was mistaken. The town has been okay containing the disease thus far, right?¡±

    ¡°What do you think, Boah?¡± Appo said after a lengthy pause. ¡°Do you think anything else needs to be done? You seem pretty sure of yourself.¡±

    Although Boah¡¯s face was smiling, his eyes betrayed the fact that it was a farce. He was seething.

    ¡°What the fuck did you say to me?¡±

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    Appo was caught off guard. ¡°Sorry?¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t be coy. ¡®Sure of my judgment.¡¯ You¡¯re telling me you have nothing else to say? No information? You¡¯re normally so skeptical.¡±

    Appo tried to come up with a response, but nothing came to mind. He eyed Jere at the side, who seemed equally tongue-tied.

    ¡°I want to know how you really feel. What have you discovered?¡± Boah¡¯s eyes widened. His jewelry twanged as he gestured. ¡°I can see it in your eyes. You have something that you want to share! Well? Now is the time!¡±

    Appo kept silent. Though it wasn¡¯t from resolve. He only stayed silent because Jere spoke up first. ¡°Water, Boah. The disease travels with water. He won''t tell you because you won¡¯t like the answer.¡±

    Whatever mask Boah had been wearing in their previous visits continued sliding off. The four of them were effectively alone. There were no Heads to placate and no crowds to enrapture. Boah¡¯s cheerful chuckles were becoming less and less convincing.

    ¡°Oh? And what makes you think I won¡¯t like the answer?¡±

    ¡°The wells are cordoned off,¡± Jere replied. ¡°Once the wells open tomorrow, the disease will spread. There will be too many people. The healer confirmed this from a reliable source. You¡¯re not the only one with those.¡±

    Boah swiveled back in Appo¡¯s direction. ¡°Is this true?¡±

    Appo cleared his throat. ¡°I¡­ believe the disease spreads in fluids. Whether that be by blood, or by water. What Jere says is correct.¡±

    ¡°So what do you suppose we do, hmm? Cancel the holiday? Turn away thousands of the Okkan faithful? For a conjecture? We¡¯ve already saved the town!¡± At this moment, Boah¡¯s anger ceded the way for pleading. ¡°The witch has been exiled! There haven¡¯t been any new reports of any screamers since the attack, despite more and more coming in. I wasn¡¯t optimistic enough to believe that the infected would just¡­ return to their old selves, but surely you must see that progress has been made! Ash needs the Day of Akkavan! We can¡¯t afford to throw it all away and return to how it was before! You weren¡¯t here when the stalls went west. When the water traders turned away because there wasn¡¯t profit to be made, and the children had to drink from the latrines because it was all we had! We were alone in the Eivett?, living off sand and gravel and were only greeted with apathy!¡­ We can¡¯t go back to the way it was before.¡±

    Appo understood what Boah was trying to say. But when Appo closed his eyes, all he could see were crusted fingernails and crimson eyes.

    ¡°This is not a witch¡¯s curse, Boah. You know this.¡±

    Boah sighed. He paused, briefly looking up at the amaranthine night sky. He pivoted towards Jere, eying him for a few seconds. He then turned to his son. ¡°Juddken, can you confirm the words the healer has provided us just now, and testify to what he has said?¡±

    ¡°Yes sir.¡±

    ¡°Very good.¡± Boah motioned to the doors. ¡°Bring the guards back in.¡±

    As Juddken turned away, Boah lingered. His eyes were no longer pleading, and they were no longer angry. ¡°Appo, I know you¡¯ve only thought for the best of our people.¡±

    ¡°I know you wish the same, Boah.¡±

    ¡°Yes. Of course.¡±

    The guards returned, again forming a semi-circle around the three. Juddken stood at the edge, holding his club in his hand. Appo saw that all of the guards held their hands on the hilts of their scimitars.

    Juddken spoke in a loud, declarative tone. ¡°The healer has just confessed to his crimes of conspiring with the witch. He has admitted to heresy of the highest order; of professing love to the words of Sabatath, and will await trial until after the holiday. Until then, he will be placed in the cells.¡±

    Jere charged at Juddken. ¡°You two-faced bastard!¡± Before Jere could reach him, he was restrained by four of the guards. Two grabbed his stomach and another two wrapped around his arms, though the guards only barely held him back. Jere thrashed his limbs like a wild animal against them. ¡°You speak lies!¡±

    Despite his face coming an inch away from Jere¡¯s fists, Juddken was unfazed. He continued, ¡°additionally, both the healer and the slave have been accused of desecration of a human soul. They were spotted outside the Temple of Okkan, where further inspection revealed that the trader Mena was ripped apart. They are accused of stealing her organs, and planning to use them for a wicked ritual to revive the curse.¡±

    It was now Appo¡¯s turn to be outraged. ¡°I did no such thing! This is bold slander!¡± He stood awkwardly as one of the guards approached him, holding his arms outstretched. Appo looked to Boah, who folded his arms and held his chin high.

    ¡°Slander? Is it not true that you and Jere snuck into the temple last night? Is it not true that you and Jere masqueraded as priests, supposedly under direct order from Mendala herself? Is it not true that you cut into the daughter of one of the Heads, and trifled with her internal organs? Or do you think I won¡¯t like the answer?¡±

    Appo had no response. The guard grabbed his slacked arms, tying them again with the thick rope. Nearby, Jere continued to struggle as now six guards held him down, with two attempting to bind his arms. As both men were bound, Juddken continued to proclamate.

    ¡°The crimes that you are accused of are most taboo and must see judgment. You both will be confined in the cells until a trial can take place, which will occur after the holiday. Then we will reconvene with the priests to determine the validity of an exile.¡±

    ¡°Ignoramus!¡± Jere spat, still struggling against the combined efforts of eight men. ¡°You don¡¯t mean to throw us in the cells with the diseased! They mean certain death!¡±

    Juddken opened his mouth to continue, but Boah silenced him with an outstretched hand. He leaned over Jere, who struggled to look up. ¡°Perhaps you should keep your arms to yourself then, slave.¡± Jere continued to struggle as the guards tightened the rope around his wrists. Appo didn¡¯t resist, as he was still processing the very thought of going to the cells. He wondered - hoped - that this was some sort of trick, but with how much Jere was fighting he doubted it.

    Boah walked back towards the manor but stopped for a moment, gesturing to Juddken. ¡°Oh, don''t forget. The healer¡¯s hands touched the skin of the witch. I request we proceed with Shaddon Law before he goes into the cells. Make an example.¡± Juddken nodded enthusiastically, before turning to the guards. At this point, the guards managed to subdue both, Jere with far more effort than Appo. One guard pushed Appo, as the other five restrained Jere and dragged him forward.

    ¡°I don¡¯t understand,¡± said Appo. ¡°Shaddon Law?¡± He had understood far less than that, but that was the only thing that came to mind at the moment.

    The guard huffed. ¡°Ancient custom.¡±

    ¡°What does that have to do with me?¡±

    ¡°Simple. You touched the witch. Your hands are cursed. That means we cut them off.¡±

 Part I.III.XIII: Fools

    ¡°Fools,¡± Jere thought to himself, ¡°They forgot to frisk me.¡±

    In spite of the dire situation, Jere had regained his composure. The guards were so preoccupied in leading him and Appo to the cells that they had forgotten to check whether they were carrying any weapons. At that moment, Jere was acutely aware of the dagger strapped to his thigh, hidden underneath his trousers. It was hard not to, for the hilt of his blade had been chafing his balls for the last hour. Despite the irritation he was thankful for the guard¡¯s lapse in judgment. With the dagger he wasn¡¯t completely doomed.

    That still didn¡¯t change the fact that his hands were tied. He was strong, but there¡¯d be no way he could snap the rope before the guards stuck their scimitars in his back. Even if he could somehow free his hands and grab the dagger, he was out-numbered six to one. His lack of armor didn¡¯t improve his odds either.

    ¡°Wait, I forgot about the healer,¡± Jere corrected himself, ¡°six to one and a half. If that.¡±

    The guards dragged the two through the dilapidated section of the city. Night had fallen shortly before, and most Ashfolk had already gone to bed. There would be no one coming to rescue them, not that anyone in their right mind would.

    Appo had been pleading nonsensically to the guards as they moved, but they were completely silent. Jere wasn¡¯t surprised. They had been suspicious of the healer the moment he arrived, and many were probably happy to get rid of him. At least Jere knew to stop talking. He found himself surprisingly calm. Maybe the meditation was finally working.

    He was looking for his moment to strike. He would just need a single opportunity, though he wasn¡¯t sure what that would be. Perhaps there would be a sudden raider attack? Another guard could come running in yelling about another screamer. That¡¯s all he would need. Maybe the guards could turn their heads for just a moment, and Jere could crouch down, grab his dagger, hold one of the guards hostage and -

    ¡°Wishful thinking, all of it.¡± The more Jere thought about it, the more hopeless he really felt. The guards were surrounding him. No one was coming for them. Jere had a dagger, but what use was it if he was outnumbered? The guards knew their power lie in numbers.

    Jere wouldn¡¯t be alone until he was in the cells. With the screamers.

    His thoughts turned dark. Perhaps if he couldn¡¯t escape the guards, maybe he could finish himself off before he turned. The rope made it a little difficult, but he could still slash his neck if given a little time. Maybe slice his the inside of his thigh. It would take some work, but he could still have a noble death like Duncic if he was lucky.

    The guards stopped. They were near the pillories, long deserted. Juddken, who had been leading the group, turned to the rest. His gaze fell upon Appo, who was still trying to regain his balance. ¡°Father entrusts Shaddon Law to myself alone. He orders the rest of you to take the slave to the cells. Ensure that his hands remain bound and he is locked away with the accursed. If he gives you any trouble, break his kneecaps like you did with the old man. No one is allowed special treatment, not even our own.¡±

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    ¡°Penzer,¡± Jere thought. He knew Boah¡¯s rise to power would be swift, but he never suspected that they would be rid of the guard so easily. ¡°Truly strange times.¡±

    As the guards handed Appo over to Juddken, the two met each other¡¯s gaze. Appo was terrified. Despite all they had been through the last few moons, they were still strangers. Jere felt sorry for the healer, but there was nothing that he could do. He had tried to warn him of a situation like this happening. Couldn¡¯t say he didn¡¯t try.

    Appo¡¯s eyes seemed to plead to Jere. ¡°Is this it?¡± they seemed to say,  ¡°Is this how I die?¡±

    Jere had no response.

    Juddken placed his club on Appo¡¯s neck and held it there. As he did so, the guards moved onward towards the cells. Jere did his best to keep up. He figured it would be the last time he¡¯d see the two.

    ¡°For what it¡¯s worth, I¡¯m sorry it came down to this.¡± The voice came from one of the guards; it was barely a whisper. Jere recognized his sad eyes - it was Adok. He was surprised he only now recognized him, he must have joined the group before they started marching. ¡°There¡¯s always a chance-¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re following orders. Do as you¡¯re told.¡± Jere was curt in his reply. There was no need for niceties by this point. Jere wanted to die angry. If he was going to go, he wanted to be cursing the entire Corps as he did so. Still, he couldn¡¯t help but wonder what the other men thought of him. He had worked with the Corps for years, after all. It was somewhat comforting to know that a few at least looked up to him, even considering how Jere had treated him before.

    ¡°Don¡¯t waste time talking to the slave,¡± barked another guard. He was a stocky, balding man who seemed to have the most authority of the guards. Jere didn¡¯t remember his name, but he vaguely recalled not liking him. ¡°Bastard thought he was untouchable after all this time. Forgot his place amongst us. Happy Boah gave us the opportunity to get rid of him like we¡¯ve always wanted to.¡±

    ¡°Ah. That¡¯s better. Thanks, cunt.¡±

    The group kept walking. They had been walking forever by this point. Jere wished it would just be over - he was tired of breathing the pungent Ash air. Whatever opportunity he had to attempt an escape was surely gone by now. He knew the cells weren¡¯t far past the pillories. Should he just end it all right now? Surely an arrow in the back would be a much quicker death than whatever fate awaited him in the cells. He liked the idea of going out fighting. It may not have been the death worthy of a priest, but it was surely the death worthy of the mercenary he pretended to be for so many years. Certainly he wouldn¡¯t be able to take all of them in a fight, but maybe he could at least take the bald one.

    ¡°Huh.¡± The bald guard murmured. ¡°Did it always look like that?¡± Jere looked up from his shuffling. The cells were in view now.

    ¡°What¡¯s wrong?¡± asked another guard.

    ¡°The door. Did someone go in?¡±

    The guards were now within a few paces from the cells. The guards were blocking Jere¡¯s view. It was getting darker by the moment and the guards had yet to light their torches. He could barely make out what they were looking at.

    Adok spoke up. ¡°Who is it? Did Boah send someone ahead?¡±

    ¡°If he did, it would have been nice for Juddken to let us know,¡± the bald guard responded.

    As the guards slowed their pace, Jere was finally able to get a glimpse of the door. He wasn¡¯t sure why it was taking the guards so long to figure it out. The door was just slightly open.

    Jere¡¯s chest began pounding. He saw bright red eyes. Then he heard an inhuman shriek.

 Part I.III.XIV: One Condition

    Appo swallowed as the club pushed into the apple of his neck. He didn¡¯t need to be reminded to move. After the guards departed, Juddken grabbed the back of Appo¡¯s cloak and led him to the pillories. Appo had been pleading with no avail, and it seemed that Juddken was done with his protests. Without the ability to speak, Appo was only left to ponder what Juddken had planned for him. With the shaman dead, the plaza was now completely empty. There were no guards, prisoners, or hecklers. Just a healer and his executioner.

    Juddken forced Appo up the platform steps to the pillory on their far right. The pillory was made of two wooden hatches connected by an iron hinge. In each hatch, two smaller semi-circles flanked a middle, large semi-circle: where the prisoner¡¯s hands and head would be placed, respectively. As Appo approached the device, he considered running away. He even considered the possibility that Juddken wanted to simply separate him from the guards. Perhaps he would be kind enough to spare his life.

    These thoughts were dashed the moment two reached the pillory. After untying Appo¡¯s hands, Juddken swung his club into Appo¡¯s belly. Appo gasped, collapsing to his knees and slamming his neck against the lower pillory circle. The pain was deep, and after a lull, it came in a wave that spread over his whole body. He was suddenly reminded of a time in his youth when he was kicked in the stomach by a camel. He had broken a rib, and it took two months before Appo could breathe normally again. At this moment, his rib held strong, but it wouldn¡¯t be able to take any more hits like that.

    As Appo regained his breath, Juddken lowered the upper hatch over Appo. A small iron latch slapped into a lower bolt, locking the two hatches in place. Appo briefly struggled before accepting the futility of it. He was officially Juddken¡¯s prisoner, whatever that meant for him.

    ¡°¡®Your hands are cursed. We must cut them off,¡¯¡± echoed in Appo¡¯s mind. He eyed Juddken¡¯s scimitar, still sheathed in his belt. ¡°That¡¯s what is meant for me.¡±

    ¡°Please, Juddken.¡± Appo swallowed, ignoring the pain in his belly and the dryness of his throat. ¡°I don''t know what your father has told you, but you¡¯ve seen what I¡¯ve seen. You know what will come if this plague spreads.¡±

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    Juddken said nothing. He paced back and forth, holding his club and staring at Appo. He still hadn¡¯t reached for the scimitar.

    ¡°I- I know I entered the temple. I know I talked with the sha- the witch. But I- I did nothing to undermine you. I did nothing that would get in the way of your father - you and your father.¡± Appo couldn¡¯t help but stutter over his words. He flexed his wrists repeatedly, trying not to imagine a blade slicing through them. ¡°I can leave- I- I- I can go and leave you in peace. I- I don¡¯t want to die.¡±

    ¡°You won¡¯t die. Shaddon Law doesn''t permit me to kill you.¡±

    To Appo there was no difference. His livelihood came from his hands. He couldn¡¯t imagine living without them. He only knew of slaves and ascetics who lived without their hands, and most of them didn¡¯t live very long.

    ¡°Please!¡± Appo was raising his voice now, tears began to stream down his face. ¡°Please don¡¯t take my hands, I beg you! Ta-ta-take my feet! Take my ears! Take anything else!¡±

    Juddken stopped his pacing and leaned in, gazing underneath Appo¡¯s pathetic sobbing face. His eyes fell upon the crisscrossed lines of Lowya, dangling from Appo¡¯s neck. Juddken reached forward with his free hand and deftly pulled the necklace off of Appo¡¯s neck, caressing the lines as he did so.

    ¡°Father tells me you worship the Goddess of plague. Will you pray to her now?¡±

    Appo sniffed. ¡°Please.¡± It was all he could mutter. He wished his pleas were for Lowya, but at that moment it could have been for anyone. Ati. Okkan. Atta. Vijar. Pike. Juddken.

    Juddken held the necklace at his eye line for a moment, before wrapping it around his hand. He turned his blank stare back to the pillory. ¡°Okay, healer. I won¡¯t cut off your hands. On one condition.¡±

    Appo would have leaped in the air if his head and hands weren¡¯t trapped. ¡°THANK YOU! Bless you, Juddken, bless you. What do you wan-¡±

    Appo heard a thud hit the floor below the two. For a moment, Appo thought that Juddken had dropped his club. As he looked down, he saw something bounce away from his feet. Appo gazed back up to see Juddken holding his scimitar down near the platform, its sharpened edge reddened. Appo¡¯s left hand, previously sticking out through the pillory, was now a bloodied stump. Red streaks of crimson squirted outward. He saw his severed hand, curled into a fist, still rolling across the platform.

    Appo didn¡¯t feel anything at first. Yet he still wailed louder than he had ever wailed before. Juddken looked on, smiling.

 Part I.III.XV: Frenzy

    The first two screamers looked the most human. One man and one woman. They still had most of their hair, and although they were completely covered with deep scratches they still had most of their skin, along with some of their clothes. The third screamer¡¯s skin, however, was nothing but eschar and scar tissue. It was completely naked, displaying a peculiar run as it sprinted without bending its elbows or knees. Cavernous bloody holes marked where the creature¡¯s eyes and ears should have been, and its nose was a crushed mass. The creature¡¯s lower jaw hung by threads, flapping against its own neck as it charged the guards.

    For a moment, Jere assumed that this was how the guards planned to kill him, though the quick unsheathing of the scimitars proved otherwise. The male screamer threw himself at the bald guard, who pushed it aside. The screamer paid no mind to the effort and moved on to the next guard in its sight. This guard, a thin man, didn¡¯t react quickly enough and tripped over himself in fright. The woman screamer ran to the other side, scratching and biting at one of the younger guards.

    That left the third screamer - the jawless one - which was rushing straight down the middle of the group. Towards Jere.

    Jere dropped to his knees. The jawless screamer swung its emaciated arms out and lunged forward. Jere rolled to his right, with the jawless screamer¡¯s hands scraping the sand near Jere¡¯s feet, before continuing on.

    Jere¡¯s roll was unbalanced, and he bumped into the bald guard. Jere couldn¡¯t tell whether he noticed, as the guard simply regained his footing and moved towards the others.

    ¡°Rally up, keep your distance! Who let them out?!¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t know! The cages were locked!¡±

    ¡°Does this look fucking locked to you?!¡±

    The screamers were in a frenzy, scratching at the guards and running blindly from one to the other. The men continued to bark orders but most of them were drowned out by the screeching. Nails scratched against armor, causing a cacophony of scraping thuds. The bald guard rushed to assist the thin guard, who had yet to regain his footing and was still being attacked.

    Jere had landed on his back and was now on the periphery of the guards. He gave a good tug at the rope around his hands, but it was no use. He was still trapped, though at this moment he was running on survival instinct. He could run, though he remembered that the guards carried bows. It would only take one shot, and he was nowhere near cover. Still, he rolled to his side, put his hands underneath his chest, and pushed himself off the ground.

    ¡°Wait, the dagger.¡±

    Jere reached down his thigh and felt only skin. He looked back and saw the dagger on the ground, between two guards and the jawless screamer. They had their scimitars out now and were blindly slashing them side to side, though they still shuffled backward out of fear. The older guard was pushing the male screamer away, as he had yet to pull out his scimitar. The woman screamer was limping - it looked as if one of the guards managed to get a lucky slice on the side of her knee. It was chaos, and it just so happened to be occurring over the dagger.

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    Still, maybe Jere didn¡¯t need it. His hands were tied, but the guards were paying no mind. He could get away. He would only have to sprint for a moment before their bows were out of range.

    A hushed voice called on Jere¡¯s right side. ¡°Don¡¯t do it.¡± It was Adok, standing not more than a few paces away from Jere. His bow was fully drawn and aimed at Jere¡¯s head. ¡°I can¡¯t let you run.¡± With everything going on, somehow Adok managed to keep his eye on their prisoner.

    ¡°What are you doing? Help them!¡± Jere gestured at the ongoing clash next to the two, trying to emphasize his bound hands.

    ¡°Not this time, Jere.¡± Adok arched his arm even farther, the arrow completely drawn.

    Jere didn¡¯t have time for a retort. He quickly considered his options. In front of him lay certain death from Adok¡¯s arrow. Behind him lay certain death from the screamers. To his left was the cliff face of Ash¡¯s western border, and to the east was the cells. He couldn¡¯t fly, and he couldn¡¯t dig a hole.

    ¡°I¡¯m done,¡± he thought.

    Jere considered the options again. All he had to do was dodge one arrow. Adok was a capable archer, but Jere knew how fear could affect a situation. Adok was young, after all. Jere tried to think of the hardest shot he had to make when he trained with the bow. The hardest target for him were ones that were running side to side. Shooting ahead of a target was difficult, even when well-practiced. At the very least it was harder than a target getting closer.

    So that left running to the side. He wouldn¡¯t be able to scale a cliff before Adok could grab another arrow. By that time, the guards could subdue the screamers. They would have fun taking turns shooting him down. That wasn¡¯t reasonable.

    That left the cells. Somehow they seemed to be Jere¡¯s only option. He had been watching the door. No more screamers had left - surely they would have been joining the others? But no, there were still only three. That meant that even if they had escaped, it was only from a single cell. A cell that as far as Jere knew, was wide open, empty, and only twenty paces away.

    "I must be mad to even consider."

    Jere didn¡¯t think about the logistics any more than that. He didn¡¯t think about how he would lock the doors, whether there could still be screamers roaming around free, or whether the guards would simply follow him into the cells. Jere just needed to sprint for a few seconds.

    Jere eyed Adok¡¯s grip and his composure. Three fingers around the string, nock between the arrow. It was good form. Jere wasn¡¯t sure whether the fletchings were aimed appropriately, but at this range, Jere didn¡¯t think it would matter. What happened next was up to the Gods.

    Jere sprinted to his right. His position was slightly lumbering considering his bound hands, but he was a quick sprinter. He heard a twang from his side, and a whoosh to his right. The arrow passed behind his head. Jere thought he felt the hairs on his neck being sheared.

    But it didn''t matter. Adok had missed. Jere was still running.

    Jere wasn¡¯t looking when he ran into the cells. He hadn¡¯t turned his head to see whether Adok had nocked another arrow, or whether the other guards were still fighting the screamers. He had no idea whether he was being chased by anyone, screamer or guard alike. He simply ran straight ahead until he was covered in darkness.

 Part I.III.XVI: Stumped

    Appo had never felt such pain before. It was deep and throbbing, sending shockwaves through his entire body. Without his hand, his arm slumped out of the pillory to his side. Appo instinctively retracted his mangled wrist into his shirt, feeling the warmth of his blood as it soaked into his tunic. His wail had diminished into a croak as the pillory propped up his limp body by the neck.

    "Just finish the fucking job," Appo thought, shouting in his mind. "Put me out of my misery."

    The second slice didn''t come, though. Juddken seemed distracted. If Appo had been in considerably less pain, he would have been able to hear the clashing of metal and screaming in the distance. It had certainly caught Juddken¡¯s attention.

    ¡°Huh,¡± Juddken mumbled, oblivious to the suffering of his prisoner.

    The sound of a distant whistle reverberated through the air. It grew louder and louder, like the cry of a great bird. The whistle was followed closely by a squish. In an instant, Juddken fell to the floor. Appo was barely able to look down, but he saw a large wooden rod sticking out of Juddken¡¯s throat. Juddken reflexively reached for his neck, spitting out blood as he writhed on the ground.

    Appo still couldn¡¯t turn his head, but he heard the light footsteps of someone coming from the distance. As the figure entered his point of view, Appo vaguely recognized his gray scraggly beard and blue eye. Appo thought he was hallucinating because it looked like Isbibarra.

    Isbibarra hopped onto the platform, standing over Juddken. In one hand he held an intricately crafted bow, sleek and about as long as he was tall. Juddken¡¯s hands grasped around the rod lodged in his neck, gurgling as he attempted to breathe through the blood and arrow. Isbibarra stared somewhere between Juddken and Appo, not quite making eye contact with either. Then, as quickly as he arrived, Isbibarra jumped off the platform.

    Appo blinked his eyes again, darting around the plaza for any sign of the old beggar. He was nowhere to be seen. Perhaps it was imagined.

    But he wasn¡¯t imagining what had just happened to Juddken. He was still on the ground, his movements becoming slower. His blood loss was beginning to match Appo¡¯s. Blood trickled onto the ground below as it seeped through the boards of the platform. As far as Appo could tell, he was now alone. And he was still trapped in the pillory.

    At least, his head and one arm were still trapped.

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    Appo¡¯s left arm was numb from the pain, and it hurt to move it from his curled position. He didn¡¯t want to imagine what his stump looked like, but regardless he had one arm free. As far as he knew Juddken hadn¡¯t locked him in with anything more than the metal hinge. If he could stick his arm out as far as he could, perhaps he would be able to push the hinge off with his newfound stub of a hand.

    Thankfully, the pillory wasn¡¯t very wide, and Appo¡¯s outstretched arm could reach the corner of it. The air felt strange against his open wound, but Appo tried to ignore the pain. He was losing blood fast. He wasn¡¯t sure how much he could stand to lose, but he had already lost plenty.

    ¡°Isbibarra¡­¡± Appo grunted at himself. ¡°If that was you¡­ would it have been¡­ too much¡­ to let me out¡­ Old bastard.¡±

    It took a little bit of fumbling with his stump, but Appo was able to feel the metal hinge against the skin of his wrist. His hand was completely cut off at the joint, right past the bones of his forearm. It was a clean slice. Before Appo could appreciate Juddken¡¯s skill with the blade any further, the metal of the hinge scraped against his open wound, sending waves of pain through his body. Appo bit his tongue, suppressing his agony. But he could feel the hinge beginning to move. Pushing back every instinct to press the stump back into his gut, Appo stretched even farther and angled the hinge off the metal bar. The pressure that had been on his neck for the moment had lessened. Getting back to his feet, Appo pressed against the side of the pillory with his left forearm and pushed upwards against the hatch with his right. It wasn¡¯t pretty, but the top of the pillory moved just enough to make room for his head. Before the pain became too unbearable, he slipped his head and forearm out of the pillory, falling on his back.

    Appo couldn¡¯t help but look. Blood oozed from his open wound, no longer shooting out like it was immediately after his amputation. The cut wasn¡¯t perfectly straight, for it went as a slight angle up what was left of his hand. His fingers and thumb were all gone, but he still had some bone from the side of his palm near his smallest finger. It was difficult to tell though, as blood and dark flesh obscured what could be made out. His forearm was entirely covered in a maroon scale, and a deep crimson stain dripped down his tunic. It looked as if he had been stabbed in the gut.

    Underneath the pillory was a massive puddle of blood, though it was impossible to tell how much was his and how much was Juddken¡¯s. The guard was still writhing, but his movements and breathing had all but stopped. Appo rose to his feet. The pain was still unbearable, but it was colicky. Taking his good hand, he pressed it into this gaping wound, trying to stop the bleeding. It did little good as it continued to ooze through his fingers.

    Appo pressed his stump back into his shirt but it was no use. The wound was too large and the cloth wasn¡¯t stopping the bleeding. Besides, he didn¡¯t have time to wait around to bandage it. He needed to get out of the plaza. It wouldn¡¯t be long before the guards came looking for them. Appo knew he had a surgery kit back with his elephant, but that was all the way across town. He needed to get there eventually, but he needed to stop the bleeding now.

    He needed something hot. Really hot.

 Part I.III.XVII: Loose

    Jere held his body against the door of the cells. He didn¡¯t know what the guards were doing outside. The screaming was now so loud that Jere couldn''t hear himself think. All he knew was that he had yet to be attacked. They were still in their cages. By whatever luck he had mustered, he had escaped certain death.

    ¡°Maybe I just did their job for them.¡± Jere suppressed a chuckle.

    The cells were completely shrouded in darkness. This heightened the noise surrounding Jere, focusing his attention on the screaming and rattling of the cage bars. The screamers knew someone was in there with them. Their slams echoed off the walls, as if they were throwing their bodies against the cage doors. Jere was glad the doors had held for as long as they did.

    With his body against the door, Jere was confident he could hold off anyone trying to force their way in. But he was also aware of the hinge on the other side that locked it. Jere wouldn¡¯t be able to get through if he wanted out. At this point, he didn¡¯t care to. An escape plan could come later.

    Still, the idea of being in the same room as these beasts for who knows how long left him feeling uneasy. Especially if it was possible that they could still escape from their cages.

    Jere decided to give the door a light tug. It didn¡¯t budge. ¡°Good for me,¡± he thought. The irony of the cells being his salvation didn¡¯t escape him. He moved his bound hands past the wooden door, feeling his way to the smooth clay walls. They were tougher than they looked. He recalled not dealing with any escapees when he was on watch duty in the past. He tried to reach for a torch, anything to light up the room a bit. But he had no luck. Even if he could find a torch, he¡¯d still need flint to light it.

    The screaming was getting louder as Jere approached the entryway to the cells. He wondered if they could see him in this darkness. He knew that a few of them had clawed their eyes out, but could they still hear him? Appo hadn¡¯t given him enough insight into their vision enough for him to make a conclusion.

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    Thinking of the healer made his stomach drop. The guards still had to bring him here after Juddken completed Shaddon Law. They could still unlock the door, come in, and ¡°punish him¡± however they saw fit.

    Jere felt his way down the wall and found a barrel. He pushed it briefly, feeling its weight. It was heavy for him, which meant that it was far too heavy for the guards. It could¡¯ve been filled with anything from coal to armor. Things that could be useful. But right now he needed to keep the door shut.

    As Jere pushed the barrel against the door with his feet, he sighed. The healer had slipped his mind up until now. The punishment would kill him. The Corps was always quick to credit unintended death to providence. ¡°¡®Okkan wanted them dead¡¯¡± he recalled them saying. ¡°¡®It is the will of Ati, or they would have survived.¡¯¡± For as ¡®holy¡¯ as Ash was, people seemed to die here all the time. He had just barely survived their ¡®mercy¡¯, after all.

    ¡°HEY!¡±

    A call came from the cells. Jere didn¡¯t imagine that. The screaming hadn¡¯t stopped, but he was sure that he heard a shout through the noise. A very human shout.

    ¡°Who''s there?¡± Jere replied. No answer. Just more screaming.

    ¡°HEY!!¡± There it was again. Jere realized it now. Through a hurricane of screaming he heard the yells of a lone person. Whoever was here with him likely couldn¡¯t hear him either.

    ¡°WHO GOES THERE?¡± Jere yelled. He had a booming voice when he wanted, but he wasn¡¯t sure how well it could travel in these conditions.

    ¡°-ERE?¡± Jere could barely make it out, but it sounded like his name. Or maybe the person was yelling ¡°there?¡± Besides, who would be in here that would know who he was? Jere could only think of one person.

    ¡°PENZER?¡±

    The responses were two claps. They cut through the screams much better than the voices. Jere was shocked. ¡°How is that old bastard alive?¡± he thought. ¡°Is he trapped with them? Does he have his own cell?¡±

    His musings were cut short with a few prompt commands. It sounded like Penzer was yelling something complicated. ¡°CAN¡¯T HEAR YOU!¡± Jere yelled back.

    Penzer¡¯s response was direct. ¡°DOORS LOOSE! HURRY!!¡±

    Jere could make that one out, even over the rattling of the cages.

 Part I.III.XVIII: Charred

    Appo was dizzy as he lumbered through the streets. The room was spinning. Or was it the city? He wasn¡¯t quite sure. He vaguely remembered that he had to stop the bleeding, but he had no idea how. At some point, he had taken off his tunic and wadded it into his wounded arm. No good. He was still bleeding, and now he was shirtless.

    ¡°Fire. I need fire. Where is fire?¡±

    Appo recalled how other healers treated amputated limbs. If it wasn¡¯t possible to stitch, the healers would take a scalding metal and press it into an open wound. It would stop the bleeding but could lead to a host of other problems. Infection. Bloodrot. Shock. Death. Typically in that order. Appo didn¡¯t have the luxury to consider other options, however. His surgery kit was across town, and his blood loss wasn¡¯t slowing.

    Appo opened his eyes. He was leaning against a wall now. ¡°How long have I been doing that?¡± It must¡¯ve been only a moment since he was still holding his tunic against his wound, the blood still dripping and sticky in his hands. He stumbled away from the wall, finding his balance. As he walked, Appo felt soreness on the top of his head. He realized what must have happened: he tripped, lost his footing, and knocked his head into the wall. The bump must have jolted him awake.

    His vision was blurry. The darkness wasn¡¯t helping matters. Appo couldn¡¯t recognize where he was. There was no one near him and all the homes around him were empty. "West end?" His breathing was slowing too. Fortunately, the pain in his whole left arm had numbed somewhat. If anything, he was just annoyed from hitting his head. It was a bad sign altogether.

    ¡°What I wouldn¡¯t give for thebacium right now.¡± Appo¡¯s thoughts drifted to the plant the Healer¡¯s Guild grew underground in Jyv?sk. No pain was too great for thebacium. It wouldn¡¯t cure his blood loss, but with just a few seeds he wouldn¡¯t care whether he lived or died.

    Appo was thirsty. And hungry. He hadn¡¯t eaten since earlier that morning, and the blood loss wasn¡¯t helping. He was so tired. He needed to lie down and sleep. He needed to catch his breath after all he had been through. The ground looked so comfortable, he could just lie down and-

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    ¡°No! If I sleep now I¡¯ll never wake up. Move. Get help. Someone must be nearby, I smell cooking.¡±

    Appo turned a corner and saw why the air smelled so crisp. In front of him was a small clay home, in front of which lay an iron pot, sitting atop a stone outcropping. Appo could see the amber cinders of a recently abandoned fire pit. A metal pole stuck out of the pit, bent at an awkward angle under the pot. It looked like a recently vacated guard post.

    ¡°That¡¯ll¡­ have to do,¡± Appo mumbled.

    Appo walked to the fire pit, falling to his knees as he approached it. He reached for the fire poker, tugging it out of the pit with as much strength as he could muster. It was heavier than he was expecting, though he was also particularly weak. Examining the end, Appo saw the end of the poker radiating a dull light. He wouldn¡¯t have long.

    Appo positioned himself on the ground and tugged the shirt off his left forearm. The wound had tried to crust around the shirt, but blood was still pooling around his wrist. He grabbed the poker, blew on the sizzling end, and ignoring every warning his body was sending to him at that moment, pressed it into his wound.

    This pain was a thousand times worse than losing the hand itself. Appo¡¯s consciousness returned at full force. Appo shut his eyes and grimaced, and in horror he realized that he could smell his burning skin. It reminded him of old meat searing on charcoal.

    Those twenty seconds passed as quickly as a month, and Appo let the poker fall to the ground. Half of the wound was completely seared, his skin as black as tar. The other half was still flesh-colored, with the ash of his own skin tinting it maroon. He would need to cauterize that side as well. This was proving to be a challenge, though. Now Appo knew how bad the pain was and his body was refusing to obey his commands. If the poker touched his skin again, he knew the pain would be even worse.

    There was no other option though. He needed to stop the bleeding now or he was going to die.

    Appo twisted his neck and bit into the fire poker. With his jaw balancing the poker with his hand, he once again pressed the poker into his wound. The pain returned in full force, and Appo bit down into the rod. He felt his molars crack but he bit down harder. He needed to suppress a scream until the pain died down. The awful smell of his own burning skin again crept into his nose.

    This time the pain didn¡¯t jolt him awake. This pain was too much. Appo¡¯s eyes rolled upwards. He fell backward, losing consciousness as the pain overtook him.

 Part I.III.XIX: Neighbors

    ¡°MOVE! NOW!¡±

    Jere leaned behind the entryway to the cells. He could hear the cages rattling a little clearer now. There was a scraping noise that followed after a body slam, as if the metal itself was bending with each thrust. He wasn¡¯t sure how Penzer knew, but Jere was inclined to believe him. The old man had been in the cages far longer - perhaps his vision had adjusted. The only issue was what to do next.

    ¡°WHERE?!¡± Jere roared. He couldn¡¯t disguise the fear in his voice.

    ¡°BACK! FAR RIGHT!¡±

    It took Jere a moment to figure out what Penzer was telling him. If the screamers were about to escape from a cell, Jere¡¯s only chance would be to lock himself in one of the cages. Penzer must have known that there was an empty cage. His plan was becoming more ludicrous by the moment.

    Jere struggled to remember the layout of the cell room. There were three cells on each side of the walls, but its layout was asymmetrical. On which side was the door? If Jere was running blindly in the dark he could run directly into the screamers. One scratch and he was done for. He needed light, but he didn¡¯t have time.

    Before Jere could make a move, Penzer yelled again. ¡°WAIT!¡± Jere hesitated, acutely aware that the rattling of the cages was becoming louder as if a door was about to become loose. Jere eventually made out the phrase ¡°NEED KEYS!¡±

    ¡°KEYS?!¡±

    Penzer responded with a clap. It was an effective confirmation.

    This raised questions. If Jere needed keys to open the cell door, did that mean that someone let them out deliberately? But why would anyone want to do that? It certainly wasn¡¯t the guards, and Jere couldn¡¯t think of any reason why Boah or Juddken would have done it. Regardless of the reason, it was good news for Jere; it meant that the locks on the doors still worked. He would be safe from the screamers.

    The scraping noise interrupted Jere¡¯s procrastination. It was coming from the left side.

    ¡°WHERE ARE THE KEYS?¡±

    ¡°NO IDEA!¡±

    Jere yelled in frustration. He didn¡¯t know where to run and now he had no idea if he could even get in the cells.

    ¡°Okay.¡± Despite everything, Jere found himself thinking critically. ¡°Someone opened the door. Did they take the key out before the screamers got to them? They can reach through the doors. More likely than not, whoever was here had to get out as fast. The key must still be in the lock.¡±

    That would have to do for now. The scraping was getting louder. Now it was only a matter of where he had to run.

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    ¡°BACK RIGHT?!¡± Jere yelled into the dark. He was greeted by another clap. He was going to have to guess.

    The scraping was getting more pronounced. The screams coming from the left side of the cells grew louder. Jere still couldn¡¯t see clearly, but he could make out the blurry shape of a body squeezing through the bars. It looked as if the door was bent open at the top, and the torso and arms of something were reaching through. The figure was staring straight at Jere with bloodshot eyes, reaching for him.

    Once again, Jere made the decision to sprint. He opted for running ahead at a slight right angle. All Jere could do was hope he would avoid the screamer¡¯s reach.

    Jere didn¡¯t sprint long before he hit a cage door. The door must have been half open, as it swung back into place. Jere hesitated briefly, waiting for a screamer to attack him. No scratches came. The screams were deafening now though, they must have been no more than a few paces away. He could catch the swiping of emaciated arms next to him, but they couldn¡¯t reach him.

    Jere fumbled his hands over the bars, searching for a knob or a lock. After running his hands up and down the door, he found what felt like a handle. He patted it for a moment, trying to find a key. Nothing stuck out to him.

    ¡°Shit.¡±

    As Jere struggled, the scraping noise was becoming more constant. He heard the thumps of a body squirming through the cage door. He could imagine it in his head: a screamer squeezing through the door and falling face-first onto the ground. It sounded like it was out of the cage now. It only had to get to its feet.

    Jere had only one hope. He kneeled on the ground, patting his hands at the base of the door. A piece of metal poked his palm. It was the key: whoever let the screamers out must have dropped it as they escaped.

    A loud roar came directly behind him. The screamer was getting closer fast.

    Jere fumbled with the key before jamming it in the lock. He maneuvered his body around the door, pulling it shut once he was inside. He reached for the key and twisted it left. As he did so, the fuzzy image of a skinny torso sprinted at the door with outstretched hands. Jere tried to pull out the key, but seeing the figure made him lurch backward. Jere pulled the key as tight as he could, breaking the end of the key he held in his hand. As his arms pulled out of the cage door, two others shot through on the other side, flailing wildly through the bars. The cell door held.

    Jere fell back against the wall of his cell. He grasped the broken key in his hand, trying to catch his breath. His eyesight was a little more adjusted now. His cage made up the entire corner of the cells; he didn¡¯t have much area, but he was out of reach. The escaped screamer had now been joined by the others in adjacent cells. There must have been four or five of them, all with outstretched hands only paces away from reaching him. Jere curled his knees into his chest upon realizing how close they really were.

    Although the screaming was even louder now, Jere heard a succession of claps. Penzer must have been yelling for him, but it would have been impossible to hear now. ¡°MADE IT!¡±, Jere yelled. He couldn¡¯t make out whether Penzer had heard him, but he at least owed the former guard the courtesy that his simple actions saved him.

    ¡°Saved.¡± He couldn¡¯t believe he even thought that. He had no food. He had no water. He effectively locked himself inside a cage completely surrounded by monsters, and they were strong enough to get through metal doors. The guards were still outside trying to kill him. Other than Penzer, he was completely alone. He had no armor, no weapons, and no plan.

    And the screaming would not stop.

    Jere curled into a ball in the corner of the cell. He pressed his shoulders into his ears, watching the outstretched arms of his new neighbors do everything in their power to reach him.

    All he could do now was wait.

 Part I.III.XX: Eavesdropping

    The smell of roasted hog stew brought Appo to his senses. He would have salivated if not for his profound dehydration. His mouth was dry, and his lips cracked. He tried in vain to spit out the sand that had fallen in his mouth. He shivered as he got to his feet.

    For a moment, Appo was convinced he had awoken from a nightmare. His mind was scrambled, but he wasn¡¯t feeling any pain. Appo looked down his left arm, expecting to see his hand unscathed. Instead, he saw a charred stub of flesh, just a small promontory where his palm used to be. His forearm was stained red, but it was cracked and dried. He had stopped the bleeding. His forearm ached, but he felt no pain in it anymore. He made a motion that would have normally extended his fingers, only to find a soreness that extended up to his elbow.

    After catching his balance, Appo walked back over to the pot. He was starving. He didn¡¯t care how cold the food was. He lifted the lid, finding only dust within. With horror, Appo realized he was awoken by the smell of his own burnt flesh.

    ¡°Not so hungry anymore.¡± Appo tried to speak his thoughts, but his tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth.

    He wondered how long he had been out. It could have been a while, but he was unsure. Regardless, the guards hadn¡¯t found him yet. He thought that he had been leaving an obvious blood trail, but other than a small stain near the fire pit there was no evidence that he had even been there. Most of the blood was on him. He rubbed his foot over the sand, mixing the stain into it.

    ¡°Alright... head is still working,¡± Appo thought. ¡°Promising. Now I need the elephant. Shouldn¡¯t be far.¡±

    Appo grabbed his blood-stained tunic and wrapped it around his forearm. The sand irritated his charred skin, but the deep throbbing pain had lessened considerably. He was still drowsy, yet alert enough to know that he needed to keep moving. He thought about what he must have looked like: a shirtless man, covered in sand from head to toe, his left arm wrapped in a bloody cloth. He must have looked horrifying, though not unusual compared to other ascetics.

    Before Appo could shuffle very far, he heard the distant clanking of metal boots. ¡°Guards!¡± They were very close. Appo looked around. There were a few homes, most of them boarded up. The house he was in front of was as well, except for one of its windows. Appo lumbered to the window, rolled over the ridge, and fell into the house.

    The house was completely empty. There were a few broken chairs and matted cloth on a raised slab. It looked as if no one had lived there in years. Appo vaguely recalled the guards mentioning this area of town, West Shell, had been abandoned for a long time. Appo tried to get to his feet, but the clanking of the metal was much louder now. He lay flat where he fell.

    ¡°Any sign of him?!¡± Appo recognized the voice. It was one of Juddken¡¯s guards. From the rustling of their armor, it sounded as if they were right outside the house.

    ¡°No sir! Could be anywhere though, he¡¯s been gone for at least an hour.¡±

    ¡°Shit! Check the slave¡¯s quarters! Coulda gone back there!¡±

    Appo couldn¡¯t believe how long he had been passed out for a long time in open view. He heard the clanking of armor again, there must have been several standing outside now.

    ¡°Ipa!¡± another voice said, ¡°Adok and I will look here. Check a few of the buildings for the prisoner. Could be hiding.¡±

    ¡°Fine. He¡¯s probably dead in the streets. Let us know if you find his corpse.¡±

    ¡°All they need to do is look,¡± Appo thought. ¡°I¡¯m done.¡±

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    Appo heard most of the guards leave, diminishing to just a few footsteps outside. They were circling the firepit.

    ¡°Okay Heikk,¡± Appo recognized Adok¡¯s meek voice. ¡°Where should we start?¡±

    ¡°How about we start by you telling me what the fuck happened back there?¡± The other guard, Heikk, held his voice to a whisper, though he sounded furious. ¡°I¡¯m hearing that some of the cursed escaped their cells. That we have two escaped prisoners. And now Juddken has been attacked? What madness is going on?¡±

    Adok sighed. ¡°The healer escaped. Jere is in the cells. He broke away for a moment but I managed to lock him inside.¡±

    Appo was devastated: Jere was dead. Or he was about to become a screamer. He didn¡¯t know which fate was worse.

    ¡°Jere?¡± Heikk replied, his tone unamused. ¡°So the reports I¡¯ve been hearing about throwing prisoners in the cells are true. For Okkan''s sake, why would you do something so moronic?¡±

    ¡°We were under orders. From Juddken and Boah.¡±

    Heikk laughed. ¡°Juddken I get, but Boah? Seems a little extreme for him, no? You sure it was his idea, and not the little one letting power run to his head?¡± Adok didn¡¯t respond. Heikk continued, ¡°Who all have you thrown in there?¡±

    ¡°Before tonight?¡± Adok hesitated. ¡°A few of the guards loyal to Mendalla.¡±

    ¡°You don¡¯t mean¡­ Penzer is in the cells too?¡±

    ¡°Not me. But others did, yes.¡±

    ¡°Shit. He must¡¯ve done something really bad then... That geezer taught me everything I know¡­ Bastard.¡±

    The two paced for a moment. Appo lay on the ground, holding his breath. It was getting hard. He needed to cough but suppressed it with all his will.

    ¡°In regards to Juddken,¡± Heikk continued, ¡°I heard he was hit by an arrow. Does he draw breath?¡±

    ¡°He was alive when I saw him. Not sure how... He was shot in the neck by the largest arrow I¡¯ve ever seen. It brushed against my hip from the ground.¡±

    ¡°You think the prisoner had someone watching over them, then? To help them escape?¡±

    ¡°There had to be. There was a lot of blood¡­ Juddken chopped off one of his hands before he was rescued. He had to have escaped on a beast, the others say escape on foot is impossible in that condition.¡±

    ¡°We¡¯ll have to keep a lookout then¡­ there could be others. Maybe they¡¯ll come for the slave?¡±

    ¡°Doubtful. There are several of us posted outside the cells. No one else is getting in or out.¡±

    ¡°Good.¡±

    Appo was shocked. He couldn¡¯t believe that Juddken was still alive! From what he could recall, the arrow had gone right through Juddken¡¯s throat. He could still see him rolling on the ground, gurgling through the blood. Boah¡¯s son was tougher than Appo had given him credit for. ¡°Makes two of us,¡± Appo thought with some satisfaction.

    ¡°Okay,¡± said Heikk, ¡°Don¡¯t bullshit me. The cursed¡­ did they get you?¡±

    ¡°No. I¡¯ll swear to that on my family name.¡±

    ¡°What about the others?¡±

    Adok hesitated. ¡°One of them was on top of Taipo for a long time. Another was scratched.¡±

    ¡°Who?¡±

    ¡°... He won¡¯t let me say. Told me if I breathed a word he¡¯d throw me in the cells themself.¡±

    ¡°Shit.¡± Heikk barely repressed his frustration. ¡°I bet it¡¯s Ipa, that bald prick. Only looks out for himself.¡±

    ¡°But the witch is dead, right? Enlil and Boah both said that the curse would be lifted after the witch was exiled.¡±

    Heikk grunted. ¡°They also said Okkan would bring water to Ash¡­ I wouldn¡¯t count on it.¡±

    The two wandered out of Appo¡¯s earshot, moving around the corner of the home. He allowed himself to clear his throat, keeping his cough at bay, but he didn¡¯t move. He was prepared to sleep all night if he needed to. He was glad he didn¡¯t make any rash actions, as the clanging of their boots returned.

    ¡°So we shouldn¡¯t alarm the Heads?¡± asked Adok.

    ¡°Without Penzer, Ipa is in charge of the Corps. And considering everything I¡¯d rather not be on Boah¡¯s bad side.¡±

    ¡°Understandable, especially with what happened to Juddken.¡±

    ¡°Ha! You have much to learn. The holiday is more important to him, nothing will stop that man. No, he wants Okkan''s favor. People are already starting to wake, Adok. No one saw the accursed and no one knows of anything other than rumors. They won¡¯t even close the gates.¡±

    ¡°Oh. Will you not say anything?¡±

    ¡°And join Penzer in the cells? Would you?¡±

    The two fell silent. They wandered a little more, but Appo was beginning to doze off. He pinched his ear a few times, but he wasn¡¯t sure how successful he was at staying conscious. Eventually, Appo heard nothing. No conversation, no footsteps, not even the wind.

    Appo rose to his feet again. He looked outside the window. He was completely alone. He awkwardly crawled through the window, this time keeping his balance as he left his hiding spot.

 Part I.III.XXI: Who Knows Where

    As Appo walked, he found his pace more brisk than expected. He had escaped capture by the guards. Not only that, the city wasn¡¯t even on alarm. Appo found himself angry that Juddken was still alive, but he did just cut off his hand after all. All things considered, he was giddy.

    It didn''t last long. Appo realized that despite his luck thus far, the guards knew that he had escaped and knew that he was heavily injured. In the distance, Appo heard the humming of the city. People were already up and making their way down Main Street. He would need to blend into the crowd. What he really needed was a shirt.

    Appo passed a street corner and walked down an alley. He found a clothesline adorned with robes and tunics of various sizes. He attempted to grab a beige robe with both hands, momentarily forgetting his injury. His arm was becoming more numb; he couldn¡¯t feel anything past his elbow. With some difficulty, Appo threw the robe over his head and put his good arm through. It was a little big for him, but it would do. He kept his wounded arm tucked inside. No need to show Ashfolk how fresh his stub was.

    Now fully dressed again, Appo covered his head with a hood and walked out onto the streets. He stumbled like a drunk, but that in itself wouldn¡¯t raise any attention. He just needed to get to his elephant now.

    Time was moving strangely again. He was now seeing people. Some looked like him. But many wore elaborate costumes and strange masks. Some held candles. Some weren''t even wearing clothes at all. Appo wasn¡¯t sure how much of it was real. How much blood had he lost again? He passed a few guards but they were focused on leading the crowds inside. There were animals as well, so many to keep track of. Yaks. Camels. Lions. Bears. Elephants. Were they all here too?

    It all reminded him. He needed his elephant. He was almost at the stable now.

    Hundreds were passing through the gates. Beasts roared and people chattered. Appo kept to the sides and passed as many people as he could, but they kept coming in. It reminded him of his days back in Jyvask, and no city held more people than Jyvask. People kept pushing him aside, and Appo could barely stay on his feet. He needed to warn them. Warn them about the plague. A few guards were infected. They needed to avoid the water. He needed to avoid the water. He tried his best to warn them but they tried to kill him. They were killing him now.

    The stables overflowed with beasts. Appo recalled that his elephant was at the farthest stable, but he hoped that they hadn¡¯t moved her. He had paid for five moons but with the holiday who knew what they could have done with her? He walked along, passing the hordes of people screaming at the stable owners, asking why it would take a month''s salary to host their beasts. They would have to slaughter them, they said. Appo moved past them.

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    Appo found his elephant where he left her. She was in the stable with four others, all crammed side by side. Appo recognized his by the leather saddle that wrapped around her and the multiple satchels that held off her side. All of his books and food and water and surgery kits. ¡°Ha.¡± He would have to look through those later. Right now he just needed to move her out of here. Appo grabbed the rope tied around his elephant¡¯s neck and led her outside the stable. She moved gracefully but swiftly, as though she were as ready to leave Ash as Appo was.

    Appo attempted to climb on top of his elephant, but his strength was entirely gone. Had the elephant wanted to stay in the stable he would have been unable to even guide her. Fortunately, she seemed to sense what he wanted. Appo guided the elephant out of the stables and through the crowds, passing several other elephants, their owners clamoring to take the space Appo just left open.

    The two walked briefly, stopping a few paces outside of the city walls. Appo looked around; there must have been hundreds more tents and yurts than when he entered. There were thousands of people trying to get inside, masses stretching almost out of his line of sight. Appo took a moment to look over before realizing why he had stopped; the elephant had planted herself in her tracks, groaning as Appo pathetically tugged on her rope.

    ¡°Come girl,¡± Appo croaked.

    The elephant didn¡¯t budge. She lowered her bulk into the sand, turning her massive head at Appo. Her trunk flailed forward as if pointing at him.

    ¡°Ah,¡± Appo slurred, ¡°ride. Thanks.¡±

    With the elephant on the ground, he was able to get his footing on the saddle better. His saddle was connected by four steps that ran down each side of the elephant. Appo grabbed the rope and heaved himself upward. After much struggling, Appo threw his body over the elephant. He had no more strength. He wanted to vomit. The elephant raising her bulk into a stride didn¡¯t help such matters.

    Appo¡¯s eyelids drooped. He was aware of the city and the crowd, but they were becoming smaller. He positioned himself on the saddle but with no means of control. He had no idea where he was even going. He knew the elephant was walking away from Ash. At that point, he didn¡¯t consider much of anything. His thoughts were far from anyone. He thought not of the screamers, or all the people fighting to get into an infected city. He thought not of how he had failed to stop the disease, or how the town was most certainly doomed. He didn¡¯t even think of running away.

    As the sun rose over the horizon, and the sky began to return to a hazy yellow, Appo slumped over his elephant. He was vaguely aware that the numbness in his arm had crept up to his shoulder. It was only a lingering thought before he lost consciousness yet again, falling forward onto his beast, leading him off into who knows where.

 Part I.IV: The Day of Akkavan

    ?

    The Day of Akkavan fell on the 33rd of Alicudin, a day celebrated by many throughout Ostior. The holiday had grown in popularity over the last century, especially along the Thorne. Many in the Eivett? heard tales of Okkan bringing prosperity to their home and fertility to their soil. What particularly enraptured those in Ash was the vision of rain, a peculiar idea that the sky would become a battleground from which water would trickle and pour and nourish the soil. Desertfolk, who had subsided only on dirty water that occasionally sprung from the sand, were hypnotized by the tales of rainfall and thunder. They hoped that they could one day cultivate herbs and remove their reliance on the trade that dictated their lives.

    Today was Ash¡¯s thirteenth celebration of the Day of Akkavan. For decades before, the Ashfolk who followed Okkan passionately advocated for the commemoration of the holiday. They believed that acknowledgment of Akkavan¡¯s betrayal would inspire Lord Okkan to bestow love on his worshipers. The city resisted this change for many years, hoping their long devotion to the desert god of Ati would return good fortune. But when the traders left and the Great Drought occurred, the followers of Okkan usurped control from the former leaders.

    After reconsecrating the temple, the holiday was a massive success, attracting those all across the Thorne. With the influx of Okkan worshippers, the traders returned en masse. Fertility had yet to return to the soil, but this was of little concern, for the holiday had brought back coin to the land. The wealthiest became wealthier and poised to gain even more influence in the coming years. Although some in Ash still looked to the old god, Okkan had brought them prosperity they had never before experienced. The Okkan faithful, both powerful and powerless alike, were certain that his influence would convert the ever-skeptical.

    All of this crossed the incredulous old mind of Zaman Urash as he looked over the worshippers around the Temple of Okkan. He had been told that there were two thousand men and women that had come to Ash, though he wouldn¡¯t have been surprised if it was over three thousand now. They were packed together, their bodies oscillating against each other. Many pushed forward to get a better view of the holy temple, but at this point moving was near impossible. It wasn¡¯t uncommon for them to piss and shit themselves where they stood. With that many bodies in such a small space, he expected that at least ten would die from heat stroke or exhaustion.

    ¡°Fools,¡± Urash grumbled. He grimaced at the thought of being squished to death by desertfolk. He stood atop the roof of one of his spice houses, providing him a full view of the square. Nearby mudbrick buildings were adorned with people as well, though they were either sold the space by their owners for exorbitant prices or were as packed as the ground below. The building next to him had at least seventy men and women compacted together, all scrambling up and down the rooftop doing their best to not fall. Urash chuckled at the sight. With the luxury of owning his own building, he had plenty of room to spare, a tarp to cover his head, enough mercenaries to push back any aggressive worshipers, and was surrounded by the richest men and women in the city. At least the ones he liked.

    Among Urash¡¯s chosen were Ky?sti and Kirashi, his closest companions and fellow Ati worshippers. Although they felt no love for Okkan, they were ecstatic over the profit they had already made. Kirashi was discussing the possibility of opening taverns in Lockwood and Beyshran. Kyosti had made so much coin from his stables that he couldn¡¯t even keep track of how many beasts he hosted. Both made more today than the desertfolk below them would see in their lifetime. They laughed, mocking the emaciated Okkan worshipers while comparing imported wines they had collected.

    ¡°Why so solemn, Zaman?¡± Kirashi noticed that Urash had been uncharacteristically quiet. ¡°Did you not make enough coin from your spices? Come treat yourself to this Thalassian Wine.¡±

    ¡°Bah, at my age? You know I don¡¯t drink anymore.¡± Urash thought better of himself than to join the younger Heads. It was unwise to be so brazen. He wasn¡¯t concerned with his profit; the addictive and aphrodisiac nature of his brown ash always left Urash with plenty of spare coin long before the holiday even commenced.

    His thoughts concerned himself with one person only: Boah Awil-Ishtar.

    Ky?sti staggered his hefty frame behind Kirashi, his lips stained red from the wine. ¡°Don¡¯t tell me you¡¯re concerned with the jewelry merchant. Let him deal with the stresses of rule. Success for him means success for us!¡±

    ¡°I can¡¯t help but wonder if he¡¯ll show.¡± Kirashi said. ¡°Urash, have you heard what transpired with his son last night?¡±

    ¡°Nothing gets by me,¡± Urash spat. ¡°The boy was playing with fire. He was bound to get seared at some point.¡± The news of Juddken¡¯s injury inspired much gossip that morning, though few understood the details. Most knew that it had to do with the Healer and his involvement with the witch. Still, no one knew more than that, or how Boah would have reacted. He had not been seen since the night prior.

    ¡°I still can¡¯t believe the healer fooled us,¡± Ky?sti added. ¡°To have your hand cut off yet still get away! He''s a tough son of a btich... More than I would¡¯ve expected.¡±

    ¡°You dare acknowledge the strengths of a heretic?¡± Kirashi teased.

    ¡°Oh, fuck off.¡± Ky?sti lifted his cup and gulped more of his wine. ¡°We can thank him that we don¡¯t have to deal with Boah¡¯s lunatic seed anymore.¡±

    Urash laughed. ¡°Be careful with who you condemn. Juddken still breathes, and he still has allies.¡±

    ¡°Bullshit,¡± spat Ky?sti. ¡°He was shot through the throat! No one can survive that.¡±

    ¡°You clearly aren¡¯t familiar with old magic.¡± Urash furrowed his wrinkled brow, continuing to scan the worshipers. ¡°You know of Eanna: the woman advising the cordons? Where do you think she cultivated her knowledge of herbs? She is familiar in forces unnatural, not too different from that woman we forced into the desert recently.¡±

    ¡°You mean to say she¡¯s a shaman?¡± Kirashi asked.

    ¡°She possesses abilities far beyond what she has shown to us. Unlike the witch, however, she knows how many perceive those who worship the lesser gods¡­ Juddken was taken to her before he could pass on, and he had his throat sealed thanks to the help of shaman magic.¡±

    This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.

    ¡°Unbelievable¡­ So he¡¯s recovered then?¡±

    ¡°I said his throat was sealed, not healed. Old magic can make tissue, but it is a disorganized and imperfect tissue. Eanna knows little of the human body, unlike our recalcitrant healer. She was able to close his airway, but not much else. His wound is ugly and malformed, and the very act of breathing pains him. He will never speak again.¡±

    Ky?sti laughed, spilling some of his wine. ¡°Shamans¡­ truly fuckin worthless¡­ If I were Juddken, I¡¯d just¡­ fuckin kill myself.¡± Ky?sti stumbled into one of Urash¡¯s mercenary guards. The crimson guard shoved Ky?sti, hissing as the Head fell backward. Ky?sti bellowed with uproarious laughter as if the altercation were the funniest thing that had ever happened to him.

    Urash waved the guard down, turning to Ky?sti in frustration. ¡°Can you at least pretend to have dignity? Hold yourself upright, you monumental fool¡­ Forget the coin for a moment. Can you not see who holds the real power here?¡± Urash pointed at the crowd; they were holding their hands outward, murmuring their prayers to Okkan in unison. At the second story of the temple stood Enlil in his scarlet robe, orchestrating the crowd. As Enlil¡¯s hands moved, the crowd swayed with him. The oscillating wave had been tamed. Urash held his arms out as well, trying to capture the wave itself, failing to guide it. Ky?sti and Kirashi simply watched the crowd past Urash, continuing to drink their wine.

    As Enlil continued his swaying, applause erupted from the side of the temple. As he came into view, Boah arrived with the admiration reserved for conquering heroes returning to their homestead. Absconding his usual gold robe, Boah instead donned a cream robe, intricately adorned to weave in a spiral pattern down to his shoes. He wore no jewelry, preferring a simple wooden necklace. Boah smiled, but it was tempered with determination.

    Urash gazed at his foe from his rooftop. He folded his arms, seething with contempt. How he longed for that applause. It died down as Boah reached the center of his platform. Enlil¡¯s preachings mellowed into a simple hymn, which the crowd followed in unison. Boah held his hand to his chest as his booming voice verberated through the crowd.

    ¡°Praise be to the one who will deliver us the fertile soil!¡± Boah yelled.

    ¡°PRAISE BE!¡± the crowd shouted back.

    ¡°Praise be to the most powerful! The most forgiving! The most generous!¡±

    ¡°PRAISE BE!¡±

    ¡°Praise be, to that one who guides us. May we plant the seeds that bear the fruit of blessings!¡±

    ¡°THAT IS FOR UKKO TO KNOW!¡±

    Boah hushed the crowd. He paced on his platform, darting his eyes from person to person. He was confident in his tone and purposeful in his gestures. ¡°Blessed be those all who have shown today, for you are the most fortuitous of men. You have come to Ash in a great moment of need. You have come despite everything that has passed in the last few moons. Because you believe!¡±

    The crowd roared. Many of them had heard stories of the ¡®Big Man for the Little People.¡¯ The man who had brought Okkan for all those in the Eivett?, the ones who were abandoned by Ati. When Boah spoke, the worshipers forgot all their pain; both now in the crowd and their life in the desert.

    ¡°We face many enemies in our humble city. We are suppressed by nonbelievers. Witches who hail from wicked lands transpire to have this land fade away into desert. They mock us with curses and tricks, and oh how they are relentless!¡± The crowd booed.

    ¡°I must confess¡­ I myself am a victim to their evil. Last night, my own blood was wounded by conspirators to witchcraft. They attacked him without cause, and were it not for the will of the god of fertility I would be without my kin.¡±

    ¡°If only they knew about the shaman,¡± mocked Kirashi, ¡°I wonder if they''d still be so forgiving.¡± Urash paid little attention to her slight.

    ¡°I will not be distracted!¡± continued Boah. ¡°I will forgive my enemies, for they hold no power over me. I will not waiver from the duty to bring Okkan to this beautiful city, and from here his will shall spread across the Eivetta to the coasts of Ostior! We shall not let our oasis become a swamp! Let us consecrate ourselves to Okkan''s will!¡±

    The crowd erupted. It was long and sustained. Despite his growing deafness, the applause rang clear in Urash¡¯s ears. He craved that love and devotion, but his influence was long gone. He only had the snide Kirashi and the oafish Ky?sti now. Gizzal had been missing since his non-committing vote, but Urash assumed the coward was hiding in the shadows. He couldn¡¯t even command the other Heads, let alone the people of the desert. It was inevitable that Boah would attempt to remove them all from what little power they still commanded. He was far more ruthless than Mendalla ever was.

    Thankfully, Urash still had his mercenaries and the money to pay them. Boah would have to kill him before that happened.

    As Boah finished his speech, the edges of the crowd dispersed to the sides. The next phase of the holiday was to begin. At each side of the temple, about forty paces away, were cylindrical stone wells covered by a large marble slab. At this point, the strongest of the guard corps positioned themselves to lift the slabs off of the wells. The well water, which had been preserved from the masses for more than a fortnight, was as purified as the Eivett? would allow. The worshippers moved their congregation from the temple to the wells, fighting their way to the pure and clean water that only an untouched well could provide. Thirst, whether for pleasure of the body or spirit, drove these men and women rabid. The guards did their best to keep them organized, but inevitably each well would be overpowered by the masses. Despite the best efforts of the corps, the wells remained purified only briefly before the dirt and disease of the desertfolk would pollute it and spread to the others.

    On the northern side of the temple, a fight broke out between the guards and a few worshipers from the Steppe. In the chaos, a young feral boy made his way to the well. He had been awake for three moons. His thoughts were chaotically bouncing off himself, and his itching had grown so bad that it never left his mind. He hadn¡¯t eaten or drank in so long, but the thought of it revolted him. Still, when he witnessed the wells open, he saw an opportunity to clean himself. He needed to wash his face of the sand and dirt that covered him like an extra layer of skin. Maybe it could even soothe his ever-present itching.

    The boy approached the well. It was the cleanest water he had ever seen, despite the masses of people splashing it in an unstoppable desire to imbibe. As he looked in the water, through the ripples and the splashes, he made out his bloodshot eyes and gaunt face. He could barely remember who he was anymore. He tried to remember the hugs and kisses his mother gave him and his brother before she became a monster. Or how right before his father disappeared he was the happiest he had ever been, jumping up and down because of a purple rock he had found. They were all vague shapes now.

    The boy splashed the water on his face. The moment it touched his tongue, he spat it back into the well.

    The boy was only at the well for a moment before a guard pushed him aside. The boy stumbled, catching himself, and promptly forgot why he was even there. The guards were back in control now, and the people were lining up to take turns dipping their hands into the water and drinking it, bathing in it, and collecting it. They fought over and pushed each other, but in the end, they all got their part of it.

    The boy was so angry at himself. He couldn¡¯t even remember his name. He wanted to scream.

 Character Glossary

    Main Characters

    Appo Ilonnorot: Healer, former priest, one of the leading figures in the burgeoning field of medicine. Called to Ash to investigate the screaming plague. Worships Lowya, the goddess of pestilence. Cityfolk from Jyvask (east of Ash). Inquisitive, skeptical, determined.

    Jere: A mercenary with a mysterious past who works under Boah Awil-Ishtar. Former priest. Semi-reluctant companion of Appo¡¯s investigation. From the far south of Ostior. Laconic, stubborn, tactical.

    Boah Awil-Ishtar: One of the nine Heads of Ash, summoned Appo to investigate the plague. An influential figure amongst Ashfolk and Heads alike. Charismatic, ambitious, intimidating.

    Juddken Awil-Ishtar: Boah¡¯s young adult son. Works with the Guard Corps, loyal to his father above all else. Sadistic, quiet, deceptively plain.

    Isbibarra: A ¡®blind¡¯ beggar who seems to be involved with the Screaming Plague.

    Eevi: A former raider turned bartender. An acquaintance of Jere and Isbibarra.

    The Nine Trader Heads (ranked by influence at the beginning of the story, follow either Okkan or Ati)

    <ol>

    <li style="font-weight: 400">Mendalla Ealamassi: The most powerful and influential Head within Ash. Sells pottery, though recently came into power by orchestrating the Day of Akkavan. She is classist and judges Boah despite their similarities. Stern, but open to reason. Secretly sentimental. Worships Okkan.

    <ol>

    <li style="font-weight: 400">Mother of Amaren.</li>

    </ol>

    </li>

    <li style="font-weight: 400">Boah Awil-Ishtar: Sometimes referred to as ¡°The Big Man for the Little People.¡± Sells jewelry and high-end clothes. A self-made man, made his initial fortune from water trading. Is the newest Head and is treated as such by many Ati worshipers. Is highly influential with Ashfolk, who believes he will one day not only replace Mendalla in influence but also become the high priest. Is well known for his impassioned, often extemporaneous speeches in the open. Worships Okkan.

    <ol>

    <li style="font-weight: 400">Father of Juddken</li>

    </ol>

    </li>

    <li style="font-weight: 400">Zaman Urash: the patriarch of the Urashs, an old and influential family who ruled Ash for centuries until recently. Sells spices, most notably the aphrodisiac brown ash. Is old, decrepit, vulgar, and traditional in his beliefs, but is exceptionally cunning. Worships Ati. Is close friends with Kyosti and Kirashi. Maintains his own brand of desert mercenaries separate from the Corps.</li>

    <li style="font-weight: 400">Shimsusa: Sells perfume. Had distinctive red hair. Worships Okkan. She is highly fanatical and often praises Okkan. She works with her brother Enlil, the current high priest of Ash.</li>

    <li style="font-weight: 400">Harran: Sells silk. An early supporter of Boah, paying for his schooling, and remains a vital ally to him today. Often called sycophantic by others. Worships Okkan. Has a large mustache.</li>

    <li style="font-weight: 400">Kyosti: Sells beads and riding animals. Large man notable for his intricately braided beard. Worships Ati, one of Urash¡¯s closest friends. </li>

    <li style="font-weight: 400">Kirashi: Maintains a monopoly tax on wine and ale, works closely with taverns. Worships An. Close friends with Urash and Kyosti.</li>

    <li style="font-weight: 400">Namshi: Sells paint, former artist, and was responsible for painting the murals on the walls of the Manor. Worships Okkan. The survivor of a stroke/mental breakdown and unable to participate in political gatherings. He is represented by his granddaughter, Nami.

    <ol>

    <li style="font-weight: 400">Grandfather of Nami. </li>

    </ol>

    </li>

    <li style="font-weight: 400">Digram Gizzal: Sells gemstones, descended from a family known for mining. Gizzals have lived off the influence of a single gemstone mine for nearly a century. Very miserly as a result, and many suspect him to be on losing his status as a Head. Short-statured and overweight, adorned in many jeweled rings. Worships Ati, though is not seen as a particularly close with them.</li>

    </ol>

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    Guard Corps

    -Penzer: Head of the Guard Corps, works for Mendalla.

    -Adok: Guard, works for Mendalla. Young, inexperienced. Assigned with guarding Jere.

    -Duncic: Guard, works for Boah. Friend of Jere.

    -Heikk: Guard, works for Mendalla. Friend of Adok.

    -Ipa: Guard, works for Boah.

    Others

    -Anna ¡°Malefica¡± Olavintar: Shaman, Witch accused of cursing Ash. Worships the Godlin, Vijar

    -Eanna: Caregiver, works for Boah. Knowledgeable in caring for the plague victims

    -Bjorn: FIrst plague victim encountered by Appo

    -Mena: A desertfolk woman who cared for her husband after he became afflicted with the plague

    -Mikal: Companion of Isbibarra

 Part II.I.I: Sand

    Part II: The Madness of Shaddon

    ?

    Grains of sand pushed their way between Isbibarra¡¯s toes. It was a sensation he loathed to experience again. He knelt down, his knees cracking as he pressed his hand into the desert. He was heading in the right direction, but navigating the Eivett? would become much more difficult from this point forth. Traveling as a blind man was never easy. A blind man traveling by himself was suicidal.

    Judging by the heat of the sand it was almost high noon. It was sizzling, but not yet searing. Isbibarra needed to find shelter before the heat became unbearable. Thankfully, he still had plenty of water and his quick flight from Ash had not yet drained him of energy. But after years of traveling through the Eivett?, Isbibarra knew he was far less likely to die if he planned now while he was still lucid.

    The old man had grown used to the deprivation that came with desert travel. He required little nourishment other than the barest of water and grain, which in turn eased the burden of his camel. His journey necessitated as few supplies as possible, for he also carried with him prized cargo: a portly man dangled between the second and third humps, his mouth gagged, eyes blindfolded, and limbs bound.

    Despite his blindness, Isbibarra was far from helpless. The desert communicated its essence through Isbibarra¡¯s feet, allowing him to ¡®see¡¯. With his exposed skin, Isbibarra felt all nearby movement with exquisite detail. On the rockier terrain of the hamada, this sensation heightened immensely; he could feel the position of anything larger than a pebble within a hundred meters. But once the hamadas inevitably gave way to the more flowing dunes, the infinitesimal sensations of the sand would overpower him. He would soon be as helpless as any other blind man.

    Of course, Isbibarra knew all this. He had traveled this path before with Mikal, whose perfect eyes were more than enough for the two of them.

    ¡°If only I could have saved that healer,¡± Isbibarra thought.

    Isbibarra wiggled his toes, visualizing the image in his head. The noise was stronger, but he still had his sense of distance and depth. He felt the pulsating hooves of the camel blazing in his periphery. They were between two dunes now, each rising five meters higher than himself and sixty meters apart on each side. The dunes were a gradual slope that paved a clear path for his camel. He counted fourteen small boulders within a hundred meters, and a large boulder possibly two hundred meters away. He sensed no caves, cliffs, or other promontories that could otherwise provide him with shade. But perhaps more importantly, he was alone. For now, that was very good. If he stayed in this heat however, it could be very bad.

    Isbibarra strained as he rose from the ground and brushed the sand off his well-worn tunic. He adjusted his turban, careful not to irritate his unbandaged eye or untrimmed beard. He paced back towards his camel, placing his hand on its side. The camel¡¯s steady heartbeat pounded against the racing thump of the portly man. Isbibarra checked the straps against his many water pouches that slung off the side of the camel, still holding strong.

    He checked his periphery again. "Still fourteen small boulders, but that large boulder... it seems farther now." It had moved five meters since Isbibarra had touched the sand.

    Unless it wasn¡¯t a boulder at all. Untamed beasts weren¡¯t common in the Eivett?. At least unless they were close to death. But a dying beast could still be trouble. It could also attract raiders.

    Isbibarra yipped at his camel. They were reliable creatures, but Isbibarra had only known this one for a few moons. He still needed to build a relationship with it, lest it go berserk and abandon him to the dunes - they were faster than many expected. He grabbed one of his water pouches and held it near the camel¡¯s mouth. He wasn¡¯t exactly sure where to place it, but the camel knew where to find it.

    Isbibarra made his way between the dunes toward the ¡®boulder.¡¯ It was certainly a living mass, trudging its way one step at a time, dragging its large tail behind him. Whatever it was, its outline was as large as an elephant. But elephants never traveled alone this far away from water.

    A hundred meters away, Isbibarra felt the low thump of the beast¡¯s heartbeat. It was certainly an elephant. He grabbed his longbow, locking an arrow as he trudged alongside his camel. The portly man squirmed as the bow bumped against his body. Isbibarra made sure not to give him any leeway.

    Sixty meters away. Fifty. Forty. Isbibarra could make out most of the elephant now. It was slouched, dragging its trunk in the sand. It was moving slowly. What made little sense to Isbibarra was the elephant¡¯s tail. It was massive, heavy, and limp. Nothing anatomically made sense about it.

    Twenty meters away, Isbibarra picked up a faint murmur at the base of the ''tail.'' He was starting to grasp the full picture: it was the elephant¡¯s rider, his feet tied within the reins. Isbibarra¡¯s senses were dulled, but if he was only now picking up the heartbeat, the rider was about to die.

    It was certainly a risk to stay in the open, but Isbibarra needed to check. Supplies were few and far between out here.

    The elephant squeaked at the presence of the camel but continued to trudge forward. As Isbibarra rounded the elephant, he grabbed one of his water pouches. Isbibarra clicked his tongue, allowing a few drops to spill to the ground before holding out the pouch. The elephant stopped in its tracks, reaching out with its trunk. The elephant slurped as much of the water as it could as Isbibarra petted behind its ear. Dehydrated or not, this elephant¡¯s survival instincts were keen.

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    Isbibarra patted the belly of the elephant. A few water pouches strung off its side, but not nearly enough. It saddened Isbibarra to know that this elephant was doomed to die. Even if he could take it with him, the elephant was too big and would attract too much attention. He briefly considered shooting one of his arrows behind its skull, but even that could cost him an arrow or two. The best course would be to leave it where he found it.

    Isbibarra felt his hands over its tough, wrinkly hide. He felt a coin purse with loose change. Saddles filled with scrolls, all of little use to someone who couldn¡¯t see. There wasn¡¯t even any food to acquire. Whoever packed this elephant had done so in a hurry, or they were a fool of substantial nature.

    Isbibarra followed the strap that led off the elephant down behind its hooves. It was wrapped around the rider¡¯s leg. Isbibarra felt the heartbeat drum stronger now, but it was still faint. As Isbibarra patted the rider, he felt a strange sense of recall. The shape of this person felt familiar to him. He recognized foreign-laced sandals and an unusually thick tunic. It all came together once Isbibarra realized why the left arm seemed shorter than the other: the rider was missing his left hand.

    ¡°Appo?¡± Isbibarra asked.

    Isbibarra had followed Appo closely back in Ash. Ever since he arrived in the town, the healer had seemed different than the others. He was no bragadocious trader, or an imbecilic Ashfolk. He had a sense of curiosity. As Isbibarra followed Appo, the more he realized that perhaps this medicine man could be a possible companion. He seemed to understand what had been happening to the city better than anyone else, and Isbibarra needed someone like that. And there was the manner of the healer''s peculiar God, one that perplexed the city guards but intrigued Isbibarra even more... Yet Isbibarra had waited too long. When it was time to leave, Isbibarra found Appo trapped by the Guard Corps, surely doomed to die after having his hand sliced off.

    But here Appo was. Isbibarra would have his eyes. He just needed to save his life.

    The old man forced his knees to lower him to the sand again. He took another water pouch and pressed it over Appo¡¯s cracked lips, much of it spilling out into the desert. He felt the heat expanding off the healer¡¯s face. He was sunburnt and feverish. Isbibarra ran his hands down Appo¡¯s wounded arm, feeling tightly wound bandages soaked in cracked blood. As Isbibarra touched the end of the arm, Appo recoiled violently. He was unconscious but still responded to pain. Isbibarra couldn¡¯t imagine how the healer had survived for so long.

    The elephant bellowed a loud roar. Isbibarra was startled, but as his attention turned away from the fallen healer he again noticed the fourteen boulders that surrounded him. Three had moved closer. Isbibarra could once again palpate faint heartbeats through the pebbles, these far stronger than Appo¡¯s. Whoever these people were, they were far from dying.

    Isbibarra groaned. If Mikal had been with him, they likely would have been dealt with leagues ago. He was far more helpless than he realized.

    ¡°Zsalkt!¡± a deep voice cried out. Isbibarra couldn''t speak the Steppe language, but it was impossible to mistake it. It was a guttural and cacophonic sound to most. He could only hope that these Steppe people were lost traders.

    ¡°Jhallom!¡± Isbibarra called, greeting the Steppefolk with one of the few words he knew. He raised his empty hands; he had placed his bow down when he was looking at Appo, and he had no idea what weapons the Steppefolk possessed. He sensed three figures, one directly in front of him and two others flanking around. One of them approached his camel, no doubt looking at the portly cargo bound at the end.

    The middle figure called out again. Isbibarra couldn¡¯t understand this time, but it sounded inquisitive. Almost playful. He could imagine him saying ¡°What are you doing here? Are you lost?¡±

    ¡°Do you speak Jyv?skish?¡± Isbibarra asked. ¡°Or Merkish? Merckasya?¡± No response. This was going to be difficult.

    The figure near the camel started poking the bound man with a stick. Or perhaps a scimitar? It was impossible to tell. The bound man squirmed as he tried to yell through his gag. They grabbed the gag and tore it off.

    ¡°HELP ME! BLESSED ATI, HELP ME! PLEASE! HE¡¯S TRYING TO KILL ME!¡±

    The steppefolk stepped back, turning awkwardly back to his companions.

    ¡°WHOEVER YOU ARE PLEASE HELP! MY NAME IS DAGRIM GIZZAL AND I HAVE BEEN BEATEN, HARASSED, AND KIDNAPPED BY THIS MERCK SCUM! RETURN ME TO ASH AND I WILL REPAY YOU WITH TITHINGS GREATER THAN YOU COULD EVER DESIRE!¡±

    Gizzal continued to yell, but the steppefolk turned to each other in confusion. Gizzal was still blindfolded, so he was as oblivious as Isbibarra was to the situation, if not more so.

    ¡°Hush, fool,¡± Isbibarra snapped.

    ¡°Where are you, Merck bastard?! Fucking beating me, dragging me out through this hot fucking desert¡­ Just wait until the Corps get you! They¡¯ll¡­ they¡¯ll hang you by your entrails for what you¡¯ve done to me!¡±

    Isbibarra sighed. Did he really have to make this so difficult?

    ¡°Aslavgagt!¡± one of them yelled in excitement. That was a word Isbibarra understood, one that had been passed around many languages, simplified to something much easier on the tongue in Jyv?skish: ¡®Slave.¡¯ Seemed they thought Isbibarra bought Gizzal at a slave market in Ash. In Isbibarra¡¯s opinion, Gizzal was too fat to have been reasonably mistaken as a slave, but perhaps a slave was just anyone captured by another to the people of the Steppe.

    ¡°Slave?!¡± yelled Gizzal, ¡° The fuck you mean I¡¯m a slave? I¡¯m one of the NINE HEADS OF ASH! I¡¯M NOT A SLAVE!¡±

    ¡°Be quiet!¡± Isbibarra hissed.

    ¡°NO! NO NO NO I WILL NOT!¡± The camel groaned as Gizzal swung his body around in protest.

    ¡°AH!¡± the middle figure yelled at Gizzal. It shut him up.

    As the three approached, Isbibarra finally got a sense of what they were wearing. He felt long robes brush against the sand as they paced forward. They each walked with a long spear. They were well equipped for life in the Eivett?. But that was unusual for any random traveling Steppe tribe.

    The middle figure gestured at Gizzal. ¡°Aslavgagt!¡±

    ¡°These aren¡¯t people of the steppe," Isbibarra thought.

    The middle figure turned his hand towards Appo, still unconscious from his desert trek. ¡°Aslavgagt!¡± he commanded again.

    ¡°These are raiders.¡±

    The middle figure now turned his hand towards Isbibarra, placing it on his shoulder. Isbibarra was consumed by his rotten breath. He could feel him smiling.

    ¡°Aslavgagt.¡±

    They were all slaves, now.

 Part II.I.II: Rope and an Iron Bar

    Jere wasn¡¯t sure how much time had passed. The boarded windows of the cells kept him shrouded in darkness. It could have been a moon or a month.

    He was curled in the corner of his cell, his hands tightly pressed against his ears. His eyes adjusted only slightly since his confinement. He could make out the iron bars of his cells, as well as the stone floor beneath him. Beyond that, he could see nothing, except for the occasional shuffling of the screamer outside the doors. He was glad his vision had limits here.

    Hearing was a different matter, however. At first, the screams were incessant, constantly echoing off the walls. The screamers droned on for hours, slamming their bodies against the bars of Jere¡¯s cell. Jere had made a few attempts to communicate with Penzer, but the slightest noise from either of them would rouse the screamers into a frenzy. It wasn¡¯t worth the effort. Jere had not heard from Penzer in some time and had no plans to reach out again.

    While the screaming eventually died down, the creatures were never silent. Their screams atrophied into moans and grunts. Jere could hear the gnashing of the screamer¡¯s nails against their own skin and the relief of bowels and the slamming of heads against walls. Eventually, a few of them began to cry. It was an unnatural sobbing; the sound of eternal torment, as though humanity clawed their way back to the most minute degree only for them to realize what monsters they had become.

    Sometimes when the crying became too much, Jere kicked his foot against the cell door. He preferred the screaming.

    Jere had not been entirely unfortunate, he quickly realized. Before the plague, the cells were mostly used as a drunk tank. Many of its former occupants woke up hungover and needed an ample supply of water to sober up. As such, Jere¡¯s cells contained two pouches of water, holding about half a liter each. It was enough to stay hydrated for now.

    Food on the other hand was a lost cause. Unless Jere planned to eat his fingers, he was out of luck. He wasn¡¯t that desperate. Yet.

    Jere¡¯s next move was to remove his bonds. They were made of an incredibly strong rope, reinforced with reeds and yak hair. Even with all his strength he could not break free, so he was forced to maneuver around the knot with his teeth. It took many hours, and many times his yells of frustration stirred the screamers into commotion, but he eventually loosened the knot. Since then, he had celebrated his newfound freedom by covering his ears, doing his best to drown out the screams and the crying.

    Jere dozed off once. He did not realize it at the time because his efforts were once again rewarded with a nightmare. He imagined Malefica yet again, only this time the witch was sitting in the cell with him. Her back was arched straight, a posture unnaturally proper. She stared directly at him, her two black eyes now eight. She laughed silently, her jaw agape as Jere finally saw her.

    Jere only realized he was dreaming once he awoke to screams yet again. He worried the witch would be in his thoughts for the rest of his life.

    Jere was torn. He knew he was safe from the screamers and the guards and Boah and his brat son. The only thing he had left to lose was his sanity, but that was slipping away fast. His cell window was barred shut and boarded up from the outside. No one was coming with food. He had no hope of escape.

    ¡°I have a rope,¡± Jere thought. ¡°I have an iron bar. Could hang myself and save the trouble.¡±

    Jere had not been a priest in more than a decade, but the thought repulsed him. Pike would be ashamed to know the concept even crossed his mind. Not that it was a sin like many others in Ostior believed. But it was a coward¡¯s way out. He decided to wait until hunger became unbearable. It wasn¡¯t out of the realm of possibility that he could be rescued after all, as slim as it may have been.

    In the darkness, Jere thought back to his years in Port Algid, that frozen walled city where it never stopped raining. Back then he was but a student, spending his days reading books for moons at a time when he was studying for consecration. He recalled how the runes of old languages rearranged themselves on the holy scrolls. How despite his best efforts it would take him twice as long to read a passage as it was for the other students. His days became nothing but reading an indecipherable language about a subject he couldn''t care less about.

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    Then there was that pirate raid. Most hid behind their doors and prayed. Jere couldn''t have joined them fast enough. He highly doubted pirates would come to his rescue this deep in the Eivett?, but it was a pleasant thought for a moment.

    His thoughts then turned to Quartermaster Cahara. He was one of the few people Jere respected in his life. His first mentor, Sanctus Johanna, was a stern woman insensitive to his studious woes. Her only impact on Jere¡¯s life was a few choice insults. But Cahara was different. It was he who took pity on Jere when he first joined the ship and taught him how to swing a sword and how to sail and how to navigate. He demonstrated not with words but with action, and Jere took quickly to the advice. After three years on the warship under Cahara¡¯s tutelage, Jere had become the strongest sailor and the best swordsman.

    The last thing Cahara attempted to teach Jere was how to meditate, but their ship was sunk not too long after that.

    Thinking back to all this was Jere''s comfort spot. The screaming became less overbearing as Jere grew lost in the pearls of Cahara¡¯s wisdom. ¡°Swing your sword not at me, but through me,¡± he had once said when he had been bested six times in sparring matches. Another time he once warned Jere that ¡°An orange a moon halts maroon gum monsoons,¡± a clever riddle that held the secret cure for scurvy. He was also amused by the quartermaster¡¯s insistence that ¡°two crimpers and a long rope can save a ship from any disaster.¡± He should have told them instead not to attack the Lavast: Jyvask''s invincible war fleet. For whatever reason they thought they were good enough to best it. They weren''t.

    As these thoughts cradled Jere¡¯s mind, he caressed the rope in his hand. The same one he had briefly pondered tying into a loop around his neck. He was hit with a sudden realization.

    Jere recalled Cahara telling the story of a mutineer who had hair that fell to his knees. He had been thrown in the brig for attempting to steal a Thalassian flag - a death sentence almost always. The lords of the ship argued over the fate of the man for three moons. After they came to the decision to execute him, it was discovered that he had vanished from his cell. He had taken his hair, wound strands of it together to make a tight, thin rope, and used it to file his way through the bar windows of his cell. The mutineer was never seen again, presumably because they didn''t know what he looked like with a shaved head.

    Jere¡¯s hair was too short to file through the bars of his window. But he held a rope in his hands and it was strong. Far stronger than hair.

    Jere got to his feet, doing his best to ignore the screamers. He felt his cell window. It was about a meter and a half high; Jere would have been able to barely look outside if it hadn¡¯t been covered by the wooden panel. It was a tight fit, but large enough to fit through if he could squeeze by. There were six bars, three vertical and three horizontal, all iron but with a fairly small diameter of two centimeters each. Jere could wrap his hand around them.

    His rope was almost a meter long and made with hundreds of thin threads. Jere slowly began pulling the individual threads apart, taking about ten before beginning his experiment. He figured one alone wouldn¡¯t do, so he started with a rope of three threads twisted around each other. He wrapped it around the bottom half of the middle bar, pulling his hands back and forth. He did this for about thirty seconds before the thread snapped. Unacceptable. At that rate, he wouldn¡¯t have enough threads before he ran out of rope.

    He tried again with five threads. Same result in the same amount of time.

    He pulled apart the rope more, this time trying about twenty. After fruitlessly pulling the rope back and forth for an hour, he gave up. This rope was sturdy, but it wasn¡¯t doing anything to the bars.

    Jere lowered the thread count back to ten, thinking he had jumped up too high. The threads held together, but Jere felt resistance as he tugged against the bars. The screamers, already irritated with his movements, lunged their arms again through the cage doors. Something was scraping against their eardrums. Jere kept pulling back and forth with the string. After about ten minutes, the thread finally snapped, but when Jere checked the bar it had cut through about a tenth of the way. He prepared yet another ten-strand rope, and went back to filing, taking his time.

    After several hours of steady filing, the thread flew back at him. It took all his strength and ingenuity for the day, but he had sawed through the iron bar.

    ¡°One down, eight to go.¡± Jere thought. He allowed himself a few drops from his water pouch. He was immensely hungry and still thirsty, but he still needed to keep his strength.

    Jere wasn¡¯t sure if he could even use the exit, but so far no guards had come for him. The screams drowned out the sound of his sawing. If he could get through the iron bars, the wood panel past them would be easy to push out. Then it would just be a matter of waiting for nightfall, and whether he could run to safety. He had no idea where he could go after that, but he had plenty of time to think about it.

    Jere set his rope aside. He once again pressed his hands over his ears, but he no longer returned to his fetal position. He sat cross-legged under the window where he would work for the foreseeable future. He closed his eyes and began to meditate.

 Part II.I.III: Aslavgagt

    Gizzal vomited as the camel dipped for perhaps the thirtieth time over yet another sand dune. The camel groaned as it realized what became entangled in its fur. The smell hit Gizzal immediately, almost making him retch again. He thought he resisted the temptation, but realized he simply had nothing left to give. Gizzal let out a putrid whine as a nearby raider laughed at his plight.

    The group had traveled for several hours now. Gizzal shared his camel with the healer, who lay limp between the humps in front of him. Isbibarra was not so lucky, as none of the raiders - all of whom had their own camels - provided him space to share. He had shuffled along for leagues at this point. His pace was more spry than Gizzal had expected, but far too slow for the raiders'' liking. They eventually relented and gave him his cane, though that helped only a little. The old man was exhausted now, after having to traverse so many peaks and valleys.

    Despite being covered in his own vomit and tied to the back of a camel, Gizzal couldn¡¯t help but feel somewhat satisfied at the suffering of the old man. He could watch it for an eternity after everything the blind man put him through.

    Gizzal was still in denial. A moon prior, the eve of the holiday was upon Ash. There were feasts to prepare and traders to court. He had been so anxious about the curse that it wasn¡¯t until the witch''s exile that he allowed himself to let his guard down. But that was before Isbibarra cornered him outside of the plaza. As to what happened after, he didn¡¯t remember much. When he awoke, he was bound and gagged behind the back of a camel in the middle of the desert.

    It didn¡¯t need to be said, but Gizzal was regretting ever hiring the one-eyed Merck and his sellsword companion.

    Gizzal¡¯s blindfold had fallen to his nose, so he was at least semi-aware of his surroundings. He had heard stories of Rust Waves west of Ash, but he had never imagined how tall they were, and from only a moon¡¯s ride away! Some were over two hundred meters. He preferred the tall ones because the shorter ones meant he had less time to adjust before the shifting angle made him nauseous again.

    Three raiders guided the group. One of them, the leader, was a bearded man with long flowing black hair. He was covered in rhomboid tattoos. The other two, an older woman and a young girl, likewise bore tattoos of various shapes of stars, triangles, and jagged edges. Aside from the markings, they looked no different than typical Steppefolk, with gaunt angular features and wrinkled faces weathered by years under the sun. They adorned milkwhite hooded robes that blended well with the desert. Each carried Jyv?skian spears, worn, rusted, and likely stolen from a lost patrol garrison.

    Gizzal had heard stories of Raiders. Some traders claimed they stood over seven feet tall and had multiple arms. Others swore they were ape-men who attacked on sight and would eat whoever they found. These people were far from the frightening descriptions. Gizzard found them quiet and much shorter than expected. He thought that they could even be open to reason.

    Occasionally the raiders halted their party and Gizzal would see the blind man. Isbibarra kept pace with the elephant, likely to stay in what little shade she provided. If he slowed too much, the young raider girl would swipe her scimitar near his legs. It had been effective so far, but Gizzal wondered how long the old man would keep up. Would the raiders leave him to die if he fell? Surely they would have killed them both by now if they wanted to.

    ¡°Aslavgagt,¡± they called him. The act of slavery disgusted Gizzal. Human beings had to be fed, cared for, and stimulated. They shit and pissed all over themselves. He never thought they were worth the trouble.

    As the group dipped into yet another valley, Gizzal spotted a massive dune towering almost a hundred meters above the rest. Gizzal could barely make out two more cream-colored robes near the top. They picked up speed as they scaled the steep ridge, Gizzal becoming more and more nauseous as they did so.

    The peak of the dune was long and dug out. At the entrance, the ridge flattened into a small plateau. Upon reaching this, Gizzal was surprised to see a zoo. There were five yak and two camels, all of whom groaned at the sight of the party. The plateau sunk a meter into the ridge itself, forming a natural pen. Gizzal saw barrels of water, cooked yak jerky, an assortment of herbs and greenery that lined the walls, and piles of what could best be described as junk. It was a cramped space, but it appeared the raiders had a multitude of supplies.

    Two more raiders exchanged greetings with the others, placing their palms against each other and tapping their foreheads. They smiled and laughed as they led the beasts to their new pens. They were gentle and careful with the elephant, petting it behind the ear and leading it to a part of the plateau separate from the herd of yak. They were less kind to their prisoners: one raider, an older man of about sixty, grabbed Gizzal and threw him off the camel. Gizzal yipped as he landed on his back.

    ¡°Agh! You could¡¯ve given me a warning!¡± Gizzal grumbled. The old raider grinned, flashing two teeth in his crooked smile. The other raider nearby, a boy no older than eighteen, chuckled at the sight.

    Behind them, the bearded raider climbed over the ridge, holding Isbibarra by the edge of his tunic. The blind man looked ragged. His eyepatch had fallen down his neck, showing his left eye to be nothing more than a gaping hole. His scarf had fallen off as well, revealing chalk-colored curly hair. He attempted to balance himself with his cane, tapping the ground twice before falling over. The bearded raider gave a hearty laugh.

    ¡°Aslavgagt pouto!¡± the bearded raider shouted. ¡°Volskhaava!¡± Isbibarra didn¡¯t respond, instead reaching for his cane as he lay on the ground. The bearded raider kicked the old man, causing him to curl in a fetal position. He shouted again, ¡°Volskhaava!¡±

    Isbibarra coughed. ¡°Apologies¡­¡± With effort, Isbibarra stabilized himself with his cane and rose to his feet. He tapped the ground three times before moving onward. The ridge had been coated with clay, forming a solid ground that rose up to the walls.

    The bearded raider shoved Isbibarra. ¡°Volskhaava!¡± he shouted again. As Isbibarra moved, the older raider elbowed Gizzal, pushing him in the same direction.

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    ¡°¡®Folkshava folkshava¡¯, I got it, asshole.¡± Gizzal followed Isbibarra.

    The party made their way across the plateau, passing a hollowed-out fire pit. The ridge narrowed, forming a crevasse that tightened for the next twenty meters. At the end of the ridge was a tent: a cream-colored tarp that sloped along the edges of the dune, itself blending seamlessly into the sand. It looked to be about five meters wide and twenty meters long. The bearded raider and the older raider led their prisoners through the tent as the other three turned to take care of their newly acquired beasts.

    As he entered the tent, Gizzal was shocked by a sensation he had only felt a handful of times in his life. For once, he wasn¡¯t oppressed by the weight of humidity. The air felt moist and tepid. He looked around and saw why: a singular row of figweed plants, each about half a meter high, lined the inside of the tent. Like most desertfolk, Gizzal normally carried a handful of its dried root, but he had rarely seen a full-grown plant. Dew formed at the ends of the plants¡¯ thick ferns, each emanating a slight breeze of air. Gizzal had never felt more comfortable in his life.

    An ornate indigo rug covered the floor of the tent, though it was too wide and the ends of it rolled up against the tent edges. Crimson tapestries hung awkwardly from the top, each covered in the scratched etches of Steppe language. One tapestry appeared to be a map, showing various routes around dunes nearby.

    At the other end of the tent sat a young boy no older than fourteen. He had two rows of triangles running down his cheekbones under his eyes. His head was shaved, and his eyes stern. He wore baggy drawstring pants and no shirt, showcasing his toned yet lean frame. In his right hand, he gripped a bronze shield far too large for his size. His other hand held a repeating crossbow; an unshapely box containing several bolts released by the trigger. It was an unwieldy but deadly weapon in close proximity. The boy sat on an elaborate saddle that once rode atop a war elephant. Behind him, tusks and bones lined the walls of the tent, arranged in a haphazard manner. It was a throne room, made from the scraps of traveling merchants.

    The young raider frowned as he looked over Gizzal. He turned to the older raider. ¡°Presha, toos volgagt tveskla?¡±

    The older raider laughed. ¡°Aslavgagt oo elpvagan. Zavosk mestvget.¡±

    The younger raider pointed at Gizzal, laughing. ¡°Aslavgagt noon pravoskfla. Praanvost elpvagan!¡±

    On the other side of the tent, the bearded raider scowled. He approached the young boy with a bag, emptying two dozen large gemstone rings. The young boy gasped, nearly dropping his shield as he picked up the stones off the floor. He placed them on his fingers, treating them with the delicacy of toys. As the young boy played with the jewels, the bearded raider crossed the room back to the prisoners. The bearded raider flicked a golden gemstone at Isbibarra, it bouncing off his chest.

    ¡°Much stone,¡± the bearded raider sputtered at Isbibarra. His accent was thick and broken. ¡°Find?¡±

    ¡°You speak to the wrong fool,¡± Gizzal said. ¡°Those belong to me.¡± Gizzal was desperate to make a move. He thought that if at least one of the raiders knew Jyv?skian, he had a chance of escaping. Many times before he had tricked People of the Steppe into parting with their most valuable possessions for little in return. He could certainly do the same with this vandal.

    The bearded raider looked intrigued. He picked up the golden gemstone, a favorite of Gizzal¡¯s, and held it in front of his face. ¡°Gold?¡± The raider¡¯s eyes were transfixed on the massive stone.

    ¡°You recognize quality, friend,¡± replied Gizzal, assuming the role of the sycophantic salesman. ¡°I come from a line of jewelers and treasurers. I am one of the Nine Heads of Ash, you may have heard of us. This is but a sample. If only you allow me to return to Ash, I would return with more to bargain. I can buy back this Merck fool and the elephant you acquired for a fair price if you could provide the service.¡±

    Of course, Gizzal had no plans to buy back anything from the raiders. The moment he passed the city walls the guards would recognize him immediately, and rescue him if need be. He''d be the laughingstock of the others, but then again he already was.

    The bearded raider chuckled, caressing the gemstone as he pondered Gizzal¡¯s words. After a moment of thought, he slapped Gizzal¡¯s cheek. Gizzal shrieked at the slight. The other two raiders laughed uproariously.

    Gizzal held his bruised cheek. ¡°Dirt scum! All of you!¡±

    ¡°I wish I had your nerve,¡± Isbibarra murmured, leaning on his wooden cane. ¡°To promise raiders gemstones you do not have. Good thing that he only understood two words.¡±

    As Gizzal steadied his balance, the bearded raider and the old raider grabbed his arms and held them behind his back. The two ripped off his tunic and undergarments, pushing Gizzal as he struggled feebly.

    ¡°I was out of line, men. Please hear me out! I can do many things when connected with the right people. If only you can listen to reason!¡±

    As the raiders removed Gizzal¡¯s clothing, he began to shiver. The coolness of the tent turned cold, and he held his arms together over his chest. His protests did little to stop his disrobing. Gizzal was terrified. He knew little of raider custom and what their plan was for him. He had never felt so vulnerable in his life. Suddenly he was standing completely naked, his pouchy gut doing little to hide his shriveled cock from plain view. He was rarely without his robes in the day, so his pale and puffy body stood out from his tanned hands and feet. He had been this naked in brothels before, but never had he felt as cold as he did at this moment.

    The young raider boy rose from his chair, dragging his heavy bronze shield across the rug. He raised his other hand holding the repeating bow and placed it on Gizzal¡¯s left thigh. ¡°Aslavgagt?¡± The young boy turned to the other two raiders. ¡°Noon, portta. Uvgost elpvagan!¡± He thrust his head back in laughter as he lowered his repeating bow.

    Gizzal understood little, though it seemed as if the raiders were mocking his weight. If he was too fat to be a slave, he wasn¡¯t going to complain. He dared not think about what that meant for him otherwise.

    The young raider then turned his attention to Isbibarra. The blind man had been silent for most of the encounter, now having regained his breath. Like Gizzal, Isbibarra now stood without a tunic, but it had clung to his belt and fell between his legs. Compared to the Head, he could not have looked more different. He was short and hunched but exceptionally muscular, with his uniformly gray skin adhering tightly to his bulk. His body looked several decades younger than his etched face made him seem. He lightly tapped his cane again as the young raider examined him with his repeating bow.

    ¡°Aslavgagt?¡± The boy paused. ¡°Mmm, das.¡±

    ¡°Strong,¡± The bearded raider agreed. He smiled, showing at least three more teeth than what the older raider outside possessed.

    ¡°Do not fear, Gizzal,¡± Isbibarra whispered. ¡°No raider is interested in ¡®alslavgagt¡¯ with as small a cock as yours.¡±

    Gizzal was overcome with rage. ¡°FUCK YOU MERCK BASTARD!¡± His outburst was unexpected. All of the raiders turned their heads back to the fat man, ready to beat him back into his place.

    They would not have a chance.

 Part II.I.IV: Running Blind

    Isbibarra raised his cane and smashed it into the raider boy¡¯s knee, knocking him to the ground. The cane shattered, leaving the blind man holding a broken handle. The bearded raider was quick to respond, grasping Isbibarra and swinging his spear around. Isbibarra raised the broken cane through the spear. As he did so, the top of the spear went flying in the other direction. Isbibarra¡¯s broken cane continued past the bearded man¡¯s head, cutting straight through the raider¡¯s beard and through his neck, sending his decapitated head backward.

    ¡°Shit!¡± Gizzal spat. Isbibarra was still holding a piece of wood. It was the size of a small club, but Gizzal could see that it was sharp like a dagger. It was clearly thin enough to slice through the raider¡¯s neck with ease.

    The other raiders were slow to respond. As the bearded raider¡¯s headless body fell to the ground, the old raider swung his spear over his head. Isbibarra raised his dagger as a shield, and as the raider¡¯s spear came down it collapsed around the dagger, the spearhead bouncing harmlessly off Isbibarra¡¯s shoulder. The old raider was unprepared for the extra momentum and fell forward. As he did so, Isbibarra plunged the dagger through the side of the raider¡¯s skull, impaling his brain.

    The raider boy staggered to his feet, only now realizing that his companions were dead, their bodies still falling to the floor. Isbibarra flicked his hand, flinging the dagger toward the boy. In shock, the boy lifted his bronze shield to his jaw. The dagger pierced the shield but was stopped by its hilt. The boy eyed the dagger as he attempted to raise his repeating crossbow with his free hand. But the boy stood lopsided.

    Before the boy could gather himself, Isbibarra slammed into the shield. The weight of the shield proved too much for the boy. The shield collapsed against his body, bringing the dagger with it as it pierced his neck. The boy collapsed immediately, his blood pooling on the ornate rug below them.

    In but a moment, Gizzal now stood alone with Isbibarra. Three raiders were dead or dying.

    As the boy lay writhing on the ground, Isbibarra reached for the boy¡¯s repeating crossbow. The asymmetrical bow wobbled slightly in Isbibarra¡¯s hands. Isbibarra moved back to the entrance and shot several bolts, shooting wildly but hitting the older woman raider in the chest twice. She grunted and fell to the ground, dropping her scimitar as she did so. Gizzal hadn¡¯t even heard her coming.

    Isbibarra stood alone surrounded by four bodies now, holding a small wooden dagger in one hand and the repeating bow in the other. With Isbibarra standing still, Gizzal could see how smoothed and incredibly sharp the dagger appeared. It had to have been hidden within Isbibarra''s cane. As Gizzal appreciated the sight, Isbibarra raised the repeating bow toward the upper half of the tarp on his right, releasing several more bolts toward the sky. Gizzal heard a grunt, and the young raider girl fell through the tarp with several bolts through her head and groin. Isbibarra didn¡¯t even turn his head as the sun''s rays coated the once-darkened tent.

    ¡°Was that six?¡± Isbibarra asked. He still held his bow outwards, tense from the fight and coated in blood.

    Gizzal was in shock. He was splattered with blood himself, perhaps even a little of the older raider¡¯s brain. All he could muster was a beleaguered ¡°Huh?¡±

    ¡°No, that was five.¡± Isbibarra moved to Gizzal, grabbing his shoulder. ¡°We must find the sixth.¡±

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    Gizzal, though naked and covered in blood, complied. He followed without thinking. Isbibarra shoved him through the tarp, forcing him through the ridge of the dune. Gizzal saw the healer lying crooked next to the campfire but caught little else. If the last raider was hiding amongst the livestock on the ridge, it would be impossible for him to tell.

    ¡°He¡¯s running,¡± Isbibarra said. ¡°He tripped and rolled down the dunes. I cannot tell where he is in the sand." Gizzal wasn¡¯t sure what the blind man meant, but he wasn¡¯t in a place to argue. He was simply pushed along as Isbibarra led him back to their camel. As Gizzal stood, his eyes looking out over the horizon, Isbibarra reached for his longbow dangling off the back of his camel.

    ¡°I am sure you have many thoughts about all this," Isbibarra said. "Just know this: if the boy escapes, we will be dead before moonfall. I can use a bow on solid ground, but I cannot see past the sand. If you can tell me where he is, I can do the rest. For both of our sakes, will you help me?¡±

    Gizzal nodded blindly. His thoughts were preoccupied with the blistering sun on his pale and exposed skin. But he understood Isbibarra''s concerns.

    Isbibarra shoved him past the livestock to the ridge. Gizzal got a closer look at his longbow. It was of magnificent length, longer than he was tall, and carved with the same darkened wood as Isbibarra''s dagger. Isbibarra pulled back his drawstring, bringing forth an exceptionally large arrow. He was nocked.

    ¡°He is moving too fast now, but he will slow once he has to go uphill. Tell me when that happens. Can you do that?¡±

    Gizzal looked out over the edge of the ridge. The dunes stretched for leagues, he could see where they faded into the flatness of the Eivett? but that was barely in his periphery. Only now did he realize how much this dune towered above the others. He looked down, spotting a lone figure tumbling down the slope. It was the young boy who had laughed as Gizzal was thrown off his camel. He was running blindly into oblivion. Isbibarra aimed his longbow at the boy. His angle was off slightly, but it was steady and strong.

    ¡°Any moment now.¡±

    Gizzal observed the boy as he continued downward. It was a steep slope, perhaps two hundred meters. Very briefly, Gizzal imagined the boy crying as he fell over himself.

    Then Gizzal¡¯s thoughts returned to the boy¡¯s mocking laugh. How happy he was to see him captured. Gizzal was not a slave. His name still meant something. He was smarter and more cunning than any raider. He would never be ¡®aslavgagt.¡¯

    The boy reached the bottom of the valley and tripped over himself as he attempted to scale the adjacent dune. He slipped as sand collapsed around his ankles.

    ¡°Now,¡± Gizzal said.

    Isbibarra¡¯s arrow launched from his longbow. A bird¡¯s cry shrieked as the arrow glided down the dune and landed in the center of the boy¡¯s spine. The boy, who had been only a meter above the valley, collapsed into the sand.

    Isbibarra grunted. ¡°Did I hit?¡±

    ¡°Yeah.¡±

    ¡°Good.¡± Isbibarra relaxed the string of his bow. ¡°In time, move the body up the slopes. I will move the healer into the tent before the sun kills him."

    ¡°Okay¡­¡± normally the Head would argue with someone so blatantly giving him orders, but he was wise enough to suspect that now wasn¡¯t the most appropriate time. ¡°What makes me think you won''t kill me when I go down?¡±

    ¡°If I wanted you dead, Digram Gizzal, you would be dead.¡±

    ¡°Then why not?¡±

    Isbibarra hesitated before placing the dagger in his belt sheath. ¡°As soon as you bring the raider¡¯s body here, I will bind you again. You are welcome to take your chances in the desert, but I doubt you know which way to go. You are almost certain to be captured again. But before you run off you must know this: those raiders had no intention to sell you as a slave. They called you an elephant. Do you know what these raiders do to elephants? Ask yourself where all the bones came from.¡±

    Gizzal realized then that maybe some of the rumors were true after all. He inquired no more.

 Part II.I.V: Screaming in the Dark

    Penzer held his arms as he rocked back and forth against the cell wall. Two screamers had taken turns reaching inside, their blackened and scarred hands clacking against the bars. But Penzer was undeterred. There was nothing they could do that hadn¡¯t been done to him already. He had been scratching himself for hours now.

    When guards first cornered Penzer, he knew he would have some answering to do. He figured at worst he would have to contend with Boah. He doubted Juddken would have stayed quiet on his behalf. An early retirement wasn¡¯t out of the question for someone like him. But then the guards took him in an unexpected direction, not south to Ash Manor, but north. Before Penzer could protest, he was beaten over the head with a club and shoved into one of the cells.

    Penzer shouldn¡¯t have been so careless. He had heard murmurs of some of the Corps overstepping their boundaries. But never did he think they would have come after him so soon.

    The cell Penzer was thrown into wasn¡¯t empty. There were two screamers with tattered linens reminiscent of desertfolk traders. The other guards barely had enough time to escape their lunges themselves. Penzer still had his armor, but it had been dark and he was disoriented from the hit against his head. Still, the guards hadn¡¯t removed his dagger. With much struggling, Penzer managed to put down the screamers. It required at least fifty stabbings in their chests and a few lucky shots near their neck, but they eventually stopped moving. The screamers had left their damage though. Both of Penzer¡¯s forearms were completely covered in scratches, and each had landed a few hits on his face. Penzer was pretty sure one scratched off an eyelid, though it was difficult to tell in the dark.

    Penzer had no time to think about how the guards brought him to the cells. Instead, he kept thinking back to Amaren, how shriveled and deformed his body became strapped to his table. He also thought of Duncic, the guard who didn''t hesitate to kill himself the moment he was scratched. Penzer kept holding his knife, but the screamer scratched his right arm so deeply that it was nearly impossible to grasp it now.

    It was beside the point; he could never imagine killing himself, even in such dire circumstances. He was too prideful for that.

    There were two things that broke Penzer¡¯s solitude in the darkness. The first was the arrival of the hooded man, the one who came in a few hours after Penzer was thrown in. Penzer could only catch glimpses of him in the rays of sunlight that made their way through the wooden panels, but he didn¡¯t recognize the man. He simply went back to one of the cages and unlocked it, but fled after the screamers took advantage. They remained in the lobby for some time after, wandering aimlessly and scratching at the cages.

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    The second event was more confusing. First, the screamers ran out the door, responding to some commotion going on outside, and shortly after Jere had run in. He must have been captured as well, but he was alone. The guards must have been dealing with the escaped screamers outside. Penzer was able to guide Jere to the previously opened cell for protection, using claps and yells to direct him to a possible hiding location. As far as he could tell, Jere was still there, alive and unscratched.

    Of course that was moons ago. Before, Penzer had been much more strategic with his planning. Penzer¡¯s thoughts had long passed from caring about his cellmate. He hadn¡¯t slept, and the pain in his belly was building. He had shat a few times in the corner of his cell, but the smell was rotten. He was glad that he couldn¡¯t see because he was sure some of his gut had come out with his last bowel movement. His breathing was getting faster. His entire body itched and ached now. He had long since removed his armor so he could have access to every part of his skin.

    He had heard voices for a while. Some he recognized, but most he did not. Some told him he was cursed. A few spoke in languages Penzer had never heard of before. Occasionally they would laugh, and their laughs turned to screams. The screams in his head were different than the ones in the cells as he felt them course through his entire body.

    Time became strange. He thought he had been in his cage for a thousand years. Then he found himself repeating the same few seconds over and over forever. He was scared. Strange and unnatural thoughts crawled into his head. For a moment, Penzer became aware of an ancient sound: a low drone that had existed eons before the universe had formed from the loam. It was a noise that preceded even the gods themselves. He could smell the corpses of infants that hadn¡¯t died yet but he knew their names and felt how much their mothers missed them. He could feel the weight of his chest crushing his lungs as though he fell into a cave and was hopelessly stuck. He knew where he was going after he died and he couldn¡¯t tell where it was but it was the abyss.

    In his mind he saw Amaren, only he was but a young child now. He was playing with swords and he was proficient. Or at least he was once, now the boy was strapped to his bed. Amaren was thrashing his arms, breaking his shoulders trying to remove himself from restraints. He had no skin. It had all been scraped off. Penzer looked at his arm and saw that he had no skin left either. He had scratched it away moons ago.

    Penzer began to scream and his thoughts were no more.

 Part II.I.VI: Blood Rot

    The raider camp proved adequate shelter for Isbibarra and Gizzal. Its foundation was stable, the food and water plentiful, and it was well stocked with an assortment of weaponry. The low tenting necessitated the occasional slouch, but it was a fair price to pay for camouflage. In the Eivett?, such a find was an oasis.

    Gizzal stood watch on the first night, not that he had a choice in the matter. He remained ungagged, but Isbibarra kept his hands bound to a yak post near the entrance of the camp. Gizzal relented tugging as he realized the post kept in place animals five times his size. He quickly resigned to the duty Isbibarra gave him, looking out over the horizon of the desert. As beautiful and expansive as it was, it couldn''t sustain his interest longer than a few minutes. He inevitably spent the rest of the day sleeping, only woken when Isbibarra brought him yak jerky and mashed potatoes along with a bowl of water. It was easy to avoid comparing himself to a dog when he was so hungry.

    Isbibarra himself spent much of his time preoccupied with logistics. He found a multitude of weapons in the tent: twelve spears, four repeating bows with eighty-six bolts, four axes, three daggers, and a recently damaged shield. All were inferior armaments to what he already had. He collected them all within the tent, which allowed him to spend more time in the misty dew of the figweed plants. It wasn¡¯t his first time inside a raider encampment, and it wasn¡¯t even the biggest or most impressively hidden. It may have been the most creative, however. A massive watchtower hidden in plain sight, and within a moon¡¯s march of Ash. Isbibarra was sure that its prior occupants could see for leagues. It would¡¯ve been perfect for spotting foolish travelers.

    Isbibarra knew little about raider culture. The arrangement of elephant tusks and the many bony altars suggested that the raiders had worshiped some minor godlin, but who it was and what it requested was of little significance. It had done little to protect his worshipers when they needed it.

    Isbibarra woke early the next morning to slaughter one of the yaks. He set aside three-fourths of the meat in the sun, salted and seasoned them with leftover spices from the camp, and laid them near the entrance. He took the remainder - mostly ribs - and began cooking them at the campfire. Although much of the meat was unsuitable for travel, it tasted far better than jerky. With luck, he could even make a dish that could even rival Tiger Stew from his homeland. Isbibarra had always enjoyed cooking when the rare opportunity arose.

    This wasn''t his only reason for staying near the campfire, though. He needed to watch the healer. He was getting worse.

    Since Isbibarra found him, the healer had been lapsing in and out of consciousness. He occasionally muttered nonsense, reacting only when his wounded arm was moved. Isbibarra tried communicating with the healer on occasion but it was useless. Isbibarra eventually dragged him inside the tent, thinking the coolness of the figweed dew would help with his fever, but the moment he did the healer was overcome with shivering. After some consideration he decided it best to keep him near the fire, keeping his head cool with a soaked rag. He also ground up a few figweed leaves into paste and mixed it into a tea, forcing it down the healer¡¯s throat. The shivering stopped but did little else.

    By the time the sun fell beneath the horizon, Isbibarra decided to take a closer look at the Appo''s hand. He knew the hand was bandaged in a haste, as Appo had to escape Ash with the entire Corps chasing him. The bandage was tight but covered in sand and grime. When Isbibarra removed it, Appo squirmed. Unconscious or not, he was putting up a fight.

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    Appo¡¯s mangled hand was rotting. It had been sliced through the palm, all of his fingers removed along with most of the thumb. The wound was charred around the edges, with thick pus oozing from the center. Isbibarra recognized this condition by stench alone. It was the smell of death.

    He would have to remove more of the healer¡¯s arm before the infection spread to the rest of his body. If it hadn¡¯t already.

    The amputation itself would be straightforward. Isbibarra''s dagger could cut through iron with ease, so slicing through flesh would be more bearable than if he had been using one of the raiders¡¯ rusty axes. There was only the matter of keeping the infection at bay. The healer tried cauterizing the wound, but that had failed. Isbibarra needed something stronger.

    Fortunately, Isbibarra carried a few potions on his person. He had two things; the first was a violet-colored grass called Drawstring. Like the figweed, he mixed it into water and poured it down the healer¡¯s throat. The healer gagged as he swallowed but kept it down. Its true effects wouldn¡¯t come into effect for a long while, but in time the healer¡¯s body would become limp and less responsive to pain. The other potion was a viscous silver-colored liquid, which Isbibarra kept stored in a small cylindrical flask. Isbibarra prepared another bowl of water and carefully poured a single drop in, its silver essence dissipating into a gray sludge. This particular potion had many names, for most of Isbibarra¡¯s people carried it with them. In small doses, it could prevent most infections, but if not properly measured it could become an effective poison. Most in Ostior called it Merkuri.

    Isbibarra laid Appo on his side, tying his right arm and legs to a nearby weapons rack. He held the healer¡¯s left arm down on the ground, rolling the tunic up to his shoulder. Isbibarra tapped Appo¡¯s rotten limb, feeling when the heat died down. His entire body was hot but became stable around the middle of his forearm. Isbibarra felt this heat and moved his left thumb up the arm an inch past it and held it there. He waited a few moments to let the Drawstring take effect, but Isbibarra grew restless. Every passing moment meant the healer was closer to death, and the closer Isbibarra was to having to rely on the Head for eyesight. That would mean all of their deaths.

    ¡°You¡¯ll thank me later, Appo.¡±

    With his right hand, Isbibarra brought the wooden dagger through Appo¡¯s forearm. It cut through muscle and bone with equal effort. Appo screamed, his entire body contorting against his restraints. Isbibarra stopped before slicing through the entire arm, stopping at the skin on the other side. He turned the knife outwards, slashing it to the ground. Appo¡¯s infected forearm slid away, leaving him with a massive bleeding wound. Appo tried to pull his stubbed arm away, but Isbibarra held a tight grip. He grabbed the flap of his skin and pressed it against the open wound. It was slightly smaller than he wanted, but most of the wound would be covered.

    Isbibarra pulled the Merkeri water bowl closer to him, dipping the other half of his broken cane into the bowl. He held it there for a few seconds, holding back Appo¡¯s thrashing with his body as he did so. He then brought the stick to the wound now covered by the skin flap. He rolled it over a few times. Isbibarra became concerned for a moment that he did not prepare enough of the sliver elixir, but soon Appo¡¯s skin sizzled. Appo¡¯s thrashing stopped, and his arm began shaking. Isbibarra rolled this over his wound for the next several minutes. Appo¡¯s unconscious yells settled into whimpers.

    When Isbibarra removed the roller, Appo¡¯s freshly cut arm was tinged gray, but the bleeding had ceased. Isbibarra covered the wound with rudimentary bandages before finally releasing Appo¡¯s arm. By the time he was done, the healer had begun to loll into a deep sleep. It was likely the pain was finally becoming too much for him, but Isbibarra was also irritated by the possibility that the Drawstring was only now beginning to take effect.

 Part II.I.VII: Colors of the Drawstring

    Isbibarra left the healer at the weapons rack. He made his way through the ridge to the pen, finding Gizzal leaning against the yak post. He was clearly awake, for Appo¡¯s screams had been going on for some time.

    Isbibarra climbed up on the ridge, throwing his legs over the side. He pulled out a small wooden pipe from his robe pocket and placed a few blades of Drawstring into it. He struck the pipe twice with a piece of flint, taking it a couple times before lighting. As the Drawstring burned a deep flame the color of amethyst, Isbibarra inhaled long and hard. He released a small violet cloud before returning to the pipe again.

    ¡°Even in the plains of death, a Merck finds time to get high,¡± Gizzal spat. ¡°Can¡¯t say I¡¯m surprised.¡±

    Isbibarra ignored him. He spent the next several minutes sitting cross-legged over the ridge, his mind becoming more relaxed. He felt the tension in his muscles vanish. Isbibarra¡¯s senses dulled from a raging fire to a low sizzle, and he allowed himself to bury one of his hands in the sand. Circles began to dance in his mind. Isbibarra had never seen color before, but when he smoked Drawstring he could perceive something bright that wasn¡¯t just light.

    As the circles became spinning ovals, he climbed down the ridge towards Gizzal. He held the pipe out to him.

    Gizzal eyed the blind man with suspicion. ¡°What is it?¡±

    ¡°Drawstring. Comes from bamboo flower that blooms in the winters of my homeland.¡± Isbibarra gestured with his hand. ¡°Take it or don¡¯t, I won¡¯t offer it again.¡±

    ¡°Surely you think I won¡¯t debase myself by sucking your dirty plants.¡±

    Isbibarra chuckled. ¡°If I had the brown ash I¡¯d share. But it only works when your balls aren¡¯t shriveled.¡±

    Gizzal frowned. ¡°Must you kick a man while he¡¯s down?¡±

    ¡°Only if a man would stop calling me ¡®merck.¡¯¡±

    ¡°Hmph.¡± Gizzal sat in silence for a moment. ¡°Do me the favor?¡± He raised his bound hands for emphasis.

    Isbibarra crouched next to Gizzal, lighting the pipe again before holding it to his mouth. ¡°Make sure you only inhale once and gently... assuming it is your first time.¡±

    ¡°I was a boy once. I¡¯m sure I¡¯ve tried finer herbs than this.¡± Gizzal inhaled deep and long, doing so for half of the time Isbibarra had. He immediately began coughing loudly, slumping over on his side.

    ¡°Fucking despair, maybe you are trying to kill me.¡±

    Isbibarra couldn¡¯t help but laugh. ¡°Would be an odd time to do it.¡± Gizzal continued hacking for some time before it faded into grunts. Isbibarra held the pipe at his side, its purple flame sizzling from usage.

    ¡°You could have killed them at any time,¡± Gizzal whimpered, catching his breath. ¡°The raiders.¡±

    ¡°Perhaps,¡± said Isbibarra. ¡°Yet I was at a disadvantage. I was not sure how many there were, and I did not know what weapons they carried. Even so, we would still be in the desert. They could have killed our animals, or made off with our supplies. And need I remind you how hot it was? I was tired.¡±

    ¡°Bullshit,¡± replied Gizzal. ¡°You have others fooled by your pale eye, but I saw what you did. You cut down six raiders with a piece of wood. You can shoot a target from a hundred meters. You¡¯re no blind fool.¡±

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    ¡°Heh. I am no fool, Head, but I am blind, despite your skepticism.¡± Isbibarra curled his toes, scraping the clay beneath them. ¡°Have you ever stood in a puddle? Felt the water caress around your feet, bouncing away before the ripples return to your ankles? That is how I see, but the puddle is solid ground. For as long as I can remember.¡±

    Gizzal laughed. ¡°You assume Ashfolk have puddles to stand in. There are some luxuries even a gemstone merchant can¡¯t afford.¡± He had stopped coughing, but his volume was taken away. He leaned against the yak post. ¡°I¡¯ve been told men from Merkamensa inherit strange abilities. Take your Soturi, for example: strong warriors, without question, but they speak to gods without priests. I hear they walk through woods conversing with voices that aren¡¯t there, just¡­ talking to themselves. Do they tell you exactly where to place your knife?¡±

    ¡°Many Soturi do. I do not.¡±

    ¡°Ha. Utter nonsense, that is. Only the dead and insane do that.¡±

    Isbibarra brought his pipe back to his lips. ¡°Or the inebriated.¡± Gizzal chuckled. Isbibarra offered his pipe again, which Gizzal accepted without question. Once again he coughed, though these subsided faster than his first.

    ¡°It¡¯s not a piece of wood if you must know,¡± Isbibarra spoke. He held his dagger, caressing the side of the blade. ¡°This is sharper than the strongest of metal. Only a sword of diamond could best it in strength.¡±

    ¡°Ah, must be a Bonsai Dagger. Smithed from plants, are they not?¡±

    ¡°Not like you think, but yes. Cultivation of the Bonsai is difficult, and many spend their entire lives caring for the trees, trimming the petrified wood until it becomes stronger than steel. It takes generations to make a blade as sharp as mine.¡± Isbibarra held out his blade. Gizzal had never taken a good look at it before, but up close he could see how thin its edge truly was. It vanished into nothing. ¡°This blade was grown for eight hundred and eighty-nine years, centuries older than the Republic of Jyv?sk. My people have fought entire wars over the possession of weapons like these.¡±

    Gizzal nodded. ¡°I saw a dead tree once, many years ago. Before it was cut into pieces. Nasty, twisted thing. Tentacles spilling out both ends. Can¡¯t imagine herds of the things.¡±

    Isbibarra chuckled. ¡°You speak of ¡®roots¡¯ and ¡®branches,¡¯ and they do not move! They exist in forests, not herds. I grew up in forests. When the gust blows through, their branches sway and their leaves bristle and fly through the air. And the smell¡­ it is truly serene.¡±

    Gizzal tried his best to imagine it, but he found his thoughts difficult to track. They wandered from place to place. ¡°Are¡­ the dunes moving?¡± he asked.

    ¡°Moving?¡±

    ¡°The dunes, they are¡­ shifting. Like¡­ river waves of molten bronze. Am I dreaming?¡± Gizzal¡¯s eyes were glazed over.

    Isbibarra laughed. ¡°You should have listened when I said only smoke once.¡±

    ¡°What does the Drawstring conjure for you? What does a blind man see?¡±

    ¡°My countenance is stronger than yours. I¡¯m not seeing much of anything, except for a few shapes. I¡¯m seeing something bright. A color maybe, though¡­ I¡¯m not sure what I would call it.¡±

    ¡°Well that depends,¡± mumbled Gizzal, his breathing slowed. ¡°How does the color make you feel? Happy? Sad? Aroused?¡±

    ¡°Haha¡­ I guess you could say¡­ tranquil. At peace, though with melancholy.¡±

    ¡°Ahh. Must be blue, then.¡± Gizzal leaned back. He took a deep breath. ¡°I don¡¯t know why I say this. Perhaps it is the grass. I am tied to a post and my mind is lost to me, but I still wish to tell you that I am¡­ sorry. I know what happened to your friend. I know you were close.¡±

    Isbibarra sighed. ¡°We were.¡± The circles in his vision became jagged, and a stronger, more intense color. It reminded him of the sun, now. ¡°You didn¡¯t kill him.¡±

    ¡°Do you plan to kill me?¡±

    ¡°No.¡±

    ¡°Then why am I here? You don¡¯t want my gemstones, and you don¡¯t want me for ransom. Why must you take me from my home?¡±

    Isbibarra sat in silence. ¡°If only you knew what will become of Ash, Digram. You would be thanking me.¡±

    Gizzal continued asking questions, but his voice became slowed and slurred. He leaned back against the post, his eyes drooping. Before too long, he was asleep. Isbibarra sat for not much longer. He walked back to the campfire, extinguishing it with sand. The healer¡¯s heartbeat had slowed, but not dangerously so. The heat emanating from him had cooled. Isbibarra covered the healer with a yak blanket, satisfied that his efforts meant the healer would need to not pass overnight. Isbibarra then returned to the tent for his night¡¯s rest.

 Part II.I.VIII: Hunger

    Jere had never experienced hunger to this extent. His belly gnawed at him, begging for anything. He had always been a voracious eater and was being punished for it now. At times the pain became so intense he had to massage his belly or punch the wall. At first, he tried to distract himself by chewing the leather of one of the water pouches. He did this for at least a moon, before taking the leap to eating the leather itself once he finished the remaining water. He had had worse-tasting yak jerky before, though that was hardly a compliment.

    After a day of particularly bad shitting, Jere decided to stick with chewing the pouch into a tough paste. It passed the time, but his hunger was omnipresent.

    Despite these distractions, Jere pursued his objectives. It was hard to tell when day or night began, but it didn¡¯t matter. Jere spent his time filing away at the iron bars. After some trial and error, Jere perfected his maneuvers to file the most iron without breaking his rope strands. Taking the time to rub sand into the rope on occasion helped build friction between it and the bars. Eventually, the rope would smooth and become useless, but it took far longer to do that than break the strands altogether. The monotony of the task was a burden, and the strain the filing took on his hands made him stop multiple times.

    Other than his filings, Jere was left only with meditation. Hunger and the screams made this impossible at first. He found himself punching walls more than ever, frustrated by his lack of progress in all manners. His thoughts became entranced by memories of pork sausage and cured ham and flatbread and camel fat and lime-berries.

    In a brief moment of lucidity, Jere ripped off the lower portion of his tunic and wrapped it around his head. It didn¡¯t completely drown out the screams and the crying, but it was better than pressing his hands against his ears. At the rare times he became hyper-focused on his activity, Jere rarely forgot he was even sharing the cells with monsters.

    With the dulled noises, Jere found himself meditating for longer and longer periods. Jere¡¯s mind wandered for minutes, and those minutes became hours. He would focus on the rhythm of his breathing and the feeling of his blood pulsating between his fingers.

    Jere tried to imagine places that could relax him. He recalled the white forests of the south that stretched beyond Port Algrid until they faded away into the Frey, that great frozen tundra that marked the southern border of Ostior. He imagined long days in the crows'' nest, tasting the salty air of the Kolm Sea. When he was particularly desperate, he even imagined the blaze of the sun on his skin when he leaned against the outer walls of Ash.

    Sometimes it helped pass the time. Sometimes the thoughts stuck with him until he slept, only to be awoken by another frightening image of Malefica. But more often than not the pangs of hunger interrupted his thoughts.

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    He craved the outside. If he ever escaped, he made a vow to never again have a roof over his head.

    As the moons rolled on, Jere was often overcome with weakness. The task of filing his iron bars became more and more difficult. The very act of standing was tiresome. He made attempts to keep up his strength with his usual calisthenic routine of push-ups and wall sits, but it made his growing thirst unbearable. He eventually accepted that he had limited energy and he couldn¡¯t afford to waste any of it.

    Progress on the window stalled. The filings became sloppy. The prepared ropes were breaking more often than before.

    Suddenly Jere found himself with only ten strands left. He had barely filed through half of the six bars.

    Thoughts started to creep in again. "What''s the point? Why keep going?"

    Jere had no family. Everyone he ever loved abandoned him long before. The few Ashfolk he liked or tolerated were likely dead. He had nothing to live for. Where could he even go? He was a slave. He had no home, and he knew nothing of the Eivett? outside of Ash. Surely there would be something driving him more than the simple desire to live.

    Perhaps this was how the gods offered mercy. By allowing Jere to die here.

    "Penzer?" Jere yelled. There was no response, at least one that he could hear through the agitated screamers. Jere kept hoping for anything, even a clap would have sufficed. Just something to remind him that he wasn''t alone.

    But he was.

    As Jere sat in the corner of his cell, he recalled the face of Boah. How haughty and self-assured he appeared. He was the reason Jere was in the cells. Boah was the one who condemned him. Boah was the reason why he couldn''t leave. He was the source of all his misfortune, Jere had tried to make the most of his position, but Boah crushed him at every turn. He had made Jere into his plaything.

    ¡°''Perhaps you should keep your hands to yourself then, slave.''¡± Those were Boah¡¯s final words to him.

    If Jere ever got out of here, he would kill Boah. Make him suffer. Jere would crawl his way to Ash Manor if he had to and gouge out his eyes. If he caught Boah in the crowd making another long-winded speech, Jere would fight his way through and open his belly with a spear and twirl his intestines. He would hang him from the ancient temple with his jeweled necklaces for the entire town to see as he suffocated under his own weight in gold.

    Suddenly, Jere wasn''t so tired. He moved back to bars and began filing again.

    This is how Jere would meditate from then on. After he finished sawing away iron, he would envision revenge. Jere thought of little else. If his hands ached, he would think of Boah. Soon his hands became calloused. When he felt weak and without energy, he would think of Boah. He then pushed through even the deepest of pains. When he struggled to sleep through the muffled screams, he lulled himself into a daze by the imagined sufferings of the Big Man for the Little People. Sleep no longer concerned him. It was a thought that carried him through the screaming and the pain and the hunger.

 Part II.I.IX: Rude Awakening

    Appo woke in an unfamiliar place. He was wrapped in a thick blanket with his arms crossed over his chest. He was groggy, his thoughts lost in a thick fog that encompassed his entire being. He knew not where he was or how he got there. He knew nothing except that he was weak and tired.

    ¡°Ash. I¡¯m in a city called Ash. Four leagues north of the Thorne. I rode an elephant.¡±

    Wherever Appo was, it was outside. It was nighttime, indicated by the iridescent moon overhead. He lay next to a fire pit, its embers long burnt out. He was surrounded on all sides by a rock face as though he were in a trench. Despite his lapse in memory, something about the scenery clashed with what he imagined Ash looked like.

    Appo attempted to rise but found his strength lacking. He placed his hands down at his sides and was surprised when he fell over on his left. As his blanket rolled off his shoulders he realized why he was off balance. His left arm ended midway down his forearm.

    It was starting to come back to him now. ¡°Screams echoing in the darkness¡­ Juddken and his scimitar¡­ That bastard cut off my hand. I¡¯ll never do surgery again.¡±

    ¡°You would have died if I didn¡¯t remove it.¡± Appo gazed past the ashen fire pit. It took a moment, but he eventually recognized the figure¡¯s hazy blue eye and weathered skin. Appo couldn¡¯t recall his name just yet, but he knew he had met him before.

    ¡°The hand was¡­ lost,¡± replied Appo. Speaking was a struggle, for he hadn¡¯t used his tongue in some time. ¡°Did it fester?¡±

    ¡°Worse.¡± The old man spoke in a low whisper, matching Appo¡¯s volume. ¡°Blood rot. You should be dead.¡±

    Appo nodded. He had treated victims of blood rot in the wards of some towns he visited. Almost none survived by the time the delirium set in. He wondered what the blind man had done to save him.

    ¡°I would thank you¡­ if only I could remember your name.¡±

    The old man smiled. ¡°Isbibarra. We spoke infrequently.¡± That name brought back more memories. Isbibarra saved him from the pillories. Maybe it wasn¡¯t his imagination: Isbibarra was the one who shot Juddken with an arrow. Appo also recalled that Isbibarra left him in the pillories, but that was far from his mind. Even further than that was how he related to the plague.

    Instead, Appo asked a more pertinent question. ¡°Where are we?¡±

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    ¡°Somewhere in the Rust Waves. About eight leagues west of Ash. I found you and your elephant outside of Ash. You were close to death. I have nursed you back to health since then.¡±

    Appo had never heard of the Rust Waves, though he knew of nothing west of Ash other than the Fincurs. ¡°For how long?¡±

    ¡°A little more than a fortnight.¡±

    ¡°A fortnight.¡± Fourteen moons. Nothing but a blur to him. No wonder he was so weak. Appo adjusted his position but the revelation made him woozy. He leaned back onto his blanket.

    Isbibarra approached. ¡°Careful, Appo. Try not to make sudden movements. This is not the first time you have awoken.¡±

    Appo held his balance, but it was taking all of his strength. ¡°What do you mean?¡±

    ¡°Blood rot takes time to recover from. This is the third time you have spoken with me in the last few moons before you would fall back asleep. Fortunately, you may stay with us if you take it slow.¡±

    ¡°But¡­¡± Appo struggled to piece together his situation. ¡°What of Ash?¡±

    ¡°Do not worry of such things now. You must regain your strength.¡± Isbibarra held out a bowl. ¡°Yak soup. Drink slowly, you are still recovering.¡±

    Appo didn¡¯t hesitate. He was ravenous. The soup was meaty and lukewarm, but despite Isbibarra¡¯s suggestion, he downed the entire soup in a single slurp. Isbibarra must''ve been keeping him hydrated in the meantime. Maybe fed him some camel fat while he was asleep.

    Before Appo could ask for a second helping, a heavyset man made his way to the firepit. He appeared to be in a rush. With his mind working a little faster with some nourishment, Appo quickly recognized Gizzal. His appearance here was strange. ¡°Why was he here? Did Isbibarra work for him?¡±

    ¡°Ati¡¯s dirt¡­ you¡¯re awake!¡± Despite his excitement, Gizzal spoke even quieter than the other two. ¡°Will he stay with us?¡±

    Isbibarra shrugged. ¡°What is going on?¡±

    ¡°I count twenty outside. They¡¯re moving past, but they¡¯re close.¡±

    Isbibarra nodded. As Gizzal turned away, Isbibarra helped Appo to his feet. ¡°Come. You need to see.¡± His legs were uncoordinated and unbalanced, but Appo held his own. He put his good arm over Isbibarra¡¯s shoulder, who propped him up with his free hand. Appo was surprised the old man could carry him.

    Appo made sense of his surroundings, leaving the fire pit to a more open clearing. Appo spotted his elephant, comfortably nestled between several yak and camels. Despite their calmness, there was a sense of urgency in both Isbibarra and Gizzal that unnerved Appo. If they were in the Eivett? it could mean that raiders would be a threat.

    Isbibarra assisted Appo to the edge of the camp and sat him down. As Appo looked out, he realized how high they were. He could hardly see, but the desert was barely outlined from the darkness of the horizon. As Appo adjusted to the dark, Isbibarra placed his hands on the ground.

    ¡°I do not sense anything. Are you sure they are out there?¡± asked Isbibarra.

    ¡°Yes. They¡¯ve been coming through for the past hour. Another dozen at least. They haven¡¯t stopped.¡±

    ¡°Good. Let them pass. If they approach, I will know.¡±

    The three of them sat on the edge. As Gizzal and Isbibarra conversed in short quiet bursts, Appo made out the distant silhouettes of figures in the distance. They were spread out over the desert, lurching between dunes. Their arms were slumped and the gaits crooked. Appo couldn¡¯t see what they were wearing or what their faces looked like, but the noise they made was unmistakable. Their faint screams echoed as they lumbered through the desert.

 Part II.II.I: Fifteen Moons

    Fifteen Moons since the Day of Akkavan

    ?

    Jere ran his hands over the meshing of iron bars that blocked his escape. Each bar had a deep cut that ran near the base. Most were filed through, but two bars near the top still remained attached to the meshing. At first, this was concerning, as Jere had used up the last of his strands earlier trying to file through the last two. However, even with his diminished strength, he found that he could pull back the bars with relative ease.

    He had done enough. His plan had worked.

    Still, there was the matter of timing. He had no idea what lay ahead of him. No guards ever came in to check on him, not even to throw in more prisoners. The Day of Akkavan was over by now. Would Boah be paranoid enough to keep guards posted outside the cells even after all this time?

    "How long have I been in here?" Jere pondered. He had long stopped keeping track of the time.

    Regardless, Jere would wait until nightfall. He had his means of escape, but he had no advantage to leave now. He would soon be free. He could tolerate the pain in his stomach just a little longer.

    Jere knew he had lost some strength. He noticed the gradual changes his food deprivation had cost him. He could grip around his forearms now. His tunic slid off his shoulders. He was sleep deprived. He was far from fighting condition. His best course of action would be to have as much darkness as possible.

    All this meditation had told Jere one thing with certainty: he fucking hated waiting.

    Jere had little to prepare. He had finished the last of his water earlier that morning as a celebration, which meant he could finally chew on some more leather. His tongue begged for nourishment and Jere was unable to satisfy. He would need something to eat. Going to the Corps wasn¡¯t an option, and even if he escaped north or south he would be dead by exposure the moment the sun rose. He could hide in West Shell, but there was no guarantee of food.

    As much as he hated to admit it, Jere¡¯s only option was to find Eevi. She would help him. If what the healer said was true, and Eevi was willing to risk her life for some blind stranger, then she would be ecstatic to help a loyal customer. Her tavern was on the other side of Ash, and as far as he was concerned the entire city was hostile territory.

    But it was his only option. Eevi would be feeding Jere her largest yak steak by the end of the night. That, or he would die trying.

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    It was impossible to know what awaited him. Jere wanted revenge, but the wise thing to do would be to leave. The healer hadn¡¯t listened when he suggested it before. If he had, then Jere wouldn¡¯t have been dragged into all this.

    Over the many moons of solitude, Jere drifted between missing the healer intensely to hating his entire being. It was the healer who convinced him to sneak into the sacred temple, after all. It was the healer who desecrated the corpse of Mendalla¡¯s daughter-in-law. It was the healer who defied Boah¡¯s desires from the onset. Before he arrived, Jere was in good graces. He could get an ale if he wanted. He could go wherever he desired as long as he was in the city. He had influence, what little could be obtained.

    Eventually though, through the hunger and the delirium, Jere would come back to the same conclusion: the healer was right, and Boah was a cunt.

    Before he left though, Jere had to check on Penzer one last time.

    Jere clapped into the darkness. The screamers were riled up once more and began their usual routine of thrashing at the cell walls that would continue for another hour or so. Penzer hadn''t responded since that first night. It wasn¡¯t surprising; Penzer also had no food, and who knows how much water he happened to have in his cell. But Jere was stronger than most, whereas Penzer was an old man. The fact that Jere was still alive amazed even himself; it would be impossible for Penzer to have made it this far. Jere reluctantly concluded that he must¡¯ve died some time ago.

    "Wishful thinking," Jere grumbled in his mind. The last thing Jere wanted to do was return to this godsforsaken place. Penzer was the reason he was alive, but no one said Jere had to return the favor. Penzer would understand, of all people.

    Perhaps it was for the best, after all. Dying of starvation was awful, but it was certainly better than becoming one of them.

    Jere rose from his sitting position and looked past the iron bars of his window. The light that shone through the wooden panel edges faded some time ago. He had his cover of darkness. He could barely contain his eagerness. Strength would come, if by will alone.

    Jere squatted under the iron meshing, grabbed the loose bars and strained upward. It took more strength than he expected, but the bars gave like before. Bit by bit, the iron meshing bent towards the ceiling. He paused momentarily to catch his breath, feeling his current progress. He repeated this motion a few times, pushing the iron meshing farther and farther. The iron was strong but malleable, at least to him. Finally, the pressure was too much and the iron meshing snapped near the top. Jere dropped the tangled metal to the ground with a clank. The screamers began another round of shrieking, still not quite rested from their earlier yellings.

    The action had made quite a bit of noise that certainly would have been heard from outside. But Jere wasn¡¯t concerned. There were no guards outside, he was sure of it.

    Jere lifted his hands past the wall against the wooden panel. It was nailed into the mudbrick, but far less secure than the bars, especially from this angle. As expected, with enough pressure it began to push out. He was careful to push from the bottom and not the top. If he did it right, he would be able to slide out through the bottom without making too obvious of a scene.

    Jere had no desire to spend another second in the cells. The moment the bottom of the wooden panel became loose, he climbed up the wall. With a cumbersome step up the side, Jere slid under the panel and towards freedom.

 Part II.II.II: The Current State of Things

    The first thing Jere noticed was the smell. A fruity undercurrent mixed with the usually spice-laden air in Ash. He wasn¡¯t sure what he was smelling. But compared to the cells it was the sweetest air it could be.

    His eyes still needed to adjust. Gradually, the cliff faces and the mudbrick buildings took their shape amongst the city outline. The blackness of the sky morphed into a shade of burgundy and sapphire without the hint of amber that Jere was usually accustomed to.

    Jere crouched underneath his window, both from a desire to remain hidden and from weakness. He only rose to his feet once his faculties adjusted, pulling off the makeshift headband covering his ears. Save for the screaming and moaning coming from within the cells, it was completely quiet.

    There were no guards. No parameter patrol. No archers along the cliff face. Nothing.

    For a moment, Jere gathered himself. He placed his hands in the sand, feeling its coarseness move along his skin. The usually unpleasant feeling felt magnificent after so many moons feeling nothing but stone and iron and twine. He rubbed it along his face, realizing with shock that his usual stubble had grown into a beard that obscured his jawline. He¡¯d been in the cells longer than he thought.

    His stomach growled at him with a rumble that shook his entire body. He needed to move. He was far from safe now.

    Jere moved across the edge of the cells, turning his head around a corner. He could see little, but he was alone. He could spot the temple, and could barely see the outline of Ash Manor from the lights that emanated from it. The town was otherwise shrouded in darkness.

    Jere ran to the buildings, mustering as much speed as he could. He ran toward a small home, long boarded up and abandoned by its former occupants. The cells were barely past West Shell, and most of the homes would be abandoned at this time of night. Once again, he looked around the corners. Not a single living soul. He listened intently for the thrashing sounds of Corps armor, but was greeted only with a rustling of sand from a gentle breeze. He was hoping for any smell of cooked food, but only caught more of the fruity-spicy stench. The longer he stayed outside, the less appetizing the smell became.

    Eevi¡¯s tavern was straight past the temple on the eastern edge of town. Temple guards were always posted there, but Jere could think of a few alleyways that he could sneak through the went around it. He and Appo had hid in them and found their tumbril not too long ago. If he was lucky, perhaps Jere could find a few fruits vendors had left out overnight. It was how the street children survived, he supposed he could stoop to their level just this once.

    But something wasn¡¯t right. It was too quiet. The holiday had passed, but he had yet to see another person. Certainly, he would have seen some beggars by this point, sleeping in the streets. Jere reluctantly continued forward.

    As Jere turned down another alleyway, he spotted the source of the smell: numerous vending stations crowded the sides, all abandoned. Melons and cabbage and meat and eggs, all rotten. One of the stations was knocked over on its side, its many fruits decomposing on the ground around it. Jere briefly searched for anything edible but the sand and exposure in the sun had reduced them all to rot. He gagged at the suddenly overwhelming stench.

    Jere saw more of the same as he walked. More abandoned vending stations. More rotten fruit. A concerning absence of Ashfolk. There was such an unusual surplus of food that the only explanation was that they had been here since the Day of Akkavan, however long ago that had been.

    Jere was getting closer to the temple now. He heard murmurs and groans. Whatever was making that noise, the last thing he needed was to get closer. He crouched lower to the ground, doing his best to quiet his footsteps.

    "It surely wouldn''t be..."

    As Jere rounded another corner he was greeted by an inhuman shriek. One that he shouldn¡¯t have heard once he left the cells.

    Jere ducked back around the corner. He hesitated for a moment, paralyzed with shock. He had not been seen. He saw it for just a moment: it was a screamer swiping at a vending cart, scratching its nails against a metal plate against the side. After holding his breath for as long as he could, Jere stuck his head around the corner as little as possible.

    For all his time in the cells, Jere realized he had never gotten a good look at any of the screamers. He was glad he hadn¡¯t. This screamer stood about two meters tall, its height more pronounced by its gaunt figure. Whatever clothes the figure once wore had long fallen off or were ripped to pieces, as the screamer stood completely naked. Jere could make out its gray and deformed skin, lined with thousands of scars over its entire body. The screamer thrashed its head from side to side, and Jere could see the bloody pits where its eyes used to be. It swung at the metal plate in a stilted and jerky manner, awkwardly slapping it with its elongated nails.

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    After several seconds of gazing, Jere backed away, keeping his eyes locked on the screamer. As he did, his foot bumped against another abandoned vending cart, this one carrying a multitude of beads and priestly charms. The screamer swiveled its head around, gawking for a brief moment before dropping its jaw and letting out its high-pitched shriek.

    "Fuck."

    Jere turned and ran. He barely caught sight of the screamer sprinting towards him in a crooked and gangly posture, its arms outstretched. That was all he needed to see. Jere ducked down an adjacent alleyway, but the screamer wasn¡¯t far behind. Jere threw down a few vending carts behind him, hoping to stop the screamer in his tracks. He wasn¡¯t sure whether it worked. What this did do was make several crashing noises that echoed through the town. Jere heard another two screams cry out behind him. He saw another gaunt figure crawl out from under a locked doorway, forcing him to turn down another alleyway. More and more screams cried out.

    Jere wasn¡¯t moving fast enough. His legs ached as he increased his speed. He didn¡¯t know how fast he was moving, but when he turned he could see several figures chasing him. Some still wore clothes, and some still had their eyes. All were screaming. Suddenly the buildings came to an end and he was in the open. He had reached the temple courtyard.

    Jere halted upon realizing what filled the courtyard in front of him. Hundreds upon hundreds of screamers. Most were crouching, though some seemed to have just gotten to their feet. Below them, scattered outside the temple, were piles of corpses, all scratched and bitten and burnt. They were packed into every space within, all straining to see Jere. The screamers'' quivering cries morphed into a droning wail. They made their way towards him.

    Jere paused only long enough to catch the frightening sight. He ran blindly back into town. The screams followed, picking up speed as Jere¡¯s running slowed to a jog. His hips ached and fear could only push him so far. He heard hundreds of footsteps as the screamer mob coalesced into a single horde. They tripped over each other, pushing past abandoned carts and stands and corpses. Jere maneuvered his way around everything, realizing that if he missed even a single step he would be swarmed.

    It wasn¡¯t enough. The horde was getting closer and wasn¡¯t slowing. Screamers were leaping out of windows and rising from the ground, joining the ever-growing mass. A hundred were chasing him now. Jere could see their outstretched hands as they took turns lunging towards him.

    Above Jere, a bright flame passed over his head. It landed behind him, exploding into a blaze that propelled him forward. Jere tumbled and lost his footing, falling to the ground. The screamers behind him were engulfed in flames, their shrieks becoming more and more high-pitched as their vocal cords burst. They flailed wildly as they scattered past Jere.

    The rest of the horde split around into two groups past the fire, only to be met with two more exploding flames on both sides. Their screams multiplied as the horde pushed their brethren into the flames, unconcerned with the danger in front of them. Two dozen screamers caught fire, and one by one they began to fall.

    ¡°GET TO YOUR FEET YOU FOOL!¡±

    Jere recognized Eevi¡¯s voice immediately. Still prone on the ground, Jere rolled to his side and realized he had fallen right in front of Eevi¡¯s tavern. He spotted her on the roof, holding a bottle of clear liquid. Perhaps it was the spirit she had so proudly shown the healer when he first arrived? Eevi threw the bottle to the ground on the side of the firestorm, catching another five screamers by surprise.

    Jere didn¡¯t need to be reminded a second time. He ran inside the tavern, pushing his way past the doors.

    The tavern inside had been completely demolished. Corpses of men and screamers alike filled the hall. Jere nearly tripped again over the multitude of broken tables and mangled bodies. It was the sign of a massacre, one that he barely registered in his frantic state.

    A rope fell from the ceiling. Eevi stood above a massive hole that broke through most of the roof. Jere quickly wrapped the rope around his arm and waist before being hoisted up. As he swung around, three half-burnt screamers pushed their way through the tavern doors and lunged at Jere. Jere was just able to lift his legs out of reach as their jagged nails flung wildly in the air.

    Jere pulled himself up to the roof as soon as he could. He was well out of reach of the screamers. Finally safe, Jere fell face first on the roof, his body collapsing from exhaustion. As he gathered his breath, Jere heard a click in front of him. Eevi, completely donned in charcoal-black leather armor, pointed a crossbow directly at Jere¡¯s face. She glared at him with her one unburnt eye.

    ¡°Alright, stranger. I did you a favor. Return it by keeping your distance.¡±

    Jere pushed himself off the ground. He met Eevi¡¯s gaze. She kept her stern expression. Jere slowly rotated his body and backed away from the arrow. ¡°Okay,¡± he croaked. It hurt to speak.

    ¡°Show me your limbs,¡± Eevi commanded. ¡°If I find a scratch I promise a quick death.¡±

    Jere slowly raised his arms, holding his hands out and rolling up his sleeves. He looked around the rooftop. Several boxes lined one side, along with buckets of what he hoped were just water. On the other side were a cot and several arrows. Behind Eevi, the firestorm continued to burn as the screaming finally died down.

    Looking at his outstretched hands, Jere was reminded how skinny and lanky he had become after his time in the cells. No wonder Eevi didn¡¯t recognize him.

    Jere flashed a grin, holding his hands up near his head. ¡°It¡¯s been a long night, Eevi.¡±

    In an instant, Eevi lowered her crossbow. ¡°Jere?!¡± She shook her head, getting another look at him. ¡°You look like shit.¡±

    ¡°Yeah...¡± Jere¡¯s voice continued to crack as he spoke.

    ¡°I can¡¯t believe I¡­ I almost shot you! Where have you been?¡±

    Jere lowered his hands. ¡°Happy to explain¡­ once I get something to eat.¡±

 Part II.II.III: Zabukama

    Appo spent much of the following moon sitting cross-legged over the edge of the dune, watching screamers tumble through the sand. They wandered like a child¡¯s scribble before eventually moving elsewhere. Every gangly body served as a reminder of everyone Appo had failed. And they never seemed to end. The moment one would disappear from view and move on, another or two would take its place. The more Appo¡¯s health improved, the more depressed he became. His eyes often fell to his left-sided stump and his thoughts overwhelmed him. He had never felt more useless. He wanted to fall into a grave and be buried alive.

    Isbibarra and Gizzal gave him space. Gizzal periodically returned with yak steak and water, though Appo consumed little, preferring to leave most of his meals to his elephant. It would¡¯ve been but a wafer to the massive beast, but true to her character she never squeaked for more. Whether the neighboring yak appeared to mind was lost on him, but he was far from finding any humor in the situation.

    At moonfall, Gizzal returned again to Appo. ¡°The Merck requests an audience,¡± he said.

    Appo sighed. He didn¡¯t respond, but he raised his good arm and allowed Gizzal to pull him off the ground. He never thought to connect Isbibarra to Merkamensa before. Appo was familiar with the land of bamboo forests north of his hometown of Jyv?sk. He had read of the many bloody wars their civilizations fought hundreds of years ago: Jyv?sk had won, but the animosity had died out long before Appo was born. He and many others admired Merkamensans when encountered. It was no surprise he didn¡¯t recognize Isbibarra as one: most were tall, dark-skinned, and had a variety of hair that spanned the color of a rainbow. Isbibarra was anything but, but Appo also knew they lived long and robust lives. Maybe Isbibarra''s was approaching his end.

    They also despised the word ¡®Merck.¡¯ Appo had treated foolish drunkards who threw the word around Merkamensans with reckless abandon. The few who survived their respite never uttered it again. Gizzal would be wise to keep it to himself.

    Gizzal led Appo through the trench and into the tarp. The breeze of the figweed plants hit Appo like a wall. His wounded arm stung, and a numbness shot up his shoulder.

    The previously messy space had been almost entirely cleaned out, as Gizzal preoccupied himself for two moons by disassembling the bizarre throne conglomeration of elephant bones. At the end of the room sat Isbibarra, smoking his pipe. He turned his head upon the two¡¯s arrival, aiming his ear directly wherever they stood. Appo and Gizzal approached, and Gizzal helped Appo back to the ground. Appo wasn¡¯t sure why he let him. His legs worked perfectly fine.

    ¡°Gentlemen,¡± Isbibarra began, ¡°it is time I explain our purpose here. Our paths have crisscrossed for many a fortnight, and it is by fate¡¯s will that we are together in this foreign place. There is much to do and much to prepare for, but with the healer returning to health I believe it is time to resume our journey.¡±

    Appo didn¡¯t like the sound of that. He was not just growing tired of the desert, but of life itself. The very act of existing exhausted him. ¡°And where would this be?¡±

    ¡°Zabukama: the buried city of the fallen dark empire.¡±

    Gizzal laughed. ¡°So you did find it.¡±

    ¡°What dark empire?¡± asked Appo, ¡°I¡¯ve never heard of such a place.¡±

    ¡°I forget that you are an outsider, Appo,¡± Isbibarra replied politely. ¡°You are unfamiliar with the histories of the Eivett?. For this assumption, I apologize¡­ This desert once belonged to the people of Shaddon. They built the stone temples many desert cities are centered around, Ash included. They were a brutal and callous people. They killed many of my own many centuries ago. I believe you are familiar with their corporal punishment, are you not?¡±

    Memories of Juddken¡¯s scimitar flashed through Appo¡¯s mind. ¡°Shaddon Law.¡± Callous was too kind a word.

    Isbibarra continued. ¡°Two months ago, Digram Gizzal hired me and a companion of mine to traverse a region past these dunes in search of gemstones. We were guided by stories from desertfolk and the routes of the raiders. To say travel through the Rust Waves is dangerous would be an understatement, but Mikal and I were well-trained for the journey. He guided me through many of the obstacles we currently face.¡±

    Appo nodded. He recalled Eevi¡¯s story of how Isbibarra and his companion collapsed through the doors of her tavern. More specifically, that he was the earliest known person to be infected with the plague.

    Isbibarra continued. ¡°After much searching and sneaking, we found the city. Leagues upon leagues of half-buried pyramids. Black spires and monuments all weathered and crumbling. But in between all of this is an odd temple, almost sunken into the ground, that is filled to the brim with treasure. Gold, silver, diamonds, rubies, opals, garnets¡­ All ripe for the taking.¡±

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    Appo was skeptical. ¡°So you say. Why would it be there after all this time?¡±

    Isbibarra frowned. ¡°There are¡­ things¡­ in the Buried City. Things that I will not speak of for they will make our destination less enticing than it already is. Mikal and I were far from the first ones to explore this area of the desert.¡± Appo noticed Gizzal lowered his head, perhaps out of shame.

    ¡°As we filled our pockets, Mikal discovered something. A necklace made of platinum, worth a fortune to the right buyer. It alone would make generations wealthy.¡± Isbibarra took another hit from his pipe, inhaling long and deep. ¡°With that he awoke something. Something ancient and evil. It attacked us and wounded my friend. We barely escaped the city with our lives.¡±

    As Isbibarra told his tale, the atmosphere seemed to change. With the wind blowing against the tarp, the scene reminded Appo of old campfire fables his father used to tell him as a child.

    ¡°Mikal worsened. He couldn¡¯t sleep. He wouldn¡¯t eat or drink. But he refused to die. It strengthened my resolve to get him help¡­ only now do I realize how helpless he was. When Mikal began screaming, he was taken to the cells, and from there the disease began to spread¡­ I stayed in Ash to save him, to help him recover or see if he would improve. I listened to the townsfolk, the Heads, the shamans, and at times even I became convinced by their words and theories. All that talk of witchcraft¡­ all nonsense. I broke into the cells and I saw what he became. He could not be saved.¡±

    Isbibarra reached into his pocket and pulled out a necklace. It was lustrous and polished with a jagged and spiny chain. What Appo couldn¡¯t look away from though was its centerpiece. Its symbol was unmistakable: it was the three crisscrossed lines of Lowya, embellished and magnificent.

    ¡°I cradled this necklace for three moons. I don¡¯t need eyes to recognize its design. I knew not who it represented, but there were times I prayed to them. I feared I had been ignored and this would not be surprising, but something about your arrival attracted me from the very beginning. When I heard stories of the guards discussing a strange outsider who wore this symbol, I knew that my prayers had been answered. Your god wanted me to find you.¡±

    Isbibarra handed Appo the necklace. Appo caressed it, his hands sliding over the platinum glistening. He had never seen his god associated with such fine jewelry. ¡°Lowya is her name. She is the goddess of pestilence.¡±

    Gizzal laughed. ¡°Ah, what a coincidence then! Maybe she has something to do with the plague?¡±

    ¡°She is the plague," replied Isbibarra. "Disease, pestilence, all of it. But it is not so simple.  Appo, I know you are an outsider. Cityfolk from Jyv?sk. I know not how you came across your Lowya, but perhaps you did not know that she is an ancient Shaddon goddess. One that was worshipped by men whose once great empire is now but dust.¡±

    Appo did not. Other than himself, only a few healers followed her doctrine. None knew her history. He stared deeply into the necklace.

    ¡°Us three are like the lines in your god¡¯s pendant, that is no coincidence. From the beginning, I wished for you to accompany me. I believed that was lost when I encountered you at the pillory, when you were maimed by that vengeful guard. But your god gave me a second chance when I found you in the desert. Through me, she has saved your life so you can make things right again.¡±

    ¡°And how do you suppose we do that?¡± Appo had not looked up from the necklace.

    ¡°We right what was wrong and return what was stolen. Shaddon is a cursed civilization, rich though they were. Their ruins are haunted by the ghosts of sins committed past. Like a body unbalanced, the action of Mikal and I disturbed your god. The only way to stop this disease is to return this necklace to its rightful place.¡±

    Appo took it all in. To see the symbol of Lowya on such fine jewelry. To hear Isbibarra¡¯s tale. To know that everything that had taken place could be made right with one simple action.

    ¡°Bullshit,¡± Appo muttered.

    Isbibarra furrowed his brow. ¡°Pardon?¡±

    ¡°I said ¡®bullshit.¡¯ Are you deaf as well as blind?¡±

    Gizzal chuckled nervously. ¡°That wasn¡¯t called for.¡±

    ¡°I¡­ um...¡± Isbibarra tried to grin but he was clearly slighted by the curt response. ¡°Have I offended you?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ve listened to Ashfolk drone on and on about curses, and you wish for me to trade one curse for another. You mock me and my profession. The idea that something as simple as returning jewelry would make everything right¡­ This will bring nothing but our deaths.¡±

    ¡°The Shaddon do not operate like your scrolls, healer,¡± replied Isbibarra, attempting to stay civil. ¡°Their gods do not like their toys trifled with. Their power is immense. These are not mischievous godlin deities that court the minds of shamans.¡±

    ¡°What you speak of is hardly better than witchcraft!¡± Appo had never been this cruel to anyone before, but the circumstances were piling on top of each other. His voice rose as he riled himself up. ¡°We sit here in the middle of this godforsaken desert, surrounded by enemies on all sides. You preoccupy yourself with fables and you¡¯ve actually convinced yourself that you live in one! This isn¡¯t something a quest can fix!¡±

    Gizzal shushed at Appo. ¡°Stay quiet! Our enemies have sensitive ears!¡±

    ¡°I LOST MY HAND!¡± Appo was roaring now. ¡°My livelihood, my purpose to live! All because you waited until the last possible moment to save me! You were not there for me, Lowya was not there for me! I survived because of me! I wanted it! And for what: to help you on some fucking treasure hunt?¡±

    Isbibarra let a moment of silence pass by, allowing only the rustling of the wind to truncate the quiet.

    ¡°I see I have upset you,¡± Isbibarra finally said. He spoke in a delicate manner. ¡°For everything, I again apologize. Perhaps we should continue this conversation another time when we have calmer dispositions.¡±

    Appo didn¡¯t disagree. He tossed the pendant over the fire, it barely passing Isbibarra¡¯s head and tumbling over the rug behind them. He immediately turned and left the tent.

 Part II.II.IV: A Wish to Live

    After an hour or two of sulking, Appo came to regret his outburst. He acted like a child. Still, he was being asked to undertake yet another journey so soon after his recovery, one that required more disbelief than he was willing to offer. If he were being honest, he wanted to leave. But where could he go? Even if he returned to Jyv?sk, the already hostile terrain between here and there had become even more treacherous.

    Instead, Appo returned to the yak post at the edge of the dune. He couldn¡¯t see any screamers but he could hear their echoes. They were still pouring out of Ash. If he had been unconscious for most of the fortnight and they were still coming through, the plague must have struck at the worst possible moment. Hundreds could be roaming the desert now. Perhaps thousands.

    ¡°The Heads should have listened.¡±

    Appo turned. Gizzal stood behind him, slouched over the yak post he was once tied to. Appo sighed, looking back out over the desert horizon. ¡°Not that it matters. It¡¯s too late now.¡±

    ¡°Say what you will about the Merck and his necklace,¡± replied Gizzal. ¡°I¡¯m not sure I even believe what he says, but this?¡± He gestured out towards the screams. ¡°Who could have been right about this? The Heads all wanted you to be wrong, regardless of the cost.¡±

    ¡°Yet you once voted for me to speak.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s not true. I abstained. Big difference.¡±

    Appo smiled. Gizzal spoke with a frankness that was refreshing to hear from someone with his influence. ¡°So¡­ why?¡±

    ¡°My father taught me Ati sees all misdeeds. He knows every whore we bed and every desertfolk we swindle. Call it a guilty conscience, but I realized my place once Isbibarra returned. People died because of me. I could never confess to the high priest, but a part of me hoped you could do what we brought you here to do.¡±

    ¡°That was foolish of you.¡±

    ¡°Just like it was foolish of you to come here.¡±

    ¡°It was,¡± said Appo. ¡°I should have left. I could have chartered a boat to anywhere in Ostior. Preferably somewhere with rain.¡±

    ¡°Why didn¡¯t you?¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t know.¡± Appo paused, reflecting on the consequences of his once altruistic actions. ¡°I thought I could make a difference¡­ I wish I left. I will wish so until the day I die.¡±

    ¡°You may be the most depressing man I¡¯ve ever met,¡± replied Gizzal. Appo was numb to the insult, though he didn¡¯t disagree with him. Still, it was far from the best thing he needed to hear at the moment.

    Before Gizzal could leave Appo with his own thoughts again, he crouched down and handed him a piece of jewelry. It was a ring adorned with a bright red gemstone. It was massive and lopsided, garish in appearance. ¡°It¡¯s beautiful, no?¡± asked Gizzal. ¡°Tell me what it¡¯s made of.¡±

    Appo was not receptive. ¡°To be entirely honest with you, I really don¡¯t give a shit.¡±

    ¡°Guess. I insist.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t know¡­ ruby?¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s ghormite,¡± replied Gizzal with pride. ¡°Colored rock. Red shale. Desert polyp. Traders have many names for it, all adequate in describing how worthless it is. Looks pretty though, doesn¡¯t it?¡±

    ¡°Why are you showing me a fake rock?¡±

    ¡°I always carry fake rocks with me. When you¡¯re known for selling minerals, it pays to advertise your product. It also makes me a target. Losing a shipment of true gemstones would ruin me. But losing a shipment of ghormite? I¡¯d be more upset if I spilled mead.¡±

    Appo recalled his first few meetings with the Head. His jewelry had been sparkling and vibrant, almost tasteless in presentation. To see him now, adorned in nothing but a white tunic, was striking. He was no longer a Head, but a real, vulnerable person. Overweight but not sedentary. An expressive face with sad eyes. It was the face of a man with little confidence, but with an awareness to recognize it.

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    ¡°Most of what I own is ghormite now,¡± Gizzal continued. ¡°What little gemstones I have are stored in a vault somewhere in Beyshran. Enough to get me through a year if it ever came to it. Gemstones have become difficult to sell in the desert, even during a holiday. My family was close to destitute even before I was born.¡±

    ¡°So it¡¯s an act?¡±

    ¡°Oh certainly! But as you can imagine, us Gizzals never got to where we are from kindness. My family has many enemies, but we¡¯re saved only because of our status amongst the Heads. Without that and that alone, we are no different than desertfolk. I¡¯ve known this my entire life, even as I brandished the jewelry and paid my merchants, only I pay with credit my family has taken out for years.¡±

    ¡°Ah.¡± Appo had briefly lived in Beyshran, one of the larger cities along the Thorne. He was familiar with their bands of debt collectors, who passed from town to town pitching loans to desperate traders and farmers. If the debt could not be repaid, the collectors would return in full force. It was not unheard of that debtors were sold into slavery. They were a group Appo made sure to steer clear of, even at his most impecunious times.

    Gizzal continued. ¡°I can be long-winded, but I want you to know I understand where you are. That feeling of losing everything.¡±

    Appo laughed unkindly. As if a man with the privilege of Gizzal could possibly know his struggles. He had more money at his poorest than Appo would ever have at his wealthiest. It was the mindset of a man who desperately wanted to feel bad for himself.

    ¡°Okay, that was presumptuous of me,¡± Gizzal corrected, ¡°but understand that my family comes from coin. From my great-grandfather, Barnabas, to my father, Abu, we have known nothing but wealth. And for me to lose that¡­ I might as well have lost both my hands.¡±

    ¡°I would gladly trade places with you, for I¡¯d be whole again and richer,¡± Appo replied.

    Gizzal sighed. ¡°I do not apologize for who I am, only for what I have done. And for the people who I have sent to their deaths.¡±

    Appo was becoming annoyed. ¡°Do you wish for forgiveness? For sending Isbibarra in search of cursed treasure? Even if I were still a priest I wouldn¡¯t be the one to forgive you.¡±

    ¡°It wasn¡¯t just Isbibarra and Mikal. It was the other five I sent before them. All of them perished.¡±

    Appo scoffed. ¡°Maybe they fled with your coin.¡±

    Gizzal shook his head. ¡°No. I know deep in my soul that the desert claimed them.¡±

    Despite his best efforts, Appo was becoming Gizzal¡¯s confessor. He wasn¡¯t sure why, Gizzal had little reason to trust Appo with anything, and Appo had given little reason to prove himself sympathetic. Yet Gizzal clearly was suffering. He needed to share his state of mind, and it appeared he wasn¡¯t going to do it with Isbibarra, no matter how long the two shared space on the dune.

    ¡°So you sent them after a gemstone mine?¡± Appo had given up. Cruelty wasn¡¯t in his nature.

    Gizzal nodded. ¡°Barnabas was a strong man. He was the commander of a Jyv?skan outpost when Alicudi the Great ruled these lands. He braved the desert to reach Zabukama. He left with a garrison and returned alone with enough gemstones to enrich generations. But the stories he told my father of that place and the things he encountered¡­ Stories of half-men and infinitesimal tentacles and beings that can crush a man in their fists, not to mention everything in the Rust Waves¡­ I could never go myself.¡±

    ¡°And you sent Isbibarra despite all that.¡±

    ¡°I had also heard stories of a blind sellsword through the sand. He sounded formidable, but I¡¯ve come to discover he is even more than that. I believe that he made it to the city. I also believe him when he speaks of making things right. Mercks are closer to the gods than we are, they are more in tune with their plane¡­ he understands these things more than we do.¡±

    ¡°If he is so formidable, why does he need us? Why would he go out of his way to bring us along?¡±

    ¡°He speaks to me often of his blindness. How sensitive he is to the movement of others. But the sand makes that difficult. Out here amongst the dunes, he truly is blind. That is why he traveled with a partner. I also believe there is no one else he could reach out to. He spoke only to me and you in Ash. We are the only ones he trusts.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m not so sure about that. He stayed with Eevi, the owner of the tavern, for almost a fortnight. They trusted each other far more than either of us.

    Gizzal shrugged. ¡°Then I don¡¯t know. Mercks and their code of honor?¡±

    The two fell quiet. The distant screams had been drowned out by a hollow breeze that passed over the dune.

    ¡°I appreciate you speaking to me,¡± said Appo. ¡°You are kinder than I expected. But please, I need to be alone. I need time with my thoughts.¡±

    ¡°I understand,¡± replied Gizzal. ¡°I¡¯ll just leave you with this: when the Merck and I were first brought to this place, I had no jewels on me. Nothing but these ghormite rings. The Merck kept them in a bag, so maybe he thought there was some value to them. I know the raiders did. But when they brought me to that tent back there, I was prepared to give them everything. I would have offered them what little I had left¡­ Once I thought that would have been the end of me. Offering up the last vestige of my great-grandfather¡¯s sacrifice. But when presented with the possibility of death at the hands of those raiders¡­ never did I ever more wish to live.¡±

    Appo didn¡¯t respond. He had grown tired and had little else to say to the fallen gemstone merchant. But those final words stuck in his head. He would ponder them long into the night.

 Part II.III.I: As Far Away As Possible

    Jere gasped as he awoke. He dreamt of Malefica again, as he had every night since her exile. Her crooked visage remained even as he transitioned to wakefulness. It was morning now, and the light of the dawn was overbearing. Even though a thin mist obscured much of the sun from view, its light felt like daggers to his eyes. He would have to get used to seeing again.

    ¡°You dream of her too?¡± Across the rooftop, Eevi sat against her crates. She had not moved. She continued to grip her crossbow. Her face was tired. If she had gotten any sleep it wasn¡¯t much. ¡°You¡¯re not alone. I see her ugly mug every time I close my eyes. Can¡¯t say I¡¯ve gotten used to it.¡±

    Unlike her, Jere had. The few times he managed to sleep, he would see the witch hovering above the bars. Occasionally, it was a welcome distraction from the incessant screaming, even if it was far from comforting.

    ¡°Eat.¡± Eevi gestured with her crossbow. Next to him were a few small bowls of seeds, nuts, and water. ¡°Pace yourself. Have too much and your stomach will burst. Give your body time to adjust.¡± Jere expected to be ravenous by this point, but hunger remained a distant friend. He took the seeds and plucked them in his mouth, satisfied with the meager handful.

    ¡°Nervous?¡± Jere asked, seeing that Eevi had clung to her crossbow since his arrival. ¡°Hard to eat peacefully under a bolt.¡±

    ¡°I didn¡¯t get this far by trusting men in desperate situations,¡± replied Eevi. Jere could tell she still questioned the truth about his story of survival. He didn¡¯t blame her. He himself long doubted she was ever a raider, after all. But seeing her clad in armor lent her stories some truth. The top left side of her breastplate was cracked and charred, perfectly matching her facial scar that began down her neck. Her varied weaponry only added to her intimidating appearance. Jere wondered how many men had fallen to her own arrows in recent moons.

    ¡°I¡¯ll stay here,¡± Jere mumbled. He finished his handful of flavorless seeds.

    ¡°I planned to kill you, you know?¡± Eevi said. ¡°I only brought you up here to keep them from staying inside the tavern. Maybe frisk you for supplies. Fortunately for you, I happen to know and like you.¡±

    ¡°How close were you?¡±

    ¡°You don¡¯t want to know. I¡¯m not sure you realize how different you look.¡±

    Jere figured he looked like shit. He felt like shit. Still, Eevi was able to recognize something in her former patron, as suspicious as she was. He had to appreciate that, at least. ¡°Good to see my long-standing generosity is paying off,¡± he said with a grin.

    ¡°What generosity? You never tipped, asshole.¡±

    ¡°My company not enough?¡±

    ¡°Hardly.¡± Eevi smiled, but it was muted.

    ¡°Can you at least tell me what happened? Where did they all come from?¡±

    ¡°Hmph.¡± Eevi whispered, trying to lower the volume of the conversation. ¡°No one really knew. But it spread during the Holiday. Some became sick near the end of the first moon. On the second, screaming started popping up over town. By the third, it all went to shit. The regulars tried to take refuge here, but we were overrun. Thankfully, I prepared beforehand and stashed supplies up here.¡±

    ¡°Quite the foresight.¡±

    ¡°Actually, I have your friend to thank for that.¡± Eevi frowned at the remembrance. ¡°Appo and I had a discussion before the holiday began, I assumed he had told you. But that was before you two disappeared¡­ What¡¯s become of him?¡±

    Jere sighed. ¡°I don¡¯t know. We were separated before I was taken to the cells. Shaddon Law.¡±

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    Eevi shook her head. ¡°So he is dead then¡­ Perhaps if we listened we could have avoided all this. He seemed so certain when he spoke to me.¡±

    ¡°It was Boah. He confronted us. We told him our thoughts, and he passed the sentence.¡±

    ¡°Cursed Heads. Bastards, the lot of them.¡±

    Jere frowned. ¡°You speak as if they still draw breath.¡±

    ¡°We¡¯re not the only ones trapped, Jere. When the screaming began, many fled to their homes. Most were overtaken quickly. But the Manor shut its doors early and has remained alight for many moons now. Who knows how many are still inside?¡±

    Jere felt a sudden anger surge through his body. He could see the Heads behind closed doors, surrounded by coin and laughing at the plight of the Ashfolk. Of course they would live. Of course they would be the first to close the gates despite all their proclamations that the plague was but a curse that would vanish with the witch. The anger that kept him sane within the cells was creeping forth yet again.

    Jere¡¯s thoughts were not lost on Eevi. ¡°Whatever Boah has done to you will not serve you well here.¡±

    ¡°The Big Man is far from my thoughts,¡± Jere lied. ¡°I only wish to get as far away as possible.¡±

    ¡°And go where? I¡¯m not exactly staying of my own accord, you know. Been waiting for my chance to flee as well. They¡¯re not as random as you may think?¡±

    ¡°Meaning?¡±

    ¡°Look.¡± Eevi pondered her words for a moment. ¡°Once the screamers outnumbered the rest of us, I assumed they would all make their way to the desert. Many did. At one point I thought I had waited long enough and made my way towards the gates, but¡­¡±

    ¡°You passed the temple,¡± Jere said. He recalled hundreds of gaping mouths and piles upon piles of bodies.

    Eevi nodded. ¡°Something is keeping them here. I waited an entire day to see if they¡¯d move, but they never did. I watched them, Jere¡­ They buzz about like flies to rot flower. I saw them huddle near temple walls, rubbing their faces against it. They stuck their hands in the dirt and filled their bellies. They refuse to move. I was forced to return.¡±

    If his fortnight with the screamers taught Jere anything it was that they were more than simple mindless beings. He listened to them babble and mope and cry. He dared not think of what was at the temple that they were so attracted to. ¡°But why would you go there? Would going south not be better?¡±

    ¡°To make it to the gates you have to pass the temple or the Manor. Not as easy a choice as you might think.¡±

    Jere laughed. ¡°And what¡¯s worse than hundreds of screamers?¡±

    ¡°Survivors,¡± Eevi spoke with a grim tone. ¡°Most likely more than a few Heads. Before I travelled to the temple I scouted the path near the Manor. I saw corpses there, hanging from the rooftops. Charred bodies on all sides of the palace, some of them missing their skin. I¡¯m not the most familiar with Okkan''s beliefs but I know that there are some more fanatical than others. I¡¯ve heard tales of men and women turning to ancient customs with the god of fertility in times of crisis. And the screams I heard from behind their walls¡­ those sounded human to me.¡±

    Although Jere hadn¡¯t judged Eevi for her caution before, he completely understood her caution. ¡°Where does that leave us?¡± Jere asked. ¡°If we are safe we should wait.¡±

    Eevi shook her head. ¡°Impossible. I was already low on food before I had to care for a starving man. Your arrival hastens things. It was awfully sweet of you to think of me during your time of crisis but it really does put me in a bad position.¡± Eevi grimaced, albeit in a friendly way.

    Jere shrugged. He wasn¡¯t about to apologize for surviving.

    ¡°I have some water, but hardly any food. I had about three moons left before you showed up. You¡¯ll be back to starving again if we stay here, and I doubt you¡¯ll be able to go through that again... Have any ideas?¡±

    ¡°Hmm.¡± Jere was tired of being surrounded on all sides with limited options. ¡°The gates have food. The Corps always kept enough grain to keep Ash supplied for a month-long siege. If the Manor isn¡¯t an option that should be our destination.¡±

    ¡°I wondered as such, but I had no way of knowing myself.¡± Eevi lowered her bow slightly. Her good eye appeared to light up, intrigued by the possibilities.

    ¡°If we can¡¯t go past the Manor or the temple, then we must travel between them. Have you been to Main Street?¡±

    ¡°I believe there are screamers, but far less than the temple. I have plenty of explosives and enough bolts to fend off anyone between us and the gates, but not enough to fight off a horde. There are many shops there. We could travel through them.¡±

    ¡°Or over them. Provided we find a ladder.¡±

    ¡°Now that¡¯s an idea¡­¡± Eevi eyed Jere, though he wasn¡¯t sure how to interpret it. ¡°Seems saving your life wasn¡¯t a complete waste of time.¡±

    Jere couldn¡¯t help but agree. He took another handful of the seeds. Regardless of what happened from here on out, he wasn¡¯t going to starve again.

 Part II.III.II: Norsu

    Darkness retreated as the sun crept over the dunes. Appo, Gizzal, and Isbibarra had traveled for two hours now. Their camels proved adept at shifting through sand, though they were slowed by the trudging of Appo¡¯s elephant. As swift as she was, she had no chance of climbing the dunes, forcing the group to loop around them. Fortunately, they wouldn¡¯t have to for much longer.

    Appo¡¯s come around to Isbibarra¡¯s plan required little thought. For one, he was in no condition to go anywhere by himself, let alone in an area as dangerous as the Rust Waves. But he also realized there was nothing else he could investigate. Isbibarra admitted to releasing the plague, it having come from the faraway city of Zabukama. Appo had come to track the source, and the blind man was willing to take him to it.

    Appo had no idea what to make of his story though, or his conclusion. To return a necklace and neutralize the plague was more than a leap of faith, but Appo had to believe it was something he could do. The city of Ash was lost and the desert was overrun, that much was true. But the screamers were making their way wherever they could. How long before they made their way down the Thorne, spreading to Beyshran or Olapeen or Loam or even Jyv?sk itself? Surely Appo had a duty to prevent devastation in all of Ostior if he could.

    With Appo¡¯s commitment to the journey, there was little else to do. Gizzal and Isbibarra had mapped out the route and had collected all supplies the camels could carry. Isbibarra slaughtered the remaining yak, saving them from the slow pain of starvation. When it came to the elephant, however, Appo refused to allow harm to come to her. She had been a good companion and saved his life. After some convincing, Isbibarra admitted there was a single tributary ahead that would allow the elephant to return to the Thorne. It would add a few hours to their traveling, but it also led them closer to a potential raider hideout that would provide refuge.

    Isbibarra claimed he spent ten moons in the desert when he traveled with Mikal. He hid in hideouts, conversed with raiders, and interrogated desertfolk before finding the lost city. When Mikal was attacked and Isbibarra was forced to flee, however, it only required two moons of nonstop traveling. Factoring in necessary sleep and their planned detours, Isbibarra predicted they would reasonably reach Zabukama in three moons.

    ¡°Three moons.¡± Appo thought about that amount of time for much of his early riding. Sixteen had already passed. The city of Ash was already decimated. But how many more lives would be lost in due time? How far would the plague spread before it was too late? What if it already was? He couldn¡¯t help it: with every step, he imagined another family joining the horde. Another addition to a chorus of screams.

    The heat was creeping back. The group had more than enough water, and their clothes were lined with figweed to withstand the heat, but the next few days would take their toll. They would travel straight through the night until tomorrow morning.

    With the sunrise, the group caught a glimpse of their surroundings. They were in luck: to the south of them, creeping upward around a bend, was a small river slithered through a flattening of the dunes. According to the maps of the raiders, it was a little more than twenty leagues from the Thorne. Once there, it would be a quick journey back to Lockwood. Appo pitched it as a chance to refill on water one last time, but everyone knew the real reason they traveled there. If the elephant could make it past the raiders, it would be a fifty-fifty chance of running into a Jyv?sk patrol. It was low odds, especially with screamers running amok, but the elephant at least had a chance of survival this way. Appo owed it that much for saving its life.

    ¡°Say your goodbye,¡± said Isbibarra, who was riding alongside Appo. ¡°She will understand that she must leave us now.¡±

    Appo dismounted his camel. He struggled for a moment, for he was still getting used to navigating the world with one hand. The elephant was a few meters behind them, picking up her pace at the sight of the tributary. She stopped at the bank of the river, within a trunk¡¯s distance. Appo came forward, slowly guiding her trunk towards the water. She gulped furiously. She was already so tired. Appo felt sorry she had come this far.

    As the elephant drank, Isbibarra rode his camel behind her flank, placing his hand over her rough hide. ¡°You are well versed with the lefantti. She respects you very much.¡±

    ¡°She has been a remarkable companion,¡± replied Appo. ¡°Shame we must part here.¡±

    ¡°They are tough creatures, you would be surprised.¡± Isbibarra ran his hand across her back, feeling over the many etchings scratched into her skin. ¡°Do you know what she is called? She will go if you command her by name.¡±

    ¡°I do not. It was something in steppe.¡±

    Isbibarra smiled. ¡°Norsusituu.¡± With that, the elephant groaned, as if she had been patiently waiting to speak. ¡°Lefantti have two names: one from their steppe masters and one for their Merkamensan breeders. Both are carved on the hindquarters at a young age. I imagine she will answer to ¡®Norsu.¡¯¡± As Isbibarra said this, the elephant turned her head briefly, before returning to the river bank to drink.

    ¡°Norsu,¡± Appo repeated. Norsu squeaked, eager to be hearing her name spoken by her rider.

    ¡°Speak to her clearly and slowly,¡± continued Isbibarra. ¡°They say the lefantti are the best listeners. She will go where you tell her.¡±

    ¡°Okay.¡± Appo scratched Norsu¡¯s ear. ¡°Norsu, finish your drinking. Travel along the river as far as you can. You can go home.¡± Norsu groaned, rising to her legs before turning south. Her pace had improved already.

    ¡°Not how I would say it,¡± Isbibarra said, ¡°but she hears you. I wish her well.¡±

    Appo watched for a moment before saddling his camel. ¡°I will save at least one life in this desert,¡± he said, bitterly. He yipped, turning his camel back towards the dunes. Now, his sights were aimed at Zabukama.

    Isbibarra followed behind. His camel was pulled by a rope attached to Appo¡¯s hip, giving him enough distance for ten meters. They were typically riding much closer than that, nearly in tandem. Isbibarra flicked his rope, as usual for when he needed something. ¡°Ask the Head if the coast is clear.¡±

    Appo looked past the tributary, spotting Gizzal about half a league away. He was sitting atop his camel under the edge of a large dune. Appo raised his hand, holding it high for a few moments. Appo could barely make it out through the mirage of the desert, but it looked as if Gizzal waved back at him. For the next few hours, Gizzal would lead their way through the desert before trading places with Appo. If they could get away from the tributary now, they would be out of Raider territory for at least a few hours.

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    ¡°We¡¯re good to go,¡± said Appo.

    ¡°Splendid. Lead the way.¡±

    Appo still struggled to ride his camel. Staying balanced with one hand proved difficult. He found he could hold his saddle or yip, but not both. Having to guide Isbibarra as well added difficulty. After some frustrated yipping, Appo was able to set a steady traveling pace for both camels. They moved faster now, unburdened by the elephant that trailed them.

    ¡°May I make a suggestion?¡± asked Isibarra. ¡°Tie one rein around your left arm. That way you always have at least some control of your beast.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s okay. I can manage.¡± In truth, Appo was struggling. But tying knots with one hand proved impossible. He would embarrass himself trying to pull it together.

    ¡°Nonsense. Allow me?¡± Isbibarra pulled his camel closer to Appo. After taking a moment to find both Appo¡¯s arm and the rein, Isbibarra tied a knot around Appo¡¯s elbow.

    ¡°Oh. Thanks.¡±

    ¡°It is no problem.¡±

    The two continued onward. Appo practiced yipping and changing direction. It wasn''t perfect, but the camel wouldn''t be running in circles. After testing for a moment, Appo looped the slacked reins on his elbow, forming a sort of hook. It was an effective trick.

    ¡°So¡­ You¡¯re familiar with elephants?¡± asked Appo. He wasn¡¯t looking to spend his entire trek in silence.

    ¡°Was it obvious?¡± joked Isbibarra. ¡°I have been around my fair share, though not as much as my brethren. I find the felantti too loud for my liking.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ve read the Merkamensans used to ride them for war. Their entire army rode them during King Severum¡¯s War.¡±

    ¡°Most know it as the Second Merck War. You do us an honor of calling it by our name¡­ A fine campaign that was. Did little to prevent defeat, though. All was lost after the Fleet was destroyed.¡±

    ¡°True,¡± agreed Appo. ¡°Many of my colleagues speak of the war with admiration. We mastered the tourniquet from it... as if that makes up for all the dead.¡±

    ¡°It was four hundred years ago. Jyv?skian memories are short¡­ In any case, now the lefantti are seldom used for battle. We prefer to use them for fieldwork and travel, though I would be lying if failed to mention how many in my country enjoy a good jousting.¡±

    ¡°Elephant jousting? What was that like?¡±

    Isbibarra laughed. ¡°I never saw one.¡±

    ¡°Oh,¡± murmured Appo. ¡°I shouldn¡¯t have assumed-¡±

    ¡°An understandable mistake, do not apologize. Sure, I never saw it with eyes, but I felt their energy. The weight of the stomps and the power in their roars¡­ You cannot fathom the sounds of their collisions.¡±

    ¡°Have you always been able to¡­ see the way that you do?¡± Appo hoped Isbibarra could forgive him for such a pointed question. ¡°I have encountered many blind men and women through my travels, but I have never heard of anyone with your abilities.¡±

    ¡°That is because you practice medicine along the river and the cities. I imagine you could write many scrolls if you traveled to Merkamensa. That being said, I have never met another like me. Few of us have been recorded in our annals.¡±

    ¡°Fascinating.¡± Appo had heard many stories of Merkamensan feats, though what was fact and what was conjecture was difficult to discern. If the stories Gizzal had told them were to be believed, however, Isbibarra was easily the most impressive warrior Appo had ever met in person.

    ¡°Do not give me praise when I do not deserve it. My abilities are as sturdy as the ground I stand on. Believe it or not, I was actually quite clumsy in my homeland. Too much dirt and the roots of the bamboo grow deep. A soturi without eyes could never be virtuous.¡±

    ¡°Is that why you come to the desert?¡±

    ¡°One of many reasons. I have lived here for many years. I know the Eivett? better than the forest, now. My eyes are of better use here.¡±

    The two marched on, chewing on figweed and sipping water. The heat had come in full force now, but it did little to affect the camels. Appo looked ahead as they passed over a dune, seeing Gizzal in the distance. They had seen a few screamers, but most had thinned out this far from Ash. They were in no danger if their voices carried.

    ¡°I have known only one other Merkamensan,¡± said Appo. ¡°Her name was Istefa. We both apprenticed under a healer named Parbast. As astute as she was, she had peculiar ideas. She obsessed over fungi, spending many days walking along the shore and scraping mushrooms into buckets. Believed she could dissolve them into herbs, or breed them into some new species. She too acted nothing like what I expected.¡±

    ¡°You praise this woman, yet I sense judgment in your voice. You disagree with her studies?¡±

    ¡°No. I just think she could have spent her time on more important matters. We were healers, she should have been healing.¡±

    ¡°My people are cultivators. It is no surprise she would have such an interest. Nearly all of the discoveries made in my country, including the elixir that cured your blood rot, were discovered by women doing very much the sort of thing she had done.¡±

    Appo laughed. ¡°Few sought her services. If she discovered anything significant I never saw anything from it. ¡±

    ¡°Why do you say that? Was it because she was a woman? Or a foreigner? Not surprised a Merck could not get work?¡±

    Appo was surprised at how pointed Isbibarra became. ¡°No, not anything like that. She just¡­ liked to be alone. I can¡¯t say I disagree. I always learned best on my own. Parbast was just as obstinate; for as good of a surgeon as he was, he believed there wasn¡¯t a single person that couldn¡¯t benefit from bloodletting and leeches. And neither of them understood the value in corpse examination!¡±

    ¡°Hmm. I thought healers cooperated with each other. Perhaps I am wrong, I have encountered so few.¡±

    Appo sighed. ¡°You¡¯re not mistaken. They normally do.¡±

    ¡°Ah.¡± Isbibarra leaned back into his camel. ¡°I believe I understand now.¡±

    ¡°Understand what?¡±

    Isbibarra clicked his tongue. ¡°You. You don¡¯t work well with others, don¡¯t you?¡±

    Appo laughed. ¡°Ridiculous! The idea of a healer not working with others. How else would we learn?¡±

    ¡°I will do my best to give my interpretation: you hail from the largest city in Ostior, a city I understand to be at the forefront of medical knowledge. Instead of staying there and working with the brightest of your peers, you pressed from city to city before settling in Lockwood, a village barely large enough to host just one healer. You then make your way to Ash, the most desolate city along the Thorne, with the vague promise of curing a plague and earning measly coin.¡±

    ¡°I was called upon by the Heads. I couldn¡¯t say no!¡±

    ¡°As if you had any idea who they were. Face it, Appo: you are running. Heading so far east that you are bound to fall off the map. I want to tell you something honest. Something you may have never been told before.¡±

    Appo was getting annoyed. He hadn¡¯t come on this trip to get lectured.

    ¡°You do not know everything. I saw what the blood rot did you your arm and your attempt at curing it. Were it not for my elixir you would have died. No one can brave this world on their own, Appo. No one has accomplished anything of meaning by running away to the desert. Even when I was shunned by my people, I found someone to rely on. Someone I could trust. If we¡¯re going to make it through this desert, we must trust each other. It is the only way will make it. After that, you should find someone to love. Being alone is a miserable way to go through life.¡±

    Appo remained silent and planned on staying so for a while. Times like this reminded Appo why he was alone. He was tired of the lecturing, tired of the assumption that he didn¡¯t know how the world worked. He had done just fine on his own. And once he was done, he was more than happy being alone again.

 Part II.III.III: Main Street

    The distance to Jere¡¯s home was short, but caution would be necessary. Jere and Eevi would be out in the open at high noon. According to Eevi, the screamers weren¡¯t quite as coordinated when the sun was out. They were easy to aggravate, she said, but there was something about the daytime that made them uncoordinated. More likely to bump into walls and trip over themselves. It all made little sense to Jere, but Eevi had survived thus far. He had no reason to distrust her judgment.

    The two began their trek well after sunrise. Eevi and Jere lowered themselves back down into the ransacked tavern hall. Jere got a better look within. At least two dozen corpses lined amongst the broken tables and chairs. Jere recognized a few, such as Bolin and Rolf, two young recruits from the Guard Corps, even though their bodies ripped to shreds. He recoiled at the sight of the decapitated head of Scaffor, a beggar boy who had harassed Jere many times during his patrols. In the far corner of the room, he spotted the massive body of Kostya, the ruffian who he almost fought on the moon of Appo¡¯s arrival. He was surrounded by ten screamers himself, many of their chests sliced open by massive gashes. It seemed the man from beyond the mountains had put up a fight. Jere made sure not to linger.

    Jere and Eevi passed between several charred corpses that lined the streets. They were lucky, for it wasn¡¯t uncommon for idle screamers to shuffle towards the tavern during the day. But they could still be hiding in any building, alley, or passageway.

    Eevi hugged the edge of the street, making her way south. She leaned against the buildings, peering down alleyways before continuing onward. She motioned Jere to follow, nodding towards the tight path that led to Jere¡¯s home. Jere crept behind, cradling the knife Eevi provided him. It didn¡¯t provide much confidence, as the simple utensil made of baked clay was more appropriate for slicing bread than for self-defense. It would shatter if he used it at all.

    As the two walked, they became aware of occasional screeches that echoed in the distance. There were certainly screamers packed in the buildings around them. It dawned on Jere that if he could hear the screamers, they could hear him just as easily. He made sure to tread as quietly as possible.

    Jere¡¯s home was one of several tiny places packed together in a single complex. The rooms were so small that few considered it liveable space. They each had doors though, which provided the complex a single luxury. Jere recognized his room, as his broken door was missing a hinge.

    Eevi went through first, holding out her crossbow as she pushed her way through. As she peered over the room, her posture gradually relaxed as she realized no screamers were crammed inside. The two let themselves in.

    After Eevi shut the broken door behind them, she took another look around. All she could see was a mattress and a pile of clothes.

    ¡°Looters get to it already?¡± Eevi whispered.

    ¡°Untouched.¡±

    ¡°How depressing.¡±

    Before Eevi could criticize Jere for the waste of time, he lifted his beddings revealing his collection of knives and scimitars. Juddken¡¯s goons made many mistakes that night, so it was no surprise that they didn¡¯t think to search his home any further.

    As Jere supplied himself with weaponry, he dropped Eevi¡¯s knife, its clay blade cracking in two upon hitting the ground. Jere shot Eevi an annoyed glare.

    Eevi shrugged. ¡°Just trying to make you feel safe.¡±

    Jere gave himself his sharpest scimitar and two small knives, passing a third to Eevi for a backup. He then turned to his pile of clothes, putting on his Corps armor. It felt big and a little heavier on him than before, but it still fit. It had always been a little snug in the past. The armor was thin, but his gauntlets and breastplate would repel any errant scratchings. More than anything, he felt relieved to be wearing proper clothes again.

    Eevi motioned to continue on. Every careless second spent outside would be a risk. Jere obliged. He decided against one last look at the place he had called his home for so long. He wouldn¡¯t miss it.

    The two continued down the alley. Eevi led the way, slowly aiming her crossbow down each corner with anticipation. At any moment a screamer could launch itself out of the shadows. Jere wondered why they stowed themselves away during the day. He knew from personal experience that even the slightest noise sent them into a frenzy, so why not light? Maybe that was why so many clawed out their own eyes. He wondered what they saw that made them scream.

    The northwest quadrant of the city lent much cover to the two. Settlements were crammed together haphazardly, a far cry from the interlocking grid of Main Street or the spacious bungalows of the east side. As the two crossed in front of buildings, Jere finally caught a glimpse of Ash Manor. He paused for a few seconds before continuing as he knew to stay hidden from view. But those few seconds were enough to convince him why Eevi avoided the place. Smoke billowed from the center of the Manor, rising high into the barren sky and casting the palace in a dusty haze. On each side of the Manor hung what appeared to be at least two human-like figures. Both were coated in a dark crimson color, their blood stained down the walls in a cape-like shape that faded into the ground.

    Jere had no other words to describe it. It felt wrong being this close. They continued onward.

    This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.

    Eevi led down a path between two closely spaced buildings. Jere recognized them, as he had guarded that corner many times prior. On his right was Shimsusa¡¯s perfume shop, and on the left was one of Urash¡¯s spice houses. He would¡¯ve known where he was without eyes, for he could smell the abhorrent mixture from a distance. Regardless, Jere followed into the tight corridor. The walls pressed tightly into his stomach, the armor gently scraping as he passed. He was fortunate to have lost some weight.

    A bellowing shriek halted the two¡¯s progress. They stopped, trapped in the enclosed space. Not even two meters from them, a screamer limbered in the street. It obscured the light for a moment, though it had not seen them. It would take only the slightest bit of noise to change that.

    Main street was no longer an option. They were completely exposed here.

    Eevi held two fingers to her lips before pointing to the spice house beside them. An opening, a wide squared window obscured by curtains, greeted the two. After a moment of hesitation, Eevi lifted up the curtain and peered inside. She had no room to check it with her crossbow this time. Satisfied, she quietly leaned over the edge and pushed herself into the building. Jere followed after her.

    The spice was so overwhelming that Jere immediately shut his eyes. It was an unbearable sweet smell of pepper and sugarcane, conjuring images of lonely middle-aged men chasing women half their age back to their barren homes.

    Eevi crouched in front of Jere, slowly making her way forward. Rays of light pierced their way through the boarded windows of the spice house, illuminating the particles of ash dancing through the air.  The screamer continued to croak on the other side of the windows, blocking the light as it lumbered outside. It hadn¡¯t seen them in the alleyway, at least not yet.

    The brown ash was unbearable to the senses. Jere felt a rising air in his stomach and bit down on his wrist to suffocate his desire to sneeze. He had never used the spice itself, but he knew that one only needed a handful to experience its full effect. Many on the Corps claimed that brown ash made lovemaking far more pleasurable than otherwise. Many of the old and rich were addicted to the stuff. Jere wasn¡¯t sure what was true, but he needed to be focused. Being forced to crouch with an erection surely wouldn¡¯t help.

    Eevi grabbed Jere¡¯s arm. He had been sitting there for some time. Jere¡¯s eyes could barely see through the tears in his eyes, but at that moment an electric shock ran up his body. He had never appreciated Eevi¡¯s face before. Maybe it was the lighting, the heightened sense of danger, or perhaps even his lack of human contact over the many moons, but Jere was struck. Eevi was certainly an unconventional beauty with her facial scar withstanding, but she was gorgeous nevertheless. Jere had never realized that her eyes were a bright amber. He was transfixed.

    ¡°The fuck are you doing?¡± Eevi whispered. ¡°You¡¯re going to get us killed.¡±

    ¡°Shit,¡± thought Jere. His thinking was jumbled. The spice was more potent than he thought. He shook his head, doing his best to ignore any more impure thoughts.

    The spice house was long but not wide. Jere figured the two must have taken a turn through the storeroom. Outside appeared to be the display area. But it was completely exposed, covered only by a tarp and a few tent poles. As the two continued, another silhouette emerged from the other end of the hallway. There were two screamers now. They weren¡¯t inside, and Jere couldn¡¯t see an easy way for them to get inside the storage room. Unfortunately, that meant there was no easy way to get out either. Jere was holding his breath now, both as a fear of being heard and a fear of inhaling more of the spice.

    Jere stopped. He had reached the other end of the building. There was no window on this side. They would have to turn back around. He only hoped that they could keep thinking straight and not attract the screamers inside.

    ¡°Psst.¡± Eevi was on his left. Jere struggled to see her through the lack of light and the spice particles, but he could barely make out a ladder. It led up the way to the roof of the building. It made sense that the previous owners would need to fumigate a room with so much concentrated ash. Jere sat against the wall as Eevi slowly made her way up, opening the covering above them. The room suddenly alit, Jere could see Eevi¡¯s face once again. The skin on her face was so smooth, even over her scar. She had such prominent cheekbones, and those bold eyebrows¡­

    ¡°Get a hold of yourself, ignoramus¡­ It¡¯s the ash talking.¡±

    Jere¡¯s thoughts were interrupted by two shrieks from outside. The screamers were agitated and throwing their arms against the wall. Maybe they heard Eevi moving the cover, or perhaps they saw the light coming down from the opening. Whatever it was, Jere didn¡¯t wait for them to follow. He scrambled up the ladder, staying low as Eevi pulled him up.

    The two lay flat on the rooftop. The wall outcropping would at least keep them obscured there. At least here Jere wouldn¡¯t have to breathe through any more Brown Ash. But that still left the screamers. They were searching for them now.

    Jere placed his ear to the roof. The screamers were still agitated, but they were moving away from the storage room. Jere peered over the edge of the outcropping. He couldn¡¯t quite see Main Street, but he could observe the display area with ease.

    There were the two screamers, both young men. Each were shirtless and had scratched off much of their skin and hair. Jere had expected as much, but he hadn¡¯t expected to see the Guards Corps as well. Four of them encircled the screamers, keeping them at a distance with lances. The screamers swiped at guards, scratching at the air near their faces. The screamers grimaced, as if the sunlight itself was painful. One guard lunged forward, bringing his lance into a screamer¡¯s chest. The screamer gasped momentarily before collapsing to the attack. The other screamer charged, and the guard dropped his entrapped lance.

    Before the screamer got too close, another guard stepped into its blindside and punched it in the head, knocking it off balance. The guard, a lanky bald man, then sliced his scimitar through the side of the screamer¡¯s head. The screamer fell to the ground immediately. The bald guard stood tall over his victim, staring with intensity.

    At first, Jere believed he was looking at Ipa: the guard who mocked him as he was being led to the cells. But on a second look, he realized the guard was indeed familiar, but not immediately recognizable. This guard¡¯s head was shaved, not bald. His skin was cracked. His neck was covered by a scarf, an odd fashion choice for the desert heat, regardless of the changed circumstances.

    Suddenly Jere realized who this guard was. If the man was taller and wearing gold chains he would look much like his father. It was Juddken Awil-Ishtar.

 Part II.III.IV: Juddken

    Juddken repressed a satisfied breath as he pulled his scimitar from the accursed¡¯s skull. He had to hide his ecstasy. The Corps still saw him as cold and callous, hardened from his stern upbringing and the strong hand of his father. But the reality was much the opposite: he reveled in violence. He always had, and with the current state of affairs, he always would.

    Juddken¡¯s appearance had changed drastically since the Holiday. He was completely clean-shaven, having forsaken his hair in accordance with the old customs of Okkan. His face was gaunt and his wide eyes sunk into his skull, giving him an angular look in sharp contrast to his prior youthful face. He had given up the simple golden robes of his father; these moons he lived in his Corps armor, a sleek bronze variant made of sliding plates that gave him twice the flexibility of his companions. He had once tossed the armor aside when his father gifted it to him years prior, but recent events necessitated its constant wear. Now he refused to sleep without it.

    The guard Juddken rescued held his hand close to his chest, catching his breath. ¡°Thank you, sir,¡± he gasped, still rattled by the close scare. ¡°I''ll report your valor to your father.¡±

    ¡°Uh, guh,¡± Juddken rattled as he attempted to speak. It was the only noise he could make now. He pointed to the guard¡¯s fallen spear, still lodged in the chest of the other screamer.

    The guard had grown accustomed to Juddken¡¯s monosyllabic commands but hesitated before picking up the spear. He seemed afraid of doing anything without absolute clarity.

    ¡°Get the spear, Musub.¡± It was Heikk, another Corps guard. Heikk was a shorter man, with long black hair that slicked back behind his ears. He was older than the others, and as such he carried the most authority within the Corps now. Normally calm and reserved, Heikk was happy to let Juddken do the dirty work. Juddken himself found him too rigid, too critical of decisive action.

    ¡°O-o-okay,¡± stammered Musub. The guard removed the spear from the screamer with a few awkward tugs.

    ¡°We should move off Main Street, sir,¡± Heikk said to Juddken. ¡°I¡¯m surprised there are so few of them. We shouldn¡¯t test our fortune.¡±

    ¡°Uh.¡± Juddken pointed to the spice house, gesturing with two fingers. He wanted to look inside.

    ¡°There¡¯s nothing there but spice. We have more than enough supplies as is.¡±

    ¡°Agh,¡± Juddken winced as he emphasized more. He had difficulty getting his point across. ¡°No shit,¡± he wished he could say. He wanted to know why the screamers wanted to go inside so suddenly.

    Heikk wasn¡¯t receptive to his wishes. ¡°We need to leave. Boah expects you soon.¡± Juddken was angered by the slight. The lesser guard definitely liked to overstep his boundaries.

    ¡°Pray to Okkan we never go out alone,¡± Juddken thought. ¡°Could accidentally end up with my scimitar in your eye.¡±

    Juddken coughed as he followed the others back to the Manor. It was hard not to when so much dirt was kicked up. He stuck his mouth into his forearm, spitting up bloody phlegm. The pain in his throat hovered for a moment, and he felt a warm liquid trickle into his stomach. The pain would pass. It was a regular occurrence since his injury.

    Much of his memory was a blur, and he had to be told what had happened to him: how on the eve of the Holiday, he was shot through the neck by an arrow and left for dead. The priests would say that it was but the grace of Okkan that he survived, but Juddken knew better. His father had something to do with it. If anyone asked, he had simply been given the best care by the best people. He wore a scarf to protect the wound. That¡¯s what Boah would say, at least. The others couldn¡¯t see the cruel simplicity of healing magic: how his neck was now but a deformed and bloated mass of tissue. He was told that he could never again eat food that wasn¡¯t ground up into a paste. He would never again speak.

    Juddken could live with that. He had little use for conversation anyway.

    The Manor came into view. The other guards did their best to ignore the piles of burnt bodies surrounding the walls, victims of quicklime and hot oil. The iron doors slowly opened as the group approached, stopping only about a tenth of the way. It was enough space for each of them to squeeze through one at a time. Juddken was always last, so he made sure to get his usual glimpse of the flayed men. Two corpses, each strung up by their feet from the top of the wall, lay outstretched against it. Their bodies had long dried in the desert heat, but their blood once drizzled down the walls into a maroon sludge to the ground. They were the first two accursed, one of them being one of Juddken¡¯s superiors: Ipa. Juddken was the first to recognize him when he tried to hide away in the Manor, scratches and all. Nothing would have fooled him. He didn¡¯t hesitate before driving his scimitar into the bald man¡¯s heart. It was one of the Okkan faithful who suggested that flayed men could ward off the screamers, but it was Juddken who did the actual flaying. Ipa was Juddken¡¯s first, so his cuts weren¡¯t perfect; the guard¡¯s flesh looked jagged and misshapen even now. Over time he got better at it. Now Juddken¡¯s slices were perfect even when they screamed.

    You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.

    The courtyard of the Manor was packed with over a hundred people, most sitting and slouching in two masses across from each other. Juddken knew there were at least thirty more within the Manor itself, but they would be out here soon. Traders, holy men, and marauders alike all sat together around a massive bonfire collected from the doors and window panels within the Manor. Most were preoccupied with either praying or drinking away their sorrows. Fights broke out on occasion, but there was rarely the energy now. Juddken recalled how many wanted to reclaim the city from the accursed during those first few moons. His father acquiesced to those foolish few who wished to leave but refused them when they returned and couldn¡¯t stop scratching. The ones who were left were a sad bunch, filthy and desperate.

    Each of the six guards carried a sack of grain. For the past few moons, Juddken led a rotating group of guards out into the open during high noon. Initially, they scoured the town for supplies, but after a few attacks and a better understanding of the screamers¡¯ habits, they turned their attention to their surplus of grain deep within the outer walls. The supply would last for now, though Juddken had overheard his father mentioning how at the current rate they wouldn¡¯t last another month. What the people didn¡¯t know, the better. It wasn¡¯t as if Juddken could tell them anyhow.

    Still, seeing all these complacent people, Juddken was amazed at his father. Even in the most dire of circumstances and with their lives in jeopardy, Boah kept these animals in line. He was a spectacular leader and a fine conduit for Okkan.

    The group set their bags of grain near the fountain. There, a constant rotation of four guards handed out water to anyone who needed it. There was more than enough to last for a while, but Boah insisted that they keep careful watch of who came to it. He had come to believe the witch had poisoned the wells before she was captured, and the fountain was the only one left unspoiled. He made sure to check on the fountain several times a day, always speaking close by.

    The guards arranged their sacks in a single file line near the fountain. Heikk sat near the first sack, holding a small bowl that he would use to collect and pour the grain into the people¡¯s random assortment of pots and cups and occasionally hands. The grain was tough and chewy but few complained anymore. Juddken stood watch over Heikk¡¯s shoulder, holding his scimitar at the ready in case anyone acted out of line.

    The first in line was Adok, one of the younger Corps guards. He shadowed the group closely as they entered the courtyard. Adok had previously accompanied Juddken on other trips. His skill with the bow had proven more than helpful on occasion. Juddken liked the young guard; he was useful and quiet and loyal. He was also one of the few who helped Juddken back to the Manor before he bled out.

    ¡°Good to see you,¡± Adok said to Heikk. ¡°Any trouble?¡±

    ¡°Three at the walls, two near the spice house. Most are still at the temple. Pretty routine.¡±

    ¡°Very good.¡± Adok pulled out a small cup and was given a small portion of grain. ¡°What about outsiders?¡±

    ¡°Bah¡± huffed Juddken. It was close enough to be a ¡®no¡¯. Anyone seen outside the Manor was cursed, or about to be as far as Juddken was concerned. They had come across a few survivors, but they were either injured or refused to take refuge. They were slaughtered all the same.

    ¡°We stuck to our usual routes,¡± said Heikk. ¡°I don¡¯t think there are any outsiders left.¡±

    Adok nodded, his gaze shifting down as he turned away with his grain. Juddken¡¯s eyes were too wide, too intense to meet.

    A line formed behind Adok. Fifty people were eager to receive their daily portion of food, the others would eventually come. Every day about three or so decided it was no longer worth eating. Some did so with a renewed commitment to Ati. Others had become too sick to move. Juddken hoped more would join them. The grain would last longer that way.

    Juddken recognized one of the more heavier-set men as he approached the handout. Ky?sti, the once powerful and influential Head. What a failure he had become. His once intricately braided beard and hair were in disarray. He had traded his many beaded necklaces for a tunic the size of a blanket that fell to his knees. Ky?sti stumbled forward as he collected his grain, burping as he thanked the guards. Many suspected he kept a barrel of mead somewhere within the Manor, for he looked drunk on most moons. Juddken was disgusted at the sight of him. He hoped Ky?sti would drink himself to death before long.

    ¡°Yoush¡­ Yoush boys are doin¡¯ a great job¡­ Any chance yoush could make yure way to my ol¡¯ home on main nex time yoush out? I gotsa barrel o¡¯ wine wit yure name init.¡±

    Heikk nodded politely but waved Ky?sti on. It wasn¡¯t uncommon for people to make foolish requests, but few had been so consistently brazen. And for it to come from a Head! What a fall from esteem. Juddken made sure to glare at Ky?sti as he walked away.

    Ky?sti wasn¡¯t the only Head who had fallen on bad luck. The Ati-faithful had not done particularly well since the Holiday. Kirashi was stuck managing the latrines. Gizzal was missing, and many thought he fled the city or was dead. Urash had refused to leave one of the bedrooms within the Manor, instructing the mercenary guards to attack anyone who entered his room without his expressed permission. Juddken was perplexed as to why Boah allowed him to stay there, he even brought him and his men food and water! If Juddken were in charge, he would have them all join the flayed men.

    ¡°Juddken!¡± A shrill voice called over the courtyard, it was Harran, Boah¡¯s loyal administrator. His long mustache was unevenly cut, but he looked much more spry than those who slept in the courtyard. The short man approached with arms outstretched, though he quickly folded them in. He looked unsure of himself around Juddken. ¡°The people of Ash thank you for your consistent contributions! This grain will serve us all well.¡±

    Juddken nodded. He appreciated the praise. He noted none of the other guards treated him so.

    Harran turned to the crowd, making sure his boasting could be heard by all. ¡°We¡¯re so proud of your growth. And your father! He will be most proud of your continued success.¡±

    ¡°I most certainly am.¡± Behind Juddken, flanking the other side of the fountain, was Boah.

 Part II.III.V: Truly Faithful

    Boah approached his son with outstretched arms, the cream sleeves of his robe riding up to his elbows as he clasped Juddken¡¯s shoulder. Juddken shuddered, still unaccustomed to his father¡¯s touch.

    ¡°My boy," Boah said, "For you to make so many trips and return unscathed, he must truly watch over us.¡±

    Boah¡¯s arrival heightened the others, eager to hear what the Big Man had to say. Despite all that had happened, their faith in Boah had only grown. Few inside the Manor doubted that which god provided them with strong walls and strong leaders to repel the accursed. Few openly supported Ati, and fewer doubted that Boah was their protector.

    Juddken was elated, even if he didn¡¯t show it. Boah had never shown him such care or affection. Boah struggled with Juddken, leading him from one odd job to the next, never knowing exactly how to talk with him. Boah never said it, but Juddken always feared his father thought he was a failure.

    But no longer. He was respected now. Loved, even. And for all that, he returned it to his father ten-fold.

    Boah held his other outstretched hand towards the crowd, lowering his head. ¡°May the Lord of Fertility bless us with nourishment. May our dedication and devotion propel us through these difficult times.¡± He then looked out over the crowd, meeting as many as he could with his caring gaze. He smiled gently, radiating confidence.

    In the distance, a lone hand raised over the crowd. It was Kirashi, one of the nine Heads, standing defiantly away from the others. They must have known she was a follower of Ati, or perhaps it was the faint stain of fecal matter that lined her once pristine robe. Her short hair had thinned since her arrival, and at this rate she looked as though she would have no hair left in another fortnight.

    ¡°Ah, Kirashi. Do you have something to share?¡± Boah spoke to her like a petulant child.

    ¡°You pray to Lord Okkan to guide us through,¡± Kirashi croaked. ¡°For how long must we pray?¡±

    Boah chuckled. ¡°This is for Okkan to know!¡± A few in the crowd clapped at the acknowledgment. ¡°I would be the greatest sinner to assume I speak directly of his machinations.¡±

    ¡°But you claim to be his conduit,¡± retorted Kirashi. ¡°Would it not be true that you speak to him, and he to you as well?¡±

    ¡°I am not surprised that a follower of Ati would assume this. For one so devoted to worshiping a decaying god, you must think he whispers to me like a lover.¡± Several in the crowd laughed at this, Harran especially. ¡°No, I am but an interpreter. It was he who told me that the Manor would be safe. Everyone here can thank Okkan for the gift he has given us.¡±

    ¡°Just like he protected us from the curse, right? What of all the other Okkan faithful who now scream at us?¡± Many in the crowd restorted with jeers. Shit smears would only repel them for so much longer. Juddken placed his hand on the hilt of his scimitar. This woman was saying too much.

    Boah waved his arms, hushing the crowd to a complete silence. Juddken was amazed at the sway he held over them. ¡°You speak falsehood, but you speak what you believe to be honest. If you wish to share your thoughts, we have an open forum. You have our attention.¡±

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    Kirashi¡¯s voice cracked, but she spoke with pointedness. ¡°You claim Okkan protects us. You said so on the eve of the Holiday. Yet since then we have been met with nothing but death. How few of us are left now? Two hundred? Maybe less? We spend every moon praying to Okkan and what has he given us? We can¡¯t go outside, we can¡¯t do anything inside, and we spend every day eating the same repugnant grain.¡±

    ¡°Shut up, shiteater!¡± someone in the crowd yelled. The others laughed uproariously. Boah watched on, stone-faced. Juddken did his best to not react, though he found the insult amusing.

    Kirashi continued on, undeterred. ¡°You all hide behind charred corpses and flayed bodies, saying that Okkan defends us, but every day we continue to die! I refuse to sit here and pray to a god that has done so little for us. I know I am not alone in this.¡±

    Boah walked forward, smiling. The crowd backed away from him as he approached Kirashi.

    ¡°You¡¯re right.¡±

    ¡°What?¡± Kirashi was caught off guard. The crowd murmured amongst themselves.

    ¡°Okkan only has as much power as those who devote themselves to him. There are many of us Okkan faithful, but there are many that are not, would you agree? Have you ever asked yourself the power that he would have if we all shared the same devotion? For many years we have been divided, and for many years I have tried to appease the nonbelievers. It is but rational that a god could only do so much. Even a god as powerful as Okkan.¡±

    Kirashi opened her mouth to speak but Boah cut her off. ¡°You and others like you have spent their entire lives undermining our Lord! Your tongue lashes like a whip, stripping away the flesh of truth. It is this blasphemy that has weakened Okkan''s influence and brought this curse back to Ash with a vengeance. Every night we close our eyes we see the power the witch still has over our city. And you dare to ask why? It is because of those like you. People who stir the pot for their own selfish gain. People who are gifted shelter and grain and powerful defenders and in return they spit in their faces. You are the reason we are forsaken by our God!¡±

    The vitriol in the crowd spilled over. Whatever confidence Kirashi mustered was now completely lost. She looked through the crowd for any support but found none. Juddken couldn¡¯t help but notice Ky?sti had long shifted out of the crowd and returned to the bonfire.

    ¡°If Ati truly is your savior, Kirashi, let your devotion protect you. Let Ati bring a storm that will wash away the accursed. You know better than I that he won¡¯t.¡± Boah then turned to his crowd, raising his long arms outward. ¡°But see before you the power Okkan wields.¡± The crowd cheered and yelled.

    ¡°Son,¡± Boah motioned to Juddken, calling him forward. ¡°This woman cursed us with her words, no? Perhaps Shaddon Law would regain the favor she has cost us.¡±

    The mention of Shaddon Law brought cheers from the crowd. ¡°Bring Okkan her tongue!¡± one of them yelled. Juddken was more than happy to oblige.

    Kirashi tried to flee but the crowd encircled her. Several men held down her arms and legs as she thrashed. Women reached for her hair, pulling at what little remained. Two particularly strong men grabbed her jaw and forced it open. Another guard held forceps and managed to grab her tongue. Kirashi screamed through the pressure and the pain.

    Juddken was entranced. Kirashi ceased being a person at this point. With at least ten men and women holding her down, she was but a yak ready to be sacrificed. Juddken pulled out his scimitar, placing it near the sight of Kirashi¡¯s outstretched tongue. As he placed the blade on the side of her face, he felt a wave of euphoria engulf him.

    ¡° T r u l y f a i t h f u l ¡±

    Juddken heard the voice within his head. He had heard it before, but it was becoming louder. It approved of him. He would do whatever he wanted, because deep in his heart he knew that his father loved him, and Okkan loved him too.

    Juddken sliced through Kirashi¡¯s tongue. Blood gushed from her mouth, it was a clean cut. Her screaming made no difference.

 Part II.III.VI: Dreams of Escape

    Deep within Ash Manor, ten mercenaries shared space within an isolated bedroom. Three stood on guard outside the thick wooden door and two stood within, allowing the others to sleep in small cots against the walls. Their beneficiary, Zaman Urash, sat half naked upon a large maroon mattress. Stuffed with wool and yak hair, it was a comfort that few desertfolk could even fathom.

    Despite his luxuries, Urash sat uneasy as ever. He held his head in his hands, still exhausted despite the late waking hour. He hadn¡¯t left his room since the screaming began. The wall torches were a feeble substitute for sunlight, and he felt his already poor vision had worsened. Despite all this, he had no inclination to move. He was where he needed to be.

    Still, Urash couldn¡¯t sleep. He continued to dream of Malefica and her black eyes.

    A knock interrupted Urash¡¯s slow rise from bed. The mercenaries reflexively reached for their swords before Urash waved them off.

    ¡°You¡¯d react the same to a fart,¡± Urash croaked. He turned to the door. ¡°Caregiver, I presume?¡±

    ¡°It is!¡± a voice answered.

    ¡°Very good. Come in!¡±

    One of the mercenaries unlocked the door and Eanna let herself through. She appeared ragged, though she had for as long as Urash had known of her. If anything, she seemed more radiant than usual.

    ¡°You wish to speak with me, sir?¡± Eanna spoke with a meek voice, bowing her head and holding her arms across her belly.

    Urash laughed at the courtesy. ¡°No need for ¡®sir¡¯ bullshit. Don¡¯t let my accommodations fool you, I¡¯m very much a prisoner.¡±

    ¡°No more than the rest of us,¡± Eanna replied. ¡°Boah has said repeatedly that you are free to go if you wish.¡±

    Urash waved the comment off. No need to debate what was obvious to him. ¡°In any case, I have a personal matter that I believe you can help with. My health has not been great as of late.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re stressed, of course,¡± Eanna said. ¡°It is more than reasonable-¡±

    ¡°You don¡¯t understand,¡± Urash cut her off. ¡°It¡¯s these dreams. I lie awake dreading the moment my eyelids fall upon me. It¡¯s running me mad.¡±

    Eanna looked away. Her already docile gaze met the ground. ¡°I-I don¡¯t believe I can be of assistance to you in this matter.¡±

    ¡°Please spare me the act, shaman¡± Urash groaned. ¡°I know you were the one that shut Juddken¡¯s wound, and I know you didn¡¯t do it with leeches. I don¡¯t care what you do or how you do it I just want to sleep again!¡±

    Eanna swung her head upward. The whites of her eyes formed glossy rings around her irises. She was looking past his face, her gaze almost burying into his skull. ¡°Tell me what you dream of, Zaman of Urash.¡±

    ¡°I dream of¡­ of the witch. The one they now call the Accurser. She sits in the room with me on my lap as if she were a child. Those black eyes, like empty wells¡­ She has been staring at me for many moons.¡±

    ¡°Ah. You dream of Malefica. This began the night of her exile, no?¡±

    ¡°You know what ails me?¡±

    ¡°You are experiencing what is called ¡®Ostroprojectral Aura.¡¯ I have seen this curse before.¡±

    ¡°¡®Curse?¡¯ How many more must Ash suffer!¡±

    Eanna laughed. ¡°Suffer? It is barely irritable. Many lesser Gods have the ability to project images into the minds of others. This one is hardly convincing. Not even a single fool has even gone mad.¡±

    ¡°You mean to tell me my nightmares are the result of Godwill?¡±

    ¡°Less a creation and more a¡­ fabrication. To your eyes at least. You should be thankful. Whoever created this aura is but a vermin in the grand scheme.

    ¡°You speak of an aura¡­ you say others experience this as well?¡±

    Eanna smiled. ¡°Everyone alive in the city of Ash, Zaman. Few speak of little else.¡±

    Urash turned his crooked gaze to his mercenaries. ¡°You mean to tell me you fuckers have been watching me toss in my sleep, only to have known the cause this whole time?¡± The mercenaries said nothing, as usual.

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    ¡°Perhaps you are not the only one who has suffered during these trying times. If you would have thought to ask...¡± Eanna smiled, showing her perfect opal teeth. Few in Ash had that many teeth at her age. Not only that, her face became smoother almost. Her hair had regained some of its lost color. It was as if she was replenished by his internal torment.

    ¡°The mercenaries don¡¯t know our language. Good thing I¡¯m fluent in one they can speak.¡± Urash jiggled his garment and coins clattered, answering his point. ¡°They sleep well with lined pockets. Just like I¡¯m certain you will.¡±

    ¡°Perhaps, Head.¡± Eanna mocked Urash with his former title. ¡°But spend your gold while you can. It¡¯ll buy little once the food is gone.¡± She approached Urash, observing his hairy ears and uneven gaze. He knew he looked half broken, weathered by tens of thousands of moons. ¡°The nightmares will linger, but they have already started to fade. Soon, the affirmation that Malefica ever existed will be gone forever.¡±

    Urash laughed, betraying his obvious nervousness. ¡°You speak like you know what a witch is capable of... Do I speak to another?¡±

    Eanna curled her fingers around Urash¡¯s chin. One by one, her fingers pushed Urash¡¯s face towards her own. He could see how smooth her skin was now. There was no doubt about it: she looked years younger. Her wide eyes mimicked Malefica¡¯s, though hers threatened to become a bright white. ¡°You are humbled by even the weakest of shaman prayers. It is true, I and Malefica are very much the same. You desertfolk are foolish, not even to know of the power the word ¡®Witch¡¯ appraises. Your ''clever'' mind is but clay to them, to be molded into whatever they desire. Their abilities are a Great Lion mane, I am but a split hair.¡±

    Urash sat transfixed by her gaze. ¡°You mean to say¡­ This plague really was brought upon by a Witch?¡±

    Eanna¡¯s smile grew wider. ¡°That¡¯s what is scary, Zaman: I don¡¯t know where this plague comes from. I¡¯ve seen witches turn men into swine, but even swine need to be fed. Whatever caused this plague has dominion over death. Even the most powerful are subservient to death.¡±

    ¡°Eanna!¡± A voice called from near the door. It was Boah, the only other person who could have entered this room without Urash¡¯s permission. ¡°You are needed at the infirmary.¡±

    Eanna backed away from Urash, lowering her head back to the floor. ¡°Yes sir, of course.¡± To Urash¡¯s surprise, she had returned to her normal middle-aged self. She trotted out of the room and Boah quickly replaced her spot at Urash¡¯s side.

    ¡°Silly, isn¡¯t it?¡± Boah said. ¡°Shamans pray their lives away seeking favor from weak godlins. All those abilities yet so little power. You believe she is powerful, don¡¯t you? Amazing how many perfumes make men see mountains.¡±

    ¡°Bah,¡± Urash hated Boah¡¯s pompousness. He spoke as if built the Manor with his own two hands. Urash himself could barely claim what his family name already bestowed him. ¡°¡®Conduit of Okkan,¡¯ my ass. You can only claim to have the will of the Gods for so long.¡±

    ¡°Even without the will of the Gods, I have the will of the people. I would much rather have that.¡± Boah paced behind Urash, absorbing the length of the bed. ¡°I wish we speak alone.¡±

    ¡°My guards didn¡¯t even tell me we¡¯ve been sharing wet dreams of the same woman. They will say nothing.¡±

    ¡°This is not a matter that pertains to them.¡±

    ¡°I believe it does.¡± Urash creaked his body around, finally letting his legs rest on the ground. He would need his cane before long. ¡°Whatever you tell me I will eventually inform them, but in Ati¡¯s name, they will not tell anyone else. Okkan''s too, if you wish. You can say whatever you want, but your lies and boasts affect me little. We both know I would already be dead if I didn¡¯t have something you need.¡±

    ¡°Is that so?¡± Boah laughed. ¡°What makes you think I would need the help of a blasphemer?¡±

    Urash smiled. He reached down to the side of his bed and pulled up his sturdy cane. It took a moment, but he eventually got to his feet. ¡°Mendalla surely told you, no? How to open the tunnel?¡±

    Boah tried to laugh, but his furrowed eyebrows betrayed what he had tried to keep secret. ¡°I had planned to ask you how.¡±

    ¡°Your mask slips easily,¡± Urash said. ¡°How have you gotten this far playing politics?¡±

    ¡°I overheard Mendalla speaking of it with Shimsusa.¡± Boah was speaking truthfully now, strangely vulnerable. ¡°It is how she got brown ash to the temple. I also know one can travel from the Manor to the outside completely underground. Mendalla would''ve told me eventually.¡±

    ¡°You could still ask her,¡± noted Urash. ¡°Unless you know you can¡¯t.¡±

    Boah didn¡¯t respond to the provocation. Urash laughed at the silence.

    ¡°We call it the ¡®crawl space¡¯,¡± Urash continued. ¡°An unfortunately literal name. My family may have built this manor, but not its foundation. Below us is a route that leads past the outer gates. In case escape ever became necessary... If you knew what escape from here really meant, you would look elsewhere. You¡¯d know how unscrupulous it would be to escape alone.¡±

    Boah smiled. ¡°You must be having an understandable lapse in judgment. You forget that the Corps outnumber you four to one. You know some of them are even willing to torture to satisfy Okkan''s will.¡±

    ¡°Oh, I suppose you always can. But then you¡¯d be without your ¡®tunnel.¡¯ I¡¯ve lived a long, satisfied life. I''ve made more coin than you can count, and I¡¯ve fucked more women than you¡¯ve ever seen. I doubt I could endure much torture anyway, my body is so frail. If this is how I go, so be it. It¡¯d be worth it just to see the look on your face.¡±

    Boah approached Urash, towering over the old man. ¡°If you must know, allowing my mask to slip is what put me here instead of Mendalla. It¡¯s what separates me from my son.¡± Before Boah could act on his threat further, he turned abruptly. The mercenaries moved out of his way as he marched out of the room.

    ¡°Do tell me, sir,¡± Urash mocked. ¡°Which way do you intend on taking the tunnel? If you plan on taking it to the temple you should be okay, you can pray to Okkan with ease there. But if you wish to make your way to the desert, you may have to bring a shovel!¡±

    Boah left the room without another word. Urash laughed as he did so.

 Part II.III.VII: Distraction

    Jere watched as the sun disappeared behind the edge of the outcropping. He and Eevi had laid on their bellies for hours. Despite Eevi''s insistence that they remain quiet, she was fidgety. She had whispered a litany of questions throughout most of the day. She asked how he survived in the cells, why Boah would want to kill him, whether he knew Appo was killed for sure, and so on. Jere provided answers, though he kept them brisque. He had confirmation that Juddken was alive. That was enough of a reason to stay away from the ire of the Manor.

    Despite Jere¡¯s calmness, intrusive thoughts of Eevi lingered in his mind like splinters. He couldn¡¯t stop thinking of how beautiful she was. He became concerned that the brown ash was seeping from slits in the roof. Eevi¡¯s incessant questioning wasn¡¯t helping such matters.

    ¡°Psst,¡± whispered Eevi, as if she hadn¡¯t been talking with Jere for so long already. ¡°The sun is setting. We should move.¡±

    Jere gave her a thumbs up. Their chummy conversation was still awkward to him.

    ¡°We have a problem, though. We can get through Main Street over rooftop, but there¡¯s running distance between the buildings and the wall. About ten meters. If any of them see us-¡±

    Jere cut her off with a wave of his hand. He knew if any screamers followed them, their hideout would be exposed. ¡°Distraction,¡± he whispered, almost mouthing it.

    ¡°That¡¯s what I was thinking. Any ideas?¡±

    Jere pointed down at the roof. ¡°Burn the spice.¡±

    Eevi grinned. ¡°Brilliant! I had the same thought!¡± She reached behind herself, almost too eager to do anything else other than lie flat. She held one of the canisters she held around her waist. ¡°I can start a fire using some of my spirit. It¡¯ll burn slowly, but it¡¯ll eventually spread inside. They¡¯ll all be too distracted to look anywhere else.¡±

    It made sense to Jere. While most of the building was made of mudbrick, the roof was woven together with reeds. It would burn easily. ¡°And those in the Manor?¡±

    ¡°What if they see us? They¡¯ll have bigger problems if they come outside.¡±

    ¡°Okay. Following you.¡±

    Eevi nodded. She rolled over to her corner of the roof. She opened the cap of her canister, pouring the spirit on the roof. The smell was unbearable. Jere hoped the screamers weren¡¯t as aggravated by smell as they were with noise and light.

    A scream echoed in the distance. It was faint, but after so many hours of relative silence it was startling. He imagined a crooning rooster call. They would all be awake soon.

    Eevi also took note. She poured out the last of her spirit and lit the roof with flint. The flame arose suddenly, encompassing the whole corner within a second before halting.

    ¡°Let¡¯s go,¡± Eevi whispered. The two rose to their knees and peered over the outcropping. The sun was just beyond the horizon now. As they got to their feet, they saw no screamers nearby. But the flame behind them was growing. It wouldn¡¯t be long before they¡¯d see it.

    Eevi led first, crouching as she moved to the end of the spice house. The building next to it was taller so she climbed up on the ridge. Jere followed closely behind. The two moved across the buildings one by one, careful not to make noise. Jere tried not to focus on his surroundings. He was more concerned about whether the roofs could hold their weight. He didn¡¯t want to put all of his faith in the stability of ramshackle Ash architecture.

    After the two traversed over five buildings, Jere turned around. Screams and growls came from the direction of the spice house. The entire roof was on fire now. Several screamers stood around the building, their angular silhouettes outlined by the flames. Most stood still, as if gathered at a fire pit. It was more human-like than Jere was comfortable with. Still, a distraction was a distraction.

    Suddenly the fire grew massive, engulfing the entirety of the spice house. Brown ash was more flammable than expected. Towers of flames rose through the windows, and the mudbrick foundation began to fold in on itself. More and more screamers gathered, some swiped blindly, but most of them stood hypnotized by the flames.

    Jere and Eevi crouched as the footsteps of six or seven screamers passed by. They continued on when no more followed.

    The last building along the row was Ky?sti¡¯s stable house. It was larger than the others, requiring Jere and Eevi to climb up the side of the building. The smell was nauseating; whatever animals had died in there were still decomposing. The two climbed over the edge, taking care to avoid the open holes of the stable. Neither cared to look inside.

    Across the street was the city wall. Two fortified towers, standing maybe three meters higher than the walls, stood beside both ends of the outer gate. The gate itself was closed, boarded up by a long wooden plank that bound both doors shut, but escape was on neither Jere nor Eevi¡¯s minds.

    There was no time to hesitate. Jere had his scimitar and Eevi her crossbow. They were ready for anything.

    Eevi looked around. No screamers. She climbed down the stable walls with haste. Without waiting for Jere to follow, she sprinted across the open ground, making her way to the other side. Jere waited for a moment, hearing nothing but the distant crackles of the burning spice house. He supposed he should thank Eevi for clearing the path, but he found himself upset she left him alone.

    ¡°She¡¯s surviving,¡± Jere thought to himself. ¡°She doesn¡¯t care if you live or die.¡± Jere followed her across the open space, unsheathing his scimitar to limit the clanking as he ran.

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    The passageway into the tower was completely dark. From memory, he recalled that he passed down a hall and took a left before reaching the door. Before, the way had been lit with torches. Jere ran his hand over the stones of the wall, waiting for his fingertips to bristle past an unlit torch handle. Jere reached a dead end and turned left, seeing the slightest outcropping of an open door. Jere was surprised by Eevi¡¯s speed of making it in. It looked like she had already lit a torch.

    Jere let himself inside the room, sliding his body past the door to avoid any unnecessary creaking. Before he could get too far, Eevi stopped him, pressing her hand into his chest.

    ¡°We¡¯re not alone,¡± Eevi whispered.

    Jere froze and looked around the room. It was a standard Corps housing room, complete with several beds, a large table, and a mess hall. Chairs were pushed out as though whoever last sat there left in a rush. Two torches dimly lit the middle of the room.

    As Jere stood still he made out footsteps above.

    ¡°Human?¡± Jere whispered. Eevi said nothing. He realized it made little difference if they were human or not.

    Jere listened closely to the footsteps. They were moving, but not urgently. If it was a screamer it hadn¡¯t heard them yet. But the steps were too coordinated. If he had to guess, they sounded human. But how would they respond to visitors? Jere recalled how Eevi reacted to his arrival. She said she would have killed him if she didn¡¯t recognize him. He wasn¡¯t about to take that chance again.

    At the end of the room, past the collection of beds, a stone staircase led upwards to the second floor. There was another door on the side that led in between the walls. Other than the entrance, there was no other way in. Jere held his hand out to Eevi and pointed across the room. Eevi nodded, aiming her crossbow at the stairs. Jere slowly crossed, checking each side of the beds as he passed by. Whoever was hanging about, Jere was going to let him come down.

    The footsteps circled slightly, before moving back downstairs. They were in a hurry, but not rushed. Excited, almost. Jere could make out the indistinguishable rustling of armor.

    ¡°You need to come up!¡± a man¡¯s voice called out. It was quiet, but unconcerned about anyone else nearby. ¡°Someone lit the spice house on fi-¡±

    The voice stopped. He was right at the edge of the stairs. He would¡¯ve been able to see Eevi and her crossbow clearly.

    ¡°Okay,¡± the voice said, speaking slowly, ¡°I¡¯m unarmed. No need for anything-¡±

    Eevi hissed at him, cutting him off. She tilted her head, beckoning the man to come forward. The torch lights were dim, but Jere could see the person wore standard Guard Corps armor, helmet and all. That meant little though. Was this person in the Corps, or did they just acquire the armor? Did that even make a difference? The last time Jere saw the Corps they attempted to execute him.

    ¡°You¡¯re here for food,¡± the guard continued. ¡°There¡¯s plenty to share. Let¡¯s talk this over.¡± Before he could continue negotiating, Jere stepped out from behind the stairs, thrusting his scimitar across the guard¡¯s neck and holding it under his chin.

    ¡°That¡¯s far enough,¡± Jere whispered, ¡°unless you wish to taste blade.¡± He felt the guard¡¯s apple run past his scimitar as he gulped.

    ¡°I recognize that voice. Corps?¡± Jere didn¡¯t reply. The voice was fearful, but poised. It didn¡¯t sound like one of the many young recruits. The guard continued. ¡°Look, I can give you grain. There¡¯s more than enough to share.¡±

    ¡°Shut up,¡± hissed Eevi. She approached, making sure her aim never left the guard¡¯s head.

    ¡°I know you. You ran that tavern on the north side of town.¡±

    ¡°Shame, I don¡¯t know you. Stop talking.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re making a mistake,¡± the guard continued, undeterred. ¡°We can work together here.¡±

    Jere tightened his grip on the Guard¡¯s neck. ¡°You should really listen to the lady.¡±

    ¡°HOLD IT!¡± Another voice shouted from behind Eevi. It was another guard, this one holding a nocked bow a meter behind her head. He was young, with frizzled hair and an intense expression. Jere recognized Adok immediately.

    ¡°Fuck me¡­¡± Eevi said, exasperated. She kept her crossbow trained on the guard.

    ¡°Drop your weapons now!¡± Adok continued. ¡°Don¡¯t make me ask again, I¡¯ll kill both of you!¡± He alternated his bow between Jere and Eevi. Jere¡¯s hostage squirmed, he was looking directly at the arrow as well.

    Jere moved his head slightly behind the guard, bringing his scimitar tight enough to cut into skin. He realized what the guard had been doing. He was talking just loud enough to get attention. ¡°Clever,¡± Jere thought. Blood started to trickle down.

    ¡°Eevi,¡± said Jere, quiet and calm. ¡°Get him in your sights. He won¡¯t shoot.¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t test me!¡± Adok nearly shouted again. He moved closer, as if an extra two steps would make all the difference. They were all within arm¡¯s reach now.

    ¡°I¡¯ll slit his throat!¡± Jere snarled. He wasn¡¯t even sure whether he was bluffing or not. Either way, seeing Adok again was overwhelming. He had gotten through his stay in the cells by thinking of Boah, of getting his revenge the moment he had the chance. His thoughts strayed to others, though. He thought of how Adok could have let him go during the chaos. How he was the primary reason he had been locked away. How quickly he took Juddken¡¯s side when everything went wrong. More than all of that, though, for as long as Jere known Adok, he was an annoying little shit.

    Eevi kept her crossbow aimed at the guard, though she was hesitant. ¡°I don¡¯t know, Jere¡­¡±

    ¡°Jere?¡± For a brief moment, Adok lowered his bow.

    A brief moment was all he needed. Jere pushed the guard forward, bumping past Eevi and into Adok. Adok¡¯s bow loosened, and the arrow fell out of place onto the ground. Jere charged past the two of them and tackled Adok to the ground, knocking the wind out of him. The scimitar clattered across the ground, Jere¡¯s grip failing him as Adok fell on his hands. Before Adok could retaliate, Jere moved his body across Adok and sat on top of him. Jere grabbed Adok¡¯s tunic armor by the chest plate and landed a punch across his jaw. Adok tried to block the attack but there was little he could do other than stick his hands out in front of his face.

    Jere continued punching. One after another. He was lacking his usual strength, but even weakened he was stronger than the average man. Each hit came with retaliation for a wrong. One for being locked in the cells. Another was nearly starving to death. Another was being sold into slavery. It mattered little that Adok had nothing to do with any of that. Jere wanted to kill something. Teeth bounced out of Adok¡¯s mouth. Something cracked, Jere wasn¡¯t sure whether it was his hand or Adok¡¯s skull.

    ¡°JERE!¡± Eevi shouted from behind him. Jere stopped, snapping out of his trance. Eevi was standing behind the guard with her crossbow aimed behind his neck. As Jere came to, he realized she had been shouting at him for several seconds. From this angle, Jere finally saw who he had been holding hostage. It was Heikk. Jere would have recognized him immediately were it not for the helmet. He was a good man, one of the best in the Corps.

    Jere turned back to his victim. He was no longer Adok, the pestering little guard. Below him, Jere just saw a young boy, not even eighteen. Adok was limp, having lost consciousness a few punches prior. Half of his face was swollen, his left eye completely closed and his lips ripped to pieces. His nose was broken, and he had punched out several of his front teeth. Jere looked down at his hand, realizing that the crack he heard was his middle knuckle. He had shattered it.

    It was a miracle he didn¡¯t kill him.

 Part II.IV.I: The Tower

    Appo was no stranger to late nights. He was used to staying awake past the point of exhaustion. But the tediousness of looping around sand mounds from sunrise to sunset was becoming tiresome. He had nothing to do but guide his camel. It was mind-numbing.

    The group had been fortunate, for they encountered no obstacles on their journey thus far. It was by design, as the group intentionally took the route least likely to cross any raider lines. They considered it a blessing though slightly concerning. Appo couldn''t help but be nervous. He had seen so many screamers his first night and to avoid all of them not even two moons out? Strange as it felt, running into one would have motivated him. He needed to be reminded of what he faced.

    Appo had not been awake his entire ride. He drifted off on occasion, propped up by his saddle. He occasionally awoke in fright, clutching at his now missing hand. Appo calmed himself by a reminder of where he was, which was typically accomplished by finding Gizzal¡¯s stout frame outlined by moonlight. The Head fared far better in the desert than Appo expected. At a brief stop under a rock outcropping, Gizzal told tales of how he raced camels in his youth and had even been interested in breeding them before he took over the family gemstone business. He claimed he hadn¡¯t ridden in over a decade, but after only an hour he appeared as competent as ever.

    Gizzal remained a mystery to Appo. From his conversations with the other Heads, Appo had thought him to be little more than a miser. Gizzal himself would probably agree. But something was driving him, even it was little more than a guilty conscience. He was willingly guiding several strangers to Zabukama, a place so fearsome that a fighter as skilled as Isbibarra refused to share what he encountered.

    And then there was that city: Zabukama. Isbibarra had told Appo it was not the true name, but rather a translation of what locals described it. It meant ¡°Black Waste.¡± From what Mikal had told Isbibarra during their journey, it was an apt description. Appo often shuddered at the thought of what horrors awaited them in the city that released the Screaming Plague.

    These ponderings carried Appo through his ridings. Before long, the sun rose over the dunes yet again. Appo could see that they were smaller. Flatter ground meant a quicker pace. After rest, they would reach their destination within two moons.

    After passing through another valley, Gizzal reversed course back to the group. He spotted the halfway point. The three yipped their camels up the side of a particularly large dune.

    First, Appo realized that far in the distance he could make out the Fincur Mountains. Barely a white border, the snow-capped range stretched into the horizon, fading into the Eivett? but continuing as far as he could see southward. The foot of the mountains was perhaps a month¡¯s travel away, but it awed Appo that he was essentially looking at the eastern end of Ostior. They looked small from here, but Appo knew that if he got closer the mountains would keep rising farther to the sky, forming a wall that obscured even more mountains behind it. None knew what lay beyond its ridge, whether it be dragons or golems or forgotten gods. Perhaps the drunkard, Kostya, could have told him, but that was ages ago.

    Nevertheless, the Fincurs were beyond their reach. Instead, Appo¡¯s attention turned to a dune not half a league in front of them. He saw what looked to be a tower erupting behind the dune, built with the same weathered sandstone that comprised the temples of the Eivett?. Seeing any structure in the desert was an abnormal sight.

    ¡°We mustn¡¯t haste,¡± said Gizzal. ¡°We aren¡¯t the only ones searching for shade. This tower is not on any of their routes."

    "True," Appo agreed. ¡°But what wasn¡¯t on their map before could be there now. We should scout it, see if there''s anyone inside.¡±

    ¡°That will not be necessary,¡± said Isbibarra. ¡°Get me closer. My abilities are of little use in the sand, but if there is anyone in that structure I will be able to tell from a safe distance.¡± Neither Appo nor Gizzal complained. If they had to hide behind a blind man for this leg of the journey, so be it.

    The trio led their camels down into the valley, coming around the other side. The tower was barely visible from this vantage, and the lack of any ridge patrols proved somewhat promising. At the edge of the dune, Isbibarra motioned for the group to halt. He gingerly lowered himself to the sand, extending his toes to cover as much ground as possible.

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    ¡°No one is inside,¡± Isbibarra announced.

    ¡°You¡¯re absolutely sure?¡± asked Appo.

    ¡°The tower continues on twenty meters below us. It is about ten stories tall, most of it buried. If there is anyone inside, they are either dead or dying.¡±

    Gizzal didn¡¯t hesitate. He immediately led his camel up the slope. Appo wasn¡¯t as eager, letting Gizzal confirm that the coast was clear before making his own way up. He was still adjusting to riding one-handed, and his good arm had long expended all of its strength. How the camels still had so much energy was staggering.

    The cylindrically-shaped tower exited the other side of the dune at a slight angle. Two floors were visible, the top one half-ruined by a collapsing wall foundation. The lower floor appeared stable, though it was half buried in the sand. The walls were adorned with column fixtures spaced between three slit-like windows. Although well worn, the tower¡¯s design was far more elaborate than anything Appo had seen in the Eivetta thus far. Most importantly, Appo couldn¡¯t see any signs of recent activity. No footprints, supplies, or evidence of fire. The tower had long been abandoned.

    ¡°Unbelievable,¡± murmured Gizzal. ¡°Ten stories, you say? Raiders are quite innovative for savages.¡±

    ¡°You give them credit they do not deserve,¡± replied Isbibarra. ¡°Raiders do not build anything they cannot carry on their backs. This is Shadeonite work. This tower could be hundreds, even a thousand years old.¡±

    Appo motioned his camel down the slope, gripping the back of his saddle to keep from falling. The window itself was half buried in the sand, but it was still two meters tall. The closer he got, the more Appo appreciated how massive the tower truly was. If it was as tall as Isbibarra claimed, it would have been far taller than any structure Appo had seen on the mainland.

    Inside, the tower revealed a massive spacious room covered in thin layer of sand. The room had a spiral staircase leading up to the top floor on the right side of the room, and an adjacent staircase going down on the left. A makeshift firepit was in the center of the room, previously dug out by prior settlers. Otherwise, the room was completely empty. Whatever this tower held within, it had been picked clean by centuries of looters. Still, Appo acknowledged the architectural ingenuity its builders possessed. Upon closer inspection, he recognized the crisscrossing of parallel dashes and wedges; they were the exact same language carved on the walls and ceilings of Ash¡¯s temple. Likewise, the carvings covered every space within, at least the ones not weathered down by time.

    ¡°Isbibarra, what do you make of this language?¡± asked Appo. ¡°I saw it in Ash, but no one told me what it was. I presume the Shadeon carved it?¡±

    ¡°You would be right.¡± Isbibarra trotted down the sand slope through the window slit, using a spear to tap his way forward. ¡°Shadeon left their trace on every stone they could find. I cannot translate it, though. None can. It is a forgotten tongue.¡±

    ¡°Forgotten? Has no one attempted to study it?¡±

    ¡°Towns along the Thorne are new. Like crabs searching for shells, they have made their homes in the skeletons of older civilizations. They do not know the horrors that were committed within their walls. My people were well acquainted with their atrocities and wanted nothing to do with them. When the empire disappeared, all of their works were banned. Little could be done about those faraway temples but their language has been erased nevertheless.¡±

    Appo sighed. ¡°Shame. Anything could be written on these walls. If the plague came from the Shadeon, maybe they wrote about it? What if they discovered a cure?¡±

    Isbibarra laughed. ¡°These are a cultureless people, Appo. They were only interested in the art of torture, the breeding of slaves, and the science of war. They cared not for the cultivation of this world, but rather the destruction of it. If you were to translate what was on these walls, it would not be poetry or the appraisal of gods, but rather the gloating of how many severed heads they could stuff into a sack, or how many babies their dogs could kill. The less you know about the Shadeon, the better.¡±

    As Isbibarra ranted, Gizzal led the camels inside. They groaned as they trotted through the slit, and as they found solid ground they immediately lowered their bodies. Appo had to give them credit, they were flawless at desert travel. They deserved their rest.

    Before settling in, the trio explored the tower. The spiral staircase below led to a similarly sized room completely shrouded in darkness. The floor below that was completely engulfed by sand, limiting further investigation. After their rest, the camels were led down to the bottom floor; in case anyone needed to hide, they would not need to be moved. Upon traveling to the floor above, Appo realized that while the wall had collapsed, there was a wide opening previously built into it. The three spent the rest of the moon debating over what the tower was built for. Isbibarra guessed the tower was once used for spotting enemies, and Gizzal suggested it could have once been a lighthouse. Appo couldn¡¯t disagree with either theory, though he noted how easily he could view the sky from this angle. As a boy, he had been interested in astronomy, and often spent nights tracking the erratic movements of the stars. He could have easily done the same here.

    Whatever the conjecture, the three had little energy to explore much else. They ate their ration of yak meat, drank a satchel of water each, and prepared to rest. Isbibarra and Gizzal slept near their camels, using their bellies as makeshift pillows for comfort. Appo simply curled up in a ball near the stairs, undeterred by the hard sandstone floor, and drifted off to sleep.

 Part II.IV.II: An Interrogation

    For almost three hundred years, the gates of Ash stood against the forces of the Eivett?. Originally designed by the Urash family, the gates were a monumental project that took almost a decade to complete, requiring sandstone from nearby Shadeon ruins. When the original builders succumbed to the incessant heat, the Urashs turned to the people of the Steppe for slave labor. Upon completion, the Iron Gates of Ash shielded its citizens against raiders, bandits, Merkamensan war elephants, and the cannibal lords of the Steppe over many centuries. Likewise, it proved effective against a horde of more than a thousand screamers.

    Although the gates were shut, the screamers continued to gather around, searching for a way in before succumbing to their routine of squatting and crying and self-mutilation. Eventually, others followed. More holiday worshippers. Bandits, presumably looking to take advantage of a crisis. Even a Jyv?skian legion had come to investigate. Some escaped, but most did not. After a week, even those who escaped returned, adding their bodies to the ever-growing horde. Lost and alone they waited outside, taking their place amongst tattered huts and decimated caravans.

    From the right guard tower, Jere looked out over the screamers. He had come to accept a realization: escape from Ash was impossible. He mulled over this certainty by sipping from a canister of lukewarm wine. It had long gone bad, but he was buzzed. Anything to distract himself from the pain in his broken knuckle.

    He had nearly beaten Adok to death. That poor, dumb kid.

    Jere heard Eevi come up. She had checked on him multiple times this morning but normally returned below. Jere hoped she would do the same again.

    ¡°Is it me, or are there more of them?¡± Eevi said.

    ¡°Hmph,¡± Jere grunted.

    ¡°You don¡¯t think they¡¯ve reached Lockwood already, do you? There¡¯s so many, even considering the Hoilday.¡±

    Jere shrugged. He kept his eyes on the screamers. He watched how they sat in morose pain, ripping what little flesh remained from their limbs. They looked so pathetic from the tower. Pitiful, even.

    Eevi leaned her arms over the guardrail next to Jere. Her closeness bothered him.

    ¡°Did they say anything new?¡± Jere finally said. The silence was too uncomfortable.

    ¡°Not really,¡± Eevi sighed. ¡°Their story hasn¡¯t changed. They¡¯re desperate and young¡­ Perhaps you should talk to them.¡±

    ¡°Pass.¡±

    ¡°Look, I don¡¯t know them like you do. They tell me they aren¡¯t with Boah or Juddken. I believe them, but your opinion would settle all doubt.¡±

    ¡°Of course, they¡¯d say that,¡± said Jere. ¡°They¡¯re part of the Corps. Could be on lookout. We have no way of knowing.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re also with the Corps. Means jack shit. Did you know them before? They say or do anything that would concern you?¡±

    ¡°Adok is the reason I ended up in the Cells. He could have let me go, but he didn¡¯t.¡±

    ¡°Oh. Well¡­ explains a lot.¡±

    Jere shook his head. ¡°He had no reason to protect me. They would have killed him, I have no doubt. I would have done a lot worse in his place.¡±

    ¡°Hey.¡± Eevi placed her hands on his shoulder. Jere turned, meeting Eevi¡¯s face. He had never been this close to her face before. Her scar was smoother than he had thought, a lacy lattice of tissue that enveloped her eye, expanding outward up towards her scalp and down to her lip. She had never said what had happened to her. Although scarred, her expression was bright. Her gaze was friendly but commanding. It reminded Jere of someone he knew years ago.

    ¡°I understand this is awkward. But we can¡¯t stay here, and unless you plan to kill them we shouldn¡¯t keep them here. We still need to find another way out, because we¡¯re not going out through that.¡± Eevi pointed towards the desert. ¡°They can help us. And you can talk to them.¡±

    Jere grunted again. Eevi made sense. He sipped more of his wine, but its effect was blunted. It did little to help his pain, and he was still very sober.

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    ¡°I¡¯ll¡­ speak with them. Look for holes in their story.¡±

    Eevi smiled. ¡°Excellent. I¡¯ll explore more of these walls and see if there¡¯s anything else I can find.¡±

    The two returned back down the stairs to the mess hall. They took a right, walking down a hallway carved between the walls. After a distance, they reached an adjacent guard tower. It was similar in design to the last one, likewise containing disorganized beds, tables, and chairs. Unlike the other, this one¡¯s staircase continued downward a floor below. The two broke away from each other; Eevi continued down another hall and Jere went down the stairs.

    The basement of the tower was short. Jere was forced to crouch to make room. He was greeted by a gated cell blocking the grainery storage. Heikk leaned behind it, sticking his gangly arms through the bars. Adok was behind there somewhere, likely recuperating on a pile of stored grain.

    ¡°Jere,¡± Heikk said, stone-faced.

    ¡°Heikk,¡± Jere replied in kind.

    ¡°I have nothing left to say that I haven¡¯t told Eevi already.¡±

    ¡°Good. You¡¯ve had a chance to practice, then.¡±

    Heikk sighed. ¡°Fine. Should I start from the beginning?¡±

    ¡°Just why you¡¯re here. That¡¯s all.¡±

    ¡°As I¡¯ve already said, we¡¯ve been in the Manor since the screaming began. The Corps have been doing their best to keep the peace. Gather food and supplies, remove anyone that gets in our way. Everyone did their part to survive at first. We planned to wait out for rescue, but when the Jyv?skian reinforcements fell... they started praying to the old ways of Okkan.¡±

    ¡°Eevi told me. Doesn¡¯t explain why you left.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯ve seen the Manor, right? They¡¯re killing anyone who speaks up. Not even the Heads are safe. Not that it¡¯s our business, but Adok and I come from desertfolk. They¡¯d find out we¡¯ve once worshipped Ati. We needed to get away from the Manor, and this is the only place with food.¡±

    ¡°And the only other place they routinely come to. Not very smart.¡±

    ¡°We don¡¯t plan to stay.¡±

    ¡°So you want to escape?¡±

    ¡°Escape is impossible¡­ No, you have to understand,¡± Heikk leaned forward, putting his hands together, ¡°I heard what Boah did to you. He¡¯s ordering Shadeon Law. Sleeping near him is far from ideal. Believe it or not, last night was the first good night of sleep I¡¯ve had in moons. Can¡¯t speak for Adok though.¡±

    Jere ignored the slight. ¡°What¡¯s next?¡±

    ¡°We were going to wait for an opening. They don¡¯t care where we sleep as long as we don¡¯t get scratched. We told Juddken we¡¯d guard the grainery, but the first chance we get we¡¯re making a break for it. Maybe the screamers will start dying, or maybe more distractions will come.¡±

    ¡°You don¡¯t have water, ignoramus. How did you expect to get through the desert?¡±

    ¡°We¡¯re not leaving yet, dick. Walking out of the Manor with a month¡¯s supply of water looks suspicious. You can criticize us all you want but you haven¡¯t been there.¡±

    ¡°Right. Thanks to the other one.¡± Jere did an exaggerated nod, looking over the cell. ¡°Manor sounds pleasant compared to the Cells. Bet it¡¯s quieter.¡±

    Heikk shook his head. ¡°Okay, you don¡¯t believe me. Fine. Could Adok change your mind?¡±

    Jere was hesitant to admit so. ¡°Is he asleep?¡±

    ¡°Adok!¡± Heikk called. ¡°Talk to him.¡±

    A grumbling arose from the other end of the cell. Heikk backed away, allowing Adok to take his place. The young guard was sullen and mopey, though it was easy to see why. His bruised eye had worsened. Jere hadn¡¯t broken the boy¡¯s skull, but he had gotten about as close as possible. His nose was crooked, and his lips were cut in multiple places. Adok kept his good eye trained toward the floor, refusing to even look at Jere¡¯s feet. He stopped some two meters away from the door.

    ¡°Well,¡± Jere spoke first, after some hesitation. ¡°Ever thought you''d see me again?¡±

    Adok didn¡¯t respond. He kept his gaze on the floor.

    ¡°Gonna confirm his story?¡± continued Jere. ¡°Or will you tell me what¡¯s really going on?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry.¡± Adok¡¯s voice slurred under the weight of his swollen cheek.

    ¡°Huh?¡±

    Adok looked up. His good eye was watering. He was holding back tears. ¡°I¡¯m sorry,¡± he said again, this time barely above a whisper. ¡°You were supposed to be dead. I thought I killed you.¡±

    Jere wasn¡¯t expecting this. ¡°I told you, kid. You did what you had to do.¡±

    ¡°I knew it was wrong.¡± Adok¡¯s tears were coming stronger, almost sobbing. ¡°I knew it was wrong but I let it happen anyway. You should have died and I- I was the one that stopped you!¡±

    Jere didn¡¯t know what to say. He tried to imagine himself in Adok¡¯s place. If he were young and surrounded by men happy to kill anyone they were told to. He wouldn¡¯t have even given himself a chance to run. Adok did.

    ¡°Please forgive me! I could never live with myself after what I did¡­ Even though I know you are safe I can only imagine what you¡¯ve been through. My pain is nothing compared to yours! I deserve what you did to me! No¡­ No, I deserve death. Only that could make up for what I¡¯ve caused! On my mother¡¯s soul, please forgive me!¡±

    Adok wasn¡¯t mocking him. He was being genuine. He had been building this up for some time. He must have spent every waking hour thinking about it. Jere had spent many nights cursing Adok¡¯s name along with others. It was easier than what Adok must have thought in return.

    This was all too much. Jere turned away, heading up the stairs in defiance of Adok¡¯s pleading.

    As Jere returned to the mess hall, he encountered Eevi. ¡°What did they say?¡± she asked.

    ¡°Let them go,¡± Jere said as he pushed past her.

 Part II.IV.III: Tuudit Sykloniin

    Appo awoke reaching for his left hand. He had dreamt of it rolling away, as if it had just snapped off like a porcelain doll¡¯s. As he came to, a deep numbing pain rose up his arm, becoming a deep itch impossible to relieve. He caressed his nub, hoping it would distract him. He had spoken to amputees who complained of such experiences. They claimed the pain would never go away.

    ¡°Just another reassuring thought.¡±

    A long and cold night sleeping on hard sandstone did little to revitalize Appo. His soreness lingered, even if all he did was passively direct his camel. As hot as it was, he forgot how cold the desert could be at night. He suddenly envied the others, who had slept warm on the backs of their camels.

    One of Isbibarra¡¯s torches illuminated the room. The camels were still asleep, though their riders were missing. ¡°They must be getting ready upstairs,¡± Appo thought. ¡°Wonder how long I¡¯ve been out this time?¡±

    Upon climbing the spiral staircase, Appo found Gizzal crouched beneath one of the window slits. Isbibarra sat at the fire pit, maintaining a modest flame upon a small number of twigs. It was nighttime again. Appo had slept through the sunset.

    ¡°Keep your voice down,¡± said Isbibarra. He was smoking his pipe, sitting over a small pot of boiling water. ¡°Gizzal sees others in the distance.¡±

    ¡°Screamers?¡± Appo asked.

    ¡°Doubtful,¡± said Gizzal, not turning from his spot. ¡°Come here. Help settle a debate I¡¯ve been having with this blind fool.¡±

    Appo crouched and made his way to Gizzal. The portly man lay flat, his head peering over the edge of the window with an intense glare. Perhaps a league away, Appo could see a small cluster of five torches in the middle of a wide valley. It was impossible to tell how many were in the group.

    ¡°Doesn¡¯t feel like raiders,¡± said Gizzal. ¡°They¡¯ve been sitting for a while. Maybe a couple of lost souls?¡±

    Appo had no idea. ¡°Are they looking for the tower?¡± he asked.

    ¡°I don¡¯t think so... They came from the south, but turned west before settling. The tower would be impossible to miss if they knew where to look.¡±

    ¡°Ah¡­  maybe desertfolk, then?¡±

    ¡°Possibly¡­ I think we should go to them. They could help us.¡±

    ¡°Absolutely not,¡± said Isbibarra, speaking up. ¡°Assume that everyone wants to kill you. We should let them pass, or we should strike first.¡±

    ¡°But what if circumstances have changed?¡± replied Gizzal. ¡°We can¡¯t be completely sure what is ahead of us. Besides, more people means more protection, right?¡±

    Appo struggled with the suggestions. Returning the pendant to Zabukama was their priority, and there was no telling who was out there or how violent they were. But on the off chance that they were desertfolk, they were in the middle of a land of raiders that had become infested with screamers. They needed shelter. Being this visible was a death sentence in such a land.

    ¡°Isbibarra is right,¡± said Appo, after some thinking. ¡°It¡¯s best to stay here for now. At least until we can figure out who these people are.¡±

    Gizzal grumbled as he slid down from his vantage point. ¡°To think I thought you were a healer.¡± It was an unexpectedly terse thing to say.

    ¡°Traveling tonight would be a poor choice,¡± reiterated Isbibarra. ¡°We should stay awake until they move on¡­ Appo, you are welcome to get more rest, but if not I have prepared figweed tea. We should drink, it will help pass the time.¡±

    ¡°Fine,¡± said Gizzal.  He sat down at the fire pit across from Isbibarra, pouting like an irate toddler. ¡°As if a fucking tea party will make me forget we¡¯re at war with the dead!¡±

    Isbibarra lifted the pot, pouring hot water into saucers with two leaves each. ¡°Figweed tea is prepared in many ways. Most drink it straight, as they get an instant cool relief. They rush to their joy. But when the weather is agreeable? Boil the water and put the leaves in after. Brings out the flavor. Nothing in Ostior tastes better.¡±

    He handed the saucers to Appo and Gizzal, letting them drink. It was overwhelmingly hot at first, but its heat quickly subsided to a cool, lingering sensation. It indeed was refreshing, but the tea was so bitter Appo could only drink so much. Gizzal had no such quarrels, chugging it quickly before requesting another.

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    ¡°This is very good,¡± said Appo.

    ¡°Indeed,¡± agreed Gizzal. ¡°Does it pair with drawstring?¡±

    Isbibarra smiled. ¡°Most things do. Take as much as you like.¡±

    Gizzal laughed. ¡°I learned my lesson last time.¡± He took Isbibarra¡¯s pipe, it barely touching his lips before handing it back. ¡°You should have the rest though. I have a feeling this will be the last time we can relax for a while.¡±

    Isbibarra nodded as he huffed his pipe. The three sat in silence, each content with watching their pathetic flame consume what few twigs remained. Despite being so close to others, no one dared to suggesting killing the fire. There would be one last night of normalcy before heading into Zabukama.

    ¡°This is a shit way to pass time,¡± announced Gizzal. ¡°Anyone have a story to tell? Any tales of debauchery or adventure? I¡¯d love to hear fanciful stories of women, though I doubt either of you could tell one the right way.¡±

    Neither Appo or Isbibarra responded. Isbibarra appeared lost in his drawstring. Appo himself was only half listening. He found himself drifting off more often since he had awakened at the raider camp. His felt as if his mind was slower, and that it would never return.

    ¡°I¡¯m not in the storytelling mood,¡± said Appo. ¡°You have anything to share?¡±

    Gizzal opened his mouth to speak but hesitated. ¡°Shit, not really. You both aren¡¯t exactly the most engaging crowd.¡±

    Isbibarra exhaled. ¡°¡®Tuudit sykloniin.¡¯ It is something by people used to say before going into battle. This is our last moment of reprieve. Now is the time to reflect on our lives and what we are fighting for. We will tell our stories after.¡±

    Gizzal laughed. ¡°I¡¯ll pass, respectfully.¡± He appeared loose even after just one puff of drawstring. ¡°Does anyone know a joke? Consider it cultural intermingling.¡±

    Isbibarra furrowed his eyebrows. ¡°I am not sure what is humorous about our current situation.¡±

    ¡°No, like¡­ You know what a joke is, right? Mercks go to wars over trees, how do you not find that hilarious?¡±

    Isbibarra leaned back, taking another huff from his pipe. ¡°Millenia of war is a poor source of laughter, friend.¡±

    Gizzal leaned forward, frustrated by the lack of progress. ¡°Fuck it. I¡¯ll start. This is a joke I used to share with the Heads. It goes something like this¡­ The king of Digerraki wishes to teach his people not to eat. In his kingly wisdom, he bans food from his city. After a month, his people die of starvation. The king is understandably upset, and he visits his priest. The priest, having heard of the king¡¯s misfortune, comforts him. ¡®You have endured a great loss,¡¯ the priest tells him. ¡®It is a great loss indeed,¡¯ replies the king. ¡®Just when I taught them not to eat, they died!¡¯¡±

    Gizzal reared his head back in laughter. After a few seconds, he realized he was the only one laughing. ¡°Come on! Do you two not get it?¡±

    ¡°Yep,¡± replied Appo.

    ¡°The king was very foolish,¡± said Isbibarra. ¡°It was terrible leadership. And why did his people not revolt? This is a bad story.¡±

    ¡°Ati¡¯s dirt, you both are dense. Urash always appreciated that joke.¡± Gizzal gestured to Isbibarra. ¡°You try then. Just say something funny. Anything that would make Soturi chuckle.¡±

    Isbibarra held his chin, rubbing the sides. ¡°Alright. This is an old parable but I believe it is appropriate¡­ Many centuries ago, a Keisari dreamt he was a bonsai tree. His sixty years of life became six hundred. His roots traveled deep, his trunk was strong, and his leaves were colorful and majestic. He knew not that he was once Keisari, the ruler of all Merkamensa, and he did not care. He was instead a beautiful tree, carefully cultivated by generations of care. Suddenly, he awoke and he was Keisari again. Centuries of memories faded, but he did not know what he had become. Was he Keisari, who had dreamed of becoming a bonsai? Or was he a bonsai, now dreaming of being a Keisari?¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s not quite a joke,¡± said Gizzal. ¡°That was more¡­ philosophical nonsense.¡±

    Isbibarra leaned back, unconcerned. ¡°It is funny because the Keisari does not know what is real and what is a dream. He will spend the rest of his life questioning his reality. Just like the rest of us.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s actually interesting,¡± said Appo. ¡°How often do we go around assuming what we know is certain? What may be true and obvious to us now may not, in fact, be real. Think of all the Ashfolk who believed that Malefica started the plague.¡±

    Gizzal shook his head. ¡°Nope I¡¯m stopping this right now. Let me try another joke, this one is much better. Lets see, uh¡­ A raider, a priest, and a yak walk into a brothel-¡±

    ¡°I do not wish to hear this one,¡± Isbibarra interjected. ¡°Sounds vulgar.¡±

    ¡°When did you become so uptight? At least give me a chance to tell it first.¡±

    ¡°If you wish to share repugnant stories, save it for the other Heads. I do not wish my thoughts to be of fornication on this night.¡±

    ¡°Look, it doesn¡¯t have to be about women. The brothel can be full of men if you prefer, I truly don¡¯t care either way.¡±

    Isbibarra¡¯s face turned cold. He appeared both unnaturally calm and stiff, speaking slow but stern. ¡°You speak out of turn. I did not save your life to listen to foolish riddles. Your very presence is a waste of time, and I wish I had not gone out of my way to save you.¡±

    The coldness of Isbibarra¡¯s remark was unexpected. Gizzal fell silent, as did Isbibarra. Both realized that they each said too much.

    Appo twiddled his thumbs. He had been quiet himself for most part, but this needed to be defused. He couldn¡¯t spend the rest of the trip with everyone at odds. What they were up against was bigger than this pettiness.

    ¡°I don¡¯t know any jokes, but I have a story I look back upon sometimes that I think is quite funny. I once treated a man in Beyshran who had become sick with pox fever. I suspect he was a failed banker or a politician, I don¡¯t really know. Now, for pox fever you need to rest the body. My advice was basic self care: ¡®drink your water, stay in the shade, and let your body recover.¡¯ He was down on his luck, and was concerned he couldn¡¯t pay for my services. I told him he could pay me once he recovered, it wasn¡¯t unheard of. After a month, I returned to check in on him. I discovered he was still very sick. I asked his wife why he was, for the fever should have passed by then. She told me that for the last month, he had done nothing but drink wine and refused to go inside. I asked ¡®why would he do that? That was the opposite of what I told him,¡¯ and she told me: ¡®he has to stay like this. If he gets healthy then he¡¯d have to pay!¡¯¡±

    Appo kept his gaze at the fire. The reaction was slow, but gradually the others loosened up. Gizzal chuckled, and Isbibarra huffed his pipe again before he allowed a small giggle. It was a muted reaction, but it cooled the tension.

    For the first time in a long time, the three men shared a laugh.

 Part II.IV.IV: The Tunnel

    Juddken paced outside of Urash¡¯s room, locking eyes with the old man¡¯s mercenaries. Boah was finishing a speech and had commanded Juddken to wait outside the room until he finished. ¡°They are like cattle,¡± Juddken remembered his father telling him, ¡°without guidance they would willingly place their heads into jaws.¡±

    Despite being outnumbered, Juddken felt he could best the mercenaries if need be. Despite being maimed only a fortnight prior, Juddken felt stronger than ever. Juddken had ended the lives of over ten screamers in the last week alone, in addition to sixteen defiers of Okkan. His swing was sharp and his aim impeccable. It helped that he had both his father and Okkan on his side.

    For the past few nights, Boah had emphasized the importance of water. How fortunate they all were to have access to it, unspoiled and untainted. How they had enough to survive a year if necessary. The people loved him even more now as they subscribed to the ancient customs of Okkan. There was less uproar when Boah ordered the punishment of a blasphemer, and less insistence in following the once agreed-upon principle of exile. Now, they relished the change. Some even policed the crowds, searching for anyone foolish enough to even whisper Ati¡¯s praise.

    Even though Juddken believed in the message, he was concerned. There were still so many mouths to water. So wasteful.

    ¡° W o r t h l e s s d e s e n t e r s ¡±

    The voice boomed in Juddken¡¯s skull again. He nodded in agreement, though he did not know who it referred to. It mattered not.

    Footsteps approached from behind. It was Boah, accompanied by six of his Corps guards. It was eight against three now. Boah could easily take the room if he wanted and remove Urash - that festering wart - from this holy place. But for reasons unbeknownst to Juddken, Boah wanted to keep him alive. For now, at least.

    ¡°Knock,¡± commanded Boah.

    ¡°You alone,¡± said the mercenary. His accent was unusual. It sounded Steppe, but less abrasive. ¡°No other.¡±

    The Corps guards placed their hands on their hilts and the mercenaries responded in kind. Boah raised his hand, halting further escalation. ¡°Fine. Juddken will join me. The rest will wait outside.¡±

    After some hesitation, the mercenary removed his sword. He tapped the hilt against the door several times. The sound of many unhooking locks rattled before the door opened. The mercenary stepped aside, allowing Boah and Juddken to enter.

    Urash, wearing simple bed attire, struggled to get to his feet. He had been praying. Such an action was now an insult worthy of Shadeon Law. Juddken wished his father would give him the go-ahead to remove his kneecaps or his nose, but he knew it was unlikely to happen. The smug old bastard knew he was untouchable.

    ¡°Ah, you¡¯ve brought the child,¡± crooned Urash, tilting his head and locking his lazy eye into place. ¡°Looks stranger without hair, don¡¯t you think?¡±

    Juddken grimaced, hissing as he tried to will himself to speak. ¡°LET ME KILL HIM LET ME KILL HIM LET ME KILL HIM,¡± he shouted in his mind.

    Boah ignored the slight. ¡°I wanted to inform you that your spice house burned to the ground last night.¡±

    ¡°Yes, I could smell it from here. I hope your men enjoyed it. They won¡¯t ever get hard again.¡±

    ¡°If I¡¯m not mistaken, that was much your inventory,¡± continued Boah. ¡°Shame it went to waste. Juddken could investigate if you wish to uncover the culprit.¡±

    ¡°Bah, little use to me out there,¡± spat Urash. ¡°As useful as jewelry against the screamers, it is. Besides, I always keep a little close to home.¡±

    Boah laughed. ¡°Dirty old man¡­ As much as I¡¯m enjoying this game, I think it¡¯s best we get to business. Don¡¯t want to waste any more of your valuable time.¡±

    Urash held his gaze on Juddken. ¡°Well, I told the men outside to only let you in. But it¡¯s not like this one can blabber to anyone! Indeed, maybe you are smarter than I thought!¡±

    ¡°LET ME KILL HIM LET ME KILL HIM.¡±

    Urash waved over a few of his mercenaries, pointing towards the bed. Three of them grabbed each end, pushing the bed with effort. After a moment, the bed moved and revealed an opening in the floor, barely wider than a meter and longer than three. It was a cavernous hole carved into stone, smoothed over what looked to be centuries of wear. At the edge of the bed began a steep flight of steps that descended deep underground.

    ¡°There,¡± said Urash, panting as if he moved the bed himself. ¡°This leads to the tunnel. You now know all our secrets. Explore it to your heart¡¯s desire.¡±

    Boah chuckled. ¡°You must be daft if you think I mean to charge into whatever trap awaits us. We are guests in your Manor. It is only appropriate for you to show us the way.¡±

    Urash shrugged, unconcerned of Boah¡¯s mockery. ¡°If that is what the conduit wishes. It¡¯s just that my knees aren¡¯t what they used to be. It¡¯ll be a slow walk.¡± He turned to his men. ¡°It may be a few hours, but we will be back. Under no circumstances are the Corps to let themselves inside. I don¡¯t care if the Manor is on fire. No one other than the Head and his seed are allowed inside.¡± One mercenary handed Urash a torch, who then lumbered down the stairway.

    Sure to his word, Urash was slow to the point of insult. It took almost five minutes to descend below the floor. Juddken tapped his foot repeatedly, waiting between Urash and his father for minutes at a time. He wanted to push the old man down and let his body stumble to the bottom. But as the walls enclosed around him, Juddken himself hesitated. The passageway was tight, barely enough to make room for his armor. Juddken shifted awkwardly, trying to find the best way to descend without getting stuck within the thin space. Juddken¡¯s chest tightened as the walls pressed up against his sides.

    Despite his fears, he pushed through. His father would never forgive such a cowardly act.

    Urash lit his torch and handed it back to Juddken. The light provided some comfort, but Juddken still couldn¡¯t see far past Urash. The torch revealed how smooth the tunnel was, but also how lopsided the walls were. Parts of the rock jutted out, forcing the trio to maneuver out of the way. It did little to help Urash¡¯s leisurely pace.

    This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

    ¡°How deep does this go?¡± Boah asked after a difficult maneuver.

    ¡°Deep.¡± Urash huffed, catching his breath between each step. ¡°Thank the Gizzals for these shit walls¡­ Quick at digging¡­ but they never cared much for aesthetics.¡±

    ¡°I find it difficult to believe this tunnel leads outside.¡±

    ¡°The tunnel was originally designed¡­ to appease one of my more paranoid antecedents¡­ back when we thought raiders could attack from the North¡­ Once their more levelheaded kin took over¡­ they realized the tunnel could easily connect to the temple¡­ with just a little extra digging¡­ You wouldn¡¯t believe the amount of Brown Ash I¡¯ve given to priests and priestesses over the years¡­ It would break your heart.¡±

    ¡°Connect to the temple?¡± Boah asked. ¡°As if the Gizzals could carve their way through sandstone. Someone would have noticed.¡±

    Urash shook his head. ¡°Figured you would have explored the temple more... Shame you never had a chance to see it¡­ Most of it is buried underground¡­ I¡¯m sure you have heard the rumors.¡±

    ¡°How deep does it go?¡± Boah asked, pushing past the insult.

    ¡°Deeper where we are now... Much deeper.¡±

    The trio continued to descend. The light from the bedroom vanished, the curvature of the stairway now completely obscuring it. Juddken attempted to look for a bottom, but he struggled to see past Urash. It seemed as if the tunnel was getting tighter as they went lower. The air was getting cooler as well. To Juddken¡¯s surprise, the steps were getting slippery.

    ¡°Watch yourself,¡± said Urash. ¡°The Gizzals designed this¡­ to preserve the water fountain above us¡­ though some seep through the walls¡­ Interesting to think of how talented that family used to be¡­ Engineers, miners, smiths they were¡­ Shame their lineage ended with such an insipid fool.¡±

    ¡°Indeed,¡± replied Boah. Even he seemed marveled at the ingenuity.

    ¡°Back in the day¡­ everyone respected the power of water¡­ If I recall correctly, even you dabbled in water trade, no?¡±

    ¡°I made my first Jiks carrying water on my back,¡± said Boah. Juddken recalled the stories his father used to tell, of how he would march the four-league trek hundreds of times a year. Juddken rarely traveled the route himself, but he knew enough to be impressed by the feat.

    ¡°True¡­ ¡®Water is power,¡¯ as you say¡­ And you came to run the entire business¡­ It¡¯s a shame you leave Harran out of the stories though¡­ Were it not for the mustache¡¯s patronage¡­ you wouldn¡¯t have been able to recruit followers like you have.¡±

    ¡°Harran has been a generous supporter of me, this is known. He hired me as a bookkeeping apprentice. He paid for my scholarship to Jyv?sk. My ability to read and write and speak is thanks to him.¡±

    ¡°Hmm, yes¡­ The father you never had.¡± Urash turned his head, speaking to Juddken now. ¡°Appreciate your father, son¡­ He provided you what he himself severely lacked.¡±

    Juddken was confused. The Awil-Ishtars had lived in Ash for generations. He knew his father had explored water trading, but the jewelry business was always there. Juddken stopped, turning to look at his father. But Boah lightly pushed him forward, keeping their rhythm.

    ¡°This is not your concern,¡± said Boah. ¡°Focus on getting us to the tunnel.¡±

    ¡°Why not? Surely every child has a right¡­ to know his lineage.¡± Urash chuckled, coughing between his laughs. ¡°I knew your grandfather, son¡­ I too would hide that¡­ if I birthed from such a pathetic failure.¡±

    Juddken hissed. ¡°LIES,¡± he screamed in his head. He was ready to shove the old man. Let Okkan decide if he should live from the fall.

    Urash halted upon hearing Juddken¡¯s reaction. ¡°Oh¡­ You never told him?¡± His tone seeped in utter glee. ¡°The Awil-Ishtar name came from your mother¡¯s side. Your father just scooped it up before she passed. One of his more clever ideas¡­ Better to take hers than to keep the name of a failed meat trader¡­ Kirashi told me your grandfather was one of the best drinkers in town, could prop up a tavern by himself as she told me... Oh, he beat poor Boah to a bloody pulp every night, drunk or not. Does he do that to you?... No, I don¡¯t think so¡­ You like him too much.¡±

    Juddken waited for his father to say anything. He waited for a laugh or a cutting remark. Anything to call out this old fool. But Boah remained silent. It was as if he ceased breathing.

    ¡° U n h o l y t o n g u e¡±

    The voice echoed in his head. It was right, Urash was a cunning liar, as far as Juddken knew.

    ¡°Old Zaman likes to hear himself speak,¡± said Boah after some contemplation. ¡°He speaks this way to you because he has no son to talk down to. His kin abandoned him when he lost the Manor, isn¡¯t that right? As Ati has faded into the desert, the Urash name disappears with Zaman. Do not let his words harm you. He is one to be pitied.¡±

    Urash laughed. ¡°You speak the truth when you¡¯re angry, Boah. That¡¯s what I¡¯ve always liked about you. Sure, you vomit excrement into the masses, but when someone really ticks you off, you¡¯re refreshingly honest.¡± Urash continued his downward pacing. ¡°We¡¯re close¡­ to the tunnel!¡±

    After a few more steps, Urash walked forward. Juddken held his torch outwards, revealing a small room. After spending so much time in a tight space, the openness was much needed. In front of him, standing about two meters tall, was a figure carved from sandstone. A thick white robe, one far too thick to be worn in the Eivett?, obscured the figure¡¯s entire body. The figure¡¯s arms crossed, perhaps in stoic prayer.

    ¡°Forgive me,¡± said Urash, exerting heavily. ¡°I forgot that Ati himself looks over the alcove. Hope you won¡¯t find it distracting.¡±

    Juddken had never seen Ati depicted in any form before. Regardless of why, speaking Ati¡¯s name alone should be a death sentence. But to have a shrine buried this far underground? Perhaps he wouldn¡¯t even need his father¡¯s permission to kill him.

    ¡°Ah,¡± said Boah. ¡°I never thought I¡¯d see the White Coat in person. Didn¡¯t think anyone still saw him that way.¡±

    ¡°Many dispute its very existence. I don¡¯t claim to be any wiser, for I kiss the ground like many of my contemporaries. But I like to think one of my ancestors thought it would be amusing that anyone who worshipped Ati would pray in this shrine¡¯s direction.¡±

    Juddken looked around the alcove. On the left, the room continued into a small triangular passageway, with just enough space to crawl through. On the right side was a rectangular hallway, just slightly higher than Boah. Although the alcove was lit by Urash¡¯s torch, the passageways on both sides continued far past what they could see. They were still in darkness.

    Urash held his arms out to both sides. ¡°Behold, the ¡®crawl space¡¯. On my left, you have to path to salvation. Less than a hundred meters of crawling will take you directly to the temple, though I imagine current circumstances have made this a little less compelling. On my right, you have a tunnel that will take you under the cliffs and out towards the desert. Unfortunately, what you see is as high as it goes. It gets much smaller from here on out. Especially around the collapsed section.¡±

    ¡°Collapsed?¡± asked Boah, annoyed. ¡°How collapsed is it?¡±

    ¡°Not much, really. I was told a few men could clear it over a couple of nights. But that was years ago. It could be worse now. That¡¯s for you to deal with.¡±

    As Boah and Urash debated over the truth of the claims, Juddken wandered away. Though he had come down here to investigate the right tunnel, Juddken found himself entranced by the left. The triangular tunnel that led to the temple. Something about the passageway compelled him to move closer, to explore the way. The voice amplified in his head, becoming a chorus of cries. It was almost shouting at him.

    ¡°C O M E F O R T H¡±

    Juddken wanted to answer the call. He knew that if that space led to the temple, he would have to contend with screamers. He remembered how many had gathered around its space. But in the future, he would return to answer the call.

    ¡°Juddken.¡± It was his father. Urash had gone down the hall, tapping his cane along the walls. As the light dimmed, Boah looked into his eyes. ¡°Do you have a list of anyone you can trust? Anyone you believe could come here and assist you with clearing the path?¡±

    The truth was that Juddken had few. Most of the remaining Corps were loyal to him and his father, but they were inexperienced or incompetent. The last few trips had exposed this during screamer attacks.

    Still, Juddken could think of two men capable of following orders. While their loyalty wasn¡¯t entirely without question, they had assisted Juddken in everything until this point.

    Juddken nodded.

 Part II.IV.V: Flight

    Appo awoke for the second time, this time at the firepit. The combination of the tea, the haze of drawstring, and the soothing crackles of the fire had lulled him to sleep. It was still dark, so he hadn¡¯t been out for long, but he already felt more refreshed. He looked around; Isbibarra was in a deep slumber brought on by smoking the Drawstring. He was snoring so loud Appo wondered whether it was him who woke him up. Gizzal was nowhere to be seen, Appo figured he went downstairs to sleep in peace.

    As Appo stretched, he was struck with a repulsive stench. At the base of the stairs was the unmistakeable clumping of camel dung. Appo covered his nose, annoyed and shocked that no one had noticed the stench until now.

    ¡°Wait,¡± Appo thought. ¡°I couldn¡¯t have missed this before. Gizzal must have led one outside to relieve itself.¡± Appo climbed up the window slit, peering over the edge. He couldn¡¯t see anything now. The torches in the distance were gone, and Gizzal and his camel was nowhere to be seen.

    Appo traced the footsteps in the room. Fresh hoove prints led up the slope and out into the plains with none returning. Appo peered into the darkness for just a little longer, letting his vision adjust to the plains. After a few seconds, Appo saw the faint outline of a camel trotting in the distance. It was about half a league away. He wasn¡¯t exactly sure, but it looked as if the camel was being ridden.

    Maybe Gizzal could have taken the camel out on a walk, but to be so far away? It was cause for concern. Appo returned to Isbibarra, still snoring near the embers of their fire. Appo grabbed his shoulders and shook them.

    ¡°Wake up! Gizzal is leaving! He took one of the camels!¡± Appo was hesitant to shout, but Isbibarra appeared lost in a trance. It was no use. He must had smoked more than his fair share, because he was nearly comatose. After a moment of shaking, Appo gave up.

    ¡°Agh!¡± Appo yelled. This was bad. If Gizzal was leaving with one of their camels, he could have taken all of their supplies. If that was the case, Appo and Isbibarra would be stranded.

    Appo ran down the spiral staircase. The downstairs was still lit, and Appo could see that the other camels were awake but undisturbed. Both of them were still loaded with supplies. Gizzal hadn¡¯t fleeced them. But why would he want to leave? Why would he abandon the two in the middle of the desert?

    ¡°The desertfolk.¡± Appo said out loud. He recalled how Gizzal wondered about them, and how he suggested they reach out to them. It seemed as if he was going after them now. But why not tell them? Why would he risk going into the desert?

    Appo didn¡¯t have time to ponder Gizzal¡¯s motivations. Right now, he was still relatively close. Appo could catch him if he acted fast. Appo hopped onto his camel and yipped.

    The camel climbed the spiral staircase with haste. Isbibarra was still passed out. Appo couldn¡¯t believe how unresponsive the blind man was. But Appo couldn¡¯t do anything about it now. He had to catch Gizzal before he got too far. It would mean leaving Isbibarra alone, in the middle of a desert where he could do little to defend himself. If Appo didn¡¯t return, Isbibarra was doomed.

    Appo led the camel out into the desert and mounted it, throwing the loop of the reigns around his bad arm. After an entire day of travelling, Appo had well adjusted to camel riding one handed, but as he yipped he struggled to hold onto the saddle. The camel wasn¡¯t used to being told to sprint, and Appo nearly fell off as the beast accelerated. He was able to regain control, but nearly lost the trail of Gizzal¡¯s camel. After a moment of looping, Appo was able to find it, the hoove prints making their way down into the valley.

    Appo rode as fast as he could alongside the trail. It was difficult to make out, but the moonlit sky guided him along the way. The dunes flattened as he rode towards the valley. Looking out into the distance, he could see that he was at the edge of the Rust Waves. He occasionally looked back, keeping the buried tower in sight, worried that if he travelled too far he would be completely lost. The last thing he needed was to be stranded in the dunes. But the tower was well obscured. It would be difficult to return.

    Love this novel? Read it on Royal Road to ensure the author gets credit.

    Appo pondered why Gizzal would be making such a drastic move. To trek through a desert to find a group of strangers was foolhardy. He was risking not only their lives, but the lives of everyone at the mercy of the screamers. There had to be some other motive. Appo couldn¡¯t quite figure it out.

    After a few minutes of riding and looping around dunes, Appo spotted Gizzal¡¯s camel in the distance at the end of a valley. His pace was steady but he wasn¡¯t moving quickly. Appo¡¯s decision to lower the weight of his camel was a wise one. He yipped the camel, closing the distance between the two. At first, Gizzal appeared to ride faster as well, but as Appo approached Gizzal came to a halt. Appo, keeping his camel at a steady pace, looped in front of Gizzal, coming face to face with him.

    ¡°Have you lost your mind?¡± Appo asked. ¡°Of all the pigheaded things to do-¡±

    ¡°We should have never come,¡± cut off Gizzal. He held his head high, conveying no regrets. ¡°You and I both know this journey will be the end of us.¡±

    ¡°You truly mean to abandon us, then?¡±

    ¡°I abandoned the Merck. Made sure his tea had more than a fair share of drawstring tonight¡­ if I had asked you to come, you would have stopped me.¡±

    Appo was furious. ¡°You¡­ planned this? I knew you were conniving, but to think you would stoop so low!¡±

    ¡°If adding herbs to a tea makes me such a monster! I took what I needed, nothing more. The supplies I left are more than enough for the two of you to reach Zabukama. But I want no part in your quest.¡±

    ¡°So that¡¯s it? You suppose we give up, take our chances with desertfolk?¡±

    ¡°Do you actually believe him, Appo? I thought you were a man of reason, someone who isn¡¯t fooled by fanastatic tales of lost cities and cursed treasure. The old man can tell a story, despite what he wants you to think.¡±

    ¡°I¡­ I don¡¯t know what to believe!¡± admitted Appo. ¡°But I have to believe there has be something we can do! I have to believe there was a reason for all this.¡± Appo couldn¡¯t help but notice his lame arm struggling against the camel reins.

    ¡°Shit happens, Appo. People died before the plague, and they¡¯ll keep dying even if you stop it. Have you even asked yourself what you¡¯re trying to save? Ash is a pit good for nothing but collecting souls and coin. The Eivett? is a wasteland. Everyone here is either a killer, an asshole, or both. What sympathy do you expect me to have?¡±

    ¡°Then everything you told me was a lie? All that talk about your family and trying to make things right?¡±

    ¡°The old man dragged me out here, I didn¡¯t choose this! I said what I said because I needed to survive. I¡¯ve been trying to escape this whole time, and I don¡¯t know why you wouldn¡¯t! My some miracle you survived so far, yet you continue to press on toward certain death.¡±

    Appo couldn¡¯t respond. He was trying to think of a convincing reason to have Gizzal stay, but the truth was that he was barely convinced himself. The more he learned, the less things made sense. He was running on desperation, he had been ever since he arrived in Ash. Maybe even before then too. It only made sense to keep going.

    ¡°Look, healer,¡± Gizzal lowered his tone. ¡°Believe me or don¡¯t, but I wish you no ill will. In fact, I¡¯m glad you¡¯ve come. Let''s find these desertfolk and let¡¯s get out of the Eivett?. We can even tell them to reacue the old man. Let the plague be his problem. We can find the Thorne and make our way back to Beyshran. From there I can get the rest of my jewels and pay our way to the sea. I think we¡¯ve both had our fair share of the desert.¡±

    Appo held his reins. He was angry at himself for even considering the option. There were as many assumptions with this plan as Isbibarra¡¯s, but here was an out. Appo could leave with coin. He would be rid of this place forever. If he left he could never forgive himself, but surely that was better than death?

    ¡°I-¡± Before Appo could speak, both camels began to groan. The sand underneath them vibrated, causing the camels to trot in disarray.

    ¡°What¡¯s going on?¡± asked Gizzal? ¡°Quake?¡± Appo had no idea. As the two stood, a rumbling came from the distance. It came fast, and as the sound grew the shaking worsened. In an instant, a wall of sand burst from the ground, colliding with the two. Appo and Gizzal were thrown from their camels. Gizzal landed on his back and Appo, unable to brace the fall, landed face first in the ground. The camels quickly recovered and sprinted away.

    Appo got to his feet, trying to make sense of what just happened. He wiped the sand from his eyes. As he did, he saw another wall of sand blast their way towards them. The blast came in quick bursts, and it was gaining speed.

    ¡°WORM!¡± shouted Gizzal.

    ¡°Worm?¡± asked Appo. He could only think of one creature, one that he had mocked others many times for swearing by. ¡°They¡¯re real?!¡±

    The wall of sand was now but meters away.

 Part II.V.I: A Cute Fable

    Eighteen Moons since the Day of Akkavan

    ?

    Under the twilight of the iridescent moon, a young woman stood over the edge of a dune. She shifted her arms outward in steady oscillations, directing them over the valley below. Her bronze necklace clinked against her slim body, the one humble accessory she claimed amongst her otherwise unremarkable desert attire. Although alone, she was unafraid. The spells she cast were powerful, and she had the benefit of working under cover of darkness. Under such circumstances, her trick would fool anyone. After all, she was the one who single-handedly resurrected the legend of the Eivett?n Death Worm.

    ¡°That¡¯s it, raider fucks.¡± Tomi whispered to herself as she caught her breath. ¡°Stay away.¡±

    Tomi Yald had spent many years perfecting her craft. Not too long after she learned to ride a camel, she discovered she could move the air the same way one could push water when standing in a stream. At first, she used this ability to torment her brothers, throwing sand in their eyes whenever they irritated her. Inevitably, they tattled on her. Her parents were slow to understand, for they had never heard of one who shared her gift. As Tomi grew, she realized she could sustain her energetic bursts. When Tomi¡¯s family made their way to the outskirts of the Rust Waves, Tomi used her gifts to scare away others. Her parents were none the wiser, ignorant of how they carved themselves a safe home. After a few years and several dozen frightened traders, word spread. Murmurings of strange beast that gobbled up lost traders.

    It was a cute fable. Little did the desertfolk know it was just Tomi, still throwing dirt in the eyes of those that annoyed her.

    At least, until the demons arrived. Now Tomi had people who relied on her. People who would worry if she stayed out much longer. They had more than enough to worry about at the moment.

    Tomi smiled as she watched the two men scurry after their camels. Her first gust landed with perfect accuracy, launching who knows how much sand in the air and knocking both to the ground. She repressed a laugh, noticing how silly the men looked as they flew like tumbleweeds. She needed to do little else. A swipe here, an advance there. That would have to do, because she was already tired.

    As she watched the men run away, Tomi fell to her knees. She often forgot her limits, as Mama Yald liked to remind her. She was far stronger than every Magi she had ever met, most of whom made a living pestering crowds by levitating pebbles for flakes of gold. Still, she had to be careful. Her spells made for convincing Death Worms, but if it came down to it, she could do little more than blow a gust of wind. Once her brothers knew to shut their eyes, they always learned to dodge. She wouldn¡¯t be able to defend herself against two grown men if they knew what really tormented them.

    That was why Tomi always carried her brother¡¯s throwing knives. She had never used them before, but could if it came down to it. Even her brother was in awe of her impeccable aim.

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    After regaining her breath, Tomi ran her fingers through her black hair before letting it fall back down to her shoulders. She stood again, rejuvenated. It seldom took more than one spell to ward off raiders, but she readied herself, just in case.

    The camels trotted away a safe distance, but stopped before leaving the valley and allowed their riders to catch up with them. They glanced around, as if inconvenienced. Tomi was getting annoyed; it was as if the camels knew something their riders didn¡¯t.

    ¡°Move it, you dumb cows!¡± Tomi hissed. She needed to give them one last motivation to leave. She flexed her slim muscles, feeling the fibers in her arms extend past their confines. The air in her breath became thick, and she visualized a strip of sand in front of the camels. In her mind¡¯s eye, she saw air and the sand becoming one, dipping underground before erupting. She then positioned her left arm back and released it. An invisible energy erupted from her fingertips, pounding through the air into an invisible blade that sliced through the sand.

    ¡°Perfect!¡± Tomi thought. The brief lucidity she experienced when releasing a spell was euphoric. It would be a brief respite before the aching in her muscles returned with full force.

    The cascade of sand eruptions began about thirty meters out from the camels, creating columns of smoke and sand. It burst three times before ending suddenly about ten meters out, fading into columns of dust.

    But ten meters wasn¡¯t close enough. The two men braced for the impact that never came. It rattled the men, but they were no longer running.

    ¡°Motherfuck!¡± Tomi screamed under her breath.

    The fatigue was catching up to her now. Tomi¡¯s muscles screamed at her, as if she had run a dozen leagues in a second. She would need at least a few minutes to recover.

    And men stopped running. They looked back over the valley, though with hesitation.

    As Tomi massaged her arms, she realized with horror that the men were now coming her way. Though treading carefully, they were approaching her dune. It was hard to tell, but she thought one was looking right at her. Why?

    Tomi slowly realized what the men were observing; her bronze necklace clanging down her chest. The moonlight had been reflecting off of it. She might as well have been waving them over.

    She could make out their features now. Neither looked like a raider, but that meant nothing; she had come across plenty of vile traders in the Eivett?. One of them was riding faster up the slope. He was a heavier-set man, though quite able on camelback. He rode with a ferocity that stunned her.

    ¡°Shit!¡± Tomi thought. ¡°I need to recover, fast!¡±

    The energy was building up again, but she was already past the point of exhaustion. The spell required powerful enough to knock this man off his camel could kill her. Even then, she¡¯d have to contend with the other man.

    Instead, she had another idea. She didn¡¯t have to rely entirely on magic to defend herself. She just needed a distraction.

    Good thing she still had her throwing knives.

    Tomi waited for the heavyset man to get closer. She wasn¡¯t sure, but something was reflecting moonlight back at her. A sword, perhaps? She didn¡¯t want to find out. Sand particles twirled around her legs and she felt energy launch up in her belly and out towards her arms. Normally, she would hold the power within, letting it surge inside before being released. But she didn¡¯t have the time.

    Instead, Tomi released her energy into the ridge of the dune. A cloud of sand erupted just as the camel rode over the top of it. The rider was clearly disoriented, yelping as a vortex of sand flew into his face.

    Tomi reached down to her waist, grabbing three blades and thrusting them into the cloud of smoke. One missed entirely, and the other bounced harmlessly off the side of the camel. The third, however, was a direct strike, hitting the stout rider in the chest. Tomi heard him grunt, grasping the reins of the camel for a moment before falling to the ground.

    Tomi was ecstatic, but as she tried to run, she realized that her fatigue had become too great. Even the smaller burst was more than she could handle. As she turned, the faint glimmer of the moon faded as the world turned to black.

 Part II.V.II: When Breath Becomes Air

    ¡°Gizzal, you madman!¡±

    It all happened so quickly. First, they ran. From what, neither were sure. But for a moment, the Eivett?n Death Worms Appo had for so long mocked seemed too real. They reached their camels, but then the sand underneath their feet burst again. Appo was certain he was about to be devoured.

    But with that third burst of sand, something happened. Without another word, Gizzal yipped his camel towards the dune on their left. Appo knew he had to stay close and struggled to catch his reins before pursuing after him. Fortunately, whatever was under the ground had stopped chasing them. Did Gizzal know to get to higher ground?

    But Gizzal had moved too quickly, too pointedly. It was as if he were in pursuit.

    Then, just as Gizzal crossed over the edge of the dune, it exploded.

    Before Appo could rationalize the sight, a voice called out. One he recognized, fortunately. ¡°Healer! Come, quick!¡± Gizzal said, winded, but very much alive.

    Appo led his camel around the side, noticing a pit a meter wide where the explosion occurred. Sand particles twirled through the air, stinging Appo¡¯s eyes.

    Above the ridge, Appo made sense of the scene: Gizzal was on his feet, trying to pull something off of his agitated camel. He must¡¯ve fallen, as sand coated his face and body. Appo was happy both were standing, though Gizzal seemed to clutch his chest. A few meters away, a small figure in tattered clothes lay face-first in the desert.

    ¡°I fucking knew it,¡± murmured Gizzal. ¡°All this time¡­ after everything those worthless traders told me, I knew it couldn¡¯t have been death worms... Lazy shits!¡± Gizzal grimaced as he spoke, squeezing his chest tight.

    ¡°Ah, of course,¡± said Appo, ¡°worms don¡¯t exist.¡± Even so, they certainly felt real to him then. Something had to have moved all that sand.

    ¡°I knew it had to be a magi. I just needed to see it with myself¡­ This scheming little bitch must have caused so much trouble in all these years. To think it only took me a single trip to the Rust Waves to sort this out. All the coin I¡¯ve lost¡­ I¡¯ll have her head!¡± Gizzal¡¯s ranting came in gasps, as if he was struggling to catch his breath.

    ¡°Are you hurt?¡± Appo asked. He approached Gizzal, who twisted away as Appo reached out. The fall could have knocked the wind out of him, but it was possible he broke a rib as well.

    ¡°Cunt hit me in the chest with something as I fell¡­ Don¡¯t worry about me, I¡¯m fine¡­ Get the crossbow out before she wakes up!¡± It irritated Appo that Gizzal had taken the lumpy, misshapen instrument with him, for Isbibarra had specifically brought it along for their collective protection.

    Through the darkness, Appo made note of a dark crimson pooling into Gizzal¡¯s white tunic. ¡°You¡¯re bleeding, Gizzal¡­¡±

    Gizzal looked down, cursing as he did so. Small bronze rod stuck out of his chest, just below his nipple. It clearly missed Gizzal¡¯s heart, but it could have easily pierced his lung. The fact Gizzal¡¯s breathing had worsened wasn¡¯t helping such matters.

    ¡°Ati¡¯s dirt¡­ A fucking throwing knife, the bitch!¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re seriously injured, Gizzal. I need to look.¡±

    Gizzal waved him away. ¡°No¡­ Not until we deal with her.¡±

    Gizzal¡¯s reluctance for help perplexed Appo. His fear of this young magi appeared to outweigh anything else at the moment. ¡°Alright. Just don¡¯t take it out yourself, okay? You¡¯ll bleed out. It may be best to leave it in until we¡¯re safe¡­ Do you feel lightheaded at all?¡±

    Gizzal shook his head. ¡°Hard to breathe¡­ but I¡¯m standing¡­ Let¡¯s kill her quick and then you can stitch me up.¡±

    ¡°Wait, perhaps we should think this through,¡± Appo warned. ¡°What if she isn¡¯t alone? She could be with the group you¡¯re after.¡±

    Gizzal huffed, as if he hadn¡¯t considered the possibility. ¡°Did you see what she did? She exhausted herself after trying to kill us!... She fucking stabbed me, remember? We acted in self-defense!¡±

    ¡°We could always leave-¡±

    Behind the two, the girl in tattered clothes rose from the ground. She was utterly exhausted, swaying like a drunkard. The girl was small and unintimidating, but if she was truly the one responsible for the prior attacks, she wasn¡¯t one to be trifled with.

    Appo had encountered a few magi before. Anyone could learn the intricate skill of magic casting, but few had the patience to learn it. Magic wasn¡¯t something that came easily to most; the few restoration magic spells Appo had attempted were so ineffective they were of little practical use, and many healers spent decades learning its intricacies to no avail.

    Gizzal aimed his repeating crossbow at the girl, struggling with his aim. The girl paid no mind. She simply stared at the two.

    ¡°Huh,¡± the girl mumbled in a slight accent. ¡°Strange looking raiders¡­¡± She looked delirious, paying no mind to the bow as she stumbled.

    Appo stood behind Gizzal, observing the odd scene. Neither was in any condition to fight. Appo stepped forward, holding out his single hand.

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    ¡°We¡¯re not raiders,¡± Appo said calmly. ¡°We come from Ash.¡±

    Before Appo could continue, Gizzal dropped his repeating crossbow. He doubled over in pain, clutching his chest.

    ¡°What¡¯s wrong?¡± Appo yelled.

    Gizzal tried to respond, but couldn¡¯t. His voice became a gasp as he struggled to breathe. He lost his balance and fell to his knees. He reached for his neck before collapsing to the ground and rolling over onto his back.

    Appo rushed over to him, uncertain of what to do. He could remove the knife, but if it had reached his heart, Gizzal would bleed out.

    Appo¡¯s mind began running, coming up with diagnoses. ¡°Heart attack? Easily could have nicked the arteries. More likely, it pierced his lung, judging by the angle. But he was fine just a moment before? Maybe this is a magi trick, and the girl is doing something to him? But in that case, why would I be standing?¡±

    ¡°Talk to me Gizzal,¡± Appo asked. ¡°Where does it hurt?¡± He wasn¡¯t sure whether Gizzal heard him. The rosy cheeks of Gizzal morphed into a shade of blue, the unmistakable sign of asphyxiation. Somehow, the air wasn¡¯t getting to his lungs. But why? The arrow could have pierced Gizzal¡¯s trachea, or the blood his pericardium could be pooling with blood, or air could be leaking out of his chest. Lots of things could be going wrong, most of them fatal.

    ¡°His lung is getting crushed.¡± Appo turned. It was the girl. She had gotten closer to them. If she had shown concern prior, there was none to be found here. ¡°He has too much air outside of his lung.¡±

    ¡°Stay back! Go get help if you can!¡± Appo didn¡¯t have the time to deal with ramblings of a little girl.

    ¡°Okay.¡± The girl nodded but didn¡¯t move. She was useless right now. It was no concern as long as she didn¡¯t hit them with another blast of energy. ¡°But there¡¯s more air than lung, now.¡± The girl said. ¡°He¡¯ll die soon if he doesn¡¯t get it out.¡±

    ¡°What are you on about?¡± Appo finally replied in annoyance.

    ¡°The air is coming in.¡± The girl pointed at Gizzal¡¯s chest, right where she hit him.

    ¡°Like¡­ a pierced lung?¡± Appo suddenly had a moment of clarity. The girl was a magi, and if she had caused the explosions that hindered them earlier, it was possible she had complete awareness of the surrounding air. They had traveled with a blind man who could see with perfect clarity by simply touching the ground. How much stranger was this?

    ¡°No. It¡¯s coming in. It¡¯s crushing his lung.¡±

    Appo looked at Gizzal¡¯s chest again. The metal rod wouldn¡¯t have been deep enough to penetrate the heart. Appo knew how the lungs expanded and contracted with breathing, for he had seen horrifying demonstrations some of his colleagues would put together, acquiring bulls and stripping away the flesh around their breasts to expose the inflation and deflation of the lungs.

    ¡°¡®Air is coming in,¡¯¡± the girl had said.

    Air was coming through Gizzal¡¯s chest cavity. Appo had heard of rare cases. How men had died after being suffocated by air not coming through the mouth and nose, but from a wound in their torso. Their shallow wounds pierced the chest through the ribs, but not quite through the lungs. Slowly, air would make its way into the pleural space, gradually building until the buildup of air pressure crushed the lung. It was like the inverse of drowning. The Healer¡¯s Guild scrolls had called it ¡°pneumothorax,¡± or a collapsed lung.

    Appo didn¡¯t know for sure what was going on, but he had to move fast. The only way to treat pneumothorax was to release the air from the chest without worsening the bleeding. Appo couldn¡¯t simply remove the knife: by this point, it could be the one thing keeping Gizzal from bleeding to death.

    Appo knelt down next to Gizzal, awkwardly pulling his robe off with one hand. He maneuvered the robe around the knife hilt, making sure not to aggravate the injury. As he did, Appo saw something around Gizzal¡¯s neck: the adamantine necklace. The same they had been risking their lives to return.

    There was no doubt about it; he had stolen it. A flurry of emotions hit Appo: rage, frustration, and disappointment. Gizzal was a loathsome miser, through and through.

    For now, Appo had to push all that down. Gizzal was close to death.

    ¡°Maybe he deserves it,¡± a quiet voice whispered in Appo¡¯s head. To his horror, he realized it was his own.

    Appo fumbled with his surgical kit, prepping a washcloth with his spirit. He kept looking back at the knife sticking out of Gizzal¡¯s chest. At some point, he would have to pull it out. But he had to allow enough air to come out to release the lung, but by the time that would have the wound would become too great, and the bleeding would become internal.

    Appo looked up at the young girl. She was standing only a meter away now, watching as Appo struggled to figure out a plan. Perhaps she could help.

    ¡°Miss,¡± Appo asked as he wiped the blood away from Gizzal¡¯s bare belly. ¡°When you say you feel the air inside him¡­ what do you mean by that?¡±

    ¡°He has air around his lung,¡± the girl repeated.

    ¡°Yes. Can you control it?¡±

    ¡°Control¡­ the air?¡±

    ¡°Just the air around his lung. Can you manipulate it?¡±

    The girl still seemed dazed, but she nodded. ¡°Yes,¡± she said.

    ¡°This man is no raider, and he doesn¡¯t deserve to die. We¡¯re just trying to make our way through¡­ Can you help him?¡±

    The girl¡¯s gaze traced down Gizzal. She made no expression, but in time, she nodded again.

    ¡°Okay,¡± Appo said. ¡°I¡¯m going to pull out this knife. When I do, I want you to push the air out. Or pull it, however you do it. Let me know when you¡¯re ready, and I¡¯ll pull on the count of three. It has to be quick. You understand?¡±

    The girl nodded. She held her hands out, shaking. Appo was becoming more and more unsure about his plan. Appo didn¡¯t even know if Gizzal really had pneumothorax, and he was relying on this stranger who he had met just moments ago. And who knew if she knew how to control her powers like that? She very well could take out Gizzal¡¯s lungs with the air. And that was all beside the point whether Gizzal himself was worth saving.

    Appo decided he was thinking too much. He had to save a life. That¡¯s all that mattered.

    Appo grasped the throwing knife. He had a spirit soaked washcloth on Gizzal¡¯s chest right next to the wound, ready to be packed. Appo looked at the girl, who still held her hands outwards.

    ¡°Ready?¡±

    The girl nodded. As she did, Appo could feel a change in the air. He heard a faint buzzing in his ear, like gnats. Although nearly unconscious, Gizzal grimaced and reflexively reached for his chest.

    ¡°One¡­ Two¡­ Three!¡±

    Appo tugged hard at the knife, but hadn¡¯t expected it to come out with such force. A popping sound burst from Gizzal¡¯s chest, launching the knife over the edge of the dune. A splattering of blood burst into the air, spraying Appo¡¯s face. He reflexively shut his eyes, but his hand immediately went to the washcloth. Appo got a brief glimpse of pink spongy lung before sticking the tightly wound bandage into the fresh hole in Gizzal¡¯s chest. Gizzal gasped, arching his back as he tried with all his might to breathe fresh air again. He grimaced from the fresh pain in his chest, but it was a relief compared to the suffocation. His gasps became shallower and slowed before eventually returning to normal.

    ¡°Can you breathe, Gizzal?¡± asked Appo. Gizzal responded by sucking air through his nose, as if inspecting a fine wine. ¡°Okay¡­ good. You¡¯re going to be okay.¡±

    As Appo said this, he couldn¡¯t help but look back at the silver visage of Lowya around Gizzal¡¯s chest. Maybe Lowya had saved Gizzal. In any case, Appo promised it would be the last time Gizzal wore it.

 Part II.V.III: Kinship

    ¡°Can¡¯t sleep?¡± Eevi asked.

    Jere grunted. He¡¯d been quiet since his encounter with the two guards, not that it was unusual. She knew Jere could open up over a couple of glasses of ale like most men, but his ability to steer the conversation away from himself seemed uniquely reflexive. In the grand scheme of things, he remained a stranger.

    In a way, Eevi found a kinship in his laconicism. She could be conversational, sure, but that typically began and ended with coin. Of course, she tried sleeping around with the occasional trader as much as anyone, but those connections never lasted. They would move on, and she would go back to her tavern. Most couldn¡¯t get past her scars.

    Still, Eevi found herself unable to leave Jere alone. She had set up her cot across the second floor of the watchtower. It gave Jere space, but Eevi kept a close eye on him. She didn¡¯t want him doing anything rash.

    ¡°I¡¯m not sure what they told you,¡± Eevi said, ¡°but I¡¯m glad you let them go.¡±

    Jere grunted again, but it was less tense. Closer to a ¡®hmm¡¯ instead of ¡®hmph.¡¯

    ¡°I wish you came to dinner. Adok looks better.¡± Eevi immediately regretted bringing him up. She barreled past it, hoping Jere wouldn¡¯t notice. ¡°Heikk tells me he¡¯s going to get some water for us once the sun rises. He¡¯ll take a couple of pouches with him. Adok will stay here as a gesture of good faith, but the lad certainly gave his all to protest that.¡±

    ¡°Reasonable plan.¡±

    Eevi shuffled over to Jere¡¯s cot. She stayed quiet, knowing how sensitive the screamers¡¯ hearing became once night fell. She got a good look at Jere¡¯s face. It was tired, bags beneath bags under his eyes. Jere had mentioned he rarely slept in the cells, and she doubted that changed much since he left.

    The two settled into an uneasy silence. They looked out over the desert plain, watching the incoherent and erratic tumblings of the screamers amongst the abandoned trader tents. Most huddled near the wall, but a few would break away and wander the plains. Some looked worse for wear, having been out here for moons, but there were always a few that had turned recently.

    Eevi fixated on a young shirtless boy who had taken refuge between two stands. He had broken his femur, though he had long ceased caring. He had already gouged out one of his eyes, but Eevi could still recognize the distinctive tattooed lines over his brow. The boy was a raider once, and he must have had come here from leagues away. The boy reminded her of people she once cared for years ago, people who she had done her best to push aside.

    It was suddenly too much. Eevi needed a distraction. ¡°Where do you think they came from?¡± she asked, waving her hand across the desert.

    ¡°Dunno. The healer never found out.¡±

    ¡°Did he ever talk to you? About what he thought was happening?¡±

    ¡°Too often. Certain your blind man was involved.¡±

    ¡°Makes sense.¡± The thought had weighed on Eevi¡¯s mind for a while. ¡°Even then, Isbibarra had to have gotten it from somewhere, right?¡±

    Jere shrugged. ¡°Perhaps the Gods got bored?¡±

    ¡°My village used to tell stories of the ¡®Tungzind.¡¯ It is customary to burn bodies to free the soul after one passes on. If it never happened, the soul would remain trapped here. Cursed to forever walk the steppe without care or love.¡±

    ¡°Always with the stories.¡±

    Eevi laughed. For whatever reason, Jere did everything in his power to discredit her. ¡°You know these aren¡¯t simple beasts. When they aren¡¯t screaming, what are they doing? They¡¯re laughing, crying, clawing at one another. These are souls, trapped in rotten bodies. Is that so unreasonable to assume?¡±

    Jere said nothing. Eevi knew she made a solid point. Even someone with as thick a skull as Jere would have to agree.

    ¡°Leave the thinking to the Heads,¡± Jere said, spitefully. ¡°I was never one for scrolls.¡±

    This was something Eevi could work with. ¡°Can you read?¡±

    ¡°Never stuck. Letters kept mixing together.¡±

    ¡°But you were a priest, right? Don¡¯t you have to go to school for a long time for that?¡±

    ¡°To get consecrated. I didn¡¯t.¡±

    ¡°Well¡­ why not?¡± Eevi didn¡¯t want to push too hard. But Jere was talking.

    ¡°My lover convinced me to become a pirate.¡±

    Eevi couldn¡¯t help herself from giggling like she was eight years old. It was the funniest thing she had heard in months. ¡°Excuse me?¡±

    Jere¡¯s tone remained melancholy, but his gaze shifted upward now, lost in memory. ¡°You heard me.¡±

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    ¡°Must¡¯ve been some unholy pussy to convince you to do such a thing.¡± Normally, Eevi wouldn¡¯t have responded in such a crass manner, but she suspected a bit of banter would get Jere to open up more. They might as well have been back in the inn.

    Jere shook his head. ¡°Just better than school.¡±

    ¡°Still, you gave up a lot for this girl¡­ did it work out?¡±

    Jere sighed, frustrated he even had to clarify.

    ¡°Okay, I won¡¯t prattle on about it¡­ Were there others?¡±

    ¡°Nothing like her.¡± Now that Jere mentioned it, Eevi could see it. He never once talked to the few women that came through the tavern.

    ¡°I¡¯ve been with many men,¡± Eevi said. ¡°Most were shit, in bed and out of it, but some were good people. Maybe there were even one or two worth keeping around. Can¡¯t say I loved any of them, though.¡±

    ¡°Did yourself a service.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t know, Jere. Some days I stay up late at night wishing I had someone to talk to.¡±

    ¡°If you did,¡± Jere emphasized, ¡°they¡¯d be dead.¡±

    ¡°Not all of them.¡± Eevi paused, not sure if she could continue down this path without embarrassing herself. ¡°You¡¯re still here.¡±

    Now it was Jere¡¯s turn to laugh. No, it was more a chuckle, maybe even a giggle. It got under Eevi¡¯s skin. She couldn¡¯t let him get away with it.

    ¡°You ever wished we fucked?¡±

    Jere suppressed a cough, surprised by the abrupt question. ¡°No!¡± Jere recollected himself quickly, possibly realizing how rude his immediate answer came across. ¡°I mean, uh¡­ I don¡¯t think of you like that.¡±

    ¡°It never once crossed your mind? I thought all men with lady friends consider it at some point.¡±

    Jere looked extremely uncomfortable at the line of questioning. Eevi had succeeded. Men were so easy to rattle, and at this point a flustered Jere would be better to deal with than a depressed one. ¡°It did not cross my mind,¡± Jere said, though nervously.

    ¡°Ah, I understand,¡± Eevi said, lowering her head. ¡°It¡¯s the scar, innit? Can¡¯t make love to a woman who¡¯s missing half of her face¡­¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s not bad! You make it work, you¡¯re still womanly.¡±

    ¡°Womanly?! As in, I have traits of a woman?¡± Eevi feigned shock, and Jere sheepishly turned away. He looked as if he wanted to melt into the floor. After an extended pause, Eevi playfully ribbed Jere. ¡°Relax, just fucking with you. No hard feelings. I¡¯m not the type to be wed, anyhow.¡±

    Eevi wasn¡¯t sure, but it looked as if Jere was trying to hide a smile. They both needed to hear a joke after all they had been through.

    After sitting in silence for another moment, Jere sighed. ¡°I lied.¡±

    ¡°Oh?¡±

    ¡°When we were in the spice house¡­ hiding from the screamers.¡±

    It took Eevi a moment before she realized what he was referring to. ¡°Oh.¡±

    ¡°We were there for a while, and I was¡­ distracted.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s because you could lick the brown ash out of the air, dummy,¡± Eevi joked. ¡°You don¡¯t want to hear about the things that crossed my mind during those hours.¡±

    ¡°Really?¡± Jere replied with surprise. Maybe even enthusiasm?

    ¡°It¡¯s Brown Ash. Potent shit, works too well. You¡¯d have to be a eunuch for it to have no effect.¡±

    ¡°Ah.¡± Jere shifted in his seated position. Now he seemed a bit disappointed. Did he find her cute, even once? Or did he ¡®fancy her¡¯, as her most kindhearted and loyal bar patrons often liked to say? Jere was attractive in a rugged sort of way, but she found him too muscular for her liking. She preferred men she could push around a little. But then again, Jere had lost weight in the proceeding moons. Almost toned, if anything. She¡¯d be lying to herself if she hadn¡¯t found his grown out hair and beard a little more to her liking as well, no longer confined by the clean shave required of all guards.

    But this was the situation talking. She didn¡¯t actually feel any sort of attraction to him. Jere, the most terse man she knew. The supposed priest-turned-pirate-turned-slave. There was no way she would have ever thought of him unless they were in a do-or-die scenario.

    Yet here they were.

    Without warning, Eevi suddenly found Jere¡¯s face right against hers. Hazel eyes. She never realized he had hazel eyes. Suddenly, his lips were touching hers. No, it was more as if they slapped her chin before fleeing. Had he kissed her? Was that supposed to be a kiss?

    Jere fell back into his seated position, shifting farther away than he was originally. ¡°That was inappropriate,¡± he stuttered.

    Eevi held her chin, smiling. ¡°Now, why did you do that?¡±

    Jere shrugged. ¡°I never minded the scars.¡±

    Jere was far from a romantic. Not that the surrounding desert helped at all. More likely than not, Jere and Eevi would be dead sooner rather than later.

    But then again, would Eevi ever have another chance?

    Eevi shifted closer to Jere, closing the gap between the two. ¡°Now I believe you when you say you¡¯ve only been with one woman. That was a dreadful kiss.¡±

    Jere refused to make eye contact. ¡°Sorry, I-¡±

    Eevi cut him off, grabbing his neck and pressing her lips into his. Jere struggled briefly, but immediately fell into form. Eevi launched into an unexpectedly passionate kiss that even she lost control of. Some things were harder to forget than others. As they kissed, Eevi pushed Jere down to the floor. He offered no resistance.

    ¡°Wait,¡± Jere said.

    Eevi stopped, realizing that she had already moved her body on top of his. ¡°What?¡±

    ¡°I¡­ don¡¯t want you to get the wrong idea. That wasn¡¯t the reason I came to your bar, or why I came after I escaped.¡±

    ¡°Jere. You really don¡¯t need to worry about it.¡± The sudden realization that she could be dead at any moment had sent Eevi¡¯s mind into overdrive. She had never made love with someone she cared about. Even marginally. She had sex for progeny, for lust, out of boredom. She had it many times when she never asked for it. But now, in this wasteland, Jere was all she had. He just needed to shut up and not think about it.

    ¡°No, I mean¡­¡± Jere struggled to think of a word, which wasn¡¯t helped by Eevi sitting on top of him. ¡°I¡¯ve only been with one other. Sometimes¡­ I think I¡¯ve gotten better, but I don¡¯t think I ever will. I don¡¯t want to hurt you, and¡­ I think I¡¯ve been burned too many times.¡±

    It was the most needlessly verbose thing Eevi had ever heard Jere say. It was also the dumbest thing he could have said.

    Eevi kissed Jere again, this time sticking her tongue down his throat. Jere was shocked at first, but like the first time, he eventually found his rhythm. From what Eevi could tell, this was the type of kissing that he was intimately familiar with, even if out of touch. Before they continued much farther, Eevi abruptly stopped, staring directly into his hazel eyes.

    ¡°You¡¯ve been burned?¡±

    Jere gulped, looking at her face in silence for a moment, before the two began kissing again. This time it was slower, more gentle. Jere awkwardly placed his hands on Eevi¡¯s shoulders, before gradually migrating to her waist. As he did so, Eevi began removing her garments. As she undid her shirt, she angled her chest to where Jere could see it. She watched his eyes migrate, following Eevi¡¯s scar as it went past her collarbone, across her breast and down her waist. Most knew of her scar, but few realized it went all the way down to her right thigh. Most would never know.

    Jere stopped, noting the scar. Not a moment later, he began kissing Eevi again. There was nothing else that needed to be said.

    It would be the best night of sleep they¡¯d had since the Holiday.

 Part II.V.IV: Dullards

    Urash wondered if Ky?sti had always been such a raging drunk. He had known him most of his life, and he certainly aways put away more than necessary. It added to his charm, if anything. Ky?sti was a buffoon, but one that could hold his own in any conversation. Even if he didn¡¯t partake, Urash always enjoyed Ky?sti¡¯s drinking company.

    To see Ky?sti here now, with dried puke in his beard, Urash wondered if his friend was for Ostior.

    ¡°Ati¡¯s dirt, you look like shit,¡± Urash said, pitifully. He was never one for subtlety.

    ¡°I know, I know¡­ I can¡¯t stop shaking. Couldn¡¯t sleep. You-you- you don¡¯t know what it¡¯s like out there.¡± Ky?sti had apparently approached the guards earlier that night. He had pestered them for hours, asking for Urash¡¯s audience. They politely declined until Urash¡¯s usual wake up time. Urash decided this would be the last time they would meet. His friendship with the man was becoming a liability.

    ¡°They¡¯re gonna kill you if they smell your breath,¡± Urash said. ¡°I¡¯m surprised they haven¡¯t already.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t care anymore... It¡¯s the only thing that stops the shakes.¡± Ky?sti fervently rubbed his forearms. Urash recognized what was happening: he recalled an uncle that drank spirit until his skin yellowed. He had died not two moons after receiving news bandits had delayed that the mead caravan. It was one of many reasons Urash refrained from drinking over the years.

    Urash sighed and beckoned Ky?sti to follow. He hobbled over to his mattress, pulling out a bottle of Thalassian wine, one Kirashi had given to him on the Holiday. He had been saving it for a special occasion, but seeing Ky?sti like this wasn¡¯t inspiring much desire.

    ¡°Bless the Gods,¡± Ky?sti moaned as he uncorked the bottle and began chugging. ¡°The gods¡±, he had said. He had given up on Ati. Urash repressed his usually forked tongue. The faster he could get this pathetic man out of here, the better. As Ky?sti drank, Urash glimpsed his usually stoic guards. They couldn¡¯t look away from the fat man, either out of disgust or morbid curiosity. Urash couldn¡¯t blame them.

    After thirty seconds, Urash took the bottle from Ky?sti. He had chugged nearly two-thirds of it, as if it were water. ¡°That¡¯s enough.¡±

    Ky?sti staggered, swaying as he fell into a state of euphoria. ¡°Thanks, Zaman,¡± he said between burps, ¡°you gots no more?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ve given you what I had. This is it.¡±

    ¡°Awh comeon,¡± Ky?sti whined, as if he were a child.

    ¡°I only had what Kirashi gave me. And now that she¡¯s gone¡­¡± At the mention of her name, Ky?sti sniffled his nose, his eyes welling with tears. Urash wasn¡¯t sure that was because of genuine loss or whether that meant he would be without liquor from here on out. Urash suspected it was a little of both.

    ¡°Zaman,¡± Ky?sti said between tears, ¡°would ya do me a favor¡­ and look fo¡¯ some more? I would really¡­ really¡­¡± He had lost track of his thoughts.

    ¡°I¡¯ll keep an eye out,¡± Urash lied.

    A familar thumping knock slammed against Urash¡¯s door. Urash handed the wine bottle to one of his guards, who promptly placed it under the mattress. He took Ky?sti by the shoulder and led him towards the door. ¡°Get out of here. Let them in on your way out.¡± Ky?sti nodded. He walked off balance, but his shakes had ceased for now. He swung the door open and trotted out as fast as he could.

    Three men traded places with Ky?sti. The first was Juddken, Boah¡¯s wretched and vile son. The last was Thed, a recently promoted guard who Urash had recognized for working for the Awil-Ishtar family before the plague began. He wasn¡¯t the smartest guard; in fact, Urash found him quite stupid. But he supposed Juddken had to make do with whoever. The identity of the middle guard surprised him, though.

    ¡°What are you two doing with Heikk?¡±

    Thed laughed, speaking in a loud, doughy voice. ¡°This one was cot tryin¡¯ to escape! Found ¡®em by the fountain this morning, I did. Been missin¡¯ for a few nights, thought none¡¯n would spot ¡®em.¡±

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    Heikk kept his gaze on the ground. He wasn¡¯t bound, but he had likely been tossed around by the guards prior to arriving. ¡°Like I¡¯ve been saying, I posted myself on the wall! We¡¯re watching for bandits!¡±

    ¡°Like bandits wan¡¯ to come ¡®ere, ahaha. You¡¯re trin¡¯ to escape, arencha?¡±

    Heikk spoke slower, as if speaking to a toddler. ¡°I need water to stay posted, how much more do I need to say?¡± Heikk looked right at Urash. He wasn¡¯t sure whether the young man was pleading for help or was just annoyed. Urash certainly wouldn¡¯t have blamed him if he wanted to escape. Still, the guard wasn¡¯t Urash¡¯s problem.

    ¡°Ati blessed you with a mouth yet you treat it like an asshole,¡± Urash spat at Thed. Thed giggled at the joke, not registering it as an insult. He instead pushed Heikk, who shrugged it off.

    ¡°Hehehe, Juddken has a new job for this ¡®ere one. Got ¡®em fo the tunnel!¡±

    Urash ignored Heikk¡¯s shocked expression and turned to Juddken. It was already hard to understand what the boy wanted on account of his missing vocal cords, but it was getting harder nowadays. Juddken¡¯s eyes darted across the room, looking at nothing in particular. Most days he mumbled constantly, as if whispering to himself. Even when Urash addressed him, he seemed to be only partially listening.

    ¡°The tunnel?¡± Urash finally said.

    ¡°The tunnel that¡¯s wot I said, did I?¡± Thed turned to Juddken, who shook his head no, but kept doing so after several seconds until it started moving in a circle.

    That was enough for Urash, whatever these two wanted with Heikk they would get. He was nervous even being in the same room. Urash commanded two guards to move his bed. Heikk¡¯s eyes went wide as he saw the angular pit that led deep underground.

    ¡°Watch your step,¡± Urash offered out of pity. ¡°It can get a little tight down there.¡±

    ¡°What do they intend to do?¡± Heikk asked.

    ¡°Yo said ya wanta escape, roit? Ya wanna git out? Dig fo it, haha!¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m not escaping, you halfwit!¡±

    As Heikk protested, Juddken and Thed grabbed him by the arms and pulled him to the descending staircase. Heikk reflexively struggled, before lightly pushing them away and offering to approach on his own.

    ¡°There is a way out,¡± Urash said, ¡°underneath the desert. There are a few boulders blocking the way, so you¡¯re going to help them. They¡¯ll bring food, and if you want water, the fountain runs above the tunnel so you¡¯ll access from the walls. At the very least you should find it quite cool down there.¡±

    ¡°Oh, excellent,¡± replied Heikk bitterly. ¡°This your idea?¡±

    Urash smiled, sheepishly. He didn¡¯t even have to answer. He had no control here.

    As Heikk gingerly approached the first step, Juddken abruptly lunged forward and shoved Heikk¡¯s back. Heikk yelped and toppled forward, disappearing down the hole. Thed clapped his hands in uproarious laughter as Heikk crashed against the stairs.

    ¡°What the fuck?!¡± Urash roared. He heard a snap and a tumble as Heikk¡¯s body smacked against the wall several times. He continued so for about fifteen seconds before the tumbling abruptly came to a stop. Heikk mustn¡¯t had fallen the entire way, otherwise the crashing of his armor would have faded into a distant echo.

    Such a stupid impulse could only beget another stupid impulse. Urash lifted his cane and smacked Juddken¡¯s throat with it. It was a light tap, but it sent waves of pain through the boy. Thed immediately pulled out his scimitar, which prompted the other several guards to unsheathe their short swords. They outnumbered the two, at least in here. Slowly, Thed placed his scimitar back in its sheath.

    Urash planted his cane on the ground before things escalated further. Juddken furiously rubbed his neck, trying to massage away the pain. He didn¡¯t even look angry. He hadn¡¯t before he pushed Heikk.

    ¡°Heikk!¡± Urash called down the stairs. ¡°Still with us, you poor fool?¡±

    A distant cough greeted them. ¡°I think I broke my ankle¡­¡± Heikk¡¯s voice echoed. He was still alive, by the grace of Ati.

    ¡°One of my guards will help you down the rest of the way.¡± Before Urash could finish his command, the guard closest to him descended the stairs. As if he didn¡¯t want to get pushed down, either.

    ¡°Thanks,¡± Heikk responded weakly.

    With the room under his command, Urash stepped forward without fear. ¡°Look, idiots. Boah assigned you a job. Are you going to accomplish shit-all if you kill the few good guards left in the manor?¡± He turned his gaze to Thed as he finished his sentence, knowing he wouldn¡¯t catch the subtext. ¡°You¡¯re lucky he¡¯s still alive. If you¡¯re going to find more, best let them get down in one piece.¡± Neither guard responded. Thed frowned, clearly slighted by the old man¡¯s gall.

    Urash then turned to Juddken, tilting his head to straighten out his vision. ¡°Next time, if you plan on kicking someone, please kindly stick your foot up your own ass and save us all the trouble.¡±

    If Juddken registered the insult, it was lost on him. His eyes were darting around the room again.

    It was hopeless. Urash waved them away. ¡°Get out of here, both of you.¡± They promptly did so.

    Urash sighed. He could only deal with Juddken for so much longer. And the more the Corps got killed off or disappeared, the more dullards like Thed would take his place. An army of dullards was still an army. Heikk was one of the few reasons Urash still felt comfortable working with the Corps, and Juddken was doing his best to disrupt that. Dealing with his father was barely easier.

    Fortunately, Urash had a plan. Now that he had one of his guards underground, he could set things in motion.

 Part II.V.V: Thornstone Wood

    ¡°Do you have a favorite organ? If you did, which would you choose?¡±

    ¡°Um,¡± said Appo, ¡°I¡¯m not sure how to answer that, Tomi. You need all of them.¡± Appo learned the girl¡¯s name after just ten seconds of riding. At first, she was curt, speaking monosyllabically in a way that even Jere would have envied. But that didn¡¯t last long. Like many children, once Tomi began speaking, it was hard to get her to stop. It seemed she recognized she had nothing to fear from a one armed healer and his wounded companion.

    ¡°Okay, but¡­ you must have a favorite, right? It¡¯s the lungs, isn¡¯t it? How else would you have known how to save him?¡±

    Appo sighed, turning to Gizzal. He rode separately on his own camel, awake, but barely. He was letting Appo guide the two for now. Tomi in turn guided Appo, insisting that she lead the trio on foot. Appo marveled at how quickly she seemed to glide over the sand, keeping even pace with the camels. Tomi exuded energy, barely even needing to catch her breath despite having collapsed from exhaustion just hours prior. Fortunately for them, the sand dunes had finally flattened out not long after continuing on their journey. They were finally leaving the Rust Waves behind them.

    ¡°Do you think the brain does anything important?¡± Tomi asked. ¡°Mom says you don¡¯t need it, but I always told her ¡®why have one then?¡¯ I like to imagine it¡¯s like a big sponge, but for your blood! What do you think?¡±

    ¡°Maybe, I don¡¯t know for sure,¡± answered Appo, truthfully. Tomi proved herself to be immensely curious, but he was having trouble keeping up with her inquiries. A month ago, he would have been more than happy to answer such an inquisitive mind. But he was weary, his thoughts elsewhere. ¡°Not too many Healers have studied the brain. It¡¯s anyone¡¯s guess, but I¡¯d say you need one,¡± he finally answered.

    ¡°Does it have anything to do with bleeding?¡±

    ¡°Bleeding?¡±

    ¡°Yeah, like¡­ how I got on the rag a few years ago. When I started bleeding from my-¡±

    ¡°Ugh,¡± Gizzal groaned. It was reassuring to Appo that Gizzal was at least lucid enough to follow the discourse.

    ¡°Maybe¡­ you should have this conversation with your mother?¡± Appo asked politely.

    Tomi laughed. ¡°She hasn¡¯t bled in years. Besides, she¡¯d probably just wed me off if she knew. No thank you.¡±

    The conversation lingered for much of the trek, moving on to surgeries and procedures and strange illnesses Appo had encountered. Eventually, Tomi stopped asking questions and started talking about herself. She explained that, like Appo, she had travelled through the Rust Waves when the screamers came.

    Eventually, Appo realized they had been riding for two hours. They were farther from Isbibarra now than when they had first encountered Tomi. Appo knew that his primary focus was saving Gizzal. But even if he was still heading in the right direction, Appo needed a guide to get him to Zabukama. They would have to come back for Isbibarra, eventually.

    Appo¡¯s musings came to a stop as the sun rose. The Fincur Mountains were much closer now, but at least a hundred kilometers away. A hazy fog creeped over the flattened ground, giving the desert a greyish edge that contrasted with the milky white gloss of the hamadas or the crimson shimmer of the Rust Waves. To Appo¡¯s surprise, what appeared to be several small shrubs dotted amongst the plains. The shrubs swirled and spiraled like smoke frozen in place. Spikes sprouted from the shrubs, adding a menacing semblance to the already eerie atmosphere.

    ¡°What are these?¡± asked Appo. ¡°I didn¡¯t think plants grew here.¡±

    Tomi sniffled, rubbing her bandaged hands across her small nose. ¡°They don¡¯t grow,¡± she said. ¡°They¡¯re frozen in place. We¡¯re entering Thornstone Wood.¡±

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    ¡°Thornstone Wood? There¡¯s a forest in the Eivett??¡±

    Tomi laughed. ¡°It hasn¡¯t been a forest for hundreds of years. Dad used to tell me that the Shadeon used Thornestone to build their siege engines, during their great war with Merkamensa. He says that long ago, the Thorne river roared through the Eivett?. Eventually the river diverted. Now the trees are like the rest of the desert: dead.¡±

    As the trio moved on, the shrubs grew larger, convalescing into larger and larger stumps. Appo was familiar with the beautiful palms of the coast and the birch of the mainland, even witnessing the towering beauty of the Merkamensan bamboo, but never had he seen such gnarled and stunted plants. Their trunks swayed upwards as they grew in size, forming jagged mosaics that exploded into hundreds of needle-like spikes. Most grew no taller than a meter or two, but a few towered over them. Despite the increase in size, the trees were so spacious that calling it a ¡°Wood¡± was more than generous.

    ¡°We¡¯re here,¡± Tomi said, halting. ¡°Look about ahead of us.¡±

    About three hundred paces in front of them was another thornestone, but this was massive. It was wider than it was tall, perhaps twenty meters, a twisting mesa with barbs the size of spears erupting around the base. The barbs condensed near the top, as curled branches surrounded its sides. Appo was sure he could make out the figures of several people behind them at the top.

    What concerned Appo more, however, were the six or seven screamers surrounding the tree. Most lumbered around, absentmindedly trudging along the base. One was skewered through the belly by a particularly large spike, though it appeared unbothered by its predicament, as it reached up towards the bristles above. Appo could barely make out the moaning in the distance.

    ¡°Shit,¡± Appo whispered, trying to direct his camel into a crouch.

    ¡°Relax,¡± Tomi said, almost nonchalantly. ¡°The demons don¡¯t know how to climb. Really easy to work around if you¡¯re quick enough.¡±

    Appo nervously chuckled. ¡°We¡¯re not quick enough. Gizzal can barely move, and I can¡¯t climb one-handed. They¡¯ll come after us the moment they see us.¡±

    Tomi smiled. ¡°That¡¯s kinda what I¡¯m hoping for.¡± She patted the side of Appo¡¯s camel, feeding it a piece of jerky. ¡°Do you have a favorite?¡±

    ¡°A favorite what?¡±

    ¡°Camel. You can only keep one.¡±

    Appo raised an eyebrow.

    ¡°Just saying,¡± Tomi continued, ¡°the only way to get up there is with a distraction. We have two camels right now, and we can get one up. The other is going to have to be sacrificed. Otherwise, there¡¯s no way for us to get up there.¡±

    ¡°Nope,¡± said Appo, rubbing the back of his camel¡¯s neck. ¡°There has to be another way.¡±

    ¡°Not unless you want to wait. The screamers are slower in the day, but they never stop. Trust me. The best way around them is to keep them occupied, and to keep them scratching at something. We got my entire village up there by leading them in circles. They¡¯re easy to manage, but they¡¯re only letting us up if I¡¯m there.¡±

    Appo sighed. ¡°Is there no other way?¡±

    Tomi shook her head. Appo turned to Gizzal. Now in the sun, Appo could see he was worse for wear. Every minute spent out here, Gizzal was risking bloodrot, and Appo had yet to learn Isbibarra¡¯s treatment for it. They had no time to waste.

    ¡°Alright, I¡¯ll do it. What do you suggest?¡±

    Tomi shook her hand in a fist, satisfied with the answer. ¡°Nice! Ride the camel past the tree and lead it out as far as you can. The demons will let you know when they see you. They¡¯re slower during the day, but you need to stay on the camel until we¡¯ve made it up the side. I¡¯ll get Gizzal up to the base. Once you see we¡¯re up, dismount, and let the camel run. The demons will follow it, and once they¡¯re past you, get to the tree as fast as possible. By the time the screamers come back, you¡¯ll be safe.¡±

    Appo grunted. ¡°How much time do you need?¡±

    ¡°As much as you can give me.¡±

    ¡°And what if I can¡¯t outrun them?¡±

    Tomi laughed. ¡°My seven-year-old brother could outrun them. Did you lose a foot too?¡±

    Appo ignored the childish barb, focusing instead on the uncertainty of the plan. His skeptical mind couldn¡¯t help but poke holes, but Tomi had been dealing with the screamers longer than he had. Appo recalled how terrifying they were in the cells, but he had watched them from a distance in the raider lookout. Screamers were sluggish and uncoordinated during the day. Appo hoped he could outmaneuver them.

    Tomi took a moment to take the water pouches and medical kits off Appo¡¯s camel. She moved with such experience and that it became very clear that she was more than capable of riding a camel herself - she just preferred not to. It irritated Appo that he had to be the one to put his life on the line.

    By the time Tomi finished, Appo¡¯s camel was naked save for the saddle. He felt sorry for the creature. It had done nothing to deserve its fate.

    ¡°Ready?¡± asked Tomi. Gizzal had slumped over now, his head leaning into Tomi¡¯s slim back.

    Appo was assuredly not ready, but he nodded his head anyway. He saw no use in waiting. He yipped at the camel and charged.

 Part II.V.VI: Unexpected Speed

    Appo¡¯s camel moved with unexpected speed, almost at a gallop. With the flat ground and all the extra weight removed, Appo could barely hold on to the saddle. He yipped the camel straight towards the thornestone, riding about ten meters away from the screamers. Suddenly, a chorus of screams erupted from the tree base. Appo counted eight screamers. They gave chase, though their lumbering gait was no match for the camel. Appo forced himself to slow down and give the screamers an opportunity to catch up.

    Appo guided the camel about a hundred meters away from the tree, turning around to get a view back towards the stump. The screamers shambled towards him at a variety of speeds. Appo could see their faces now. Most looked as if they had succumbed fairly recently. Besides scratches, all of their skin had blistered and burnt from being out in the open sun.

    Appo waited until they got about ten meters away before yipping the camel across the plain. He tried to find a good view of Tomi and Gizzal. They appeared to be close to the stump, but they were moving at a frustratingly slow pace. Appo saw he hadn¡¯t distracted all the screamers, though; the impaled one was reaching out toward Tomi¡¯s camel.

    Another yip and another sprint, and Appo moved even farther away from the tree. He was at back towards the hill now, at a very safe distance from the screamers. It was hard to see Tomi and Gizzal, but they must have reached the stump. Appo decided it was probably far enough. He had to think about what was the best way to make it back.

    Appo halted the camel and slid off the side, positioning himself away from the sight of the screamers. He grabbed the reins, gently coaxing the camel along. He looked up at the tree again. To Appo¡¯s disbelief, he saw Gizzal¡¯s camel suspended in midair, balanced by a multitude of ropes handled by at least four people from the top of the tree.

    A scream shrieked on the other side of the camel. The screamers were much closer than Appo expected, at least twenty meters away. The camel reacted before Appo, moaning in shock. Appo tried to grab the reins, but the camel didn¡¯t listen. It pulled Appo along before he could no longer hold, and he tumbled to the ground.

    Appo quickly got to his feet, ignoring the rope burn he just received. He turned around. The screamers weren¡¯t following the camel anymore - they were coming right towards him.

    There was no thinking involved. Appo mustered up his best possible sprint towards the massive tree stump. Turns out it wasn¡¯t much. With all the riding Appo had been doing, he forgot it wasn¡¯t too long ago that he had bedridden for almost a fortnight. The best he could do was a labored jog. He was faster than the screamers, but only barely.

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    Appo couldn¡¯t look behind him. He didn¡¯t need to. He just needed the screams to push him. They seemed to move at the same pace, but Appo wouldn¡¯t be able to keep it up for long. He wasn¡¯t even sure how he expected to scale the thornestone, it wasn¡¯t as if he could climb easily with one arm.

    He had to ignore the thoughts. Tomi would have a plan. Hopefully.

    But the screamers were getting louder now. Were they getting faster? Was Appo losing speed?

    The tree stump loomed even larger as Appo approached. It was at least eight meters high; the cylindrical stump a massive landmark in such a featureless place. Its meter-long stone spikes reminded Appo of giant cacti spines he had seen in other, less arid parts of the desert, but blown up to a magnificent size. The impaled screamer twisted around as much as possible, with black blood coating his mouth and lower tunic.

    Appo looked over the stump as he ran around it. The multitude of barbs would have made it an easy climb for anyone with two hands, but Appo wasn¡¯t as fortunate. He didn¡¯t have time to plot his route, and he was exhausted. He would have to make do with what he had.

    Before he could attempt to climb, a loop of rope dropped in front of him. It was the saddle that had carried the camel up just before. Appo grabbed onto the rope, which suddenly rose. The loop caught under his legs and yanked him upwards. Appo instinctively kicked his legs as the screams grew louder. As the rope lifted in the air, Appo fell off balance, barely holding on with his good hand and legs while his head swung back towards the ground. Crusted dirty fingernails were but a hand¡¯s length away before being pulled out of reach. The screamers had all caught up to him. They weren¡¯t even moving fast. He was just that slow.

    As Appo clung to the rope, someone deftly navigated him through the thorny spikes. Appo looked up, trying to find his rescuers, but could only make out two silhouettes. The rope eventually pulled over the edge of the stump, and Appo allowed himself to fall. It was a short height, but Appo winced as he landed on the tree. It was solid as granite. He caressed his back as he helped himself to his feet.

    ¡°I must admit, that wasn¡¯t the most well-thought-out plan.¡±

    Appo was pushed back before he could see the face of his rescuer. He mustered a slight ¡°hey!¡± before falling into a jutting branch of the thornestone. He felt a thick hand press into his neck, and when he opened his eyes, he realized he was staring directly into the pinpoint of a knife.

    ¡°You have ten seconds to explain what the fuck you were doing with my sister.¡±

    Appo summoned the courage to look past the knife and at his captor. It was a boy who looked to be in his late teens or early twenties. He wore the beige robes of desertfolk, but something was off about his skin. It was patchy and discolored, closer to a pale green. Small growths covered the boy¡¯s cheeks, and the hair of his eyebrows was abnormally sparse. Mucus crusted his eyes, and his nose was thin and sunken in. For a second, Appo was concerned he hadn¡¯t quite escaped the screamers.

    Then Appo pieced the picture together. He had never visited their societies, but he knew the descriptions well. Standing in front of him, with a crusted and lesioned hand pressed firmly around his throat, was a leper.

 Part II.V.VII: Open Sores and Wounds

    Leprosy was a condition few understood. Appo had never met a leper himself, and in fact had done his best to avoid leprosariums whenever he heard of them. To be afflicted with leprosy was more taboo than witchcraft, more insidious than blasphemy, and far harder to conceal than either. Appo¡¯s mentor, Parbast, had taught him that a single touch was all it took to be afflicted for life.

    None of this escaped Appo¡¯s mind as he felt the leper¡¯s hand clutched his neck. It scared him far more than the knife he brandished.

    ¡°Uten!¡± a voice screamed. It was Tomi. ¡°Let him go!¡±

    ¡°Quiet!¡± Uten hissed, speaking to her without taking his eyes off Appo. ¡°The sister I know would never be so dumb to risk her life for outsiders. He must have threatened you.¡±

    ¡°They¡¯re not raiders or poachers or bandits or hunters! They¡¯re healers!¡±

    ¡°Healers?! Oh, come to cure us then? Spray your God water and bless our sores? What good is a healer to us now?¡±

    ¡°Hulla!¡± Tomi screamed. ¡°Think about Hulla, ya big oaf!!¡±

    As Tomi and Uten bickered, Appo allowed his eyes to wander. The Thornewood they stood atop was wide, providing somewhat of a flattened space for a tree. Its thick branches mostly fanned out into curls that turned to the ground, but a few smaller trunks continued to rise in the air. From what Appo could see, there were at least a dozen others in the tree. All exhibited variable degrees of leprosy. A few of the younger lepers had only a sore or two, but scabs and plaques of various sizes smothered the older ones. All of them wore crusted and ragged robes several sizes too large, as if to cover as much of their bodies as possible. Appo imagined the sun would¡¯ve been extra cruel to their blistered skin.

    ¡°Tomi?¡± A worried voice crooned from the other side of the tree, coming from a tall middle-aged woman. Even though blemished by a few growths, she had a beautiful angular face. The woman climbed around the misshapen tree branches to Tomi, holding her briefly in her arms before quickly slapping the side of her shoulder.

    ¡°Ow! Mom!¡±

    Tomi¡¯s mother bent over, shaking her hand exaggeratedly at her face. ¡°We thought you were dead, stupid girl! Leaving in the middle of the night without food or water? After everything that¡¯s happened?¡± She slapped Tomi¡¯s shoulder again before hugging her once again, this time much longer.

    Tomi struggled against the hug, pushing her away. ¡°I¡¯ve found someone that can help Hulla, mom. Someone with medicine.¡±

    ¡°Oh girl,¡± her mother whispered. ¡°There¡¯s nothing we can do for him now.¡±

    ¡°No! I mean it!¡± Tomi turned and pointed at Appo, who had remained stiff in the grasp of Uten. ¡°I watched him cure a man of a dagger to the chest!¡±

    ¡°Mother, can you please talk some sense into Tomi?!¡± yelled Uten.

    As the argument continued, Appo tried to ignore the greasy touch of Uten¡¯s palm and the blade not a finger¡¯s width from his cornea. He spotted Gizzal lying against one of the internal branches of the tree. He appeared alarmed, but drowsy.

    ¡°Uten.¡± A voice called from behind Uten, distinctively smooth and baritone. It came from a man in his fifties. The man¡¯s upright posture made him tower over the other hunched lepers. He walked gracefully over the tree, holding his hands within his beige desert robes as he peered at both Appo and Uten. He too was a leper, his face covered in a cluster of lumpy growths, though unlike Uten he had maintained all his thick facial hair, even sporting a broad mustache.

    Uten frowned, releasing his grip on Appo¡¯s neck. Appo swallowed, thankful that he hadn¡¯t needed to gasp for much air. Under less duress, Appo saw that the knife Uten brandished was nothing more than a dull cooking utensil. He took a step back as the mustached leper stepped in front of Uten.

    ¡°To make it this far without contracting the Screaming Plague, only to be accosted by lepers¡­ very unfortunate circumstances, stranger. My name is Garabi Yald. I am this one¡¯s father.¡± He nodded in Uten¡¯s direction. ¡°I am the patriarch of what remains of my village. You are?¡±

    ¡°Appo Illonnorot. I¡¯m a healer from Jyv?sk.¡±

    ¡°Jyv?sk? You¡¯re far from home. What brings you all the way to Thornestone Wood?¡±

    ¡°I seek aid for my wounded companion. We mean no harm.¡± Appo replied half truthfully.

    ¡°Yes, that is what Tomi shouted at us,¡± Garabi replied. Appo caught Tomi dramatically folding her arms on the other end of the tree. ¡°Still, you didn¡¯t answer my question: what brings two healers this far out in the desert?¡±

    Appo didn¡¯t bother to correct him about Gizzal. ¡°We fled from Ash. There was nowhere else to go.¡±

    ¡°Hmm,¡± Garabi almost sighed, as if disappointed. ¡°So you fled through the Rust Waves? With no self-defense? And survived? Seems illogical.¡±

    ¡°When someone cuts off your hand,¡± Appo raised his left stump, directing it at Garabi, ¡°you tend not to think where you¡¯re going.¡±

    Garabi peered forward, angling his body around the stump. Appo had re-bandaged it in the tower, but would need to replace it again soon.

    ¡°Shadeon Law,¡± Garabi murmured. ¡°I¡¯d recognize it anywhere. No surprise Ash would resort to such barbarism¡­ Were you attacked by the demons?¡±

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    ¡°If I was, we wouldn¡¯t be speaking right now.¡±

    Garabi looked down below the tree. The screamers had come back around, settling into their state of moaning and clawing at each other. He then returned to meet Appo¡¯s gaze, this time more gently. ¡°Okay, Mr Illonnorot. Regardless of what brings you here, I cannot spare supplies. I look after many. But there is space in the tree for you to take care of your friend. We will keep our distance. I simply ask you not to overstay your welcome, for we are in mourning.¡±

    Before Appo could agree, Tomi approached the two of them, her mother following closely behind her. ¡°So you¡¯re just going to let Hulla die?¡± she yelled at Garabi. ¡°He can help him!¡±

    ¡°Watch your tone.¡±

    ¡°He¡¯s a healer! ¡®HEAL-ER!¡¯ What do you think they do every day?¡±

    Garabi sighed. ¡°Healers don¡¯t help lepers, Tomi.¡±

    ¡°Maybe, but¡­ I passed out from playing the worm game. They could have killed me if they wanted!¡± Tomi pointed to Gizzal. ¡°This one would have, but Appo stopped him. And then he fixed his ¡®new pored ass!¡¯¡±

    ¡°Pneumothorax¡± Appo reflexively corrected in his mind.

    ¡°So,¡± Garabi said, ¡°you admit to sneaking away as your brother lies here, half-dead, to risk your life by playing with magic?¡± His tone remained calm, but the accusation rattled Tomi.

    Tomi bowed her head, embarrassed. ¡°I was looking out¡­ didn¡¯t mean to scare everyone.¡±

    Garabi pursed his lips, restricting what he clearly wanted to say. ¡°You did. We thought you perished as well. You will apologize later, especially to your mother. Regardless, they can¡¯t stay.¡±

    In response, Tomi barreled past Garabi, placing herself between him and Appo. ¡°You can fix Hulla, right? You said the brain is important, so you know how it works! I know you¡¯ll know what to do!¡±

    ¡°Tomi!¡± her mother exclaimed.

    Tomi continued, undeterred. ¡°Look at my brother. Please. He hurt his head in a fall, and-¡±

    ¡°Sit down!¡± Garabi commanded. His baritone echoed, silencing the murmuring of the other lepers. The screamers groaned below, agitated by the argumenting. ¡°You are out of line. Do not speak again until the sun rises!¡± Tomi grimaced, locking eyes with Appo before turning her back. She pushed past her mother and walked around the trunk of the tree.

    It wasn¡¯t Appo¡¯s place. It had become clear that Tomi brought him here for her own gain. His focus now was to patch up Gizzal, return to the tower, and beg Isbibarra for forgiveness. Then they would continue onward towards Zabukama with a day wasted, now likely infected with leprosy.

    But Appo couldn¡¯t help himself. He never could.

    ¡°Excuse me,¡± Appo said. ¡°If there is someone who needs medical attention, I could look.¡±

    Garabi waved his hand dismissively. ¡°It is a lost cause. Besides, we have no way to pay you.¡±

    ¡°You saved my life. None of you had to. It¡¯s the very least I can do.¡±

    Garabi paused. Appo didn¡¯t blame his hesitance. The few colleagues he knew who worked with them were less interested in curing their affliction and more likely to test concoctions on them. Many people mistrusted healers, but Appo admitted lepers had a good reason.

    ¡°Okay.¡± Garabi finally said. ¡°Come.¡± Appo followed, caressing Lowya¡¯s pendant with his fingertips.

    Appo followed Garabi around the smaller tree stump. Below, the branches diverted into a natural sinking point. In this divot lay a small, skinny boy no older than seven. Tomi crouched on his right, caressing his hand. A thick blanket made from animal skin covered him. A bandage covered his head, with a small blood stained clotted above his right ear. As pale as he was, Appo thought he was looking at a corpse, before he recognized the barely perceptible rising and falling of the boy¡¯s chest.

    ¡°What happened?¡± Appo asked.

    ¡°Hulla fell,¡± Garabi said. ¡°We were crossing over a dune trying to outrun screamers and he fell over the other side. Hit his head on a boulder.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m so sorry,¡± Appo wondered if the Yalds¡¯ traveling were the reason his own journey through the Rust Waves was so uneventful.

    ¡°He was fine at first. Hit his head so hard it reminded me of a hammer splitting ore. But he got up and was unphased. He didn¡¯t even cry. He walked with us for a few more hours and then he collapsed. No warning at all.¡±

    As Garabi recollected his story, the other lepers gathered around from the side. Uten stood by his mother, glaring. Appo was certain he was still squeezing his kitchen knife. They all shifted their gaze from Hulla to Appo. No one was crying, as if they had already done their mourning over the night.

    ¡°He must have fallen right in front of us. Gizzal and I were camping a short distance away. We saw your torches.¡±

    ¡°We waited as long as we could for him to wake up, but he never did. I¡¯m afraid he never will.¡±

    Appo sighed. It sounded to him as if Hulla fractured his skull. Not a death sentence in itself, but he had been without consciousness since at least the previous night. His prognosis wasn¡¯t good. Children were tougher than many thought, but even the most malleable had their limits.

    It had been a very long time since Appo had physically examined a patient. He felt like he was putting on clothes he forgot he had. Tomi briefly glanced at Appo as he approached, before returning to caress Hulla¡¯s hand. His breathing was rapid, but extremely shallow. Appo slowly put his hand on Hulla¡¯s head, feeling its heat before he even touched it. He then checked his pulse. It took him a few seconds to find it, but it was there, dutifully pumping along. Appo then lightly tapped Hulla¡¯s knee. The motion flustered the other lepers. The boy responded with the slightest bounce of his foot. It was a good sign if the boy still had his reflexes, even if diminished.

    Appo then moved his hand to the boy¡¯s eyelids. His left eye looked relatively normal, aiming out if slightly upward towards the branches above them. The right eye was a different story entirely, directing downward and out, completely dilated. Appo knew that meant that something was filling the space behind the eye, pulling it in an unusual direction. There was only one thing Appo could think of that could cause everything, considering the history and the exam.

    The Yalds would not like what he was about to suggest.

    As Appo rose, he realized that every single leper had their eyes trained on him. Even Uten had relaxed his anger, now replaced with curiosity.

    ¡°Well?¡± Garabi asked.

    ¡°He has a hematoma¡­ I believe he has blood collecting in the space between the skull and his brain. Judging by your story, it matches pretty well with the few cases I¡¯ve treated.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯ve seen this before?¡±

    Appo nodded. ¡°Soldiers mostly. A large hit to the head, walking around totally normal before deteriorating¡­ Very specific presentation.¡±

    ¡°Can you save him?¡±

    Appo wanted to be optimistic, but he quickly realized that he was only being allowed good graces by this circumstance. He didn¡¯t want to get their hopes up without cause, but being too drastic wouldn¡¯t be good either. ¡°I¡¯m¡­ not sure. Many my mentor treated died. The few who didn¡¯t¡­ didn¡¯t get much better. Most didn¡¯t wait this long before being treated, either.¡±

    A few of the lepers gasped. It clearly wasn¡¯t the answer they wanted to hear. But Appo pressed forward. ¡°However, he is young. Children are remarkable at recovery. Perhaps if we treat him now, something could be done.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t understand.¡± It was Tomi¡¯s mom. Tears welled in her eyes as she spoke. ¡°What can be done?¡±

    ¡°Hulla has blood collecting beneath his skull. It¡¯s putting an immense amount of pressure on his brain. If we can remove the blood, we can remove the pressure.¡±

    ¡°How?¡± this voice came from behind Appo. It was Tomi. Like her mother, she was also crying. Only she did nothing to hide it. ¡°How do we remove the blood?¡±

    ¡°There¡¯s only one way: we need to open up his skull.¡±

 Part II.V.VIII: False Prophets

    Heikk¡¯s meager progress impressed Juddken. Even on a broken ankle, Heikk and Urash¡¯s guard already dislodged two of the massive boulders that blocked their passage to the outside. It looked to be tedious work, and Juddken could only guess how long completing the task would take, but it wasn¡¯t as if the prisoners had anything better to do.

    Upon returning to Urash¡¯s room, Juddken had created less of a fuss. It wasn¡¯t his fault that Okkan had told him to push Heikk down the stairs! The God had been screaming at him, so loud that Juddken barely registered Urash¡¯s barbed insults. Such was the price of communicating with higher deities.

    But these matters no longer concerned Juddken. Okkan called to him again, beckoning him to explore the triangular passageway. The crotchety old man claimed it led to the Great Temple, and although Juddken had no reason to trust him, it was all the reason to listen to Okkan.

    ¡° c o m e ATONCE j u d d k e n ¡±

    Okkan¡¯s voice had become several. Juddken counted at least eight distinct tones, though at this moment he only heard two: there was a light wisp of a voice, almost feminine, enticing. It was constantly whispering in his ear throughout the day, becoming a background noise of sorts. Recently though, it started being undercut by a neurotic yelling before the whispering voice took its place again.

    ¡° c r a w l t h r o u g h t h e d i r t YOUARECOMMANDED t o s t e p f o r t h ¡±

    Juddken had to answer the call. His lord demanded his presence.

    Juddken knew Heikk would not break his confines any time soon. After checking on the crawl space, Juddken returned to the shrine of Ati, thumbing his nose at it while he did so. He then entered the triangular passageway.

    Urash was correct: the tunnel was too small for comfort. At first, Juddken tried to crouch, but he wasn¡¯t flexible enough to do it for long. After attempting it for about fifty meters, he shifted to a crawl. It was difficult in his set of armor, but his knees and ankles thanked him for it. He crawled for about half an hour in darkness, feeling the abnormal smoothness of the stone become almost slippery, to the point to where he struggled to get any sort of holding. It left him alone with his thoughts for a very long time.

    ¡° -t h e l o r d d e s i r e s PENANCEANDDEDICATION f o r a c o n d u i t TRUEANDVIOLENT t o b a r e w i t n e s s t o t h e ALMIGHTY a n d-¡°

    Juddken wished he could beg for mercy. He tried to respond to Okkan in his mind, but his voices paid no attention. They preached on and on without relent. He struggled to make sense of the message, but then again, he knew he was not the most intelligent person. He wondered whether his father heard the voices as well, but his educated background allowed him to decipher the nuances.

    After an unbearable amount of crawling, Juddken noticed a small flicker of a flame in front of him. Drawn like a month, he increased his speed. The flame filled out the area between the triangular outline of the tunnel, and the strong, spicy smell of brown ash overwhelmed him.

    When Juddken exited the tunnel, he realized he was without a doubt in the Great Temple. The sandstone architecture was far more sound and aesthetically pleasing than anything else above ground. But he had never been in this room. It was a large space, with ancient Shadeonite script etched its way into every corner, but it was less smoothed than the temple above. Within, he saw eight elaborate sculptures similar to the ones in the Manor garden, next to eight columns that rose about five meters above his head. A raised platform with several throne-like chairs adored in silver lined the wall across from him, and several stone slabs filled the rest of the room. In the middle lay a small moat that cut the room into two halves, filled with dirty, motionless water.

    ¡° b l e s s e d r o o m b l e s s e d r o o m b l e s s e d r o o m ¡°

    Before Juddken could appreciate the lasting power of the several torches, he spotted a massive pile of blood in front of him. Someone, or something, had bled recently.

    Then he heard it. Subtle laughter mixed with heavy breathing. Juddken wasn¡¯t alone.

    Juddken unsheathed a dagger and held it at his side. He rounded one of the pillars, noting a helmeted statue that depicted an overly muscle-bound man with a beard that covered his belly. It was the classical depiction of Okkan, his massive size adequately symbolizing his domineering influence. At the base of the statue was a woman with bright red hair, frizzled and disheveled. She was wearing what appeared to be a pink dress, though Juddken quickly corrected himself. In fact, it was once white, but now appeared to be stained with blood and mud.

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    ¡°Oh, Okkan,¡± the woman said in a euphoric drawl, ¡°have you blessed me with another sacrifice? Were the others not enough for you, o¡¯ great one?¡±

    As the woman rose, Juddken held out his dagger, only to realize that he was looking at one of the missing Heads. The visage of Shimsusa Gishammar was easily recognizable. As religious as he was, her level of devotion had always been eccentric, even amongst the other Okkan worshippers. She always included prayers for Okkan in as many sentences as possible. It always struck Juddken as insincere, or desperate.

    Whoever that woman was before was long gone. This Shimsusa appeared ragged, her clothes misshapen and mostly torn, displaying her voluptuous body. And then there was the blood. She was dripping in it; the blood staining the entirety of her once white dress. Outlines of her makeup remained, though it pooled and dried around her cheeks in the shape of discolored tears.

    ¡°Bless you, bountiful thunder! You have delivered upon me yet another blight. Sanctus filled me so! Give me his strength, and I will make an example of him. It is the boy¡­ the seed of Boah, that wicked man. Let me paint the floor with his blood!¡±

    Juddken hissed at Shimsusa, pointing his knife directly at her face. How foolish she was to be so confident. The voices certainly shared their opinions as well.

    ¡° d u m b b i t c h DUMBBITCH d u m b b i t c h d u m b d u m bBITCH¡±

    ¡°My poor, sweet child,¡± Shimsusa groaned. ¡°Do not be afraid. We have simply lost the old ways. The correct ways. Oh, how we¡¯ve diluted our souls with the idea that a simple holiday would satisfy a God such as Okkan. No, we have insulted our lord, and he has punished Ashfolk for their indiscretion. We have lost the faith in our search for piety¡­ But I have been relinquished the hold the Witch has held over me by turning to the ways of the Steppe.¡±

    As Shimsusa rambled, Juddken noticed the staining of her teeth. They were dark red. Behind her, he finally saw what Shimsusa had been standing over. A mangled naked body of a man, stripped of flesh around the torso and the thighs lay sprawled along the base of the statue. It was decomposing, but still plump.

    Shimsusa turned her head as Juddken noticed the body, and her smile split her face. ¡°Enlil denied me for too long. He shunned me for what I had done to the others, claiming we were defiling their souls, but once the hunger set in, it wasn¡¯t long before he too turned to the old ways. The flesh grows rotten fast, and Okkan demanded another sacrifice¡­ Brotherly flesh tastes sweet. Never before have I been so satiated.¡± She cackled as she recounted her story, leaning forward as if caught off balance. She held her arms outward, brandishing what appeared to be two small daggers, each stained with the blood of the high priest.

    Juddken kept his distance. Shimsusa had succumbed to depravities he could have never imagined, even with the current state of things. She had always been a fanatic, so wasn¡¯t a surprise that she would degenerate to such a disgusting state after being isolated for so long. Okkan indeed required sacrifice, but to do so in such an archaic way was abhorrent even to a God of violence.

    Still, she was here. She had more daggers than Juddken, and who knew how feral she could be? If Juddken had brought his spear with him, he would have made quick work of her.

    ¡°Come satiate me, boy,¡± Shimsusa groaned, stepping forward. ¡°Let us become one under Okkan.¡± As she got closer, Juddken got a better look at the knives she carried. They were pure white, filed down spikes. They appeared to be made of bone.

    For a fleeting moment, Juddken let fear take hold of him. He was almost paralyzed, like he was when he first descended the stairs. He had been certain Okkan chose his father to be his conduit, and that he received his blessing as well. But maybe he was mistaken. The high priestess had sacrificed so much, perhaps that was what Okkan demanded. The stories Juddken heard of the starving tribes resorting to cannibalism to appease Okkan may have had more truth than he realized.

    But the voices kept mumbling in his mind. They repeated the same phrase over and over.

    ¡° d u m b b i t c h d u m b b i t c h d u m b b i t c h ¡±

    No. She was the one who should be afraid.

    Juddken stepped forward and stuck his knife in Shimsusa¡¯s stomach. She gasped, releasing her bony daggers. Shimsusa fell into Juddken, trying to grasp his armor. She looked at him in awe, as if she had thought herself invulnerable until this very moment.

    Juddken pulled her closer against his armor and stabbed her again, this time below her ribs. Shimsusa hiccuped, looking down at her belly briefly before her eyes rolled up into her head. Juddken released her, and she fell to the ground. She moved no longer.

    Juddken sheathed his dagger as he stepped over her limp body. He looked around the room at the grisly scene. He would have to dispose of the bodies in some manner. As he scanned the room, he approached the brawny statue Shimsusa had been praying under. It was a beautifully sculpted design, most likely imported from one of the artisan cities along the coasts. It would have cost a fortune to transport, let alone design.

    But it was wrong. This was a false image, grossly oversimplified and easily consumable to the masses. The true Okkan was many, as Juddken realized. To summarize his being in such a simple form was improper.

    Shimsusa was a false prophet. So was Enlil, and the witch. The healer had come from far away to drive a wedge between his father and the city. They all paid for it with their lives. Ash was beyond corrupted, and beyond forsaken. Only Boah and Juddken could save it now. They had to do it the right way.

    But despite all that, Juddken wondered whether Shimsusa had gotten something right.

    Juddken returned to Shimsusa¡¯s body and grabbed her dirty, matted red hair. He pulled it above her forehead and brought his dagger to her hairline.

    ¡°Dumb bitch,¡± Juddken thought as he began slicing through Shimsusa¡¯s scalp.

 Part II.V.IX: Preparation

    Preparation for Hulla¡¯s surgery took much of the remaining daylight. Time was of the essence, but there was no sense in attempting a surgery unless everything was in order. The lepers initially debated amongst each other whether the procedure was worth doing at all. As they had already come to accept that the boy would pass, they quickly reached an accord: Hulla would either likely die during the surgery, or certainly die without it.

    Appo was fearful of their willingness. He had been honest about the boy¡¯s chances, but he hadn¡¯t explained the complications other men had faced after such injuries. Permanent paralyzation, blindness, loss of mental capacity, to name a brief few, and those were the ones who woke from their comas. Appo didn¡¯t want to think about what would happen if the lepers lost their boy twice in less than two moons.

    First, Appo needed a sedative. He had not brought drawstring with him, and his spirit wasn¡¯t strong enough. Instead, he asked the lepers if any had any opium among them. He was well aware of the poppy seed¡¯s addictive nature and knew many traveled with some on hand. With reluctance, one of the older women revealed she carried several seeds on her person. Despite receiving harsh looks from the lepers, Appo was thankful: the woman¡¯s addiction would be of great benefit to the surgery.

    As Appo gathered his tools, one-by-one the Yald family offered their help. He would have preferred someone less emotionally invested in the procedure, but he needed whatever help he could get. Tomi¡¯s mother, who eventually introduced herself as Erish, was the closest thing the village had to a healer. While unfamiliar with the intricacies of human anatomy, Erish was skilled with suture and praised for her steady hand. Appo decided she would be responsible for cauterizing any excessive bleeding. Garabi would stand at her side, maintaining a small fire for sterilization.

    Despite her parents¡¯ objections, Tomi insisted she be involved. Realizing her abilities allowed her to sense Gizzal¡¯s diminished breathing, she offered to stay close to Hulla and observe his airway while she relayed his pulse. It was a simple assignment, but Appo quickly realized the value of her abilities. She could effectively keep constant track of internal vitals; it would¡¯ve been a Godsend in previous surgeries.

    In the end, that left Uten to offer to hold Hulla¡¯s head. It would be physically and mentally tasking, while being by far the most tedious role to have. It didn¡¯t matter, for Uten wanted to help his younger brother in any way he could. If there was anyone to fulfill that duty, it would be Uten. Appo knew from firsthand experience how strong the boy¡¯s grip was.

    Eventually, it was time for the surgery to begin. Hulla¡¯s blanket draped over his body, with a small square cut out to visualize the right side of his head. When Appo removed the bandages earlier, he realized why the family thought so little of his initial fall: the swelling and bruising of his head above the ear was hardly one of concern for a skull fracture. When Appo palpated the boy¡¯s head, he felt only a slight bump in the skull underneath the edema. Hulla¡¯s injury was unperceivable to the naked eye, but that was the nature of hematomas. There was no telling how much blood pooled underneath the skull, building more and more pressure on the boy¡¯s brain with every passing second.

    Appo double checked everything as everyone settled into position. The other lepers looked on from a safe distance. Even Gizzal, who had remained silent since his arrival, kept watch on the surgery while crouched under a particularly ugly stump of the Thornewood. After Appo sterilized his equipment, he gave Erish a brief rundown of what each instrument did and what he called them. He reminded Tomi to give him immediate updates if she suspected anything went wrong.

    Before they began, Appo stood up and addressed the men and women around him. ¡°I want to remind everyone to keep their distance. Even if things go wrong, any help you want to give could kill him. If you wish to support him, do from where you stand now.¡±

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    The lepers nodded.

    ¡°That being said¡­ You all know Hulla Yald, not me. Your help will get him through this. If you would like, pray to whoever you wish. We could certainly use their help right now.¡±

    The lepers all bowed their heads in quiet murmurings that Appo had come to recognize as Ati¡¯s prayer. As they did, Appo pulled out Lowya¡¯s adamantine pendant, which he now wore across his neck. He kissed it, not knowing how much Lowya would influence proceedings from here on out. He had given little thought that she was likely responsible for the Screamers that had harassed them down below.

    ¡°You worship an old God.¡± It was Garabi, astute as ever. ¡°Will it help?¡±

    ¡°As long as she steadies my hand, she just might.¡±

    As the prayer concluded, Appo met each of the Yald family in the eyes. None of them wavered. They were ready to begin.

    Appo decided on using a small fraction of the poppy seed. In prior instances, he would harvest a specific amount of latex, the gel like substance of the plant, and soak it in a sponge for his patient to inhale. This was impossible, as Hulla was breathing so shallowly and the seed had long since dried. He instead opened the seed and had Uten grind it into a paste within the opium pipe. After lighting the pipe and puffing on it for a moment, Garabi handed the pipe to Tomi, who inserted it into Hulla¡¯s nose.

    Appo could sense the unease the family had seeing such a small child using opium. Any responsible parent would. He explained his progress as he continued. ¡°Opium numbs the senses, much like how spirit makes it easier to tolerate pain. Note how he¡¯s still reactive to touch.¡± Appo pinched Hulla¡¯s right finger, resulting in a slight flexion. ¡°We are going to be causing trauma, something that would be impossible to tolerate if awake. We¡¯re going to give him a small amount until he is no longer curling his fingers.¡±

    The Yalds were receptive to Appo¡¯s explanations. Under a surgical setting, Appo had the inflexible confidence of a general and the tranquility of a monk.

    ¡°I need you to talk to me, Tomi,¡± reminded Appo. ¡°I¡¯d rather you tell me too much than too little.¡±

    Tomi nodded. ¡°His heartbeat is steady, from what I can tell. He¡¯s getting good air, though he¡¯s slowing.¡±

    ¡°Very good. Don¡¯t let it get too slow. He needs to breathe steady.¡± Appo pinched Hulla¡¯s finger again. Still reflexive, though somewhat delayed. He looked up and saw that Tomi had expected his question and handed the pipe back to Garabi. Garabi held the pipe awkwardly in his sleeves, perhaps concerned about the heat. He stoked the pipe over the fire again and handed it back to Tomi.

    After the second inhalation, Tomi¡¯s brow furrowed.

    ¡°What¡¯s wrong?¡± asked Appo.

    ¡°His breathing is too slow now. Way too slow.¡±

    Appo tried to visualize the boy¡¯s chest. Its motions were already unperceivable, but he knew Tomi¡¯s connection with the air was far more attuned than his own. Appo pinched Hulla¡¯s finger one more time. No reaction. He lifted one of Hulla¡¯s eyelids. Constricted pupils. It was too quick for that to happen.

    Without asking, Appo grabbed one of Erish¡¯s illuminated metal rods and jammed it into Hulla¡¯s thigh. The flesh seared for a moment, eliciting gasps from the lepers. Thankfully, none of the Yalds moved. Appo held the rod into Hulla¡¯s thigh until he saw the boy¡¯s toes curl. He then released the rod, leaving a small burnt circle on his leg.

    ¡°You could have killed him,¡± spat Uten.

    Appo ignored the insult. ¡°Tomi, how is he now?¡±

    Tomi clasped Hulla¡¯s wrist in her hand. ¡°It¡¯s¡­ better. He¡¯s breathing slowly, but its not going down.¡±

    Appo turned to Uten, looking directly at the irritated young man. ¡°I gave his heart the extra energy to pump blood. What I just did saved him from an overdose. If we did nothing, he would have gone numb and he would have suffocated. We had an imperfect dose, now we know to give him a little more time.¡± Appo turned back to Tomi, speaking calmly, though stern. ¡°You. Talk to me, regardless of what is going on. Even if there¡¯s nothing to say.¡± He redirected his attention back at Uten. ¡°I know you wish the best for Hulla. But if you don¡¯t trust me, leave now. Because once the surgery begins, I will not stop.¡±

    Both siblings hesitated. One after the other, they both nodded at Appo¡¯s requests. Appo felt he effectively channeled a lecture Parbast would have given him during his early surgery days, only with significantly less swearing than his mentor.

    ¡°His pulse is light, but steady,¡± Tomi announced loudly. ¡°His breathing is calm. I think he¡¯s good now.¡±

    ¡°Sounds like he¡¯s stable. Very good. Thank you, Tomi.¡± Appo motioned Erish to hand him another metal rod. This time, he stuck it at the edge of the boy¡¯s finger. There was no reaction. Appo nodded in approval. ¡°We have sedated the boy. We can begin surgery, now.¡±

 Part II.V.X: Trepanning

    Appo moved slightly across to Hulla¡¯s head. His ear brushed against a hold cut through the side of the blanket, providing space that ran to the back of his scalp. The boy had been clean shaven only a few days prior, showing only smooth skin just past the periphery of his bruise. Appo pointed to an area a few centimeters behind and above the ear.

    ¡°This is where I¡¯m going to make the incision. We¡¯ll make a small circular cut with the scalpel and pull back the skin and muscle. Then I¡¯m going to cut a smaller, rectangular hole within the space. This will take some time, as I¡¯m going to be doing the procedure with another scalpel.¡± Appo wished he had Parbast¡¯s drill, as it would¡¯ve made the procedure significantly faster. But he doubted the Yalds would have let him carry such a barbaric-looking instrument anywhere near their child.

    With confirmation from Tomi that Hulla was still stable, Appo began the incision. He positioned his body over Hulla¡¯s side, forming a C-shaped cut just slightly larger than his ear. It was an awkward angle, but it was a smooth and quick cut. Appo wanted to show confidence early. It seemed to work; the family squirmed but continued doing their duty. Uten particularly impressed Appo, holding his young brother¡¯s head in a steady grip. Appo retraced over the cut several times with a variety of thinner scalpels, slicing through fascia and muscle before he felt his hand reach bone. Erish dutifully followed his incisions, soaking Hulla¡¯s minimal blood loss with a spirit-soaked rag.

    As Appo maneuvered to remove the connective tissue from the skull, a horrifying realization hit him: he had forgotten to consider that he was now one-handed. In all the rush of preparation, he had overlooked such a blatant and obvious fact. He inspected the cut briefly, knowing that he needed his other hand to keep the skin taut as he peeled tissue away from the skull.

    Instead of admitting such a foolish mistake, Appo gestured at Erish. ¡°This is you, pay attention,¡± he lied under a veil of annoyance, as if he were waiting for her to move into position.

    ¡°Ati¡¯s dirt, I wasn¡¯t paying attention. I¡¯m sorry.¡± As Erish pulled back the skin, Appo repressed the twinge of guilt he felt. He needed to stay assured, and loudly announcing he forgot how many hands he had wouldn¡¯t inspire confidence.

    But this was a major problem. How could he have overlooked such a simple obstacle? He wouldn¡¯t be able to tie sutures, or even hold his position upright.

    ¡°Of course I wasn¡¯t thinking about it. If I stopped to think, the boy would have died.¡± Appo chalked it up to lack of sleep and moved on, though that didn¡¯t reassure him. He would have to adjust to it all on the fly.

    Appo took his time removing the skin from the scalp, taking care to avoid nicking any major blood vessels. Fortunately, the scalp came off with ease, hence one reason Appo chose the spot in particular. By this point, the Yalds had settled into a rhythm. Erish kept a strong grip on Hulla¡¯s scalp with one hand, and alternated between soaking blood into sterilized cloth and cauterizing smaller bleeds. Tomi dutifully recited Hulla¡¯s stable vitals, and Uten kept Hulla¡¯s head sturdy and in place. Garabi bounced between them all, handing rods and rags and scalpels and whatever else they needed.

    After ten minutes, Appo pulled a skin flap half the size of a palm over Hulla¡¯s ear, and pinned a finger¡¯s width of it behind his brow. Appo had done such a clean job that the bone had kept its yellowish white color. Appo could see that above the ear, Hulla indeed had a small divot in his skull, a very vulnerable spot as far as the skull was concerned. The crack itself was barely noticeable. Considering how long Hulla had walked before falling unconscious and how well he had tolerated the surgery thus far, Appo was getting his hopes up. Hulla could indeed survive.

    At Appo¡¯s suggestion, Garabi reheated the opium pipe and handed it back to Tomi, this time letting the boy inhale its fumes in brief bursts. With the occasional smoke rising, Appo was concerned Tomi was letting some fumes get to her. The last thing he needed was for her to pass out. Fortunately, Tomi snuffed the flame and handed it back to her grandfather.

    ¡°His breathing is stable again. His heart rate is coming down, but not as fast as the first time.¡±

    This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

    ¡°Very good.¡±

    Now was the most critical part: the incision into the skull. Appo had chosen three of his sharpest knives to have on standby at the juncture. Appo was well aware of the skull¡¯s thickness, and although he wouldn¡¯t have the same speed as if he had Parbast¡¯s crank drill, in due time he could file through.

    Or at least he would, if he had the extra foundation from having two hands.

    As Appo began filing, it became more and more apparent how difficult the challenge in front of him would become. He tried to stabilize himself with his missing hand but kept retracting it in pain. He couldn¡¯t get a firm grip. Appo¡¯s slices on the skull were uneven and shallow. Realizing how awkward it looked, he maneuvered his body around to create a shallow border, outlining the piece of bone he planned to remove. Hulla struggled slightly, but Uten¡¯s grip kept his head in place.

    After several tedious minutes, Appo finished carving the borders. But his progress was too slow, and he kept experimenting with carving methods. He pressed his left arm onto the boy¡¯s body, or ontop of his own carving hand with minimal success. If the Yalds had any concerns, they kept their mouths shut. Appo had to figure something out, fast.

    Without warning, Hulla convulsed. His head arched forward as he spat up vomit, most of which landed on Tomi¡¯s arm. She stood briefly in shock before grabbing onto Hulla. He vomited again before launching into a series of coughs. Uten kept most of his grip throughout, but his eyes betrayed how horrified he was.

    Appo backed away with his knife. It was possible someone spoonfed the boy porridge in the interim, another possibility Appo had not considered. Before he could move to stabilize the boy¡¯s head, however, Garabi beat him to Uten¡¯s position.

    ¡°Help your sister,¡± Garabi said. Uten nodded and released his grip, moving closer to Hulla¡¯s mouth. The boy¡¯s maw was open, allowing Uten to look inside for any remaining vomit. As Garabi pressed his hands against Hulla¡¯s skull, Appo noticed he was missing all of his fingers. Or rather, they had atrophied down to stubs. It must have been another long-term effect of the leprosy. Appo realized why Garabi had kept his hands under his robe. Yet here he was, assisting with a surgery, handing over metal tools and providing help without concern or complaint.

    As Hulla¡¯s vomiting ceased, Appo looked down at the boy¡¯s skull. He had carved the rectangle, but it was a crooked and uneven outline. He wasn¡¯t even sure he could fix it, at least in the time he had. Appo was now fully appreciating the impressive thickness of the human skull.

    Appo had to come to the brutal terms. Where he was now, he wouldn¡¯t be able to finish the surgery. Not the way he was.

    Appo looked to Garabi again. He held onto his boy¡¯s son with a firm grip, simply pressing his stubbed hands against the side of his temple. He had an idea.

    ¡°Erish, you have been watching what I¡¯ve been doing, right?¡±

    Erish nodded.

    ¡°Are you okay switching places? You may be better suited for this.¡±

    Erish paused before moving into position. ¡°Show me again where you cut.¡± There was no hesitation in her voice.

    After a brief demonstration, Erish swapped positions with Appo. He stood over her side, guiding her cutting motion as she sawed through the skull. After a minute or two of gathering her bearings, Erish moved at a very capable speed, cutting through the bone in a steady and competent line. Appo wondered whether she had even comprehended that she was operating on her son.

    Within twenty minutes, they had reached the base of the skull. Everyone switched places again, with Uten moving to Erish¡¯s spot. Appo placed a bent metal rod into the incision of the cut directly behind Hulla¡¯s ear. With a strong tug, Uten pulled the plate of skull away. The bone jutted out with a loud crack, and blood gently poured out the side of the wound. Appo instructed Garabi to adjust Hulla¡¯s head, facing it upwards. The blood rippled out of the side of his cheek down the camel blanket. After adjusting his head a few more times, the flow slowed to a trickle before ceasing entirely. Appo briefly visualized the grayish-pink color of the boy¡¯s brain before unpinning the boy¡¯s scalp-flap and pressing it back into his skull.

    ¡°We got it,¡± Appo announced. He looked around at the Yalds, expecting to see cold faces from his reluctance to finish the cutting. Instead, they looked at him in awe. If there was any judgement they had for him, they did not show it. The other lepers clasped their hands together in silent prayer.

    Without pausing, Erish swapped her bone cutting tools for Appo¡¯s suture kit. She moved fast, even faster than Appo when he had two hands. ¡°When will he know if he¡¯s okay?¡± she asked.

    Appo shrugged. He didn¡¯t know. Hulla¡¯s fate was now in Ati¡¯s hands, as far as the Yalds were concerned.

    Halfway through the stitching, Appo¡¯s lack of sleep finally caught up to him. Confident in Erish, Appo allowed her to finish closing the wound as he stepped away. Two lepers greeted Appo, who offered him both of their meager cots. At first, Appo declined, but the lepers insisted, and he eventually found himself lying supine before he fell into a deep and satisfied sleep.

    After Erish finished tying the suture knot, Tomi volunteered to watch Hulla through the rest of the night. She never left his side, watching the slow rhythms of his chest until long after the sun faded over the horizon.

 Part II.VI.I: Citizens of the Courtyard

    It began as a quiet day in Ash Manor. For weeks, the one hundred and thirty-seven refugees had settled into monotonous routine. Sobbing and praying had long given way to waiting and boredom, but it was an uneasy peace. Even the flayings had ceased, for most had learned not to speak out of turn.

    None would have predicted that by the setting of the sun, almost half of them would be dead.

    At dawn, Tabytha, the wife of a trader, prepared for her usual stroll around the courtyard. A small, frail looking woman of about forty, Tabytha walked with the posture of royalty. She had just finished her daily prayer to Okkan, something she noticed fewer and fewer did as the moons rolled on. They prayed when Boah guided them in the mornings, she noted, what about evenings or midnights? Few matched Tabytha¡¯s dedication, as she often reminded others. In another, safer time, Tabytha would have called herself doting, or even haughty. But here she fulfilled a purpose. Who else would keep Okkan¡¯s favor without women like her?

    ¡°I¡¯m going for my walk. Watch the children,¡± Tabytha told her husband, Eal. Eal didn¡¯t respond and simply rolled over in his cot, pretending to sleep. Tabytha huffed and walked away, used to his lackadaisical behavior as of late. He was no different from the others.

    Tabytha didn¡¯t always behave so brazenly. Not a month ago, she was but a loyal housewife subservient to Eal, the successful fur trader from Beyshran. Despite being twenty years younger than her husband, Tabytha made the arranged marriage work. She cared for him through her many miscarriages and she successfully raised five of his children. Many considered her a good mother, if a little stern. She had to be, otherwise Eal would beat her. He often beat her regardless, but when his children were well, he sometimes forgot to.

    Tabytha had always devoted herself to the teachings of Okkan, inspired by her father and his father before him. Unlike others, she went in search of scrolls. From oft forgotten scriptures buried in libraries, she learned Okkan was not one to be placated with simple Holidays. In her youth, she tried to impart to Eal the proper methods of worship, but speaking out of turn inevitably responded with fists and clubs and whatever else was nearby. She had become quiet, complacent. A good wife.

    But when Boah¡¯s son began killing the heathens within the Manor, the scrolls she memorized came to good use. She showed how to display the bodies, and how to incorporate the ancient customs into guiding sacrifice. There were many intricacies a backwater city like Ash needed to learn.

    Eal¡¯s beatings did not last long after. Tabytha continued to sleep next to her husband, knowing that with but a suggestion she could have him hanging from the walls as well. She preferred him alive and trembling than dead.

    Tabytha slithered through the courtyard. There were almost a hundred survivors lounging about. They had long stopped being thankful for their salvation, becoming hopelessly morose and downtrodden. ¡°Especially those Ati worshippers,¡± she thought. How any of them could continue to dedicate themselves to such a pitiful God after all that had happened made little sense to her.

    There were many who Tabytha spited among the Ati worshipers, but none more than the young mother. Tall for her age, she spoke little and spent most of her time breastfeeding the newborn she had given birth to a few moons prior. Although the woman had a name, most knew her as the Harlot. The name was not entirely inaccurate, as she indeed worked in the brothel for years before becoming pregnant.

    ¡°To bring a child into this world without the blessings of Okkan,¡± Tabytha said to herself. ¡°How sad.¡±

    Tabytha hated the harlot. She wouldn¡¯t have admitted it, but she despised how youthful and voluptuous the woman was so soon after giving birth. All of Tabytha¡¯s births were painful, most of them stillborn, yet the Harlot delivered a fat and screeching baby boy with so little effort and at no cost to her beauty. She would be back to sleeping with half the men before long, Tabytha often told others.

    Indeed, as one of the few attractive women left alive, the Harlot attracted the attention of many suitors, though she politely declined the few advances they offered. She cared for her son too much to risk any harm to come her way. Thankfully, many of the men had dedicated themselves to keeping the more lucidious guards away from her, even if that just meant staying by her side. She¡¯d tolerate their incessant ogling of her breasts if it kept her safe.

    ¡°That bitch is looking for any excuse,¡± the Harlot said as Tabytha strolled out of earshot. She said this to no one in particular, though several men immediately turned their heads with excitement as she spoke. ¡°I know she¡¯s the one who¡¯s been spreading all those lies about me. I see the way she keeps staring at my chest. It¡¯s no wonder with how flat she is.¡± Several of the men nodded enthusiastically, as if they hadn¡¯t been staring themselves.

    One of these men was a young horse rider from the Steppe. As he spoke no Jyv?skish and with no one around to translate his native tongue, most referred to him as ¡°Rider.¡± Rider was young, barely older than twenty, though no one would have guessed because of his large hairy frame. Rider had initially come to Ash with several companions, though they were part of the many who escaped early after their confinement in the Manor. Although Rider had stayed behind mostly for the Harlot, who he had helped deliver her child, he came to realize how his sudden devotion to her saved his life.

    Rider never spoke to the Harlot, but he always offered her a small portion of his meals and smiled when she took them. Out of all the suitors, Rider was the one the Harlot looked to when she became anxious or depressed. Rider had never been with another woman and was smitten. Maybe after the plague passed, he hoped she could look past his younger age for all that he had done for her. Maybe she would name her firstborn after him. He was willing to wait for such an honor.

    ¡°D-d-did they come back with more grain yet?¡±

    Ky?sti, the only other large man in the Manor larger, greeted Rider. Rider understood little of what the man said and never knew that he had once been one of the richest men in Ash. Ky?sti often found himself sitting next to Rider, perhaps for the same reason the Harlot did. Rider found him quite pestering, especially now that the man refused to clean the vomit off of his tunic.

    ¡°No,¡± answered the Harlot, who had long realized Rider spoke no Jyv?skish. ¡°They said they had enough for a few moons from their last trip to the wall.¡±

    ¡°Th-th-this is unacceptable¡­ They sh-sh-should be going there every d-d-day.¡±

    Rider shrugged. He hoped eventually the large man would wander off and bother someone else. But it was unlikely to happen. Rider instead got to his feet and walked to the fountain. It was about time for the morning speech to begin.

    Above the courtyard over the iron gates sat a guard, Hobert. The skinny man leered over the two masses of worshipers, observing their subtle motions through slit-like eyes. Hobert had worked in the Corps for nearly two decades, promoted to gatekeeper on his third day of work, and had remained one ever since. He never saw this as a shortcoming, for he was happy to proclaim that he was the greatest gatekeeper of Ash in two centuries. Adjusting from the Outer Wall to the Manor gates was easy, for there wasn¡¯t much critical thinking that came with pulling a lever.

    Still, Hobert wasn¡¯t immune to the boredom that had permeated the Manor. The guards had stopped going on food runs, and other than letting Heikk through the prior morning, he had done little. It concerned Hobert, for he was already so thin. If the survivors were to starve, he knew he would be one of the first to go.

    Hobert instead focused on the morning speech. Sometimes, when the crowd was quiet, Hobert heard Boah¡¯s booming voice all the way from his post. He had listened to him speak countless times over the years, railing against the water tax and the gluttony of the other Heads. Of course, that was before Boah became a Head himself. Here in the Manor, Hobert noted he still had that drive, though Boah often repeated the same tales and anecdotes over and over again. In time, Hobert came to respect the showmanship.

    Hobert had never made a speech in his life, but he was confident that if given the opportunity, he could wow crowds in the same way as Boah could. Hobert made few major decisions in his life, satisfied by following commands and pulling the switch. But it was not as if Hobert didn¡¯t wish it were otherwise. He just had to wait for the right moment, and it would reveal itself eventually.

    As the copper sky of dawn faded into blue, Boah made his way to the central fountain for his scheduled morning speech. Indeed, Boah had run through most of Okkan¡¯s scripture by this point, and had settled on short extemporaneous speeches regarding specific themes. Today¡¯s was devotion, and it would not expound on more than that.

    Boah¡¯s usual cadre of Corps Guards surrounded him, including Thed, the intimidating guard who had recently risen the ranks because of his own unwavering dedication to Juddken. His presence alone was enough to convince those in the courtyard to keep their distance.

    Tabytha was one of the first to arrive, giving all those who followed her disdainful glares as they settled into place.

    A few of the braver Ati worshipers even watched from the periphery, including Rider. It was better than dealing with Ky?sti.

    ¡°During times like these, it is important to remember the unity that we share,¡± Boah said. ¡° That all Ashfolk work together for good. That our devotion, through all faculties of our life, will deliver us to Okkan and to salvation.¡±

    Normally such empty platitudes would be enough to satisfy the masses, but Boah¡¯s energy had waned. They listened, but the vigor present in the early moons had all but vanished. In fact, Tabytha remembered Boah had given a similar sermon on devotion earlier that week. She doubted the others remembered, but she couldn¡¯t blame Boah. He had so little to work with, after all. So little passion.

    Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

    ¡°Praise him!¡± yelled Tabytha, eliciting a ripple of similar prayers from the few next to her.

    ¡°It is devotion that provides us our grain. It is what pushes the farmers to plow the wheat fields at the Great Delta and pushes the traders to deliver us the water. Like them, we too will be provided for.¡±

    ¡°All ten tons of it?¡± a lone voice called out from the crowd.

    Tabytha pivoted, looking for the culprit. Few had spoken out after Juddken removed Kirashi¡¯s tongue, so it was strange hearing an outburst. Asking questions in itself wasn¡¯t blasphemous, but Tabytha was now on look out.

    ¡°Who wishes to speak?¡± Boah asked, polite and disarming. A tall man in white priestly robes stepped forward. He was balding, his fading hair extending down his jawline into a goatee that reached his navel. Most of the priests had disappeared into the Great Temple, so it was strange seeing another learned man sleep in the courtyard. Boah looked uneasily at the prospect of speaking with him.

    ¡°I am Sanctus Kalun,¡± the priest said. Most knew him by this point, but it was customary for priests to introduce themselves before delivering a sermon. ¡°I speak for the others when I say that we have little to occupy our time, other than watching the guards collect the daily grain. You¡¯ve told us we maintained ten tons of grain surplus within the walls, enough to outlast the screamers. Yet, the guards no longer travel. We notice the gates remain shut. Our loyalty can only go as far as the confidence of our benefactors.¡±

    Boah nodded, though he winced at the word ¡®loyalty.¡¯ ¡°An understandable concern. Yes, we have limited our travels to every few moons. We wish to halt any unnecessary journeys. It is for the sake of our Corps brethren.¡±

    ¡°But there are so many of us,¡± Kalun continued. ¡°Unless we limit our already meager rations, we will starve. There is chatter that the surplus is smaller than we have been told. That there will not be enough grain to outlast the week. That the walls have fallen to the enemy.¡±

    ¡°These rumors are not true, and you should do well to not spread them, Sanctus. I have been open in these matters and have never lied.¡±

    ¡°We are to follow your lead, but when grain stops coming and guards become prisoners for collecting water, why should we believe anyone is safe?¡±

    Tabytha took insult at the remark. In fact, it was she who pointed out that Heikk had been missing the past few moons, and his suspicious response was what landed him in chains. Yes, he was also an Ati-worshiping dirt scum, but that wasn¡¯t why she accused him. He was guilty; it was obvious to her and anyone with eyes.

    ¡°Devotion requires trust, Sanctus Kalun,¡± Boah said. ¡°You must trust Okkan, and you must trust me to deliver his words on to you. Food is plentiful, and our fountain is untainted and flowing. His love for us remains.¡±

    Kalun shook his head. ¡°All this talk of devotion, the divine will, Okkan¡¯s blessings and fertility and deliverance¡­ These are but empty words.¡±

    ¡°You believe Okkan misguides us? Do you vouch for the followers of Ati, that we should worship him instead?¡±

    ¡°Equally worthless. The words are lies.¡± The crowd, who had found been ambivalent towards him and even sympathetic, turned on the priest in disgust.

    ¡°Blasphemer! He is a blasphemer!¡± screamed Tabytha. The other fanatics followed in suit.

    Boah smiled, beckoning Thed forward. It would only be a matter of time before the walls had a new corpse.

    Kalun turned to the others, continuing to rant. ¡°Don¡¯t you all see? Okkan isn¡¯t watching us! There are no ¡®blessings of fertility¡¯. There is no ¡®pure soul.¡¯ There is no God! Soon the food will vanish and the well will dry and we will walk amongst the dead!¡±

    Tabytha continued to point and scream, but others in the crowd were less apprehensive. Kalun had spoken blasphemy, sure, but he was a priest. They knew and liked him. So when Thed pushed his way through, there was no clear path to get to him. Kalun noticed this well before Thed approached him and turned away.

    Kalun continued to rant as he backed away from the crowd. Thed finally caught up to him near the fountain. He tried to wrap his arms around him, but the priest was unexpectedly quick. He slipped out of his grasp and teetered off balance, almost falling into the fountain. Rider, who had followed the commotion, caught the priest before he fell over. The last thing everyone needed was a tainted water supply.

    ¡°Let go of me, barbarian!¡± Kalun said. Rider released him, not wishing to cause trouble.

    ¡°Oy!¡± yelled Thed. ¡°Wanna get your face caved, innit?¡± He pushed his way between Rider and Kalun, swinging the latter back towards the well. Rider, who had little idea why a guard was harassing this holy man, grabbed the priest¡¯s arm and yanked him back. He would¡¯ve told the guard how foolish he was acting, if it were at all possible.

    ¡°Dissenters! All of them!¡± Tabytha screamed. ¡°Get them away from the fountain before they poison it!¡±

    ¡°They¡¯re poisoning the water?¡± A concerned voiced called out.

    ¡°Get them away! Get them away!¡± yelled another.

    Thed began pushing Rider, and the nearby Ati worshipers came to pull him from the guards. But it was too late: murmurings of an attempted poisoning spread through the courtyard. Okkan worshipers began pushing and shoving whoever they could find. The initial two-man scuffle quickly escalated into an all-out brawl.

    ¡°What are they on about?¡± said the Harlot as she cradled her baby. Those in her corner rose to their feet, attempting to get a better view.

    ¡°Posioners! Thieves! Blasphemers! Send them out!¡± Through Tabytha¡¯s yells, the bystanders could only piece together the various cries that echoed within the courtyard.

    Harran exited with the other Corps from the Manor proper, attempting to respond to the commotion. ¡°What¡¯s going on?!¡± he cried.

    ¡°One of the Ati worshipers tried to poison the well,¡± a guard replied.

    ¡°By Okkan¡­ Round them up! Where¡¯s Awil-Ishtar? Someone look for him!¡±

    Boah had not moved from his space, for he was far from the danger. He saw the brawl shift in favor of the Guard Corps. He neither commanded nor halted their actions.

    ¡°KILL THEM ALL!¡± yelled Tabytha, placing her hands around her mouth. ¡°KILL THEM ALL! Conspirators, all of them!¡± She became lost in the crowd now, completely entranced by her own fabrication.

    The Corps quickly pushed the Ati worshipers away with their clubs. Thed led the charge, swinging discriminately. Rider landed a few punches, but he backed away into the crowd of Ati worshipers. Most were completely incapable of resisting, simply holding their heads up and backing away from the attacks.

    From a safe distance, Sanctus Kalun continued to scream at guards. The outset of the brawl did little to curb his rant on the apathy of the Gods.

    Ky?sti was one of the last to rise. He understood what was happening. It was only a matter of time before one of them pulled out their scimitars. As Ky?sti motioned to the back of the gathered crowd, he heard the unmistakable groaning of the gate door opening, having a vantage point only a few could see. He was a businessman: he knew when to cut a loss. He turned and ran to the gate.

    ¡°What the- Who opened the gates?!¡± Boah yelled. He hadn¡¯t commanded such an order, and now was not the time. ¡°Someone shut those now!¡±

    ¡°Kick them out!¡± another voice called.

    ¡°Send them to the Eivetta!¡±

    The crowd, distracted by the brawl, failed to notice the gradual opening of the gates. In fact, it was the singular command of Hobert, who had been dutifully watching the brawl from afar. He had seen how the Ati worshipers got corralled by the Corps. From here, he could see that there were no screamers on the other side.

    ¡°If the Corps wish to spare bloodshed, they¡¯ll have a few minutes.¡± Hobert thought. He overheard how much the Corps distrusted the Ati worshipers, and how much easier it would be if they didn¡¯t have to share food and space. No one was more astute than ol¡¯ Hobert, and here he was, deciding for them. It felt good to be decisive. He was getting goosebumps, feeling his heart beat against his armor. He envisioned praises from Big Man.

    Thed was the first to pull out his scimitar. Someone had punched him in the nose and he dropped his club. At the sight of the curved metal, the other guards unsheathed theirs. This incited the crowd to run away in panic. Only at the sight of the open gates did they come to realize the choice they would have to make. Some decided quickly, such as Ky?sti, who bolted out of the gates not long after they opened. Many hesitated, torn between the fear of the outside and rising concern of the Corps. The Ati worshipers outnumbered the Corps, but none carried any weapons.

    Tabytha followed closely behind, continuing to scream obscenities. ¡°KILL THEM!¡± she repeated. She felt a rush of power, nothing like she had ever experienced before. Her accusatory finger was just as deadly as any of the scimitars surrounding her. As she hovered between the guards, Tabytha spotted the Harlot in the middle of the worshipers. Tabytha again directed her deadly finger to the mother. ¡°Get her! Get the Harlot!¡± she shouted, as if the guards knew exactly who she was speaking of.

    There were at least thirty guards now, flanking the fifty Ati worshipers or whoever was unfortunate enough to be lumped in with them. Behind the guards stood another forty Okkan worshipers, hurling words and rocks interchangeably, accusing the Ati worshipers of everything that had been building up over the weeks. Boah stood with the bystanders, following gently aside.

    ¡°Boah.¡± It was Harran, clearly nervous by the situation unfolding. ¡°You must do something.¡±

    Boah watched the crowd, trying to calm his expression. ¡°I think¡­ it best we don¡¯t.¡±

    ¡°But-¡± Harran had to stop himself. The food shortage was real. No one knew how much longer the water would last. As hard as it was to witness, having fewer mouths to feed would increase their chances. No one would dare admit it, but none could deny it. Boah¡¯s timely wisdom had proven itself yet again.

    One by one, the Ati worshipers turned and ran. They pushed their way through the thin sliver of space between the gate. Someone pushed the Harlot aside, nearly tripping her over as her baby cried out in fear. Before she could stumble, someone grabbed her arm. It was Rider, pulling her upright with his brutish Steppe strength. She could have kissed him and clung ever closer to her side. As she looked up, she noticed a few of the guards pulled out their bows. They were about to shoot.

    ¡°Run!¡± the Harlot said as she trotted to the gate with Rider close at her side.

    Tabytha watched as the Harlot turned and ran, and her fury grew. ¡°Don¡¯t let the bitch escape!¡± she screamed. She stepped forward in front of the guards, trying to direct them. But as she did so, the guards themselves charged, chasing after the Ati worshipers. Tabytha bumped into Thed and lost her footing, falling face first into the ground. The guard behind her pushed along, stepping over Tabytha¡¯s back and head. The pressure knocked Tabytha unconscious, and if that were all that had happened, she would have awoken with nothing but a headache and a bloody nose. Instead, several more in the crowd followed, trampling over her back and arms and head. The second kick to the head shattered her neck, and a third Okkan worshiper crushed her spine and hand. The guards would later find her completely broken, her outstretched and crushed hand still pointing towards the gate.

    The guards swung their scimitars, but most of the Ati worshipers kept enough distance to make it through the gate. Rider pushed forth through the crowd, pulling along the Harlot as she carried her screaming baby. They heard Sanctus Kalun yell. He had screamed, ¡°God is not real!¡± as the crowd pushed him through the gates. They were crying, still in disbelief. Most had not realized that the open gate was slowly being closed.

    Now outside the walls, Rider noticed why the crowd dispersed so quickly. The panicky screams of the Ati worshipers were drowned out by the arrival of at least twenty screamers.

    The rider saw one screamer fall on top of Sanctus Kalun, slashing at his throat with jagged nails. The priest gurgled, putting his hands up in a feeble attempt at self defense before two more fell atop at his face and feet.

    It was all too real. The rider broke down in panic as well. He thought not of the Harlot in this moment, but rather his many friends who had pointlessly killed themselves in their attempt to escape. He released his grip on the Harlot and sprinted away, following several other worshipers now running for their lives. The Harlot¡¯s cries of ¡°wait!¡± did little to stop him.

    The Harlot was alone, standing in front of the screamers as they ripped Sanctus Kalun¡¯s body apart. Her baby cried even louder. She knew vaguely that the gate had finally shut behind her. Some screamers gave chase to the others, but most were looking at her, their red eyes unblinking. The Harlot wailed as she curled her body around her baby. She remembered the guards, who had their bows torqued at the ready. She hoped she would feel a thump in her back as they shot her, putting her and her child out of their misery before the screamers got to her.

    The arrows never came. Instead, the Harlot was greeted with nails and teeth.

 Part II.VI.II: A Good Nights Rest

    Jere felt strange. He yawned as he lazily opened his eyes, unsure what was different. He put his arms behind his head. As he did, his elbow tapped a body next to him. Jere turned, finding the black, frizzy hair and the bare back of Eevi.

    It all made sense: he had gotten a good night¡¯s rest. No screams, no bumps in the night, no pangs of guilt. Even Malefica had spared him from nightmares.

    The night had been a blur. After making love with Eevi that previous morning, Jere talked more than ever. He talked about his days as a priest in Port Algrid, his journeys on the Thalassian pirate vessel, and his eventual transition into a mercenary on the mainland. Eevi listened attentively, asking questions occasionally, before eventually moving to kiss him again. Then they would make love before starting the process over. It was all they had done until both fell asleep. They lay under a yak blanket Eevi pulled from somewhere, on top of their two cots now pressed together.

    Jere watched Eevi¡¯s toned back contract as she awoke. Her scar wrapped down her chest and crossed her waist. According to her, he was the only living person to have seen the entire thing. Her cracked skin wrinkled as she stretched.

    When Eevi finally flipped around, Jere politely adjusted his eyes upward. Eevi yawned, smirking as she propped her head on her fist.

    ¡°Morning,¡± Eevi said, smirking. ¡°Looking for something?¡±

    Jere had been too slow. His gaze fell back to Eevi. Her good eye slanted, looking symmetrical with the burnt half of her face as she leaned into him. Her vision dropped to Jere¡¯s chest for just a moment before returning.

    ¡°I just had a peculiar dream.¡± Eevi continued. ¡°I was back at the bar, and you were the one serving me drinks. Only you looked exactly how you are right now.¡±

    ¡°Were they good for once?¡± Jere asked, smiling.

    ¡°I can¡¯t recall¡­ I was distracted.¡± Eevi laughed, attempting a wink. ¡°Any good dreams you want to share?¡±

    Jere sighed, leaning back. ¡°No¡­ No dreams at all.¡± He recalled just the faintest visage of black eyes, but it was as if the memory had already faded.

    ¡°Hmm, pity. Guess I¡¯ll have to try harder, then.¡± Eevi rolled on top of Jere under the blanket, placing her legs on top of him. Jere grabbed her waist, appreciating Eevi¡¯s lightly defined abs as she pressed her belly into his. She then folded her arms on top of his chest, stopping ever so slightly away from his face.

    ¡°Oh! You were telling me about your father. About how he got you into school.¡±

    Jere grunted, both from Eevi¡¯s weight on his chest and her sudden departure from kissing. He learned yesterday how often she liked to tease. ¡°Not much to tell. Didn¡¯t know him.¡±

    ¡°But he still paid for your schooling, no? That¡¯s not insignificant.¡±

    ¡°Not for him¡­ I grew up on a farm with foster parents most of my childhood.¡±

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    ¡°Explains this,¡± Eevi said as she pinched his sinewy shoulders.

    ¡°At fifteen, a messenger told me I was the son of the Jarl, who wished to repent the adultery he committed in his youth. Offered me a hundred Jiks to go to school and become a priest. In return, I would renounce all family rights to the land.¡±

    Eevi nodded. ¡°What¡¯s a Jarl?¡±

    ¡°Oh. Think of¡­ a chieftain of the Steppe tribes, I suppose.¡±

    ¡°You could have been a lord, but gave it up to be something you ended up not doing, anyway? Why not just take the land and work with your father?¡±

    ¡°Because fuck him, that¡¯s why,¡± Jere chuckled at his unexpected sincerity. ¡°He was an ignoramus.¡±

    ¡°There¡¯s that word again. You learn any others from school?¡±

    Jere laughed. ¡°Not really. Wasn¡¯t a good student.¡±

    ¡°You insult me.¡± Eevi leaned closer, her nose now touching Jere¡¯s. He went cross-eyed looking at her. ¡°You mean to tell me for all these years you never believed I was a raider, yet you are royalty among everything else?¡±

    Jere shrugged. Eevi laughed.

    ¡°The only ¡®ignoramus¡¯ I¡¯ve ever met is you. You¡¯re the most ignorant there is.¡± As she said this, she lowered her face into Jere¡¯s. He closed his eyes, ready to greet her lips again. Before they could, the door opened from the side.

    ¡°Hey you all I- Oh! I¡¯m sorry!¡±

    Adok¡¯s voice pierced Jere¡¯s ears like needles. They were on somewhat better terms since Jere had beaten him, but this was crossing a line. The boy needed to respect personal space.

    Eevi rolled off of Jere, adjusting the blanket above her shoulders. ¡°Knock, maybe?!¡± she yelled.

    Adok recoiled at the shout. He looked better, but his face was still brown and his eye still very swollen. Despite his torn lip and missing teeth, Adok spoke remarkably clearly. ¡°I know, I know. It¡¯s just¡­ Heikk was supposed to be back by now.¡± Heikk indeed told both Eevi and Adok that collecting the water would be a quick task, but to expect them to ask questions or even give him a task.

    ¡°What do you suppose we do if he doesn¡¯t show?¡± asked Eevi. Jere appreciated her asking what he had already thought.

    Adok frowned, already slinking out back through the door. ¡°I¡¯m not sure.¡±

    ¡°Give us a moment, then? We¡¯ll talk about it.¡±

    Adok nodded, closing the door. As he did so, Eevi stood up, taking the blanket with her.

    ¡°Talk about what?¡± Jere asked.

    ¡°You want to tell him we¡¯re going to abandon his only friend?¡±

    ¡°Never said we¡¯re abandoning him.¡± Jere wasn¡¯t being honest. If anything, Heikk¡¯s disappearance was another reason to keep moving. He liked Heikk, but not enough to risk his life for him.

    ¡°Regardless, we should discuss it. Make sure Adok understands where we¡¯re coming from.¡± Eevi dropped the blanket and began putting on her undergarments. Jere hated to admit it, but it irritated him. She had already put in the effort to rile him up. ¡°We should plan our next move.¡±

    ¡°And go where? We don¡¯t have options.¡±

    ¡°That includes staying here. If Boah sends Juddken, we need to be ready.¡±

    ¡°We could still wait.¡±

    Eevi paused. She had already put on much of her Raider armor, minus her weapons. She stared at Jere, who laid half-naked on the cots.

    ¡°What do you think this is, Jere?¡±

    ¡°¡®This?¡¯¡±

    Eevi held her hands up. ¡°Don¡¯t get the wrong idea. Nothing has changed. Escape is the only thing that concerns me. It¡¯s the only thing that concerns either of us.¡±

    ¡°It concerns me, too!¡± Jere stood up, holding the blanket around his waist. ¡°You think I¡¯m not considering everything?¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t know. Your plan as of late seems to begin and end with us fucking.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s¡­ not what I meant.¡±

    Eevi sighed. ¡°Don¡¯t get too close to me, Jere. Please.¡±

    There was nothing else to add. She was right. This was the first time he had been happy for as long as he could remember. He had not been thinking rationally in the spice house, and he wasn¡¯t now. They needed to move.

    That was when they heard screaming coming from the northern windows of the tower. Eevi and Jere were used to them coming from the south, but they had seldom come from the north.

    But these screams were different. They sounded human.

    ¡°Jere,¡± Eevi said. ¡°Get your clothes on.¡±

    He was already half dressed by the time she told him.

 Part II.VI.III: Out in the Open

    Jere, Eevi, and Adok looked out the windows of the tower. They had watched the Manor for some time. It sounded as if dozens were fighting amongst each other. It sounded chaotic, but none were sure what it was.

    ¡°You think Heikk is involved?¡± asked Adok, nervously cradling his bow.

    ¡°I¡¯m sure he¡¯s fine,¡± said Eevi, answering a question Adok had yet to ask.

    As the three continued to watch, a man ran through the streets in a panic. A woman followed closely behind him. Soon, it was a whole crowd, all moving in unison towards the gates. All very much human.

    ¡°What do we do?¡± Adok whispered. Neither Eevi nor Jere answered, instead crouching out of sight below the barriers. They listened as the people gathered beneath them.

    ¡°Fuck!¡± one of them cried. ¡°Fuck fuck fuck!¡±

    ¡°Can we hide anywhere?¡±

    ¡°Screw that! They¡¯re hiding in the buildings, one of them got Shagmi!¡±

    ¡°Oh God, we¡¯re all gonna die!¡±

    ¡°Gish, you worked on the walls? Can we hide in there?¡±

    ¡°Shit,¡± Jere thought. They were talking too loud, and screamers would come before long.

    ¡°I¡¯ll lead us across the top of the wall to the next tower over,¡± Eevi said, crouching away from the wall.

    ¡°And then where?¡± Jere asked.

    ¡°I have an idea!¡± said Adok. ¡°We could try Eanna¡¯s hut. None of the guards have ever gone there before.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s a ways away,¡± said Eevi. ¡°Lots of screamers between here and there. Might as well go back to the tavern.¡±

    Jere waited for any other ideas, but Eevi offered none. She slung her crossbow over her back, prompting Adok to do the same with his bow. The three crouched patiently as the people from the Manor continued to fight their way into the wall.

    Through the clamoring and yelling of the people below, the trio heard the door being broken down. At the same time, they heard screams echoing down the streets. They would be at the walls soon.

    Jere motioned the two to follow. He then crawled over the edge of the watchtower and lowered himself to the runway on top of the walls. Protected on both sides by small barriers, the three crouched unseen.

    At the adjacent tower, Jere hoisted Adok and Eevi up the wall before being carried up himself. He could hear the yelling again, interspersed between screams. Jere turned and saw at least twenty screamers stumbling their way into the watchtower near the gate. With the tower door open, there was nowhere to run. The screamers would inevitably catch everyone inside.

    Jere tried to push the thought out of his mind. They still needed to escape themselves.

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    The three climbed down the other side of the second tower. Instead of going all the way to the third tower near the cliffs, they stopped in the middle of the wall. They were a good distance from the gate, but would still be in the open. They would need to sprint to the collection of mud-brick buildings from the wall. It was a little more than a two-meter drop below.

    Jere went first. He inched his way over the wall, sliding down the side. The armor made him off-balance and he buckled as he hit the ground. His armor clattered and his knees ached in pain, but he was okay. He quickly got to his feet.

    ¡°Be careful,¡± Jere hissed, slightly embarrassed by his stumble. If Eevi heard him, she did not listen, as she leaped over the wall and landed gracefully on her feet, barely making a sound. Behind her, Adok slid off the wall, landing in a quiet crouch in the way Jere had attempted to do.

    ¡°To be young¡­ and whatever Eevi is,¡± Jere grumbled in his mind.

    Standing below the wall in such open space unnerved Jere. He felt his hand reflexively grab his scimitar, ready for the screaming at his right to become louder.

    ¡°Look out!¡± yelled Adok. In front of them, two screamers lumbered in the alleyway between two buildings. One of them, a corpse-looking figure missing most of the skin on its face, charged first. Adok shot an arrow, missing its head by nearly half a meter. Jere pulled out his scimitar and directed it at the charging creature. Adok quickly shot again, this time striking the screamer¡¯s shoulder. As it stumbled, two of Eevi¡¯s bolts hit the screamer in the chest, quickly dropping it to the ground.

    The second screamer followed closely behind, shrieking as it charged with outstretched hands. It reminded Jere of how little reach they needed to get Duncic. Jere flung the scimitar outwards, striking the screamer directly under the sternum. It released a gasp of air as its body bent backward. Jere had nearly severed the spine.

    ¡°God, you¡¯re strong,¡± said Eevi. In a better time, Jere would have gloated.

    As Jere reached for the scimitar still lodged in the screamer¡¯s chest, a third scream bellowed from the mud-brick building to his right. This screamer was small, a recently turned girl who had yet to pull out her hair. She was fast and leaped at Jere. He held his gauntleted forearms in front of his face, deflecting a few easy scratches. He trotted backward as the young screamer chased him.

    Eevi aimed her crossbow at the screamer, but as she pressed the trigger, the bolt jammed. ¡°Shit!¡± she said as the trigger cracked around her fingers.

    Adok was quick to fire his arrow. Despite the screamer¡¯s thrashing neck movements, it was a well-placed shot, entering the back of the scalp and exiting through the right eye. The screamer did not fall, though. It stood straight up lopsided, its neck twitching as it tried to regain its footing. Adok hadn¡¯t killed it. It had barely even reacted.

    ¡°Ati¡¯s dirt,¡± Adok said.

    The hesitation was enough for Jere. He looped around the screamer past its blind spot, getting back to his scimitar. He pulled it out of the other creature¡¯s chest as the young screamer looked around, trying to adjust to its new permanent vision. Before the screamer could charge again, Jere lifted the scimitar over his head and brought it down through the screamer¡¯s neck, its decapitated head rolling away until it bounced off an abandoned trader stand.

    The three stood silently for a moment, scanning the area for others. None were coming. Yet.

    ¡°Good shot,¡± said Jere, breaking the quiet.

    ¡°Fat luck it did,¡± said Adok. ¡°Didn¡¯t do a thing!¡±

    Jere laughed. ¡°A few weeks ago, a shot like that would have killed me,¡± he thought grimly.

    ¡°This is bad,¡± said Eevi. She held up her crossbow. One of her bolts was awkwardly sticking out the side. ¡°It¡¯s jammed. It¡¯ll take a while to fix. We¡¯re not in any condition to keep fighting.¡±

    ¡°Should we climb back up?¡± asked Adok. ¡°Maybe we can hide out in the other towers?¡±

    Jere shook his head. ¡°We keep moving.¡± As Jere formulated a plan, something caught his eye. Someone in the alleyway, cloaked in a beige robe, stuck their hands out over their head. The figure stood in front of one of the larger mud-brick buildings, waving them over.

    ¡°Know them?¡± asked Jere, gesturing at Adok.

    ¡°The Corps never patrolled this area. Too many screamers. Could be anyone.¡±

    ¡°Need I remind everyone that people are the reason we¡¯re out here to begin with?¡± said Eevi.

    It was true, but there was no other choice. They needed to get out of the open.

    Jere took the initiative and ran towards help.

 Part II.VI.IV: Murals of the Insane

    ¡°Come, come!¡± hissed the hooded figure. It was a woman¡¯s voice, a very young one. To his surprise, it was one Jere recognized. As the trio entered the rather large and open-spaced building, the hooded woman closed a thick teak door and shut it behind her. Only a select few in Ash could afford such a luxury.

    ¡°Nami?¡± Jere asked as the hooded figure shut the door. He wrinkled his nose as a dizzying metallic smell overwhelmed his senses.

    ¡°Surprised you recall.¡± The woman removed her hood. It was indeed Nami, still as youthful looking as ever, if somewhat paler by the passing time. As the granddaughter of Namshi, one of the Nine Heads of Ash, Nami had often been relegated to the side regarding any issues that never required her father¡¯s vote. She was useful in establishing a majority, reliably siding with the Okkan worshippers. But she never exuded confidence and rarely sought attention. The idea she had survived for as long as she had seemed ludicrous to Jere.

    ¡°Our many thanks,¡± said Adok, still catching his breath.

    ¡°Halt!¡± commanded Nami, snapping her fingers. As she did so, three men Corps uniforms came out from the hall. They each held short daggers, holding them against their thighs. ¡°Weapons stay at the door. I¡¯m sure you can understand.¡±

    ¡°Fucking try,¡± spat Eevi.

    ¡°Then you can leave,¡± Nami said. The timid girl Jere knew was nowhere to be found.

    ¡°We don¡¯t have a choice,¡± Jere whispered. He understood the precaution, as Nami could¡¯ve easily let them die.

    Eevi sneered, clutching her crossbow like a child.

    ¡°We¡¯ll get it back. A jammed crossbow is of little use to us here.¡±

    After a moment of pouting, Eevi threw her crossbow to the ground. Jere and Adok likewise offered their weapons to the guards. Whether by circumstance or loyalty, it seemed not all the Corps defected to Boah in the weeks prior.

    ¡°Careful,¡± warned Jere, as he handed over his scimitar. ¡°Killed one on the way in.¡±

    Nami nodded. ¡°We saw. Clean kill, though unsurprising coming from you.¡± As the guards collected the weapons, a loud uncoordinated pounding erupted behind the door. Nami ignored it. ¡°A few screamers saw you, it seems. They¡¯ll go away in an hour or two.¡±

    Jere repressed a shudder. He knew firsthand how motivated screamers could be. He instead focused on the building they had just entered. Although a simple mud-brick, it was spacious. Several barrels of half dried paint lined the parameter of the walls, which themselves served as a canvas for many colorful murals. It reminded Jere of the manor courtyard, before he remembered that the same person painted both.

    ¡°Can¡¯t do much about the smell, I¡¯m sorry to say,¡± said Nami. ¡°Painters by trade, after all. Namshi did these before he lost his mind.¡± Jere remembered seeing Nami¡¯s grandfather at many of the council meetings. Namshi was a feeble and mute man, akin to an untrimmed and filthy skeleton for as long as Jere could remember. He vaguely recalled that he had once been a celebrated artist, and made a modest fortune concocting paint from the minerals around Ash and selling them in larger cities. His fame faded with age, but his fortune from selling the paint allowed him a seat amongst the Heads long after he ceased to be useful.

    ¡°Are you from the Manor too?¡± asked Nami. ¡°Did you escape with the others?¡±

    ¡°Others?¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re not the only ones who made it.¡± Nami led the group through a long hallway. There were at least six men and women within, all shuddering and crouched on the floor between the barrels of paint. They must have had gotten inside right before Jere and the others did, for they were still shivering from fear.

    Jere recognized only one of them: Ky?sti, though judging by his putrid tunic and matted beard, he had not been doing well. It was strange seeing him here in Namshi¡¯s home.

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    ¡°What happened at the Manor?¡± asked Adok.

    ¡°C-C-chaos, my boy,¡± said Ky?sti. His voice quivered as he spoke. ¡°Chaos and m-m-madness.¡±

    ¡°It doesn¡¯t matter now, Ky?sti,¡± said Nami in a soothing voice. ¡°What¡¯s important is that you¡¯re safe.¡± She turned to Jere and the others. ¡°You can rest as well. We have space and stored meats if you need food. We also have water pouches. They¡¯re a little dirty but untainted by curses.¡±

    ¡°Thanks,¡± said Jere. As skeptical as he was to drink any water offered by a stranger, he was so thirsty it was a risk he was willing to make. ¡°We¡¯ll move on when we can. No need to take up space.¡±

    ¡°And go where? Here we have everything you need. There is nowhere else safe in Ash, I promise you. If you attempt to leave, you will most assuredly meet your doom.¡±

    Nami had a point, but being around this many people in close quarters wasn¡¯t ideal. Jere barely trusted Eevi and Adok, and now there were many unfamiliar faces.

    ¡°In any case, help yourselves,¡± continued Nami. ¡°I¡¯ll let you get settled in.¡±

    Jere nodded. As Nami left with her guards, Eevi replaced her spot. She did little to hide her taciturn expression. ¡°I don¡¯t like it.¡±

    ¡°What¡¯s not to like?¡±

    ¡°Nami¡¯s¡­ different. I¡¯m getting a bad feeling.¡±

    ¡°Bad or not, we can¡¯t leave with screamers outside.¡±

    ¡°Yes, but¡­ think about it. Why help us? She takes our weapons but didn¡¯t check for scratches. Why risk her life to save all these people? It makes little sense.¡±

    ¡°Maybe she was lonely,¡± Jere said, though he could see where Eevi was coming from. Being alive in the plague certainly didn¡¯t make one friendlier. But out of all the Heads, Jere found Nami to be one of the kinder ones, often being the first to donate coin to what few projects the town prepared. She now spoke pointedly, sure, but times had changed and everyone changed with it. That in itself wasn¡¯t suspicious.

    One thing did concern Jere, though: her grandfather was nowhere to be seen. As long as Jere knew Nami, she hovered over Namshi, taking care of his every need and doing whatever she could to convey his wishes. She hadn¡¯t even mentioned him.

    Jere brushed aside the thought. Antagonizing these people was the last thing she needed to do.

    Adok returned with a water pouch. ¡°Here, it¡¯s unopened. Tastes like sand, but it¡¯s better than nothing.¡± Jere lifted the pouch to his lips, holding back a grimace as the water scrapped against his tongue. He might as well have been drinking from a puddle. He forced down a gulp before passing it to Eevi.

    ¡°You two can stay if you want,¡± Eevi said, sneering as she sipped the pouch. ¡°I¡¯m out of here once the screamers leave. Whether she says so or not¡­ I¡¯m getting my bow back.¡± She then turned away, back to the front of the building.

    Adok and Jere stood next to each other. Just as Adok opened his mouth to speak, Jere walked away. He still wasn¡¯t comfortable getting chummy with Adok just yet.

    Jere wandered through the house. His eyes glazed over the murals as they seemed to fade into and over each other. Namshi hadn¡¯t left a single drop of paint to waste. Jere saw images of the sun, mixes of crude and detailed figures, and a landscape recreation of Ash itself. Some of them were beautiful, masterfully displaying intricate details of praying crowds and the splashing of water. As Jere walked on, though, the murals became abstract and disjointed. The crowds morphed into faces, shifting into overlapping eyes and elongated fingers and toes. It was the work of an eccentric mind.

    All this meant little to Jere, though. He just needed was somewhere to piss.

    Jere peeked his head through a few curtains. He was certain there would be a latrine in a home of this size. There were a couple of ramshackle storage rooms full of barrels and yak hair brushes. There were also a few bedrooms, and maybe an area that was once a kitchen. Most in Ash would find public holes or alleyways if they were desperate to relieve themselves, but Jere was certain that if he searched long enough, he would find the fanciful bathrooms all the Heads seemed to have in duplicate. He figured he earned that much of a privilege.

    Tucked away in the back of the home, Jere eventually found it: the latrine comprised a square stone slab with three individual holes on each end, the room alit by a small square window. He figured it belonged to the guards. Heads wouldn¡¯t dare build themselves a room where they¡¯d have to look at someone while taking a shit.

    As Jere relieved himself, he heard a rattling noise outside the latrine. Something was scraping along the ground. Someone else was back here with him.

    Jere couldn¡¯t help it. He looked around the latrine, finding a room blocked by another wooden door. He pressed his ear against it. The scraping was barely audible, but someone was on the other side of the door.

    ¡°I¡¯m going to regret this,¡± Jere thought. He had to know. He pushed open the door.

    Through the darkness, Jere could just barely make out the figure attached to a chair, tied down in the middle of the room. It felt wrong. Very wrong. Jere shut the door after only a second, closing the latch behind it.

    He pondered what he just witnessed; the image coming together in his mind as his eyes burrowed into the wooden door. The figure¡¯s arms and legs bound tightly to the chair. Its mouth gagged. Its ancient and skeletal head thrashing against the confines. A torso lopsided. Arms slanted at thin angles.

    It was a screamer. More than that, it looked to be Nami¡¯s grandfather. Jere was sure of it.

 Part II.VI.V: Cornered

    Jere returned to the foyer, doing everything in his power to not look unnerved by what he just witnessed. He approached Adok, who sat close by some of the other survivors. Jere gently pulled him aside.

    ¡°What¡¯s wrong?¡± asked Adok. ¡°You look like you¡¯ve seen a ghost.¡±

    ¡°We need to leave. Now.¡±

    ¡°Why?¡±

    Jere didn¡¯t have time to explain. ¡°Get Eevi. And don¡¯t make a scene.¡± Jere had been whispering so closely that he didn¡¯t see the lumbering frame of Ky?sti approach behind them.

    ¡°And w-w-where would you be going?¡± Ky?sti said, stuttering.

    ¡°Not your concern,¡± Jere spat.

    ¡°Oh¡­ b-b-but it is. Boah will come after us if he s-s-sees us.¡± Jere hadn¡¯t taken a good look at the large man before, but this close Jere could see how dreadful he looked. Ky?sti was sweating profusely and kept rubbing his right arm. As he spoke, the other survivors from the temple looked onward, curious about the commotion.

    ¡°Back off, Head.¡±

    ¡°I know what¡¯s out there!¡± Ky?sti cried. ¡°T-t-the Manor is gone. The city is gone... Ostior is g-g-gone¡­ D-d-do not bring the dead to our doorstep!¡±

    As Ky?sti stepped forward, Adok flung some of the water from his pouch at Ky?sti. The larger man recoiled, bringing his hands up to his face, nearly gagging.

    ¡°Why you¡¯d do that, you ignoram-¡±

    ¡°Look! His arms¡­¡±

    As Ky?sti dramatically wiped his hands over his tongue, the sleeves of his tunic fell past his elbows. Several massive gashes tore through the skin of his forearms on both sides. He had been bleeding into his tunic, the blood mixing with the filthy grime of it.

    Ky?sti had been scratched. Brutally so.

    Jere looked around the room as quick as he could. He spotted a broomstick on the side of the wall, snapped off the edge of the broom and pointed it at Ky?sti. ¡°Stay away!¡± As Jere shouted, Adok grabbed a stool and placed himself behind Jere. The commotion attracted several other survivors, who made their way towards them. Nami and two of her guards approached as well.

    ¡°What¡¯s going on?¡± asked Nami.

    ¡°Ky?sti has the plague,¡± Jere sneered. ¡°Why didn¡¯t you check him?¡±

    Ky?sti stood still, his right arm twitching as he slowly began to scratch it, as if he had been holding back the urge. He looked pitiful, staring down at the ground as his eyes watered.

    Nami didn¡¯t react to the accusation, either. She alternated between Ky?sti and Jere. She shook her head, almost disappointed.

    ¡°I¡¯m afraid Ky?sti is right. You can¡¯t leave.¡±

    Jere had enough. ¡°Eevi!¡± he called, ¡°we¡¯re letting ourselves out now!¡±

    No one moved. Nami, her guards, and all the survivors stared at them. Eevi didn¡¯t respond.

    Jere pointed the jagged broomstick at Nami. ¡°What did you do with her?¡±

    ¡°I should have told him not to look around,¡± Nami mumbled, speaking to herself. ¡°To think he would take advantage of me, even now.¡±

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    ¡°That¡­ thing, tied in the back¡­ It¡¯s Namshi, isn¡¯t it?¡±

    ¡°Her grandfather?¡± Adok asked. ¡°He¡¯s alive?¡±

    Nami shook her head. ¡°An outsider like you wouldn¡¯t understand, Jere¡­ He could get better¡­¡±

    ¡°His limbs are fucking shattered, fool!¡± Jere stepped forward, causing Nami and her guards to halt their progress. They had been forming a semi-circle around the two. Each had their knives brandished. Jere figured he could take them on even with just a stick, but he was more fearful of Ky?sti. If he lashed at any of them, it would just take one scratch¡­

    ¡°Please, Nami,¡± said Adok. ¡°Just let us through.¡±

    ¡°And bring the wrath of Boah upon us? Ky?sti isn¡¯t the only one cursed, Jere. They all were!¡±

    Jere looked beyond the guards. The survivors were glaring at him now. She had just announced the unspoken secret between them all. Some had slight cuts on their hands, but a few seemed to be hiding larger wounds.

    ¡°You leaving will cost their lives,¡± Nami continued. ¡°It will cost my grandfather his. Who are you to decide their fate?¡±

    Jere wasn''t about to waste words with debate. ¡°Let us pass,¡± he repeated.

    Nami stepped forward again, followed by the survivors. She held Jere¡¯s own scimitar at him, still glistening from fresh screamer blood. ¡°I won¡¯t let you take him from me.¡±

    The two guards flanked to the sides as Nami stepped confidently towards them. Jere alternated his broken broomstick between the three of them as Adok stood holding his stool outward. One guard lunged forward, but Jere slapped his hand with the broomstick and knocked away his knife. Jere attempted to kick it behind him, but Nami lunged at him with the scimitar. The guard recovered the knife and continued his pursuit.

    Jere finally backed away. He looked to the sides. No windows, only murals of blue skies and red sunsets and deranged pairs of eyes. The only window he had seen was in the latrine, but they had no hope of reaching it from here.

    ¡°Hey Nami!¡± It was Eevi¡¯s voice.

    Nami, her guards, and the survivors turned. Eevi stood by the entrance, holding a bloody knife in one hand and her crossbow on her back. The knife was Jere¡¯s; he had forgotten he had loaned her one back at his home. She pressed the knife against her left shoulder, bleeding through her fingers. Her free hand was on the latch of the door.

    ¡°It¡¯s bad manners not serving all your guests,¡± Eevi said with a crooked smile.

    ¡°Get her!¡± Nami screamed.

    As the guards rushed back, Eevi slammed the hilt of her knife against the door several times, lifted the hatch, and pulled the door around her. As she did, several screamers immediately rushed through. The first two aggressors were quickly followed by five more.

    There was nowhere to run. The guards and the survivors tripped over each other as they tried to turn every which way. Screamers leaped onto them, digging their nails deep into skin. The guards could do little with the knives, their errant stabbings far too short to halt the bodies from crashing into them. Two screamers grabbed Ky?sti, one gripped two fingers in each and ripped the hand down the middle, and the other tore his cheek from his face as he thrashed on the ground.

    Jere and Adok stayed in the corner long enough to see Eevi dart through the door on the other side. She never looked back.

    ¡°Wait!¡± yelled Adok. Jere put his hand against his chest, stopping him.

    ¡°Not that way!¡± Jere hissed. ¡°Follow me.¡± Jere led Adok down the adjacent hallway towards the latrines, leaving the screamers with their victims.

    Adok ran through the bathroom first, nearly slipping as he climbed up through the open window. He briefly stuck his head through. ¡°I think we¡¯re okay¡­ Don¡¯t see any,¡± he whispered.

    Jere growled. He wouldn¡¯t have even taken the time to look. As Adok stepped through the window, Jere heard Nami¡¯s voice echoing down the hall.

    ¡°Grandfather!¡±

    Jere got a quick look at the young woman. Her face was completely ripped to shreds, and her arm hung broken and limp. She passed the bathroom, crashing into Namshi¡¯s boarded door. Two screamers chased after her. Nami cried out in pain as they swarmed her, continuing their brutal attack.

    Jere didn¡¯t wait. He tossed his broken broomstick through the window and ran over the latrines, nearly diving through the space. He lunged forward in a near flip as he landed outside on his back, lucky he didn¡¯t break his neck. Still, he needed to keep moving. The screamers inside would have certainly made enough noise to get the attention of others.

    ¡°Adok,¡± Jere called. He knew the boy was standing next to him, already on his feet. Jere felt his broken broomstick at his side.

    ¡°Oy! Quite a flip ya did, innit?¡±

    The voice shocked Jere to attention. He got to his feet, seeing now that Adok was standing perfectly still in fear. In front of them were two guards. One of them he recognized as Thed, a hulking mass of a man who had joined the Corps two months prior. No one else in the city spoke with the same garbled dialect. He was dumber than dirt, but effective at putting down drunkards with his size and brute strength.

    But Thed didn¡¯t concern Jere. He focused instead on the guard standing next to him, lean and clean-shaven and with a brutal glare. It was Juddken, brandishing a long spear.

 Part II.VI.VI: Standoff

    ¡°You made yoself anotha friend, Adok? Too lonesome withaut Heikk?¡± Thed laughed as he stepped forward, unsheathing his scimitar.

    Jere stepped between Adok and Thed, directing his stick at Thed. Despite being broken, it still had a larger reach than the scimitar. Thed laughed at the action.

    ¡°Who ar you ¡®pposed ta be? Fook off ¡®fore I ¡®urt ya.¡±

    As Thed approached, Jere swung the stick into the guard¡¯s thumb. Thed yelped as the scimitar bounced out of his hand and across the sand. Jere flicked the stick around and crashed it into Thed¡¯s ear. Thed winced, bringing his busted hand up to his stinging ear and leaving his neck wide open. Jere lunged again, looking to crush the guard¡¯s throat before he realized who he was.

    Before the attack landed, Juddken¡¯s spear crashed down overhead, deflecting the strike to effortlessly slide off the side of Thed¡¯s cheek. Jere brought the stick back to his chest. Juddken mimicked the motion, clutching the stick across his chest as well. Juddken¡¯s wide eyes were completely obvious to everything except Jere.

    This close, Jere could see how different the boy looked. Juddken looked leaner, more muscular, as if he shaved what little baby fat he had left on him. Jere had never seen the Juddken look so poised with a weapon. He looked dangerous. A broken stick wouldn¡¯t be enough to get through him.

    Juddken thrust his spear, just barely missing Jere¡¯s ear. Jere brought his stick around, slapping the spear away. As Jere charged, he saw Juddken kept his spinning momentum, swinging the spear back around to the other side. Jere threw his body to the ground, flattening out as the spear sliced where his belly just was, blowing sand in the air and into his face.

    ¡°How on Ore did he just do that?¡±

    Jere got back to his feet and backed off. Juddken thrust his spear indiscriminately at Jere¡¯s head. Jere tightened his grip on the stick, just barely deflecting the spear away from the thrusts. One cut Jere¡¯s neck, but Jere pushed it off with a two handed grip before it could go any deeper than the skin. Juddken¡¯s lunges were fast. The boy had much better form than Jere would have ever given him credit for. He was a remarkably good fighter.

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    ¡°I can¡¯t beat him at that distance,¡± Jere thought. ¡°Not with a stick.¡±

    Jere ducked under an incoming slash and trotted to the side, putting a few meters between him and Juddken. Juddken swung the spear over his head and charged after him. It was a powerful lunge, meant to kill or break any defense Jere had at the ready.

    Perhaps that would have been the case if Jere were sparring. But Jere wasn¡¯t about to play fair. As Juddken lunged, Jere slashed the stick over the sand, kicking up a dust cloud that momentarily obscured his view. Juddken halted, and slashed his spear around, attempting to hit anything. As he did, Jere threw the stick through the air, gyrating into Juddken¡¯s head and hands. Juddken flinched, dropping his spear to the ground.

    Jere sprinted forward at the opportunity. He reached behind his back and pulled out his two smaller knives. They were useless against the ferocity and reach of the screamers, but they were perfectly suitable for people. He knew he¡¯d had to thank Eevi for reminding him they had them hidden on their person.

    Juddken picked up his spear and brought it back to his chest. But it was too late. Jere closed the distance. He brought the knives down over Juddken¡¯s neck.

    ¡°AY!¡± Thed called. Jere saw him in the corner of his eye as he charged. Thed had his scimitar wrapped around Adok¡¯s neck.

    Jere swung his arms out, missing Juddken and just barely slicing through his scarf. He was close enough to stab him, but that half-second of hesitation was enough. Juddken pushed him away with the side of the spear, giving him space as he prepared to thrust for the killing blow. Before he could, Juddken held his spear right at Jere, hovering just in front of his face.

    Juddken paused, squinting as he looked over Jere. His eyes darted erratically, bouncing from side to side as if something were floating between the two. Then his eyes opened wide. He realized who he had been fighting. Juddken turned to Thed, flinging his head to the side in a dramatic motion.

    ¡°Oh ho ho,¡± Thed laughed, tightening his grip around the back of Adok¡¯s neck. ¡°Intrestin¡­ its yo lucky day, stranga. Seems ya comin wit us.¡±

    Before Jere could protest, Juddken swung the staff of the spear into Jere¡¯s head. Jere heard a crack as the spear knocked him out instantly, sending him into a world of black.

 Part II.VI.VII: Twisted Half Men

    ¡°Wake up, Mr. Appo!¡±

    Appo jolted awake. For a moment, he forgot where he was. It unnerved him, for the last time Appo awoke from a deep sleep, two weeks had passed. He looked around, his eyes squinting in the sunlight, finding Tomi¡¯s young face.

    ¡°Were you having a nightmare?¡± Tomi asked, her wide, friendly eyes greeting Appo¡¯s. Appo wasn¡¯t sure. He had been dreaming, but whether it was a pleasant one or a nightmare was already forgotten.

    ¡°Hulla,¡± Appo said, attempting to get to his feet. ¡°How is he?¡±

    Tomi responded with a firm hug, squeezing around Appo¡¯s shoulders. Appo reflexively tensed up before relaxing, letting Tomi grip him tight. ¡°Good! He¡¯s so good. He¡¯s already opened his eyes! I think he¡¯s tired from the surgery, but he¡¯s gonna live!¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s excellent, Tomi. Let me see myself.¡±

    Tomi helped Appo stand, which was hard given the bumpy terrain of the Thornwood stump. Tomi led Appo back to Hulla¡¯s cot, where several lepers stood watching him. As the two pushed through, the lepers ceased their prattling, all of them silently staring at Appo. It unnerved him slightly, until he realized their silence was not one of apprehension, but admiration.

    Next to Hulla were his mother and two other leper women. The boy still appeared incredibly frail, his chest barely rising, but his eyes were open. The left side of his face was purple from bruising, though expected after such a major surgery. His eyes weakly glazed over at Appo as he approached.

    ¡°Look Hulla,¡± whispered Erish, cradling his small hand. ¡°That¡¯s the healer that saved your life.¡± She looked at Appo as she said this, showing a pressed smile. Judging by the redness in her face, she had been crying through much of the night, though they appeared to be tears of joy.

    ¡°You minimize your own efforts,¡± said Appo, never comfortable around complements. ¡°We all did our part.¡±

    ¡°That we did.¡± Erish brought Hulla¡¯s hand up to her lips, kissing it gently.

    ¡°Healer!¡± It was the booming voice of Garabi, approaching from the other end of the crowd. ¡°Come. I wish to speak with you over breakfast.¡±

    Appo looked briefly over the young boy. He was in safe hands. He joined Garabi, followed closely by Tomi.

    The three continued around the tree, reaching another flattened area. In the center was a small firepit, over which several small pots sat upon each boiling water. Uten crouched over the pans, stirring a ladle in one and splashing water around in another. On the edge of the tree were three camels, though Appo wasn¡¯t sure which one was his. Near the camels lay Gizzal, shirtless and bandaged around his chest. Appo made a mental note to check on him later.

    Garabi offered Appo a spot near a bumping outcropping of the tree. Appo sat, awkwardly positioning himself. Garabi flanked his right, crouching next to him. Tomi stood on the side, leaning against the middle tree trunk.

    ¡°Uten¡¯s making us camel stew. We lepers tend not to have the best palate, so apologies if it¡¯s not to your liking.¡±

    ¡°Not complaining,¡± Appo said, truthfully. He would have eaten anything by this point.

    ¡°You saved my son. I¡¯m still trying to accept that. He would not have been the first I¡¯ve lost, but¡­ I am not used to miracles. We are forever grateful, healer.¡±

    Appo repressed his urge to demean himself. ¡°If he¡¯s already opening his eyes, it¡¯s not unreasonable to expect he won¡¯t make a full recovery. We¡¯ll just need to monitor him for now.¡±

    ¡°And we will. I wish to discuss other matters, though... Before you think of anything clever to say, I want you to remember the goodwill you¡¯ve earned from us.¡± As Garabi said this, he pulled one of his fingerless hands from under his robe. Around his wrist was the adamantine necklace, in addition to Appo¡¯s pendant, the criss-crossed lines overlapping each other. Appo immediately pressed his hand into his chest, finding nothing but bare skin.

    ¡°Had Tomi do it,¡± Uten said. ¡°She¡¯s a schemer in many ways.¡± Appo looked to Tomi, who slumped her head towards the ground.

    ¡°Why?¡± Appo asked.

    ¡°You¡¯ll be answering my questions, if you don¡¯t mind,¡± Garabi commanded. ¡°This is Shadeonite material. Very taboo to be wearing it out here in the open. Who gave it to you?¡±

    Appo was in no position to lie. Whatever Garabi wanted to know, he would know. ¡°One of our companions. He is back at a watch tower half a day¡¯s ride southeast of here.¡±

    ¡°And not with you, conveniently. Why abandon him?¡±

    ¡°It wasn¡¯t my intention,¡± Appo pointed to Gizzal. ¡°He attempted to flee with the necklace. He drugged our companion and assumed I¡¯d be too exhausted to give chase. When I caught up, Tomi attacked us.¡±

    ¡°Tomi has described in detail your flight through the Rust Waves, but unfortunately she can¡¯t confirm what else you¡¯ve told me. To be honest, I don¡¯t really care. I¡¯m simply curious how you got a hold of something like this.¡±

    Appo shrugged. ¡°We haven¡¯t known our mutual companion for long. I can only take his word for it. He tells me he found it at Zabukama.¡±

    Both Tomi and Uten paused as they heard the word. Garabi frowned, his already stern face revealing some worry. ¡°I don¡¯t understand¡­ Do you not realize you are heading towards it?¡±

    It was now or never, Appo realized. ¡°The necklace was stolen. We¡¯re returning it.¡±

    ¡°And¡­ why do such a thing?¡±

    ¡°It could be the only thing that can stop this plague.¡±

    Garabi stood still for a moment before turning to Tomi. ¡°Go get your mother,¡± he said. Tomi nodded, returning with Erish shortly after.

    ¡°Zabukama?! Tell me he doesn¡¯t know,¡± Erish exclaimed as she approached, before directing her anger towards Appo. ¡°Why would you want to go to the Black Waste? You don¡¯t know where you¡¯re going, do you?¡±

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    ¡°He says he¡¯s never been,¡± said Tomi.

    Erish threw her hands in the air. ¡°Then don¡¯t go! You¡¯ll die!¡±

    ¡°You don¡¯t understand,¡± Appo said. ¡°I have to go. If we don¡¯t return the necklace, then nothing will stop the plague.¡±

    Erish stopped her ranting. ¡°You mean to say the plague has to do with the necklace?¡±

    Appo realized he had to tell the truth, not only for their sakes, but for him to make sense of everything. He explained everything to the best of his ability, from Isbibarra and Mikal¡¯s journey to the desert, to Appo¡¯s own arrival in Ash, his dealings with the Heads, his investigation with the witch, and his eventual maiming by Juddken. Eventually he had to discuss Isbibarra¡¯s own motivations, and why he believed it was necessary for them to return to Zabukama. To his continual frustration, he couldn¡¯t provide much of a reason as to how it would stop the plague, other than taking Isbibarra¡¯s word for it.

    After Appo finished, he answered a few questions the others had, filling in whatever details he needed to. Tomi in particular asked him many questions about how it felt cauterizing his hand. The continual reminder was unpleasant.

    Finally, after what felt like an hour, Appo ceased his tale. The questions stopped. Uten, by this point, had finished his camel stew and was now sitting with the rest of the Yalds. It was indeed gamey, but having cooked meat after nearly a moon of not eating was filling.

    Erish spoke first. ¡°Okay. I understand.¡±

    Appo was confused and surprised. ¡°You do?¡±

    ¡°Erish comes from the Rust Waves,¡± said Garabi. ¡°She is much more familiar with the tales of the Shadeon than I. She¡¯s as close to an expert on the matter as anyone.¡±

    Erish nodded. ¡°These are cursed lands, Appo. I know your kind dismisses them, and for good reason. Shamans like the one your foolish town accused of ramble on about curses, diminishing their quality. But they are real. Especially in a place like this.¡±

    ¡°Have you been to Zabukama, Mrs Yald?¡±

    ¡°Me?! Goodness, no. You don¡¯t return from the Black Waste. Even raiders know to stay away.¡±

    ¡°Why? What makes it so fearsome? Even Isbibarra refused to share much.¡±

    ¡°If he went there and returned, I can see why¡­ There is a custom here that if the Krazeek ever lay eyes on you, even the mere whisper of their presence will bring them to you. It¡¯s an old story desertfolk tell to keep their kids in bed at night, though those I¡¯ve met who¡¯ve seen them and lived to tell the tale never speak of what they¡¯ve seen.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ve never heard of the Krazeek,¡± Appo said. ¡°What are they?¡±

    ¡°Twisted half men,¡± said Tomi, interrupting her mother. ¡°Desertfolk say the Krazeek took control of the city after the Shadeon vanished. They wear the skin of the dead Shadeon like armor, and they have long black hair sprouting from their entire face! They kill each other so they can eat each other and then they fuck each other so they have more babies they can also eat!¡±

    ¡°Language, girl!¡± commanded Garabi.

    Tomi ignored her father, enthralled with her own story. ¡°They live in the walls outside Zabukama. They can¡¯t live in the city themselves because it¡¯s so cursed, doomed to protect something they will never have.¡±

    Erish shook her head. ¡°She exaggerates, but¡­ Much of what she says is true. I¡¯ve known many who have underestimated the Krazeek and never return.¡±

    Appo knew of multiple species in Ostior similar to men. Many in Jyvask thought they were more refined species than others in Ostior, even the Merkamensa. Ape men themselves wouldn¡¯t be unusual, but that didn¡¯t show they weren¡¯t dangerous.

    ¡°Isbibarra made it through,¡± Appo said. ¡°If anyone can, it¡¯s him.¡±

    ¡°He indeed sounds formidable,¡± said Garabi. ¡°You say he killed an entire raider tribe without eyes?¡±

    ¡°I just woke up there, so I didn¡¯t see it... But how else could I?¡±

    ¡°Maybe he made it past the Krazeek,¡± said Erish, ¡°but that doesn¡¯t mean you will. I mean¡­ you only have one hand. Why must you go with him?¡±

    ¡°Because of the necklace. I worship the god it represents.¡±

    ¡°You worship a Shadeon goddess? I thought you were cityfolk?¡±

    ¡°Lowya is more of a¡­ intellectual curiosity. I did not know she was this prominent up here.¡±

    ¡°You know her name?¡± Erish¡¯s eyes became wide. ¡°Be careful. What if she finds us?¡±

    Appo shook his head. ¡°She doesn¡¯t work like that. She is the goddess of pestilence.¡±

    Garabi tilted his head high, as if he had finally pieced together a particularly puzzling conundrum. ¡°Ah, so the Screaming Plague you speak of - the one that surrounds us even now - is the curse of this god?¡±

    ¡°I, uh¡­¡± Appo couldn¡¯t bring himself to admit that. After all this time of risking his life to give it an explanation, for it to indeed be the curse of a god. Appo was perhaps too prideful even now. ¡°It does powerful and, frankly, unbelievable things, but it spreads like a plague. You contract it if you drink contaminated water, or the screamers spread it into your blood. It¡¯s no curse.¡±

    ¡°Semantics,¡± lectured Garabi. ¡°What¡¯s a disease for you is a curse for the scratched.¡±

    ¡°Whatever the cause, Isbibarra thinks I will offer extra protection. Maybe Lowya will protect us from the Krazeek?¡±

    ¡°Hmm,¡± Erish murmured. ¡°Have you ever spoken with Lowya, Appo?¡±

    ¡°Not like others seem to think I should.¡±

    ¡°The Shadeon were very close to their gods. So are these Merkamensans, it seems. If Isbibarra believes you can have a conversation with your god, and she protects you¡­ He could be right.¡±

    ¡°You think Isbibarra tells the truth, then?¡±

    ¡°I know what my husband has shown me. This material is untouched, unblemished. No, this necklace lay undisturbed until recently¡­ If what you say about this blind man is true, he could have very well gotten in. And as such, this necklace could be cursed. Maybe there¡¯s a chance that we are being cursed by it right now.¡±

    Appo was ashamed to admit he had never considered the possibility of it. He assumed he was safe, as they carried the necklace for this long without difficulty. But it there was no guarantee of it. They shouldn¡¯t touch it with their bare hands, at least.

    Garabi sighed. ¡°Do you believe this is what drove us from our home, my love? What almost killed our boy?¡±

    Erish nodded, grimly.

    ¡°Okay then.¡± Garabi turned back to Appo. ¡°Zabukama is half a moon¡¯s ride from here. But we will need a moon to rescue your friend. You must stay here until that happens.¡±

    ¡°I will go.¡± It was Uten, who had sat beside everyone without a word until now. ¡°I am the faster rider. I will be back before moonrise.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯mmmm faster than you on foot,¡± teased Tomi.

    ¡°Shut up sis! You can¡¯t guide a blind man without a camel!¡±

    Tomi stuck her tongue at her brother. Garabi seemed ready to slap the both of them before Appo interjected. ¡°I should go. Or come with you. He¡¯ll recognize me.¡±

    ¡°No,¡± said Garabi. ¡°You¡¯ll slow Uten down. It¡¯s best you let him go alone. Isbibarra may be paranoid, but he¡¯ll be desperate to leave after all this time. He¡¯ll accept the rescue if he¡¯s a reasonable man.¡±

    Appo was happy that the boy was willing to step up for him, even he had no part in the ultimate rescue. ¡°In that case, make yourself known early. Announce yourself once you see the tower. He has a bow, and he¡¯s accurate. He¡¯s reasonable if you can have a conversation, though.¡±

    Uten nodded, immediately leaving the group towards one of the camels. He called over a few idle lepers, maneuvering them to lower the camel. Appo came to find out it was a five-man job to lower someone to the ground. One to distract the screamers, two to lower the camel down, one to guide the camel as it descended, and one to ride. It was an impressive feat of ingenuity.

    Garabi continued. ¡°Appo, while we do not need you for the trek, I have my own selfish reasons for keeping you here. You see, lepers do not receive treatment from medicine men. We are now in the presence of one, not that he really has a choice. Since you are stuck here for now, I beseech but one more favor while my son risks his life for you: I wish for you to talk with my humble village and address any concerns they may have. It is my cost for us to feed, water, and shelter you and your friend.¡±

    Appo smiled. What Garabi was asking would have paid for a month¡¯s housing in Lockwood. But even if he wasn¡¯t getting paid, he would be happy to keep himself busy by doing something he was good at. He agreed to the request.

    As the Yalds dispersed to check on Hulla, Appo approached Gizzal. He looked over the fat man, checking his bandages and he wordlessly crouched. The bleeding had stopped, and Gizzal huffed in slow, methodical breaths.

    Gizzal refused to look at Appo. Appo could barely look past him. He had nothing to say, at least now. After a few minutes, Appo replaced the bandages and returned to the lepers.

 Part II.VI.VIII: Her Inevitable Death

    Eevi leaned against the mud-brick wall inside Eanna¡¯s Hut, clutching her shoulder as she sat on the floor. She felt her finger press past her skin into sanguine flesh. Nami¡¯s guard certainly left his mark.

    ¡°Not as deep as the one I left him,¡± she thought bitterly. She laughed through gritted teeth, recalling how her knife ripped open the guard¡¯s belly. ¡°Served him right.¡±

    The hut was a far less appealing safehouse than Eevi expected. Adok neglected to mention its lack of doors, blocked only by a multitude of curtains. Fortunately, there were no screamers inside, and none had followed her past Namshi¡¯s home. Eevi knew how to travel fast and quiet if need be.

    Eevi begrudgingly accepted that she couldn¡¯t be picky. She was lucky to have escaped Nami and her guards at all. They should have just kept running when they called them over.

    ¡°And I shouldn¡¯t have left them,¡± she muttered to herself.

    Eevi pulled the crossbow off her back and set it beside her. She had carried it for almost ten years. It was the sole possession she brought with her to Ash, the one thing she still had to her name. She knew she shouldn¡¯t be so sentimental; if she had just replaced the piece of junk, she wouldn¡¯t need to worry about it jamming so often. That was the reason they were all so compelled to seek help from a complete stranger.

    The inside of the hut was hot and stuffy. Eevi had visited Eanna about a year before to treat a stomach illness, and knew she kept a variety of elixirs and herbs inside. Eevi was sure she could find a needle and a thread if she looked around enough. It was impossible to see, though, and she wasn¡¯t about to light a torch.

    As Eevi slowed her breathing in total darkness, she shook her head. ¡°I shouldn¡¯t have left them,¡± she repeated. She had never felt so alone. At least when the plague first began, she had her tavern. She had time to get used to the solitude.

    ¡°Don¡¯t fucking kid yourself. You left them to die. You didn¡¯t give a second thought.¡±

    This was true. She never considered Jere and Adok¡¯s safety when she opened the door and let in the screamers. She hadn¡¯t thought at all about what the guard tried to do to her. One moment, she was looking for her crossbow in the back room. The next, a guard accused her of overhearing privileged information. Muttering about keeping them all from ¡°going in the back.¡± Before she could walk away, pretending she heard nothing, the guard had suddenly climbed on top of her, choking her. She made quick work of the guard with the knife Jere gave her, but not before being cut herself. It all happened so fast and Eevi wasn¡¯t sure either she or the guard knew what was happening.

    Then she heard Nami and the others. They said that no one could leave. She made a gut reaction and stuck with it, deciding to let in the screamers.

    Eevi knew Jere and Adok somehow made it out alive. She watched them from a distance as Jere was bested by one of the Corps guards. They carried Jere off, back towards the Manor. She was certain that by the end of the day they would hang from the walls, his skin wrapped around a flagpole somewhere.

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    Eevi wanted to tell herself she did the only thing she could have done. She had no duty to protect them. It was every man and woman for themselves. Besides, if she had done nothing, Nami would have killed them. She was certain of it.

    But as Eevi cradled her bruised throat, the same thought rattled in her head. ¡°You left them to die.¡±

    They hadn¡¯t planned to stay at the hut indefinitely. But their traveling had only delayed the inevitable. It was too hot and desolate to escape up north. The south was overrun and now even the outer walls were compromised. The only place left with food or water was arguably the Manor: the most dangerous place in the city.

    So she came up with a new plan: she would go back to the tavern, drink whatever liquor she had left, and slit her throat before she died of dehydration. It was a grim thought, but less grim than the other options.

    Despite her impending death, she missed Jere. She had to admit it, of all people to have survived, she was happiest he had made it. And that was before the Brown Ash scrambled both of their thoughts.

    ¡°Jere is a cockroach,¡± she reassured herself. ¡°If there¡¯s anyone who can find their way out, it¡¯s him.¡±

    Eevi eased herself onto her feet. Her eyes still hadn¡¯t adjusted to the hut, so she put her hands out in front of her. She knew to look out for the stone slab in the middle, but it didn¡¯t stop her from jamming her toe into it.

    ¡°Fucking shit!¡± she grumbled. She flexed, waiting for the pain to peak before it faded away. She suddenly found herself mad. No, infuriated. Why did she let her guard down again? Why now, of all times?

    Eevi fell over the slab, leaning her head onto her forearms. She burst into sobs. It all hit her at once. The pain. The Plague. Losing Jere and Adok. Her inevitable death. She allowed herself this fleeting moment, one no one would ever see.

    After that moment passed, Eevi wiped her nose. The pain in her foot was gone. She was okay.

    ¡°You don¡¯t have to go back to the tavern,¡± she thought. ¡°There¡¯s another option¡­¡±

    There was one place left in the city she could go to. One last place that still had food and water. And if she got there quick enough-

    ¡°Get it out of your head. What are you gonna do? Let yourself through the gate? Rescue Jere and Adok from who knows how many guards? Being skinned alive is worse than getting drunk and putting a blade through your throat.¡±

    When Jere first arrived, he told her he survived the cells. But it wasn¡¯t until after they slept together that he told her how he did it. How spent the first few moons pondering if he could kill himself. How he had a rope, and that all he had to do was tie a knot. It would have been quick and easy.

    But he didn¡¯t. He took the very rope that bound him and filed his way through the iron bars.

    At that moment, Eevi felt the slab in front of her. On the side of the slab was a strap. Eevi knew Eanna kept some of the plague victims within the hut before their number became too many. She had rope to bind them. Eevi followed the rope down to the ground. It was thick and long. Incredibly long.

    ¡°Maybe I don¡¯t have to go through the front,¡± she said out loud. ¡°I could go over¡­¡±

    She wasn¡¯t kidding herself. The Manor was dangerous, and it wasn¡¯t a certainty that Jere and Adok would even be alive!

    That was why she wasn¡¯t going for them: she needed food and water, that was the priority. If she were to die trying to get it, it was better to die fighting than to die waiting.

    ¡°Yeah, water,¡± Eevi said. ¡°That¡¯s why I¡¯m considering this. Yeah.¡±

    She would need to fix her crossbow. She needed more bolts. In addition, having more explosives would be nice. If only she knew somewhere with spirit.

    At that moment, Eevi decided she would, in fact, be returning to the tavern. Only she wouldn¡¯t be staying for long.

 Part II.VI.IX: Sins of the Youthful

    Working with the lepers was reinvigorating for Appo. For one, it gave him an opportunity to meet the rest of Garabi¡¯s people, all simple but hardy and well-meaning folk. It also allowed him to dust off his latent medical knowledge even further, for their leprosy had left them with a multitude of untreated issues. Many suffered the aches and pains of growing old like anyone else, but they also endured an abundance of pain from their open sores. Appo spent much of the day testing the tensile strength of his suture, learning how to tie with his single hand. He also wowed the lepers with the sterility of his spirit. He found that most lepers had been addicted to opium to tolerate their various pains, but he did his best to alieve them of their ailments in other ways. Many had come just to speak with him. They had endured many hardships over the years, and Appo was a patient listener when he needed to be.

    ¡°¡®I¡¯ve found talking does the most good,¡¯¡± Appo remembered Malefica telling him at the pillories. For all their differences, the two agreed on that much.

    By the end of the moon, Appo had endeared himself even further to the village. At first, Appo accepted their humble trinkets and food offerings in thanks, but he was quickly running out of space to carry them. When they insisted, Appo conjured a lie, saying accepting gifts was a sin in the eyes of Lowya. Appo hoped he would be long gone before they discovered his harmless ruse.

    As Appo assisted the lepers, Garabi announced plans to drive away the screamers from around the tree. To Appo¡¯s surprise, Garabi revealed he had actually used the screamers as a deterrent from raiders. During the day, they were slow enough to maneuver around with ease, at least in the open desert. But he elected to lead them away from the tree before Uten came back with Isbibarra. Appo figured Garabi would¡¯ve liked to spare his son the same trouble he encountered when arriving.

    To Appo¡¯s surprise, Garabi insisted on letting no harm come to the screamers. Like many desertfolk, he opposed murder on what they considered holy ground. The plan would be for Tomi to lead them away while Garabi lowered their camels to the desert floor. After some pestering, he convinced Appo to join them for their endeavor.

    And so it was that around sunset, Appo again found himself back on a camel. He rode next to Garabi as they watched Tomi run effortlessly over the ground, almost gliding. The band of seven screamers limped after her, falling over each other to grab her. They hadn¡¯t even come close.

    ¡°Come here, ya dummies!¡± Tomi yelled, unable to hide her excitement. Appo realized how Tomi moved so effortlessly: she used her abilities to push herself ever so slightly off the sand. Although far from her terrifying bursts of energy he witnessed not too recently, her grace was beautiful to behold. It reminded Appo of the few southerners he met back in Jyvask, who wore shoes fixed to blades that they used to skate over ice puddles.

    ¡°She¡¯s incredible, no?¡± Garabi said proudly.

    Appo nodded. ¡°Must¡¯ve been a handful growing up.¡±

    Garabi shook his head. ¡°You have no idea. With how different she is¡­ I struggle to understand her even now. But she never fails to give me joy.¡±

    The two followed as Tomi danced around the screamers, leading them off towards a hill. They figured that at least two leagues between them would be sufficient, but that was all dependent on when the sun finally curved under the horizon.

    ¡°I mean to thank you, Appo,¡± Garabi said suddenly. ¡°Your presence has been a blessing in many ways. You¡¯ve changed my world just a bit.¡±

    Appo figured he was referring to his outlook on healers. ¡°Likewise,¡± he replied honestly. ¡°It was no trouble at all.¡±

    ¡°I want to give you something, a little thanks for helping us all¡­ Have you gotten used to riding one-handed? You¡¯re quite efficient.¡±

    Appo certainly didn¡¯t feel so, but he had gotten better as his strength returned. ¡°I suppose. It¡¯s not second nature yet.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯ll get used to it, but you¡¯ll never forget. I used to play the sitar once.¡± Garabi held out his stubbed hands. Earlier that day, he told Appo he had lost his toes early in his illness, but his fingers held on until only a few years prior. It was the last punishment a leper endured, long after the disease ate away the nose and hair. It seemed as if the disease attacked their victims differently. Tomi and Erish were fortunate, for they showed only the mildest of presentations. But Uten had taken after his father. He would look like him in another ten years.

    Garabi continued. ¡°You need a means to protect yourself. You can still wield a scimitar, but you strike me as a man unfamiliar with them. Therefore, I propose an alternative.¡± Garabi halted his camel, leading Appo to do the same. ¡°Bring your arm to me.¡± As Appo did, Garabi strapped on a sort of gauntlet made of a sleek, lightweight metal. Faint etchings swirled around the sides, clearly carved with care.

    ¡°It¡¯s beautiful,¡± Appo said.

    ¡°There is a latch on the underside. Hold your arm out and tap it firmly with your other fist.¡±

    Appo did so. As he hit the gauntlet, a thin flat blade ejected from the underside, extending the length of what remained of his elbow. It shocked Appo with his speed, and he nearly fell off his camel.

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    ¡°The blade needs to be sharpened, but it''s ejection mechanism is sublime. It¡¯s not very practical in a fight, and putting it back in place is a bitch, but if someone doesn¡¯t expect you to have it¡­ you¡¯ll cause quite a bit of damage.¡±

    Appo held the blade out, attempting a few practice swings. It was certainly unwieldy, and he while he wasn¡¯t inept with blades, he was far from trusting himself in a fight against screamers. Still, he found himself with a grin on his face.

    Appo wanted to say that he couldn¡¯t accept such a gift. Instead, he found himself saying, ¡°I very much approve.¡±

    Garabi laughed. ¡°Good! Good. I have no use for two in my older age, can do just fine with one.¡± With that, he slapped his right arm, producing an identical blade from his right. He used it to tap the camel down on its lower thigh, pushing it along. Appo mimicked the motion.

    ¡°Where¡¯d you find them?¡± Appo asked.

    ¡°I used to travel through the desert for a living. Traded water outside Ash. Came across a group of lost legionnaires. One of them gave me these as a gift. I¡¯ll never understand why, but a friendly face and dried figweed is worth all the coin in the world under some circumstances.¡±

    Appo agreed. ¡°You say you¡¯re from Ash?¡±

    ¡°I once lived there, yes, before the Heads got too greedy. Any business that didn¡¯t belong to them was no business worth keeping.¡±

    ¡°Um, I¡­ Did you know I was-¡±

    ¡°Travelling with a Head? It came together. He doesn¡¯t talk much, but the attitude is a giveaway. He¡¯s a Gizzal, right? Spitting image of his father, even without all the gemstones.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s why you interrogated me earlier,¡± Appo realized.

    Garabi nodded. ¡°I knew you were hiding his identity, though now I see why. I would too if I had to put up with one for so long.¡±

    ¡°He¡¯s certainly a desperate man,¡± Appo admitted. ¡°But he was a better guide than I could ever be.¡±

    ¡°Ah, but of course. Easy to do when your family can afford all the camel riding lessons. I traded water for ten years before I could afford a camel.¡±

    ¡°I have a question, and forgive me if this is too forward¡­ but how could you have worked a trade if you had leprosy?¡±

    Garabi smiled. ¡°No, it¡¯s a fair question. The answer was very simple: I wasn¡¯t always a leper.¡±

    ¡°You contracted the disease, then? How?¡±

    ¡°I¡­¡± Garabi paused, considering how to begin. ¡°I¡¯ve come to terms with the sins of my youth. If I am to be absolved, ignoring the past won¡¯t help¡­ Erish and I have known each other since we were young. But our love wasn¡¯t always as strong as it is today. Especially with the long routes of the trade.¡±

    Appo picked up on his meaning quickly. ¡°You slept with another?¡±

    Garabi chuckled. ¡°So many I lost count. I¡¯d go to speakeasies and just fall into bed with whoever. I often woke up next to women whose names I had forgotten.¡±

    Appo couldn¡¯t possibly imagine this old leper living such a voyeuristic lifestyle, especially one with so little skin left on his face. ¡°People certainly change,¡± he thought.

    ¡°There was one I slept with more than the others. One of the other water traders introduced us. Her name was Vonika, a skinny thing, but she listened to me. I often told her stories while she laughed and collected my coin. I used to think we were in love, but I can see now that it wasn¡¯t. Erish is a strong woman, Appo. At one point in my life I resented that, I think.¡±

    ¡°You contracted it from her?¡±

    Garabi nodded. ¡°The changes were subtle in those early years. My skin became thick and dry. My hair thinned. And then someone outed her. Turns out she hid all the ulcers on her fingers with gloves¡­ Despite what you may think, leprosy is hard to catch. I highly doubt you¡¯ll have it even after all the time you¡¯ve spent with us. But when you sleep with one for as long as I did¡­¡±

    ¡°So they kicked you out?¡±

    ¡°I caught wind before the city could give us a proper exile. It was just me, Erish, and Uten then, and we had lived in the desert before¡­ It took many years for Erish to forgive me, but godwilling, she did. Eventually, once our noses deteriorated, we found ourselves with the small community you see before us. It¡¯s difficult, but we¡¯re happy. I have three beautiful children. I have an incredible wife. There¡¯s not much else you need¡­ even fingers.¡±

    ¡°You have quite the outlook,¡± Appo admitted. ¡°I¡¯m still getting used to missing a hand.¡±

    Garabi shook his head. ¡°You are grieving. What you have gone through is something many could never recover from at all. It¡¯s not just your hand¡­ I know you would have been able to saw through Hulla¡¯s skull a month ago. Do not belittle this sadness, but it too will pass¡­ I was angry for many years. I was wronged, after all.¡±

    ¡°Wronged? How were you wronged?¡±

    ¡°The water trader who introduced us¡­ He only ever offered Vonika. He kept pressuring me to sleep with her, but he had never slept with her himself. Kept making sure I¡¯d do it every night we went to that speakeasy¡­ Not even a year after I left, he claimed all water routes for himself.¡±

    ¡°You think he tricked you?¡±

    ¡°I know I was, Appo. It was the last thing Vonika said to me. She offered me that kindness, at least. Right as I was being run out of town.¡±

    Appo found himself conflicted. Garabi was clearly in the wrong, but Ash had no right to expel an entire family like that. The sins of Garabi were not his wives or his children.

    ¡°I don¡¯t know why I¡¯m doing this, Garabi,¡± Appo admitted. ¡°Why go through all this trouble of trying to save a city that doesn¡¯t want to be saved. They did this to themselves and have done this to themselves for decades.¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t become bitter, Appo,¡± Garabi said. ¡°You associate the crimes of the powerful with those they subjugate. Regular people just want to work, to make enough coin to feed their families, and enjoy themselves free from the burden of living. I assure you, Ashfolk and desertfolk are not responsible for this plague. I do not blame them for what¡¯s become of me. It¡¯s the parasites that feast off them, that manipulate them into doing whatever they wish. They are the enemy. The screamers are their victims. It¡¯s best we remember that.¡±

    Garabi was right, Appo realized. Regardless of what had happened to him, it was not the townspeople¡¯s fault that he lost a hand. He looked out again over the distant horde chasing Tomi. He felt a moment of pity for them.

    ¡°You¡¯re a good person, Garabi. Your family is good people.¡±

    ¡°Thank you,¡± Garabi said, his smile flattening. ¡°It¡¯s those damn Heads, all of them. They¡¯re all monsters. I hear that water trader is one now.¡±

    ¡°The one who gave you leprosy? He¡¯s a Head?¡±

    Garabi nodded grimly. ¡°Last I¡¯ve heard. I am a changed man, but if I ever see him again¡­¡±

    Considering what Appo had been through, there was only one person who could have done such a thing. He didn¡¯t even need to ask Garabi before he continued. He was speaking to himself now.

    ¡°I¡¯ll kill that man. For what you¡¯ve done for me and my family, I¡¯ll kill you, Boah Awil-Ishtar.¡±

 Part II.VI.X: A Man Who Wished He Had Drowned

    ¡°How did you do it?¡± Boah said after an extended silence. He sat across from Jere, both on the periphery of the sizzling embers of the Manor firepit. His guards stood in the distance, halting any errant Okkanites. Most knew from experience not to interfere by now.

    ¡°Who helped you escape?¡± Boah repeated.

    Jere said nothing. He stared into the fire, his face bruised from the beatings. He hadn¡¯t spoken since he arrived.

    It was quite a shock when the new gatekeeper announced Juddken had returned with prisoners. As far as the followers of Okkan were concerned, the guard and this stranger were just mere fodder. They harassed the two, pelting them with rocks and pans and sticks and whatever else they could find.

    But Juddken refused to kill them, or even subject them to Shadeon Law. With Adok, it was understandable, for he had grown a helpful reputation over the prior fortnight. But Jere was a stranger to many, and those who remembered him had few kind things to say.

    So when Juddken never gave the order, instead hinting through his guard that Jere too would join the others underground, it all made little sense. So little sense that Boah didn¡¯t even question it. Juddken seemed so sure. He hadn¡¯t seemed so sure about anything in his life.

    Even now, Juddken refused to waver in his confidence. He stood guard on the other side of Jere, just barely out of the shadows. Almost as if he wanted to ensure Boah wouldn¡¯t claim Jere himself.

    Still, Boah had to know. As far as he knew, Jere had died in the cells. But he was here. A little thinner, but very much alive. Someone had let him out, and he needed to know who.

    ¡°Was it Appo, then?¡± asked Boah, laughing. ¡°A slave, the healer, and the Accurser¡­ all in league together. Sounds like the setup for a joke.¡±

    Jere sat in silence. He had a black eye, and one worshiper had ripped out some of his hair before a guard separated them, but he still looked better than Adok, who looked as if he fell off the gate tower and landed on his face. It all mattered little. Jere wasn¡¯t even paying attention.

    ¡°Are you not going to defend yourself? After what you did to him!¡± Boah held his open palm out to Juddken, who glared at Jere with unblinking eyes.

    Still nothing.

    ¡°Fine,¡± said Boah, growing frustrated. ¡°I don¡¯t need your confession. You see, I¡¯ve given plenty of thought as to why everything has been wrong. Ever since you met the healer, you got up to trouble. Defying orders, defiling bodies¡­ You both were collecting blood for the wells. That¡¯s why you stayed up through the nights.¡±

    Jere shrugged, neither agreeing nor disagreeing.

    ¡°You know, it was Eanna who told us. She saw you entering the tumbril. Probably thought nothing of it. Then it was just the matter of sending Juddken to the right people and connecting the dots.¡±

    Boah sighed, loosening his gaze as he too turned to the fire. ¡°Then again, I suppose you did get away with it. You¡¯re still here, when so many have died¡­ So many you have killed.¡±

    None of it was working. Jere would give nothing, and why would he? The last time he spoke out of turn, it led to a death sentence. He would not risk that now. Boah decided on a new tactic.

    ¡°I remember the first time I saw this one,¡± Boah spoke past Jere now, speaking to Juddken and to a lesser extent the guards who watched them. Speaking to a crowd was where he was more comfortable. ¡°He looked much like he is now: pathetic and broken. Only he had much more hair back then: a big untrimmed beard and that tumbleweed of a mane. He had lived with the slavers in the Steppe for a long time¡­ claimed they rescued him from a river. I always thought it was funny, for I very much saw the face of a man who wished he had drowned.¡± Some guards laughed, though forced. Everyone laughed at Boah¡¯s jokes nowadays.

    ¡°Still, I direly needed a slave. I had just become a Head and still a young man. And what was a Head without slaves, really? So I had to buy the best one, one that would make the other Heads turn. I had offered two hundred and twenty Jiks for his soul. A fairly steep price for a single slave.¡± Boah turned back to Jere, almost reminiscent. ¡°Do you remember what you said to me?¡±

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    Jere sat, unmoving. Boah¡¯s grin stretched.

    ¡°You said, ¡®double it.¡¯¡±

    One guard whistled. It seemed both mocking and complimentary.

    ¡°I¡¯ll never forget it. ¡®The fucking balls on this man,¡¯ I said! I actually said that! And did I offer that slaver four hundred and forty Jiks for a single, unruly slave? Of course not! I told my strongest guard at the time, Dumuz, to break his jaw. Even promised to pay the slaver for damaged goods. But Dumuz didn¡¯t do that, did he?¡±

    Silence spread again. Now it wasn¡¯t just Jere. The others listened intently.

    ¡°You see, Dumuz started hitting Jere. Hard. And Jere took it. He never fell or dropped to his knees. Nothing. After one of the harshest beatings I¡¯ve ever witnessed, Jere raised his hand. He held a pendant. One that belonged to a priest. And Jere, his face looking very much like it does now, simply said ¡®is this how you treat a man of God?¡¯¡±

    ¡°Now, let me make one thing clear: Dumuz was indeed a man of God, but not a very smart one. I doubt Jere knew that at the time. If he had just taken a look at the pendant, he would¡¯ve seen it had nothing to do with Okkan. But it didn¡¯t matter. Dumuz was overcome with guilt, and he fell over, crying into his lap and begging for forgiveness. It was pathetic¡­ How did you forgive him, Jere?¡±

    Jere was looking past the fire now, his expression dour.

    ¡°He snapped his fucking neck¡­ To this day, I¡¯m not sure how he did it. His hands were bound in chains. The only way he could have done it was if Dumuz put his neck right where it needed to be.¡± Boah gestured his hands around his neck, placing it in a firm grasp.

    The guards murmured amongst themselves. They had heard various versions of this story before, but no one believed it was true. Jere was never one to discuss it himself. To have it confirmed by Boah himself was something else entirely.

    ¡°He killed my best guard that day. Someone I had known for many years. I knew his family. He was a pious man¡­ I could have killed him then. We were right outside the walls, and the Steppe had just delivered my business a great misfortune¡­ yet I didn¡¯t. I looked into his eyes and saw a dead man. A man who expected to die and wanted to take someone with him. Someone who accepted the bitter reality of defeat¡­ I ended up paying that slaver five hundred and fifty-five Jiks to have him. I was going to have the best slave. And for almost six years, he was. For that, I rewarded him. I gave him a home, and I let him earn his own drinking money. I even let him leave the city, kind as I was. He was as far from a slave as one could be.¡±

    Boah stood up, beginning to pace around the firepit. ¡°And yet he betrayed me. Not just me, no. He betrayed Ash. We offered him our necks, and he twisted them. That¡¯s why he¡¯ll never be more than a follower. Not because he isn¡¯t capable of more, but because he¡¯ll betray anyone he¡¯s ever known and loved.¡±

    Boah turned back to Jere, expecting him to be hurt. To see just a twinge of guilt on his face. Knowing that he would never amount to anything beyond what he was to his master.

    Instead, Jere slumped over, his chin in his chest. He was asleep.

    Boah¡¯s rage was immediate. He rushed over to Jere and slapped him. Jere awoke lazily, bringing his hand up to his cheek.

    ¡°Sorry,¡± Jere grumbled. ¡°Meditating.¡±

    ¡°You utterly worthless, insolent-¡± Boah got himself under control, but barely. He couldn¡¯t look weak now. He leaned over Jere, staring directly into his eyes. ¡°Do you expect us to believe anything you¡¯ll tell us now?¡±

    Jere looked up at Boah, indignant. ¡°Believe what you want. Stop wasting my time.¡±

    At first, Boah was furious. But his fury calmed. ¡°Not like this,¡± he reminded himself. ¡°Not when they¡¯re watching.¡± Boah turned back to one of his guards, pulling out a serrated blade without asking. He walked back over to Jere, crouching in front of him. His voice lowered to almost a whisper. He wanted to make sure the guards struggled to hear.

    ¡°The Shadeon were an interesting people, you know. Barbaric, but in many ways ahead of our time. When one eventually reads the annals of history of this city, all of the worst of its crimes will wash away. The starvation, the exiles, even this plague¡­ all wiped clean. But the Shadeon reveled in their crimes. They spread tales of torture far and wide, the details growing more and more gruesome the farther they spread. They did this because they knew the power of fear. I know this power well¡­ What do you fear, slave?¡±

    Jere¡¯s lackadaisical expression tightened. He wasn¡¯t looking at the blade, but actively avoiding it.

    ¡°Shadeon Law is but my instrument. I could have your hands because you swung a sword at my son. I could have your feet for trying to run. Or your tongue for how little use it¡¯s been to you.¡± Boah angled his blade outwards, pointing at the body parts he threatened to take. The knife fell downward, landing between Jere¡¯s legs. ¡°Or maybe I could have your balls for how much you¡¯ve fucked with me. Would be an appropriate interpretation, no?¡±

    Jere did his best not to squirm but failed. He knew Boah could back up his threat.

    Boah suddenly withdrew the knife. ¡°But here¡¯s the thing, slave. That would be too easy. You¡¯d bleed out by the end of the morning. They all do. Instead, I think I¡¯m seeing the wisdom behind by son¡¯s mercy.¡± With that, Boah stood again, raising his voice so the others heard.

    ¡°Anyone care to tell me where a slave belongs?¡± Boah asked indiscriminately.

    ¡°In chains!¡± one guard cried.

    Boah held the knife above his head. ¡°You¡¯re where you belong, slave. We¡¯re going to lock you in a dark hole and throw away the key. You¡¯ll be stuck with your thoughts and your failures and your guilt. Eventually, once the hunger sets in, you¡¯ll forget what you ever stood for. Eventually, I believe you¡¯re going to think about this knife and wished that I killed you sooner.¡±

    Boah looked directly into Jere¡¯s eyes as he delivered his verdict. He did not know what Jere had been through the last few weeks, but it seemed to finally get under his skin. Jere¡¯s blank face was not of defiance. It was fear.

 Part II.VI.XI: Watch Your Step

    Juddken took charge of leading Jere to the crawl space. It felt very familiar to him, their roles having changed little from a few weeks prior: Juddken leading a doomed man to certain damnation.

    Only they weren¡¯t the same. Everything was different now. Ash. The slave. Even Juddken himself. Juddken struggled to comprehend that he was once the meek young son of Boah Awil-Ishtar .

    ¡° k i l l m a i m PRAISEBE d o m i n a t e s c a l p PRAISEBE d i s m e m b e r e x e c u t e ¡±

    Juddken struggled to think straight. Thoughts bounced around his mind, certain that most of them were not his own. He stopped keeping track of the voices after five, though at times he would¡¯ve claimed there were hundreds. He often begged for relief from them. Why would Okkan choose to communicate in such a horrifying and archaic way? There were so many commands and few made sense. They were increasing in ferocity, and Juddken often found much of his day disappearing as he struggled to regain a sense of self. He would blank out and reappear mid-conversation, losing track of the days. He was clearly keeping order, but his mind was losing focus.

    Earlier today we awoke back in the temple throne room. He had been in the middle of flaying a guard. He thought his name was Musub, but he wasn¡¯t sure. How he had gotten him there or how he killed him was a mystery.

    Only two things kept Juddken grounded. One of them was performing the sacrifices underneath the temple. The other was when he encountered the slave outside of Namshi¡¯s residence. He and Thed had chased some of the Ati worshipers and found some of them cornered within. Juddken scouted the area, planning on returning with guards before he saw Adok and Jere escape through the window.

    It was then the voices stopped. The world suddenly became clear. More clear than Juddken had ever experienced, even before the Plague began.

    Juddken knew Jere was tough. He knew the other guards refused to spar with Jere. Many had claimed they simply refused to stoop so low to fight a slave, but in hushed whispers they revealed their fear. Juddken himself had succumbed to it, despite the multitude of sparring and training sessions his father had paid for him over the years. But when he encountered Jere outside, his spear knew exactly where to go. And he had bested him in a fight.

    He could have killed him. Maybe until recently he would have. But after finding the shrine beneath the temple, his purpose in life became clear.

    Boah was wrong. The flayings of the weak would not appease Okkan. To earn his blessings, you had to perform a proper sacrifice. Jere, as lowborn as he was, was the strongest man Juddken had ever met. He would be a worthy sacrifice.

    Juddken was pushing a man now. Who was he? Why was he pushing him? He was trying to yell but couldn¡¯t. ¡°Ag! Ag!¡± was all he could manage.

    ¡°Fook af, ya fooking git,¡± it was Thed, Juddken¡¯s loyal translator. ¡°Ya old man wont protect ya out ¡®ere!¡± It was one of Urash¡¯s mercenaries. They mostly stood guard outside of Urash¡¯s bedroom, so it was strange seeing one so far away. He was crouched over by a corner, inspecting a barrel. Probably looking for supplies.

    The mercenary sprinted away. The crimson guards were tough, but their numbers were thin. If Boah had simply given the order, the Corps would wipe them out. Juddken was close to convincing his father, it would only be a matter of time.

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    Juddken would look for the mercenary later. He wasn¡¯t his priority now. What he needed to do was get Jere underground.

    Now Juddken was in Urash¡¯s room. He moved fast, and his forced entry inside was but a blur. He caught himself tossing the mercenary¡¯s sword at the old man, nearly knocking him off balance.

    ¡°We had an agreement!¡± Urash yelled. ¡°My men were untouchable, you smooth-brained moron!¡±

    ¡°He¡¯s fine,¡± said Thed, again speaking for Juddken. He wasn¡¯t as eloquent as Juddken wished, but he often got the point across. The man was a thug, but he had an unusual ability to speak for Juddken¡¯s desires. He was maybe smarter than his oafish appearance led on. ¡°Just ran off, ¡®e¡¯ll comer round.¡±

    Urash shook his head. ¡°Who¡¯s this supposed to be?¡± he said, gesturing to the captured slave. ¡°Another dog to kick down the well?¡±

    ¡°Pris¡¯na, wanderin¡¯ where ¡®e shouldn¡¯t. Gonna ¡®elp with tha¡¯ tunnel.¡±

    Urash approached the slave, tilting his head and locking his eyes in place. He got a little too close, as if he needed to be a nose-length¡¯s away to see clearly. ¡°Wait¡­ You were one of Boah¡¯s men, the one they locked away in the cells. Jere, is it?¡±

    Jere did not respond. The guards hadn¡¯t removed his armor, but with his hands locked together in chains, there was little to fear. He was looking more meek with every trudging step.

    ¡°You should be dead. Then again, you probably wish you were.¡±

    Jere sneered.

    ¡°Your friends are at the bottom. The two guards. Just watch your step and you¡¯ll be fine. Don¡¯t try anything funny.¡± As Urash reassured him, the other guards in the room did their practiced motion, moving the bed away from the hole. If Jere thought anything of the sudden appearance of the mysterious pit, he didn¡¯t show it, simply moving into place.

    ¡°Wait,¡± Urash said, holding his hand close to Jere¡¯s chest. ¡°When you were outside, did you encounter a large man with a beard? Looks as if he¡¯s seen better days?¡±

    ¡°Ky?sti?¡± Jere asked.

    Urash¡¯s eyes lit up, before settling. ¡°Did the screamers get him?¡±

    Jere hesitated before responding. ¡°Yes.¡±

    ¡°Oh. Was it quick?¡±

    ¡°No.¡±

    Urash¡¯s mouth held open. He tried to speak, but nothing came out. He suddenly looked quite miserable, his sad eyes making him older than even his usual decrepit body showed.

    ¡°Thank you for your honesty.¡±

    Jere gently nodded his head.

    Juddken was suddenly shrouded in darkness, lit only by the dim flame of his torch. They were beneath the Manor now, though Juddken did not know how far they had descended. He barely saw the back of Jere, who was a few steps in front.

    Images of mangled limbs flooded Juddken¡¯s vision. He saw broken limbs and severed spines. He envisioned Jere at the bottom of the steps, the vertebrae of his neck jutting outward as he struggled to breathe. Blood bubbling against his lips as his eyes became still.

    Juddken knew he had to wait. Now wasn¡¯t the time. The voices compelled him to kick the first guard down, nearly killing him. He had been too eager. It was an improper way to offer a sacrifice. Perhaps a decent way to cower them, but if he killed Jere, there would be no chance of appeasing Okkan. The plague would curse Ash forever.

    ¡°Ki l l k i l l k i l lki l l k i l l k i l l kil l ¡±

    The voices were echoing now. Were they not Okkan? Had he not decided that he was his conduit? Perhaps now was the way.

    Juddken skipped a few steps forward. He kicked his leg out with force.

    Jere slid to the side, placing his back against the wall. Juddken nearly slipped off balance, the momentum of his kick timed right as the steps of the stairs became slippery.

    Before he tumbled, Jere placed his arm out against Juddken¡¯s breastplate, stopping him mid fall. Juddken gasped as he struggled to find his foot.

    ¡°Oy!¡± Thed yelled from behind them. ¡°Wots the issue?¡±

    Juddken readjusted his torch, holding his hand outward against the wall as he caught his balance. Jere stared directly at him.

    ¡°Watch your step,¡± Jere said.

    Suddenly it was Juddken who became struck with fear. The voices were faint now, akin to buzzing mosquitos. A single thought permeated through Juddken¡¯s trance. ¡°How did I beat this person?¡± he thought.

    Jere pushed Juddken back, with him falling against the stairs. Juddken could have killed him before, but Jere very much could have let him tumble into the abyss. He supposed they were even.

    Juddken allowed Jere to continue to the bottom without incident. The voices kept quiet.

 Part II.VI.XII: Digging

    ¡°Who is it?¡± a familiar voice called out.

    ¡°Adok?¡± It surprised Jere at how relieved he was to hear the young man. Not a few nights ago, he nearly beat him to death. His voice now was more comforting than the softest of beds.

    Jere was still getting used to it all. The horrors of the Manor and its inhabitants. Boah and Juddken¡¯s descent into fanaticism. Where Zaman Urash fit into it all. And that was before they forced him down the never-ending stairs. He had put a comfortable distance between himself and Juddken, but it had done little to put him at ease, even as he finally reached the bottom. Hearing a familiar voice was what he needed.

    ¡°You¡¯re alive!¡± Adok exclaimed. Jere didn¡¯t judge his surprise. He hadn¡¯t expected either of them to be breathing by this point, though it was getting harder to do so this far underground.

    Jere pushed deeper into the tunnel, crouching under the low ceiling. As he did, he spotted a light. In front of him was the faint glimmer of a torch, silhouetting two figures. Jere realized he recognized both men. Adok stood, whereas Heikk crouched. Long chains connected them somewhere along the wall. In front of them lay a massive pile of rubble, a multitude of boulders caked in between dirt and grime.

    Adok grasped Jere¡¯s arm as he approached. Jere recoiled, still on edge after his long descent.

    ¡°Look! Heikk¡¯s here too.¡± Jere crouched, looking over Heikk¡¯s face in the dim torchlight. Heikk looked ill, restricted in his seating position. But he gave a grim smile.

    ¡°Good to see you,¡± Heikk whispered before hacking. ¡°Wasn¡¯t expecting visitors.¡±

    Before Jere could respond, Juddken grasped his wrist from behind. He fastened a cuff around it, tightening it to the same chain link that connected the other two. Juddken gave a hard tug, chaffing the edge of Jere¡¯s wrist. As Jere grimaced, Juddken stared into his eyes. They pierced past his skull. Juddken¡¯s subtle eye bobbing added to the unnerving picture. With another grunt, he turned away, picking up his torch and heading out of the crawl space.

    ¡°Freak¡­¡± Heikk attempted to spit, but he instead started another coughing fit.

    ¡°What¡¯s wrong?¡± Jere asked. Heikk had been down here the longest, and the air seemed poor as it was. Escape was far from his mind just yet, but he wanted to know if he could even breathe.

    ¡°He broke his ankle,¡± Adok said. ¡°Jere pushed him down the stairs.¡±

    Heikk laughed. ¡°Could¡¯ve been worse¡­ didn¡¯t even fall halfway.¡±

    Jere approached the injured man. Heikk¡¯s right ankle was indeed broken, his foot jutting outward at a right angle. He understood why he had to sit. To stand at all must¡¯ve been torture.

    ¡°He pushed you,¡± Jere said.

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    ¡°Eh¡­ should¡¯ve seen it coming. Always warned Juddken to watch his flank¡­ Should have followed my own advice.¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t beat yourself up over it,¡± Adok said before turning to Jere. ¡°I think he¡¯s getting a fever. Could be his ankle.¡±

    Heikk laughed weakly. ¡°Smart, this one.¡±

    Jere ignored their concerns. ¡°You were here the whole time?¡±

    ¡°Yeah. I sleep when I can, so it¡¯s hard to keep track of the moons.¡±

    ¡°Sounds right,¡± Jere recalled his fortnight in the cell. Even then, he could at least see glimmers through the outlines of the wood panels. This deep underground, he would have no way to tell.

    Suddenly Jere¡¯s chest pounded. He was trapped again, this time in chains. He had just barely tasted freedom, and now here he was, locked away in a cramped tunnel.

    ¡°No, it¡¯s not the same,¡± he thought to himself. ¡°It¡¯s quiet here. No screamers. People to talk to.¡± They were all alive. That¡¯s all that mattered.

    ¡°Do we have food?¡± Jere asked. ¡°Water?¡±

    ¡°One of Urash¡¯s men came with grain earlier,¡± Heikk said. ¡°Maybe he¡¯ll come again. As for water¡­ take a listen.¡± Jere did so. He found the crawl space wasn¡¯t so quiet after all. He could hear the faint pattering of water dripping from the ceiling. It seemed to be just barely seeping. It faintly echoed down the tunnel. ¡°I think we¡¯re under the water fountain. It¡¯s why it¡¯s so easy to slip down here. If you¡¯re unopposed to licking it off the walls, we have plenty.

    ¡°Huh,¡± Jere said. ¡°Could be worse.¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t speak so soon. I haven¡¯t figured out where to shit yet.¡±

    ¡°So explain,¡± began Jere. ¡°Why leave us here? What does Urash have to do with it?¡±

    Heikk smiled. ¡°It¡¯s¡­ complicated.¡±

    ¡°Urash is trapped too,¡± said Adok. ¡°Not as a prisoner, but¡­ he can¡¯t leave. Boah refused to have any of his guards interfere.¡±

    After all Jere had been through with the Awil-Ishtars, leaving anyone alive made little sense to him. ¡°Why?¡±

    ¡°Well, my friend, turns out there are three people upstairs who want to use us, each for their own reasons. And the more I understand, the more I think that none of them are working together.¡±

    ¡°Explain.¡±

    ¡°You see, Boah somehow discovered this tunnel leads to outside, past the cliffs and far away from the screamers. However, the only thing between us and his salvation are several massive fucking boulders. It was just me and a mercenary before, but now you two will expedite the process. Probably cause a cave-in, but beats getting ¡®Shadeon¡¯d¡¯.¡±

    ¡°But why us? Does he not have the Corps?¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t think he wants them to know. Adok and I didn¡¯t know about this until today. If he¡¯s looking to escape, it¡¯s an escape for a select few. Can¡¯t say I blame him¡­ He¡¯s not dealing with the smartest lot up there.¡±

    ¡°So we¡¯re digging his way out. Clearly, Juddken knows.¡±

    Heikk laughed into a raspy cough. ¡°Did you not get a look at him? Juddken isn¡¯t well. Even if he could speak, I doubt he could tell you his own name¡­ He wants us down here, sure. But he wants us for something else. You see¡­ the tunnel doesn¡¯t just go outside the city. It also leads straight to the heart of it¡­ Straight to the temple.¡±

    That didn¡¯t put Jere at ease. He saw first-hand how many screamers were at the temple, attracted by some unforeseen force. That they could come in from the other side certainly didn¡¯t make him feel more comfortable. ¡°What does that have to do with Juddken?¡±

    ¡°Remember Musub?¡± Adok nodded at the mention of the name. ¡°He led him down to the temple¡­ Only Juddken came back. It was a long time. I can only imagine he wants us here for similar reasons.¡±

    It all made sense to Jere. Boah himself told him he didn¡¯t understand why Juddken wanted him alive. Here they were stuck to be used whenever. And if Juddken just needed to take them to the temple, it was just a matter of convenience.

    ¡°Where does Urash fit in?¡±

    Heikk smiled. He looked close to death, but his smile was still one of cunning.

    ¡°I said Urash claims this tunnel leads outside¡­ Do you believe him?¡±

    Jere was confused. ¡°If that¡¯s not true, then where does it go?¡±

    ¡°Help me dig and we¡¯ll find out.¡±

 Part II.VII.I: Chute

    The city of Ash bustled as the moon rose overhead. Despite the senseless ambling of the screamers, a serene quiet encompassed the city. Were it not for the smokey haze from the Manor, one would have been able to see millions of stars. Eevi stared above, wondering if she was the only one left who would appreciate such beauty.

    Eevi stood atop a lone brick house, once a trading post for cotton. She had moved slowly to avoid the ire of the screamers. She was more than stealthy enough to pass through undetected. Still, all that moving did little to relieve the pain in her shoulder. Whatever herbs Eevi poured on her wound did little except leave her with a lasting stinging sensation. Climbing would be a pain, but one she could fight through.

    Scaling the Manor would be a whole different matter, though. The walls were at least three meters tall, not too out of reach to lasso with her rope, but it wouldn¡¯t be easy. Besides the contingent of guards patrolling at all times, they had previously laid several rows of wooden spikes along its edges. Even with a working shoulder, it would be a tough climb.

    ¡°Can¡¯t be too upset,¡± Eevi thought, hoping to keep away from the growing number of flayed corpses. If even they were there only to intimidate, it was a very effective one.

    Eevi slithered down her building and crossed the row along the street. She knew the Manor was more than just a gated wall. It surrounded the large courtyard, but the Manor itself combined with the wall with no space in between. Eevi hoped that with another look, she''d find a breach somewhere. She''d even take a sewer, if she could find one.

    Eevi knew one misstep would attract the attention of the screamers. Even if she could escape, she''d lose her chance forever. The one advantage she had was that the guards likely were not expecting anyone living trying to break in.

    The back of the Manor revealed much of the same. No easy windows, no ledges to climb. Not even so much as a grate. It even seemed that the second story of the Manor jutted out a few meters, making it an impossible ledge to reach.

    ¡°Wait,¡± Eevi thought. There had to be a reason for such an odd design. But it would require Eevi to get off the building and look for herself.

    After spending several minutes looking around her building, Eevi climbed down and sprinted to the Manor. As she threw her back against the wall, a putrid stench overwhelmed her senses. Eevi looked over the ground, recognizing the clumpy clay-like mounds that lay across the side of the wall.

    ¡°Shit,¡± Eevi thought. Literally. She repressed her urge to barf, realizing with horror that the mounds rose to her waist.

    Eevi held her nose, looking up above her. She spotted three holes: second-story toilets that filtered shit out to the streets. They were just wide enough for someone to crawl through.

    ¡°For fuck¡¯s sake,¡± she hissed to herself.

    The mounds took up most of the wall. They weren''t fresh, but Eevi kept her distance. The guards would surely follow her scent if she stepped in it. She lassoed her rope and threw it around a small outcropping just below the hole of one of the toilets. After tightening the rope, Eevi held her breath and leaped up, swinging across the mound of excrement. Her shoulder cried out in pain, but her fear of falling into excrement was stronger for the moment.

    As Eevi reached the top of the rope, she squeezed her legs around the outcropping. Only then did she consider the possibility that some of the waste had landed on it, but there was no going back now.

    Eevi climbed into the waste chute. She desperately breathed through her mouth to no avail. The smell was inescapable here. Fortunately, the chute was wide enough to climb, and Eevi extended her legs and arms to get in a stable position. She looked up, seeing a crack of light through the toilet lid only two meters above her.

    ¡°If anyone dares open this lid, I¡¯m stabbing them in the ass,¡± Eevi thought bitterly.

    Eevi reached the top of the chute, lifting the lid slowly with Jere¡¯s knife. As far as she could tell, no one was around. At least, if there were, they were keeping quiet about what must have been a disturbing sight. Eevi climbed through and opened her mouth, finally allowing herself to breathe. Jere had better appreciate all that she was doing for him.

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    She peered around, finding a hallway illuminated by a single torch. She pulled out her crossbow and turned a corner, passing into a room that contained multiple tables and slabs all crowded with bodies. There were at least six within burial sacs. The two on the table were recently deceased. She had not expected this many to be dead, even considering everything.

    Eevi unzipped a few of the burial sacs, expecting to be greeted by familiar faces before realizing that they would be more likely to be hanging outside the walls. Still, she recognized none. It was a relief all the same.

    ¡°Bring him in!¡± a voice called from outside the hallway.

    Eevi panicked. She needed to disappear fast. There was only one way to do that: she ran around to the pile of bodies, grabbing one of the empty burial sacs and sticking her feet inside. Her only hope was that whoever ran this room had not kept a hard count of the bodies.

    As she placed her feet inside one of the burial sacs, Eevi looked up to find an old woman staring directly at her. It was Eanna, the caregiver whose hut Eevi had just come from. All Eevi could do was stare back.

    ¡°Wait,¡± Eanna called outside the room, her eyes not leaving Eevi. ¡°Get Harran. I need his opinion on something.¡± The footsteps behind Eanna halted before receding. It left the two of them alone in the room, Eevi awkwardly sticking halfway out of her burial sac.

    ¡°You should probably hide,¡± Eanna said, grinning. She had no reason to help her. Still, Eevi tossed herself in the bag, throwing it over her head and placing herself in the pile of bodies. She could not tie the sac together, and hoped that whoever was coming wouldn''t bother to check.

    After thirty seconds, footsteps returned. Eevi closed her eyes, feeling her heart pound against her chest as the room filled with several men.

    ¡°Place him here,¡± Eanna said. ¡°Move the other to the pile. There¡¯s nothing else I need to see.¡± Eevi braced herself, waiting for a limp body to be tossed on top of her, but it never came.

    ¡°Another death so soon?¡± answered a direct yet meek voice. ¡°What happened?¡±

    ¡°Who do you think, Harran?¡±

    Harran sighed. ¡°That boy¡­ Was it a prisoner?¡±

    ¡°Oh no,¡± Eevi thought, repressing her squirms within the sac.

    ¡°One of Urash¡¯s men. Juddken caught him walking about, it seems.¡±

    ¡°Ah. At least it¡¯s not another guard.¡±

    ¡°Okkan would disapprove of your nonchalance."

    ¡°Careful. Say that to the wrong person and you¡¯ll end up on this table yourself.¡±

    ¡°Inform Boah if you¡¯re so inclined. Just bring me bodies when they come.¡±

    ¡°Eanna,¡± Harran¡¯s tone fell to a whisper. ¡°There are murmurs amongst the others. Murmurs concerning your¡­ abilities.¡±

    ¡°Oh? I wouldn¡¯t have the slightest idea.¡±

    ¡°If I were you, I¡¯d keep quiet. With the Ati worshipers gone, the others are getting restless. They¡¯ll be looking for anyone who steps out of line.¡±

    ¡°I appreciate your pressing concern,¡± Eanna said mockingly. ¡°Anything else you need?¡±

    ¡°No. Thank you for the update. I¡¯m going to get some sleep¡­ As much as I can in a place like this.¡±

    ¡°Blessed dreams to you, Harran.¡± As Eanna said this, the multitude of footsteps receded. A moment of silence passed before she spoke again. ¡°Okay, stranger. You''re safe.¡±

    Eevi certainly didn''t feel safe. She rolled the sac over, opening the flap. As she rose from the bag, she found Eanna staring at her with wide eyes again. It was deeply uncomfortable.

    ¡°Were you at my hut?¡± Eanna asked. ¡°Perfume like that is scarce in the desert.¡±

    Eevi cursed herself in her mind. No wonder she felt like shit. ¡°I thought it was an elixir.¡±

    ¡°Not the worst you could¡¯ve used. There was plenty of poison in there. You would have been dead in a heartbeat.¡± Eevi hesitated to ask why Eanna would have poison on her person at all. But there had long been rumors she was a witch. From what Harran suggested, it seemed like it was a more open secret than Eanna hoped for. But all that was beside the point.

    ¡°I¡¯d offer a Corps outfit,¡± Eanna continued, ¡°but they undress at night and they take a head count. You may have better luck in the mercenary outfit. They don¡¯t talk to each other from what I¡¯ve seen, and you¡¯ll have the benefit of wearing a mask. Just stay away from the other guards. I¡¯ll tell you where to go.¡±

    Eevi didn''t stop to ask why the woman was helping her, but she had a question. ¡°There were two prisoners taken here earlier today. Would you know where they are now?¡±

    Eanna, focused on undressing the mercenary, didn''t answer the question immediately. ¡°Underground.¡±

    ¡°Oh. You mean to say they¡¯re-¡±

    ¡°Ah, that¡¯s not a metaphor,¡± Eanna corrected herself. ¡°They¡¯re being kept underground somewhere. You find Urash, you¡¯ll find the prisoners. Even then, I¡¯m afraid there¡¯s not much you can do. Other than join them, if you¡¯re lucky.¡±

    ¡°If I can rescue them, I can. Otherwise, I''ll be on my way.¡±

    Eanna furrowed her brow before her eyes suddenly widened again. The faint wrinkles on her face seemed to fade away into her skin. ¡°Why do you tell yourself you¡¯re not in love?¡±

    ¡°Excuse me?¡± Eevi repressed her desire to finish her sentence with "bitch."

    ¡°You¡¯re in love. I can see it in your eyes. Why don¡¯t you just say so? Who else would do what you did if you weren¡¯t?¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re reaching, witch,¡± Eevi spat, close enough to what she wished to say. ¡°What does it matter to you?¡±

    ¡°You don¡¯t climb through a ladder of shit for friends,¡± Eanna laughed.

    ¡°I¡­ Just tell me where they are.¡± Eevi had no reason to explain herself to this person.

    Eanna¡¯s smile lessened, and her wrinkles filled her face again. ¡°Very well.¡± She reached over to the recently fallen mercenary, removing the rest of their clothes.

 Part II.VII.II: Promise Me

    Uten returned with Isbibarra at the cusp of dawn. With the screamers gone, the two leisurely strolled through the Thornestone Wood atop their camel. Judging by their bored complexions, the two had an uneventful journey.

    Appo couldn''t hide his excitement. Confirmation that Isbibarra survived was a weight off his shoulders. He only hoped that Uten explained enough of the situation on their journey back, and that Appo hadn''t left him there deliberately.

    ¡°Isbibarra!¡± Appo called as he watched the lepers hoist up their camel. ¡°How are you, friend?¡± Isbibarra tilted his head in Appo¡¯s direction, but his face remained stoic.

    ¡°Must be bitter,¡± Appo thought. ¡°I¡¯ll have to explain myself.¡±

    Uten slid off the camel and ran to the other side to help Isbibarra down. Isbibarra reached out slowly as Uten and another two lepers lowered him to the tree branches. Isbibarra gingerly tapped his toes against the tree. It was more than wide enough to stand, but he seemed uncertain this high off the ground.

    Appo approached. ¡°Hey! It¡¯s Appo.¡±

    ¡°I heard you on my way up,¡± Isbibarra said, speaking with some hesitation. ¡°Forgive me if I am aloof. The last few nights have been a blur. I barely knew my name until last night.¡±

    Uten stepped forward. ¡°I found him sleeping next to the firepit. I think someone drugged him.¡±

    Appo shook his head, trying not to accuse Gizzal with a judgemental glare. ¡°No need to overthink it. That¡¯s what happened.¡±

    ¡°Ah! You must be the notorious Isbibarra,¡± announced Garabi, stepping past his flock of lepers to clasp Isbibarra¡¯s hand. ¡°Appo has told me much about you. Stay as long as you like. A friend of Appo¡¯s is a friend of ours!¡±

    Isbibarra bowed politely, albeit slightly off-angle. His blindness was doing him no favors on the tree. ¡°I am surprised, Appo. Few would be so open with a leper colony. Healers are a truly remarkable profession.¡±

    Appo nodded, ignoring how hesitant he had been to even approach them when he first arrived. ¡°Mister Yald and his family have been very kind to us.¡±

    ¡°Excuse me!¡± It was Tomi, breaking away from the pack with her loud voice. ¡°If you¡¯re blind, how did you know that we¡¯re lepers?¡±

    Isbibarra smiled, pointing to his nose. ¡°We all have peculiar smells.¡± Despite the warning, Tomi grimaced in slight insult.

    Isbibarra then turned to Appo, almost whispering. ¡°I hate to ask, but I must inquire about our third.¡±

    ¡°Wounded. But alive.¡±

    Isbibarra frowned, looking elsewhere. ¡°I can hear him. The one with the shallow breathing. He knows I am here. I can feel it.¡± Appo turned, finding Gizzal. He remained at the bottom of the tree branch, lying beneath a thin camelskin blanket. He appeared asleep, though judging by Isbibarra¡¯s reaction, he was only pretending.

    ¡°The necklace,¡± Isbibarra continued, ¡°does he still have it?¡±

    Appo patted his chest. ¡°No longer.¡±

    Isbibarra sighed in relief. ¡°That is good. Very good.¡±

    ¡°We should take the night and relax. Me and you can continue tomorrow.¡±

    Isbibarra shook his head. ¡°I have rested long enough. We pack our supplies and continue tonight. I must have misjudged our time, Appo. If we are already in Thornestone Wood, we have made great time. We could reach Zabukama before nightfall.¡±

    Appo was hesitant, especially after he had only just gotten used to the lepers. ¡°I don¡¯t know. You¡¯ve already ridden so far. If we are to pass the Krazeek, we should plan our next move.¡±

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    ¡°Who told you about the Krazeek?¡± asked Isbibarra. He had a sternness to his tone, as if it surprised him to hear them mentioned at all. ¡°What have they said?¡±

    ¡°That this is a fool¡¯s errand,¡± spoke Erish, taking her space between Garabi and Tomi. ¡°That going to Zabukama will be the end of you. But supposedly you have passed the Krazeek before.¡±

    Isbibarra nodded. ¡°I know a way.¡±

    ¡°And that is?¡±

    ¡°There is a gap. A space in the wall the Krazeek avoid. We can sneak through with ease. I only need eyes to pass through.¡±

    Erish shook her head. ¡°So you say¡­ But if this plague is to be stopped, you must do what you have to.¡± She then walked over to Gizzal, pointing her finger at him. ¡°I only ask you to take him as well. He is not welcome.¡±

    Isbibarra quickly nodded. ¡°Agreed.¡±

    ¡°Wait a moment,¡± said Appo, confused. ¡°I¡¯m not sure we can. What makes you sure he won¡¯t blow our cover?¡±

    ¡°He is not in the position to decide,¡± said Garabi. ¡°I think it is only right he finish what he started, do you not agree?¡±

    ¡°He goes,¡± continued Erish. ¡°I will not have a Head stay with us.¡± Gizzal continued to pretend to sleep, but seemed very aware of the discourse surrounding him.

    ¡°Isbibarra, if we take him, he could expose us. We can¡¯t just leave him in the desert. You know that!¡± Appo then turned to Erish, pleading. ¡°Please, you must understand.¡±

    Erish folded her arms. She had made up her mind long ago.

    ¡°Mister Appo?¡± It was Tomi, again approaching. ¡°That necklace¡­ do you think returning it will fix this plague? Make it all go back to the way it was?¡±

    Appo hesitated to answer, allowing Isbibarra to beat him in response. ¡°Yes young one, returning the necklace will right everything. I truly believe that.¡±

    ¡°And you just need to get past the Krazeek?¡±

    ¡°Yes.¡±

    Tomi pondered for a moment. She then stood straight up, looking resolutely at the group. ¡°Okay. I wish to join you.¡±

    The response led to an immediate reaction from her parents. Garabi and Erish stepped forward, trying to grab Tomi¡¯s wrists. She pulled away as they both clamored over her, calling her a litany of names, emphasizing her youth and her weakness. Before either could grab a hold of her, Tomi screamed. It was booming and loud, unnaturally so. Several of the stone branches fell below them, bouncing off the tree. Even Gizzal opened his eyes.

    ¡°Little girl,¡± said Isbibarra quietly. ¡°It is too dangerous.¡±

    ¡°Bullshit! Everywhere is too dangerous now! You¡¯re telling me we¡¯re leaving the fate of the world in the hands of a band of cripples? No offense, but you want me to believe that a blind guy, a one-armed man and a coward with a stabbed lung is gonna save the world? If you die, we¡¯re all screwed!¡±

    ¡°Isbibarra is right,¡± said Appo. ¡°This is no place for a kid.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m almost sixteen!¡± yelled Tomi. ¡°And I¡¯m stronger than any of you!¡±

    ¡°Tomyris,¡± whispered Erish, trying to conceal the anger in her voice. ¡°I almost lost one child. I will not risk losing another. You are not going.¡±

    ¡°If it weren¡¯t for the plague, mother, Hulla would be okay. And he¡¯s in no place to travel now. Every second we¡¯re here, we could die. You think these three can fix it if they go to the Black Waste? If that¡¯s true, they need all the help they can get.¡±

    ¡°She¡¯s right.¡± It was Uten¡¯s turn to step forward, breaking his characteristic silence. ¡°The blind man needs a guide. I can do it.¡±

    ¡°Absolutely not!¡± said Erish and Tomi in unison.

    ¡°I¡¯m not taking your spot, dummy!¡± Uten replied to Tomi in anger. ¡°You need help. I¡¯ll join you.¡±

    Erish threw her arms in the air, exasperated. ¡°This is unbelievable! Garabi, talk some sense into them!¡± As she turned, Erish found Garabi looking down at his feet. It was the most vulnerable he had ever appeared. ¡°Garabi?...¡±

    ¡°Look at them,¡± Garabi whispered. ¡°Look at their eyes. They¡¯re going.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll tie them to the fucking tree if I have to keep them from going. Fuck the world! Be a fucking man and talk sense into your children-¡±

    ¡°No!¡± Garabi shouted, silencing Erish. ¡°No¡­ Uten and Tomi are grown. If they wish to assist the healer on their journey¡­ it is their decision.¡±

    ¡°But¡­¡± Erish was out of words. Her influence here only went so far. Garabi stepped forward, approaching Appo and Isbibarra.

    ¡°They¡¯re right. You need protection, and they are tough enough to provide it. You must make it to Zabukama.¡±

    ¡°Garabi please-¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s mister Yald, healer. I know my place when it comes to my children.¡±

    ¡°You are very kind,¡± said Isbibarra. ¡°Your sympathies are in the right place. But I think you all should reconsider.¡±

    ¡°We¡¯re going,¡± announced Tomi with an air of finality. She was clearly her father¡¯s child.

    Isbibarra and Appo stood in silence. Finally, with reluctance, Isbibarra nodded his head. Appo couldn''t bring himself to do it. Garabi turned to Erish, whose eyes were welling with tears. Her lower lip attempted to hide her upper, doing the best she could to collapse into sobbing.

    ¡°We must not let Hulla grow up in a world with demons if we can help it,¡± said Garabi, clasping his fingerless hand over his wife¡¯s shoulder. He then turned to Appo. ¡°We will wait here three nights. If you return, we will grant you all safe travels to the river.¡±

    Erish wiped her hand against her nose. ¡°You¡¯re a bastard,¡± she murmured as she hugged Garabi. Her red eyes then stared directly into Appo¡¯s. ¡°Bring them home. Promise me.¡±

    Appo did so.

 Part II.VII.III: The Last Conference of Ash

    Juddken strode through the high-arched halls of the Manor, eager to work with his father. Boah had held meetings every few nights, and although Juddken was rarely out of the loop, he had yet to sit in on any. Boah¡¯s trust in others diminished since the riot, however. He had already banned those he perceived to not be devout enough, which unfortunately culled what little competency he had left. Even if summoned to fill a role, Juddken would be happy to fulfill it.

    The more Juddken thought about it, the more ecstatic he became. The voices had dimmed since he sacrificed that useless guard the night before, and he had access to the three others trapped underground. It was the most lucid he had felt since the plague began. Today, he would be a worthwhile contributor to his father¡¯s demands, even if he could only listen.

    Juddken pushed through the thick double doors of the meeting hall. The room was a complete mess, its long table covered in a multitude of religious and economic scrolls. Piles of coin and grain and blankets and water and whatever else deemed necessary for survival littered around in various piles. It was a strange room to see his father inhabit, considering how prudish he had always been about organization.

    Boah sat at the end of the table, his hands clasped around his head. He quickly readjusted himself as Juddken entered the room. It was for only a fleeting moment, but Boah seemed troubled. Juddken noticed a pained expression that he had never seen on his father¡¯s face.

    ¡°Ah,¡± Boah stuttered. ¡°You¡¯re early.¡±

    ¡°Guh,¡± Juddken spat.

    ¡°Take a seat. The others will be here soon.¡± Juddken obeyed. He watched his father pore over the scrolls as if analyzing some secret code, but he could not hide the anguish he had just displayed.

    ¡°He could be hearing Okkan too,¡± Juddken thought. His voices had died to a dull whisper now, but he knew how overwhelming they could be at their worst. It was very possible that Okkan¡¯s love was too much for Boah. Even the strongest had their breaking points.

    The arrival of the others interrupted the stilted silence. Harran and Thed led the congregation, followed by Eanna and another guard.

    ¡°Greetings, Juddken,¡± announced Harran. ¡°It¡¯s good to see you at the table. Your father and I wanted you here, but your expeditions outside always took precedence. Again, we thank you for all that you have done to assist us thus far.¡±

    Juddken nodded. Harran was a bootlicker, but hearing praise never hurt.

    ¡°Out of formality, let me introduce everyone,¡± Harran gestured to the side. ¡°I believe you¡¯re well acquainted with Thed Damu. He distinguished himself during the purging of the Ati followers, if you were not aware of it yet.¡± Thed¡¯s earsplitting grin stretched, repressing his usual giggle. ¡°You also know Eanna Korskif, our invaluable caregiver during these harsh times.¡± Juddken had always known of her but became more familiar with her indirectly, as many of his sacrifices had come to her over the last few weeks. She rarely looked him in the eyes now.

    Harran continued his introductions. ¡°You may not have had the chance to meet the current head of the Corps, Miss Kivi Vilken. She helped with much of our logistics in the last week, besides her usual duties.¡± As Juddken looked over Vilken, he found himself unimpressed. A thin brown-haired woman in her thirties who seemed to wear a permanent frown, Vilken reminded Juddken of Mendalla. She gave a brief salutation.

    ¡°Thank you,¡± said Boah in a tired voice. ¡°Let¡¯s not waste time. Vilken, last time we spoke, you were to give us an update on the grain.¡±

    Vilken sighed. ¡°We have three and a half sacs remaining. At our last meeting, I estimated they would last us through the week if we diminish rations. However, that was before yesterday¡¯s incident; the headcount I conducted yesterday showed that there are seventy-two of us left. If we move to one meal a day like I suggested, we could extend that to ten.¡±

    ¡°Only ten?¡± asked Boah.

    ¡°That¡¯s including the prisoners, Urash, and his mercenaries. If we don¡¯t feed them¡­ could stretch us to two weeks.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t understand,¡± asked Harran. ¡°The grain was supposed to last six months. Can we not just go back to the walls and get more?¡±

    ¡°I observed the walls yesterday after the Ati followers fled,¡± answered Vilken. ¡°Completely infested with screamers now.¡±

    ¡°But that doesn¡¯t mean we don¡¯t have the grain,¡± countered Harran. ¡°Can¡¯t we just send a scouting party and clear it out?¡±

    Vilken shook her head. ¡°The screamers get us any time we send one of ours into an infested building. We lose all advantage in close quarters. Since there are barely twenty-five of us left, we can¡¯t risk losing anymore.¡±

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    ¡°Vilken is right,¡± said Boah. ¡°Any more unnecessary deaths and we risk allowing Zaman to make a move. We know the screamers disperse with time. Maybe we can monitor them and see if they clear out? We can work with rations until then.¡±

    ¡°I, um¡­¡± Vilken pondered over her words before sighing again. ¡°We can do that, sure.¡±

    ¡°Your number is inaccurate,¡± interrupted Eanna. ¡°It should be sixty-eight. There was an old trader who died in his sleep last night, besides the insubordinate gatekeeper that was flayed last night. Not to mention the mercenary and the missing guard.¡± Eanna looked gently over at Juddken as she finished. He had forgotten that he killed the mercenary, but how would she have known that he had killed the guard?

    ¡°As far as we know, Musub hasn¡¯t left the Manor, but there was no one manning it last night,¡± admitted Vilken. ¡°I suppose he could have gone over the side, but¡­ we¡¯re still looking for him.¡±

    ¡°You won¡¯t find him,¡± continued Eanna, keeping her gaze trained on Juddken. Suddenly the whispering voices became audible once again. He imagined her head without a scalp.

    ¡° bitch b i t c h BITCHbitch b i t c h ¡±

    ¡°We¡¯ll keep those names in mind,¡± interrupted Boah. ¡°As it stands, fewer mouths means more food for the rest. We should focus our efforts on the faithful and the loyal.¡±

    ¡°Agreed,¡± said Harran. ¡°I believe this veers well into our next topic. Vilken, what of the faithful?¡±

    ¡°Morale remains spirited, considering everything,¡± Vilken admitted. ¡°They understand they have to endure hardship¡­ But with further prayer and further guidance, they will continue to follow.¡±

    Boah listened attentively and nodded. ¡°Thank you. Everyone here should keep this in mind. Any further updates of vital importance?¡± There was no response. ¡°Very well. You are all dismissed. I will need time to prepare my morning prayer.¡±

    As the others stood, Harran remained in his seat. ¡°If it¡¯s okay with you, I request to speak with you alone, provided the others don¡¯t mind.¡±

    Boah waved his hand, dismissing the table. As they funneled out, Boah put his hand on Juddken, halting his rise from the table.

    As the doors shut, Harran sighed. ¡°It¡¯s disappointing seeing this room so empty.¡±

    ¡°What do you wish to discuss?¡± Boah commanded, determined to move on.

    ¡°I have known you for many decades, ever since you were a boy. I hope you don¡¯t mind me speaking frankly with you.¡±

    ¡°Depends on what you wish to be frank about.¡±

    ¡°The food shortage is real. You and I know this. We know the two weeks is a kind estimate. The people are loyal, yes. But once the grain is gone, how long will their loyalty last? Where will they direct their anger once their bellies ache?¡±

    ¡°You speak as if we don¡¯t have a plan. We''ve had a setback. In time, we will send others out to the wall to resupply grain. Besides, where else will they go? As long as there is running water and we hold our promises from here on out, they''ll fall in line.¡±

    Harran listened but smiled uncomfortably. ¡°A rational thought. But it won¡¯t be long before they lose what little they have. Even if we do what you say, what then? We¡¯re waiting for a patrol, but reports suggest that the horde outside the walls has only grown in size. What if it never comes?¡±

    Boah flexed his neck but quickly recomposed himself. ¡°Your point being?¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s time we discuss alternatives¡­ like the tunnel.¡±

    ¡°The tunnel? What do you mean?¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t play dumb. You¡¯re not the only one with spies. You don¡¯t think I don¡¯t notice where you¡¯ve all disappeared to, or where we¡¯ve kept all those prisoners? It doesn¡¯t take a scholar to see that you¡¯ve been keeping Urash alive for a reason.¡±

    Boah remained silent, giving Harran space to continue speaking.

    ¡°I don¡¯t blame you. I would have done the same. But I also have to think about myself. I only suggest that whatever you¡¯re doing down there¡­ You should hasten it. It won¡¯t be long before things get worse. If there is a tunnel, I intend on joining.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m not sure what you mean,¡± Boah replied. ¡°And if I did, you would be the first I¡¯d tell of it.¡±

    ¡°I wish you¡¯d be smarter than that.¡± Harran rose from his seat, turning to leave before being dismissed. ¡°I hope you reconsider what you know, otherwise the others may ask questions as well. Food for thought¡­¡±

    As Harran exited the room, Juddken watched his father. His eyes quivered in anger, pushing his lips together. Juddken couldn''t believe it. Harran was Boah¡¯s most loyal follower, his closest friend. Yet here he was, undermining Boah¡¯s authority.

    ¡°With but a word, father, I would show him the tunnel,¡± Juddken thought. ¡°Let me take him to the Temple. Let Okkan decide whether he is worthy of escape.¡±

    Juddken waited patiently, but no order came. Instead, Boah¡¯s face drooped, as if he had been holding it together by a thread. He brought his hands to the side of his face, obscuring his eyes. It seemed as if Boah was wiping away tears.

    It was an unnatural sight. Juddken had never seen his father cry.

    ¡°I don¡¯t¡­ know what to do,¡± Boah mumbled, cradling his head in his hands. ¡°When will it all end?¡±

    Juddken sat still, watching his father¡¯s composure gradually dissipate into nothing.

    ¡°I¡¯m utterly lost. I keep waiting for a sign, a way out of all this. But everything keeps getting worse. In an hour, I must give a speech, knowing for a fact that every word that comes out of my mouth will be a lie. They¡¯re starting to sense it. They¡¯re learning what I tell myself every night.¡±

    Boah, firmly in the middle of his ranting, stared at his son. His eyes were red, welling with tears. ¡°You¡­ You¡¯re the only one I trust¡­ You¡¯re different from me, and I struggled to make sense of that for years. But now I can see¡­ you have your merit.¡±

    Juddken slowly rose from his seat, walked over to his father, and put his arm around his shoulder. Boah, still seated, grabbed his son¡¯s waist and sobbed into his side.

    At another time, Juddken would have perhaps reveled in the moment. But now? Of all times? This was an empty gesture. No conduit would be so weak or so vulnerable. He now understood why his father could repress the voices so well: he had never heard them.

    In the silent room, the whispering voices gradually returned to full prominence. Through the sobbing of Boah, Juddken¡¯s thoughts instead turned to Eanna. The miserable caregiver who did little except undermine others and threaten everyone¡¯s position. People believed she was a witch, after all. No one would miss her.

    Someone would have to do Okkan¡¯s bidding.

 Part II.VII.IV: Friends

    Jere stretched his chain as far as possible, standing right outside of his tunnel. For several minutes now, footsteps echoed down the stairway. He was not yet sure if it was Juddken or one of Urash¡¯s mercenaries. Standing next to the giant relief of Ati, Jere felt compelled to meditate. His time in the cells taught him the importance of that. Heikk wasn''t getting any better, and Adok had not taken it well. One of them needed to be clearheaded.

    Torchlight gradually illuminated the exit of the stairway, accompanied by two pairs of steps. Juddken stepped out of the light, his cavernous eyes scanning the room in bursts. He ignored Jere, his attention instead focused back on the stairway. Behind him exited an older gray-haired woman.

    ¡°The smell of a Southerner,¡± the woman said. ¡°So the rumors are true.¡±

    Though Jere struggled to make out her features, he recognized the woman¡¯s soft voice. ¡°Eanna.¡±

    ¡°Shame to meet you again in such a place.¡±

    Jere grunted, uncomfortable speaking in Juddken¡¯s presence. He was still in earshot, but his focus was on the triangular passageway across the room. Eanna¡¯s presence likely meant that Jere would live another day. Eanna would not be so lucky.

    ¡°You should have stayed in your cage,¡± Eanna said playfully.

    ¡°It¡¯s an improvement.¡±

    Eanna slowly turned her attention to Ati¡¯s shrine. She smiled softly. ¡°Such a beautiful offering. Nothing fills the soul quite like it.¡±

    ¡°I suppose.¡±

    ¡°These desert Gods¡­ I¡¯ve forgotten which one I pretend to care about.¡± Eanna¡¯s openness shocked Jere. There had long been a suspicion of Eanna being a shaman or a witch, but she provided very little proof. Perhaps she knew more about her situation than she let on.

    ¡°I am happy to see you, Jere,¡± Eanna said. ¡°I knew I would before the end.¡±

    ¡°Oh?¡±

    Eanna spun her head, and the shadows around her face smoothed over. The whites of her eyes glowed, almost piercing the darkness. Jere¡¯s chest pounded at the remembrance of Malefica and her tarry eyes. This small woman had power that she had hidden from others, perhaps even more than Juddken. Yet she was still being led here.

    ¡°The Horror Gods remember who mocked them,¡± Eanna chanted, ¡°their gluttony and their greed will consume them. They will lose their tongues, their scalps, and their heads. They will burn and drown. They will forget and be forgotten. Soon their memory will fade like ash in the wind.¡±

    As Eanna announced this, Jere stepped back. He hadn''t heard of horror gods before, nor understood what Eanna spoke of. Then Eanna''s face sagged and she slumped over, becoming her usual self again.

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    ¡°You know what awaits you,¡± Jere whispered.

    Eanna nodded. As she did, Juddken returned from his exploration. He put his hand on her shoulder before muttering a guttural sound and pointing to the triangular passageway. She turned and followed.

    ¡°You have friends here, Jere. Remember that.¡±

    Eanna got on her knees and crawled through the passageway. Juddken followed, extinguishing his torch. Soon Jere was alone again. For better or worse, Eanna would keep Juddken distracted.

    Jere returned to his spot along the tunnel, passing the multitude of boulders pushed aside by their work. Having two more pairs of hands certainly increased the speed of the work. Adok struggled as he chipped away caked mud with a smaller rock.

    ¡°Who was it?¡± Adok asked, not looking away from his digging.

    ¡°Juddken. He won¡¯t be bothering us today.¡±

    ¡°Fuck,¡± Adok sighed. ¡°Did he bring down another?¡±

    ¡°Yeah.¡±

    ¡°So we¡­ live further,¡± Heikk said, crouched against another boulder. He could not stand anymore, and his entire body irradiated heat. He was far from helping anymore with digging at this point.

    ¡°Yes,¡± said Adok. ¡°Further.¡± His voice quivered. He hadn''t taken the situation well. He continued smashing away at his boulders, locked in on his task.

    ¡°Pace yourself,¡± said Jere. Adok ignored him, increasing his speed. There was a large boulder about a meter across close to being dislodged. It would have been a simple pulley maneuver away from loosening. But Adok barely seemed aware.

    Jere grabbed Adok¡¯s shoulder, pushing him against the wall. Adok grimaced, still trying to reach for the boulder.

    ¡°I can¡¯t take it,¡± quivered Adok. ¡°I feel like I¡¯m fucking suffocating. How much longer do we wait? What¡¯s stopping them from killing us all?¡±

    ¡°Nothing.¡±

    ¡°If it¡¯s not Juddken, then it¡¯ll be the other Corps. Or one of Urash¡¯s mercenaries. Or the fucking screamers. And if we¡¯re lucky, we¡¯ll starve to death!¡±

    Jere sighed. After spending two weeks in the cells, the underground cave was far from daunting to him. Somehow, in his hardened heart, Jere kept an iota of hope. He held Adok to the side, pushing past him and picking up a thinner rock. He pressed it between the boulder, pulling for a quick second before the boulder dislodged with a satisfying crunch. Jere heaved the boulder out of the way, letting it tumble to the ground.

    ¡°I¡¯m not one for words. But we should have been dead many times. That counts for something.¡±

    ¡°Lever¡­¡± Heikk gasped. His body suddenly slumped over towards the new pocket within the fallen boulders. His arm reached forward before his body gave out underneath him.

    Adok crouched down to hold up Heikk, and Jere inspected the boulder with his torch. Behind the new pocket, a thin metal rod jutted out of the wall. It was rusted and plain, as if an afterthought. Heikk had told them to look for a lever, one that appeared exactly as this one did.

    ¡°Hey,¡± Jere said, gesturing to the pocket. Adok lifted Heikk back against the wall. His eyes glazed over again, his one fleeting moment of lucency far passed.

    ¡°Oh,¡± said Adok. ¡°That has to be it.¡±

    ¡°So we just pull it then?¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s all Heikk told me.¡±

    ¡°What happens when we do?¡±

    Adok shrugged. Jere wasn''t a fan of that. Their entire purpose up to this point was to find this lever. But what would it do? Jere hoped it would open a passageway of some sort. But that was only an assumption: it just as easily result in another cave collapse that blocked it from before.

    Jere looked back, desiring a quorum. ¡°What do you-¡±

    ¡°Do it,¡± said Adok. ¡°Whatever happens, happens.¡±

    Jere grabbed the lever, pulling it with all his strength. It seemed to be connected to something heavy, heavy enough that someone as strong as Jere needed to strain pulling it. Eventually, the lever turned. As it did, a loud groaning sound permeated through the tunnel, its rumbling growing in intensity as Jere continued to pull. He could only hope the ceiling above didn''t crush them all.

 Part II.VII.V: What the Lever Pulled

    ¡°Crackles and toils and boils come off, let those rejoice with the one only God.¡±

    Boah chanted as he swayed, giving his usual speech in the courtyard. It bounced from clemency to camaraderie to passion, meandering like a drunkard. All within listened, but few but the most faithful engaged more than that. They lounged and splayed, lazy from apathy and hunger. The guards continued to move about, watching Boah¡¯s speech. They were the lucky few who continued to eat at least two rations a day. Three of Urash¡¯s mercenaries lay along the Manor wall, keeping their distance after what Juddken had done to one of their number the prior night.

    Then there was the rumbling.

    The ground shook and groaned, emanating a deep shaking underneath the water fountain. Folk in the manor had grown accustomed to a variety of odd vocalizations, but never one from underneath them. Panic struck immediately. Many guards shouted orders without contingency. Even Boah wavered, releasing several gasps as the hissing came right from underneath his feet.

    After a few seconds, the rumbling ceased, crescendoing in a loud hiss. As it did, the water fountain¡¯s spouts ceased. The water within became still, leaving the shocked courtyard with a few precious moments of complete silence.

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    A few approached the fountain. The first to pass Boah was a lone woman, her face scrunched and filled with tears as she held out her hands. ¡°It is hopeless,¡± she whispered.

    ¡°Stay back,¡± ordered Boah, holding out his hand. ¡°Do not contaminate the water!¡±

    ¡°What¡¯s left to contaminate?¡± asked a younger man. ¡°There¡¯s hardly any left!¡±

    ¡°Oi!¡± yelled Thed, placing himself between the gathering crowd. ¡°Back off, will ya?¡± Several other guards flanked behind him, but a few curious onlookers turned to face the crowd.

    ¡°Okkan has abandoned us,¡± murmured one voice.

    ¡°What have we done wrong, Fertile One?!¡± shouted another.

    ¡°First the food, now the water? What else must we lose?!¡±

    ¡°Quiet!¡± shouted Boah, placing his hands high in the air. The crowd halted but continued to grow. ¡°Stand aside, all of you! There must¡¯ve been a mechanical error. We can fix this, but we mustn¡¯t fear!¡±

    The crowd did little to heed, murmuring amongst themselves. A few women and children cried as the men pushed forward to see the fountain. The guards placed themselves between the crowd without harassment but with feared themselves.

    As the courtyard continued to rile, the mercenaries who sat along the wall quietly slunk back towards Urash¡¯s room. One of their number, inconspicuous amongst the others, trotted awkwardly in an ill-fitting suit as she headed away from the worsening scene.

 Part II.VII.VI: The Wall

    ¡°Ugh,¡± Gizzal groaned, leaning over the hump of his camel. He had complained almost the entire afternoon. Although Appo knew Gizzal''s pain was real, he couldn¡¯t mask his irritation. The closer they got to Zabukama, the louder he seemed to get. Appo also had a suspicion Gizzal was just complaining to complain.

    ¡°Again, I have herbs you can use," Appo said. "Otherwise, lean up. You¡¯re putting pressure on it.¡± Gizzal groaned again in response.

    ¡°Forget it,¡± said Isbibarra, riding on Uten¡¯s camel ahead of Appo. ¡°Let him squeal. We are not in danger yet.¡± That wasn¡¯t reassuring.

    The horizon had vanished, the immense peaks of the Fincurs now obscured by the fog of Thornestone Wood. Appo watched the Wood become more bizarre in appearance, its stony trees twisting and twirling in tighter formations. They passed what looked to Appo to be a herd of massive snail shells, with spikes spiralling into infinity. The flat, cracked ground of the desert made less sense here, with several stone columns arising out of the ground without reason.

    And it was quiet, even for the Eivett?. It was unnatural.

    ¡°Mortals are unwelcome here,¡± Appo thought bitterly. ¡°What are we doing?¡±

    Their inevitable arrival at Zabukama had affected the group. The entire party traveled in silence. Even the normally loquacious Tomi had barely spoken a word since leaving her family behind, gliding beside the two camels in silence.

    Another sustained cry from Gizzal broke the silence. Appo¡¯s camel groaned in sequence. They were all making too much noise.

    Uten circled his camel back. ¡°We need to do something about this,¡± he said, annoyed.

    With the group halted, Isbibarra lept off his camel, striding across the mud-cracked ground with a speed that surprised Appo. Isbibarra walked to Gizzal, pulled his body off the camel hump, and pressed his hand directly into Gizzal¡¯s wound. He nearly screamed, more so out of surprise than the action itself.

    ¡°A reminder of what pain is, you waste of space,¡± Isbibarra sneered. ¡°If you insist on announcing our location to everything around us, I swear by Ati I will leave you here for the screamers.¡± He pressed Gizzal¡¯s wound again, leaving him whimpering. ¡°Do we have an understanding?¡± Gizzal silently nodded, his entire face winced in pain. Satisfied, Isbibarra strolled back to his camel, allowing Uten to help him back up.

    As the group continued, Tomi glided back to Appo. ¡°What''s going on? Everything alright?¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s fine,¡± murmured Appo, still processing Isbibarra¡¯s pointedness. ¡°How are you holding up?¡±

    ¡°Truthfully? A little scared.¡±

    ¡°We¡¯ll be fine. I trust you and Uten can handle whatever comes our way.¡±

    Tomi snickered. ¡°He¡¯s still just a dummy to me. I remember when we were young, he used to piss himself. I¡¯d call him ¡®Uboo¡¯ and he¡¯d get all mad¡­ I have more faith in you.¡±

    Before Tomi glided away, Appo waved her over again. With Isbibarra being as quiet as he was, Appo needed to know more. ¡°What else do you know about the Krazeek? Are they¡­ people?¡±

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    ¡°I once met a merchant in Lockwood who claimed that the Krazeek descended from the Shadeon people after the empire fell. They are the ones left.¡±

    ¡°A common misconception,¡± Isbibarra interjected, still riding slightly ahead. ¡°The Shadeonites are gone. The Krazeek are a backwater race. They took refuge within their walls long after the empire fell.¡±

    ¡°Can we reason with them?¡± Appo asked. ¡°We only need passage, no? Is there anything we could offer?¡±

    Isbibarra chuckled. ¡°You could not offer what they would want. It is best we avoid them.¡±

    The two camels traveled between more columns and spiraled wood and cracked shale. As they rode, the ground below them descended into a gradual slope that led into another valley. The farther they went, the thicker the fog became. Even though Uten and Isbibarra were only a few meters ahead, Appo struggled to find them. It was fog unlike anything Appo had seen, for there was no moisture. It was as if they were traveling through ether.

    Isbibarra dismounted from Uten¡¯s camel and gingerly crouched to the ground, placing his hand across the shale. ¡°We are close,¡± Isbibarra said. ¡°Look for a stone column, almost too slender.¡±

    Appo shook his head. ¡°I can¡¯t see through this fog.¡±

    ¡°That is good for now. Once the fog clears, you should be able to see the wall.¡±

    ¡°We¡¯re that close already?¡± hissed Tomi. ¡°We should be quiet!¡±

    ¡°The fog obscures our voices. If we cannot see the wall, the Krazeek will not hear us.¡±

    ¡°How do you know?¡±

    ¡°Trust me.¡± Isbibarra slowly rose from the ground, wiping the shale from his hand. ¡°I can feel them.¡± The warning was enough to quiet the group. Even Gizzal, who had been whimpering in protest, became completely silent.

    As the group slowly led their camels through the fog, Appo spotted the column. It was a thin stone promontory standing at a height of about fifteen meters, but no wider than his thigh at the top. The ground below the column continued to descend, disappearing into the fog. As they dismounted, the fog dispersed to reveal a valley. A black rectangle expanding much of the valley grew more and more in view.

    ¡°Good God,¡± whispered Tomi. ¡°It¡¯s massive.¡±

    The wall of Zabukama was almost fifty meters in height, stretching out at least two leagues before fading back into the fog. It looked to be made entirely of black limestone, smooth despite its rugged desert appearance. Unlike the wall of Ash, this wall gradually curved as it moved along, meandering like a river. It was unlike any structure Appo had ever seen.

    ¡°Can you see it?¡± asked Isbibarra, clutching the promontory.

    ¡°Yeah,¡± murmured Appo. Although he could see the wall, Appo couldn¡¯t visualize anything past it. He kept looking over the wall¡¯s thick upper barricades, looking for movement, but found none. For now, there were no ape-men. ¡°Maybe we should go before the fog clears further?¡±

    ¡°Do not be fooled,¡± Isbibarra said. ¡°They''re inside.¡±

    ¡°How many are there?¡± asked Uten.

    ¡°I am unsure. Maybe hundreds?¡±

    ¡°Are you fucking kidding me?¡± Tomi said through gritted teeth. ¡°How are we supposed to get past hundreds of them?¡±

    Isbibarra pointed down the valley. ¡°There is an abandoned outpost in front of the gate. We will hide there. The Krazeek move in herds of about twenty, and they do not watch for arrivals. If we can approach quietly, we can wait for them to pass.¡±

    ¡°How long will we have?¡± asked Appo.

    ¡°That depends. I will need to get closer. When the fog clears, we should get to the settlement. I can track them better there.¡±

    ¡°This is crazy,¡± said Tomi. ¡°What if any of them see us?¡±

    ¡°Young lady,¡± said Isbibarra quietly. ¡°Maybe it would be best if you stay here with your brother, then? You have done us a service by getting us to the city.¡±

    Tomi didn¡¯t respond immediately, pondering how she would. ¡°No. It¡¯s just¡­ a lot.¡±

    ¡°We¡¯re with you until we return the necklace,¡± added Uten.

    Isbibarra sighed. ¡°Okay. If you insist.¡±

    The fog soon dissipated. Appo thought he saw jagged edges of triangles through the fog behind the walls, but it was impossible to tell. The wall came into clearer view though, and Appo made out the nuanced architecture of struts and columns that ran alongside it. A little farther past a view of the curves of the wall, Appo spotted a metal gate. In front of the gate was a small outpost not even half a league away.

    ¡°There,¡± Appo said.

    ¡°Lead the way, please,¡± Isbibarra asked, before turning to Gizzal. ¡°Leave him here, in case anything goes wrong.¡± At first, Gizzal whimpered before calming, as if realizing he wouldn¡¯t immediately have to go through the walls.

 Part II.VII.VII: Land of the Krazeek

    Uten guided the others down the slope, trudging slowly through the shale. He pulled out his weapon of choice: a large but rusty battle axe. Looking at it, Appo felt a twinge of inadequacy. He had Garabi''s gauntlet, but it was little use in comparison. Otherwise, he had his rod for the camel, he doubted he could whip away any opponent. If it came down to it, Appo reluctantly admitted he¡¯d likely have to hide behind the others.

    The outpost was the ruins of a small fortress, little more than a wooden barricade surrounding a few small huts. This barricade was barely a story tall, and its formations crumbling and derelict. The entrance to the gate was impassable, so the four were forced to crouch through a small open hold in the wall.

    As the four stepped into the fortress, a croaking noise echoed from beyond the wall. Uten and Tomi immediately crouched and Appo froze in his place. Only Isbibarra continued to walk, gently flicking his hand as if the noise was nothing to be concerned about.

    Like the outside walls, the upper floors of the fortress had been destroyed by time and degeneration. Wood and stone and a multitude of thin wooden rods lay scattered over the ground. It seemed a miracle that the outpost stood as long as it had. The group pushed their way across the open courtyard, looking for a vantage point to observe the wall.

    Appo stopped near a collapsed window panel propped by a few wooden beams. From there, he looked over the wall of Zabukama, entranced by its sheer existence. The obsidian sheer seemed pristine even after centuries of disuse. From here it was easier it was to make out the ubiquitous Shadeon etchings, though Appo also spotted several carvings of wyverns and griffins and woodwolves.

    Tomi shook Appo¡¯s shoulder, breaking him from this trance. He turned, finding Tomi¡¯s wide eyes and frozen expression. Appo turned back to the wall, this time below the gates.

    Between the shattered and twisted rubble stood a small humanoid figure, only a meter and a half tall. It slowly trudged towards the ruins on legs disproportionately small compared to its thin yet muscular arms, which almost dragged across the ground. It wore bronze armor over its chest and shoulders, though it shook wildly, too large for its wearer. As the figure approached, Appo realized what appeared at first to be a black undergarment was a thick black fur that covered the entire figure¡¯s arms and legs. Two stripes of wispy white hair began at the top of the figure¡¯s head, flowing down its back and branching off into wing-like appendages over the armor. Appo couldn¡¯t make out the figure¡¯s head, for it wore a metal-plated helmet. Three more figures followed behind.

    Appo turned to Tomi again, and she nodded. It was the Krazeek.

    There wasn¡¯t enough time to flee. The four took shelter within one of the busted huts, what must have once been a bar or a stable. Appo, Tomi, and Uten took their place behind the doorway, sticking their eyes through cracked holes in the wall. Only Isbibarra leaned back against the hut, well out of sight but far from fearful.

    The first helmeted Krazeek entered the fortress, lazily walking towards the middle courtyard. The three others dragged body-shaped sacks behind them. From here, Appo saw the Krazeek had individually wrapped each limb in a sheet and tied them together with some form of wire. The bags thrashed incessantly through the sacs in silence. The Krazeek dragged them to the center of the courtyard, where they tossed them in a pile with a strength unexpected for their smaller size.

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    Appo watched the first Krazeek grab two of the wooden rods and rub them together, quickly beginning a small bonfire. As it did this, two of the Krazeek bumped into each other, sending one into a frenzy of clicking and guttural croaks. It swung a large palm against the other¡¯s helmet, knocking it off and revealing a simian-like head. The helmetless Krazeek screamed, flashing its jagged and misshapen teeth in a large grimace. The white stripes of the Krazeek continued over its head and down alongside its jaw, forming whisker-like sideburns. Its thick brown furrowed over milky white eyes as the other Krazeek pushed back against it.

    Appo had seen monkeys before along the coast, small and harmless. He had even seen apes in Jyv?skian zoos, but they were simple creatures. The Krazeek seemed an abhorrent cross between the two. There was certainly some intelligence underneath the shrieks and clicks.

    Isbibarra was right: there would be no way to negotiate with these creatures. They''d have better luck with raiders.

    After a few grunts and pushes, the Krazeek settled, turning their attention back to the fire. The helmetless Krazeek hopped over to the pile of bound bodies, screeching as they continued to squirm. In one hand, it held a large cleaver about the size of a human forearm, which it slammed repeatedly into the ground near the bound bodies.

    Over the next few minutes, the group watched the Krazeek build a larger bonfire with the wooden sticks. As the bonfire grew, the helmetless Krazeek became still, gripping its cleaver over the bodies. It grimaced, flashing more broken teeth, before swinging the cleaver down through one arm of the bound bodies. Another Krazeek grabbed the arm and threw it into the bonfire to a round of whooping calls from the others.

    As Appo continued to watch the now armless body, he realized what he was seeing: the bound bags contained screamers. The Krazeek certainly weren''t thoughtless: Appo was certain he was watching some sort of ritualistic process.

    Never had Appo felt so far from home. He wanted to sit in a tavern again, listening to untuned strings and the chatter of people. He wanted to watch the waves of the sea crash against a Lavast ship, to feel the breeze of the ocean on the beach. He might as well have been on the moon.

    Appo turned away, backing off the wall. He saw Uten and Tomi as they continued to gaze through the wooden wall with unblinking, scared eyes. But as he swiveled, he realized they were alone.

    ¡°Psst,¡± Appo whispered to Uten, pointing to his face and closing his eyes before shrugging. Uten turned, expecting to find Isbibarra. The blind man had vanished. Before panic could completely grip Appo, he looked outside the hut and realized that Isbibarra was at the far corner of the barricade, trudging silently near the hole in the wall.

    ¡°What are you doing?!¡± Appo wanted to scream. He couldn¡¯t believe it.

    ¡°He left us,¡± Tomi whispered through gritted teeth.

    As the three watched him, Isbibarra stopped under a piece of rubble. Halfway through the hole already, Isbibarra gestured back to the group. From what Appo could see, he had just moved quietly along the side of the wall. He wasn¡¯t sure whether the others could be as silent.

    Still, Isbibarra had left him. Maybe Appo deserved he left him at the tower, but Uten and Tomi certainly didn¡¯t. As tough as they were, they were still children. He¡¯d have choice words for him later.

    Appo looked back at the Krazeek: they were still chopping off limbs and throwing them into the bonfire. While he was content to wait them out, it was very possible the Krazeek could come over to their hut for more wood.

    ¡°We need to move,¡± Appo whispered. ¡°Uten, follow Isbibarra. Once you¡¯re across, let Tomi know when it¡¯s clear. Then Tomi, do the same for me.¡± Both nodded furiously.

    Uten moved first, gingerly tiptoeing past the stable around the dilapidated fence of the fortress. Appo kept a close eye on the Krazeek, each of them keeping steadfast in building their bonfire and limb hacking. Despite the heavy weight of his axe, Uten made no sound, letting the crackling of the fire cover his footsteps.

    As Uten reached the far side of the barricade, one of the two wood panels snapped. Two pieces of the barricade fell against each other with a loud thud.

    All four of the Krazeek swung their heads around toward the corner of the wall, hissing. The helmetless Krazeek flashed his teeth in a twisted smile that stretched across his entire face.

 Part II.VII.VIII: Light Touch

    Appo watched helplessly as the Krazeek charged, using their long limbs to swing their bodies across the ground in a leapfrogging jump. Uten squeezed through the hole in the barricade, but his axe became caught on the wall. He wouldn¡¯t be able to make it in time.

    ¡°NO!¡± Tomi yelled. She pushed past Appo, thrusting both hands outward. The Krazeek stopped mid-leap and turned. As they did, a rush of static built up around Tomi as she released a powerful force of air, ripping through the ground toward the Krazeek. Shale and panels burst from the sides as the energy hit them, knocking them off their feet. The hut that had hidden them exploded into wooden shrapnel. The burst of air continued past the Krazeek, destroying the part of the upper barricade on the other side.

    After the energy dispersed, Tomi stumbled. Appo barely caught her as she fell back into his good arm.

    ¡°Did I¡­ did we-¡±

    ¡°Yeah, good job,¡± Appo said. As he did, he saw the Krazeek getting to their feet. Despite Tomi hitting them with the full strength of one of her blasts, they were far from harmed. They were barely stunned.

    Appo had little time to think. He couldn''t drag Tomi to the wall, and his gauntlet would be of little use against the four creatures.

    Instead of running, Appo pushed Tomi towards the firepit. He knew nothing about Krazeek, but he doubted they were fireproof.

    The two nearly stumbled over the bagged bodies, each of them little more than limbless, squirming torsos by this point. Appo set Tomi down, grabbing a random assortment of wooden rods that had recently been tossed in the pile. As Appo grabbed his makeshift torch, the helmetless Krazeek rounded the pit at astonishing speed before halting at the sight of the flaming rods. It screeched at the two, flaring its chalky white teeth. Its pearl-like eyes shined a faint glowing orange in the bonfire¡¯s reflection, calling over the others. Appo waved the rods in its face and the Krazeek responded with swipes from its long limbs. From here, Appo could see that the Krazeek was smaller than him, but its arm span was massive. He¡¯d have to keep his distance.

    ¡°Back off!¡± Appo hissed, swinging the torch. He looked to his side, trying to spot the others. Two were still on the ground, dazed but rousing. A third was unmoving, knocked unconscious by the blast.

    ¡°Plan?¡± Tomi asked, half slurring.

    ¡°Yeah!¡± Appo shouted. ¡°Grab the flask hanging off my belt and throw it down in front of us! Hurry!¡± Tomi nodded, grabbing Appo¡¯s bottle of spirit and cracking in front of them. The Krazeek screeched at the effort before flashing its teeth again. As they lunged, Appo lowered his torch into the puddle of spirit, resulting in a column of flame rising in a burst. The Krazeek leaped back in fright as the torch became relit.

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    Appo turned to his right, seeing that the other two Krazeek were now rushing towards them. One flame wouldn¡¯t be enough to wave them all off, but with Tomi now back on her feet, he had an idea.

    ¡°Tomi!¡± Appo shouted through gritted teeth. ¡°Light touch!¡±

    Tomi planted her feet and released a small amount of energy towards the torch, creating a ball of flame that launched outwards. Both Krazeek croaked and yipped in pain as the flames engulfed their bodies. It hit one directly, its arms and head catching fire before falling to the ground, thrashing and flailing its entire body in pain. The flame grazed the other¡¯s right arm, causing it to shriek and gallop away. Appo watched as it effortlessly climbed over the barricade, abandoning the other on the ground. It desperately tried to put out the fire across its body before quickly coming still.

    ¡°Okay,¡± Appo hissed. ¡°Let''s go.¡±

    The hole in the barricaded wall had collapsed with a wooden board blocking the path. Uten stood on the other side, sticking out his hand. Appo pushed Tomi through first, her smaller size allowing her to squeeze through with ease. As Uten pulled Tomi through the rubble, Appo dropped the torch and followed. He had to push against the board, groaning as his belly pushed against the barricade.

    Just as Appo pulled himself through, he felt a powerful tug on his leg, bringing him back halfway through the hole. The grip of the helmetless Krazeek was strong, and Appo¡¯s knee nearly gave as the Krazeek wrapped its massive fingers around his shin. Appo barely caught on the other side of the barricade, keeping him from being dragged through completely. The Krazeek screeched its guttural call as it gave another hard tug.

    Appo kicked the Krazeek¡¯s fingers, releasing its grip just enough to allow Appo to tuck his legs through the hole. The Krazeek lunged forward, again grabbing Appo¡¯s leg with its outstretched arm. This grip was much tighter, and now without a hold, Appo prepared to be dragged back into the fortress.

    Before the Krazeek pulled Appo back in, Uten stood above Appo and swung his axe at the ground, slicing through the Krazeek¡¯s lanky forearm. The Krazeek screamed as purplish blood burst from the fresh wound, slamming its body against the wall. The flimsy barricade collapsed, and the guttural cries from the Krazeek became echoes as the gap between them closed.

    Appo kicked away the severed clawed hand of the Krazeek. He lay on the ground for just a moment, catching his breath. As he did, Uten stood over him with his arm stretched out.

    ¡°Need a hand?¡± asked Uten, smiling at his own poor joke.

    Appo chuckled as he reached up. As he did, a bird¡¯s cry shrieked from behind him. Uten looked up momentarily before a large arrow slammed into his chest, knocking him back against the wall with a thud. Uten somehow stayed on his feet, momentarily caressing the large wooden rod sticking almost a meter out below his sternum. He rubbed his fingers over the rod before collapsing into the ground, dead.

 Part II.VII.IX: No Hard Feelings

    ¡°Godforsaken fools,¡± Isbibarra thought. ¡°You had to ruin everything.¡±

    The blind man stood a hundred meters away from the fortress, holding his longbow outward. The boy¡¯s heart had stopped in an instant, as expected. He still felt the pounding of two adjacent heartbeats, but they didn¡¯t concern him now. On this flat shale, his accuracy would be second to none.

    Isbibarra reached behind and grabbed another arrow from his quiver. His next shot would be more difficult. He recognized Uten by the continuous murmur between his heartbeats. Determining which one was Appo and which was the girl would be a little more difficult, though. From this distance they were indistinguishable.

    ¡°I tried to warn them,¡± Isbibarra thought. ¡°Did I not give them every possibility to turn back? Did I not tell them over and over again that this is no place for children? Then they had to kill the Krazeek.¡± There was no way around it now. They would never let him through after what they just did. He needed to get back in their favor.

    But he only needed the Healer and the Head.

    Isbibarra wiggled his toes into the shale. There were faint heartbeats within the outpost themselves, likely dying Krazeek. The two thumping heartbeats in front of it remained still, each increasing in rhythm.

    ¡°If it were only so easy,¡± Isbibarra said out loud. He walked forward, releasing the tension from his second arrow. He just needed to elicit a reaction. Once the girl approached, he¡¯d kill her. No hesitation, no need to make her suffer.

    As Isbibarra approached, he noticed an interference in the thumping of the heartbeats. It was a great energy, with noise obscuring his usual kinetic sight. He felt the static that emanated from the fortress earlier. He thought little of it.

    ¡°What the-¡±

    An explosion ricocheted through the shale, hitting Isbibarra and launching him through the air. He crashed to the ground, dropping his bow and hearing his arrows spill out of his quiver. As he came to, he sensed a firm heartbeat getting closer and closer, though the static energy surrounding it made its location difficult to determine.

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    ¡°YOU MOTHERFUCKING FUCK!¡± Tomi yelled. She launched another burst at Isbibarra. As the column swirled towards him, Isbibarra rolled out of the way, missing him but knocking away his longbow.

    ¡°Magis,¡± Isbibarra thought. ¡°I did not think I would find any out here. Especially one this powerful¡­ tough, but manageable.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯LL FUCKING KILL YOU YOU PIECE OF SHIT!¡± Tomi launched another burst of energy, this time coming underneath Isbibarra. While the energy launched Isbibarra into the air, he guided his body through a flip, landing on his feet.

    Isbibarra had encountered a few magi in his youth. He had met only one this powerful, though. Their ability to conjure projectile energy frustrated him, as the mere act of using their powers concealed their location.

    But Isbibarra had one clear advantage: the girl was unfocused and angry. She''d tire out, eventually. He¡¯d just have to wait.

    Isbibarra ran around the static that Tomi formed. There was little reason to hide the full extent of his athletic prowess now. But as he ran, he felt another burst of energy blast behind him. It was just as powerful as the others, if not more so. The static of energy became very close, appearing right behind him.

    ¡°DIE YOU BASTARD!¡±

    The circle vanished before reappearing two meters away from Isbibarra. The explosion sent him flying across the ground.

    Midair, Isbibarra realized what happened: Tomi just destroyed an entire hill. She was easily the most powerful Magi Isbibarra had ever encountered. If he had known that beforehand, he would¡¯ve had second thoughts about killing her brother first.

    As Isbibarra steadied himself, he sensed the circle encroach. It was a seething ball of energy, as if the sun itself came down upon him. He reached, hoping to find his longbow on the ground, not even considering his lack of arrows.

    The energy was close now. Isbibarra smelt leper.

    ¡°She¡¯s no God,¡± Isbibarra thought, suddenly finding clarity.

    Isbibarra reached into his robe, finding his bonsai dagger. He flung it at the energy. In but a moment, the energy dissipated. Blood trickled onto the ground. He must¡¯ve hit her jugular.

    Isbibarra rose to his feet as Tomi fell to hers. Now surrounded by quiet, he felt his longbow not even a few meters away. After a few more seconds of searching, he found his quiver and arrows. He took the time to collect himself, keeping track of the heartbeat as it slowed. Isbibarra paced himself, even finding his bonsai dagger behind her.

    Isbibarra then returned to Tomi, who held her hand up against her neck. Blood spilled down her robe and onto the ground, forming a pool around her. There was no energy left, just enough to keep her on her knees. She stayed upright by sheer will alone.

    Out of all the people Isbibarra had faced, Tomi was easily the strongest. If she were just slightly older, slightly more refined in her abilities, she would have had a better chance. He placed himself a meter away from her fading heartbeat, nocking his longbow. Such a powerful opponent deserved a quick death.

    ¡°No hard feelings,¡± Isbibarra said as he released his arrow through Tomi¡¯s skull.

 Part II.VII.X: The Way Through

    Appo sat in shock as Tomi fell. He had just watched her nearly destroy the entire ridge, summoning a power he could barely fathom even after having seen her abilities multiple times. But it had mattered little. Tomi and Uten were dead.

    ¡°¡®Bring them home,¡¯¡± Erish¡¯s voice echoed in Appo¡¯s head. ¡°¡®Promise me.¡¯¡±

    In an instant, Appo¡¯s shock gave way to despair. He wept. He wept until Isbibarra approached, dragging his camel behind. Gizzal struggled, his screams muffled by a bound gag.

    ¡°Do not do anything foolish,¡± said Isbibarra, calmly. He reached out, hoping to help Appo off the ground. Appo didn¡¯t receive it.

    ¡°Why?¡± Appo asked. He avoided Isbibarra, his gaze still locked onto Tomi''s body. He hoped for a sign of life. A lone jerk. Something.

    ¡°Because they insisted," Isbibarra said, his face expressionless. "We both know they should not have come.¡±

    Appo struggled to find the words, and his sadness slowly morphed into rage. Isbibarra pulled out his knife.

    ¡°I know what you are thinking, healer. I can feel your anger.¡±

    ¡°They were kids!¡± Appo suddenly screamed. ¡°They were kids and you killed them! How could you fucking do that?!¡±

    ¡°They knew the risks!¡± replied Isbibarra, matching Appo¡¯s volume. ¡°Did I not warn them to stay home? I did not come all this way to be a babysitter! It is no one¡¯s fault but their own! The moment they killed the Krazeek, a debt had to be repaid. I could not have done it with you or with the Head. This was the only way.¡±

    ¡°The- The only way?! You left us there to die! Does that mean nothing to you?¡±

    Isbibarra raised his dagger and pointed it at Appo. ¡°No more of this. Remember why we are here. Hate me or not, we continue.¡± If the blind man was at all troubled by what he had done, he did not show it.

    ¡°No,¡± said Appo. ¡°I¡¯m done.¡±

    Isbibarra sighed, pulling the camel behind him. Gizzal tried to yell through his gag and Isbibarra placed the dagger around his neck, drawing blood with the sharpness. ¡°They were children, yes. But are you willing to let two deaths doom the rest of Ostior? Will you let the screaming plague claim the rest?¡±

    Appo looked into Gizzal¡¯s panicky eyes. The Head was far from innocent, but he didn¡¯t deserve to die. Neither did the rest of them. Appo needed to get into Zabukama, by any means necessary. But he couldn''t escape the feeling that Isbibarra had planned it as soon as they arrived.

    ¡°Very well,¡± said Isbibarra as Appo rose. ¡°Lead the way. We are going to the gate.¡±

    Appo frowned, suffocating his fury. If Isbibarra was leading them to their deaths, there was nothing either could do about it now.

    As the Appo rounded the outpost, he overheard a cacophony of whooping and hollering coming from the gate, growing louder as they approached. Hundreds of Krazeek were waiting for them. The gate of Zabukama blocked out the setting sun. In the shade, Appo saw the gate was twisted and warped as if something the size of a mountain burst through it. Several holes and tunnels opened through the sides of the walls, containing at least three or four Krazeek each. A few threw brown globs near them, and Appo realized in faint shock they were tossing feces at them. Fortunately, they passed them all harmlessly.

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    About ten Krazeek jumped to the ground, keeping a cautious distance from the group as they approached. Appo recognized one, as it waved at them with a seared arm, pink from fresh burns. It hissed at the three, showing its massive crooked smile. The other Krazeek responded in kind.

    Isbibarra stepped in front of Appo, holding his dagger in the air. He held it outwards, angling it for all to see.

    ¡°Off-er-ing!¡± Isbibarra enunciated loudly.

    The Krazeek ceased their jeering. Isbibarra repeated it a few times, allowing the Krazeek to soak in the syllables.

    Appo¡¯s rage spilled over again. Isbibarra¡¯s discretion regarding Zabukama was making more and more sense. ¡°There was never a secret passage,¡± he asked, not expecting an answer.

    ¡°Off-er-ing!¡± Isbibarra repeated. The Krazeek became silent. Isbibarra turned, lowering his dagger, and briskly returned to the camel. Appo shut his eyes, preparing for Isbibarra to kill him.

    He never touched him. Instead, Isbibarra pulled Gizzal off the camel. The Head cried as his body landed on the ground with a thud.

    ¡°Off-er-ing.¡±

    The Krazeek erupted in hollers, all grinning and flashing their teeth. They jumped repeatedly, some slamming their elongated limbs into the ground. As the shrieking continued, Isbibarra crouched over Gizzal, showing him his dagger.

    ¡°I want you to know that I could have picked anyone. The Krazeek care not for the quality of their offerings. I simply want you to appreciate the effort I took to bring you here. You are probably thinking, ''Why me? What did I do to deserve this?''" Isbibarra''s brow furrowed, his pale eyes staring with the ferocity of daggers. "Mikal repeated the same thing to me for days before he turned."

    Gizzal screamed through his gag. Tears streamed down his face.

    "Think of it this way: your great-grandfather likely did the same. It is appropriate, no? That you meet your fate the same way he earned his?¡± Isbibarra dragged Gizzal by the feet, who thrashed against his grip.

    ¡°Isbibarra!¡± Appo cried, but it didn''t matter. Everything was out of his control now. He could only spectate.

    ¡°I remember that night so long ago,¡± Isbibarra said smiling wider than he had ever done before. ¡°When smoked the drawstring together in the moonlight. It was a sweet moment, no? I almost had second thoughts¡­ You asked me, ¡®Do you plan to kill me?¡¯ You remember?¡±

    Gizzal shook his head in desperation.

    ¡°You should have asked me if you were going to die. Perhaps then I would have told you the truth.¡±

    With that, Isbibarra let go of Gizzal, backing away towards Appo and the camel. As he did, the Krazeek slowly approached, poking and prodding with thin wooden rods and long black fingers. Gizzal continued to cry as the Krazeek surrounded him, each flashing their wide smiles. Their pokes grew more aggressive, each pulling Gizzal¡¯s bound body in different directions. Gizzal¡¯s weight mattered little as they seemed to drag and toss the overweight Head with ease. As Gizzal cried, the burnt Krazeek lifted his arms overhead and slammed them over him. The others fell in line, beating him. Hundreds more cheered them on.

    Appo could only watch in horror. At some point, Gizzal¡¯s gag came off, allowing his screams to fill the massive corridor of the gate. This only incensed the Krazeek further, and their hollering grew to a deafening volume. At least twenty surrounded Gizzal now. Eventually, they started using their teeth. Gizzal¡¯s screams became anguished cries. Streaks of blood flew, becoming chunks of flesh. The herd of Krazeek dragged their victim to the walls, but not before Appo spotted a bit of intestine flinging through the air. They then disappeared into the wall, leaving nothing but a thick, bloody stain where his body had once been.

    It was too much to take in. Appo only stared at the ground as the Krazeek dispersed, leaving nothing but the twisted metal of the gate in their way.

    Isbibarra nudged Appo forward with the hilt of his dagger. ¡°Onward, healer.¡±

    The two passed into Zabukama, now completely unopposed.

 100k! (Authors Update)

    Hey people.

    Part III is coming, and as of right now it''s completed and mostly edited. I will come back and review everything before posting, but as of now nothing will get delayed. The release schedule will slow somewhat, but it will likely be dropping 3 times a week like it was originally for part 1. I don''t want to drop it all immediately, so I beg patience haha.

    Really just wanted to say thanks to everyone who has been keeping up with the story. Last night, Screaming Plague crept over 100k views, which is just crazy to me. The fact people not only like this but seem to keep up and stay invested has been an incredible experience. It''s been a boost that certainly let me push through the worst of the writer''s block and inevitable self doubt.

    The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

    I do have an idea for a sequel. It''s not even close to being written yet and it''d be pretty different from this story (my idea would involve multiple interweaving plot threads), but a man needs to keep a hobby. If anyone has any ideas of what they''d like to see or what they loved about this story, I''d definitely keep that in mind. I may even take a step back and do some short stories as well, filling in the gaps of this world in much closer settings (all of the characters have fully fleshed-out backgrounds that I''d love to explore). With my schedule, I won''t be able to promise anything, but I love writing and want to keep the muscle active.

    There won''t be any new chapters this week: I''ll drop an update glossary and next week I''ll keep a MWF schedule going. I just wanted to get Part II out there and make up for lost time.

    Thank you all so much for reading.

    -B

 Character Glossary II (SPOILERS UP TO PART III)

    Main Characters

    Appo Ilonnorot: Healer, former priest, one of the leading figures in the burgeoning field of medicine. Called to Ash to investigate the screaming plague. Worships Lowya, the goddess of pestilence. Cityfolk from Jyvask (east of Ash). Inquisitive, skeptical, determined. One-handed.

    Jere: A mercenary with a mysterious past who works under Boah Awil-Ishtar. Former priest. Semi-reluctant companion of Appo¡¯s investigation. From the far south of Ostior. Laconic, stubborn, tactical. Currently trapped under Ash Manor.

    Boah Awil-Ishtar: One of the nine Heads of Ash, summoned Appo to investigate the plague. An influential figure amongst Ashfolk and Heads alike. Charismatic, ambitious, intimidating. Currently the leader of the last survivors of Ash in the Manor.

    Juddken Awil-Ishtar: Boah¡¯s young adult son. Works with the Guard Corps, loyal to his father above all else. Believes he hears the voice(s) of Okkan. Sadistic, quiet, deceptively plain.

    Isbibarra: A ¡®blind¡¯ beggar who seems to be involved with the Screaming Plague. Asshole.

    Eevi: A former raider turned bartender. An acquaintance of Jere and Isbibarra. Somewhere in Ash Manor.

    The Nine Trader Heads (ranked by influence at the beginning of the story, follow either Okkan or Ati)

    <ol>

    <li style="font-weight: 400">Mendalla Ealamassi: The most powerful and influential Head within Ash. Sells pottery, though recently came into power by orchestrating the Day of Akkavan. She is classist and judges Boah despite their similarities. Stern, but open to reason. Secretly sentimental. Worships Okkan. Current whereabouts unknown.

    <ol>

    <li style="font-weight: 400">Mother of Amaren.</li>

    </ol>

    </li>

    <li style="font-weight: 400">Boah Awil-Ishtar: Sometimes referred to as ¡°The Big Man for the Little People.¡± Sells jewelry and high-end clothes. A self-made man, made his initial fortune from water trading. Is the newest Head and is treated as such by many Ati worshipers. Is highly influential with Ashfolk, who believes he will one day not only replace Mendalla in influence but also become the high priest. Is well known for his impassioned, often extemporaneous speeches in the open. Worships Okkan.

    <ol>

    <li style="font-weight: 400">Father of Juddken</li>

    </ol>

    </li>

    <li style="font-weight: 400">Zaman Urash: the patriarch of the Urashs, an old and influential family who ruled Ash for centuries until recently. Sells spices, most notably the aphrodisiac brown ash. Is old, decrepit, vulgar, and traditional in his beliefs, but is exceptionally cunning. Worships Ati. Is close friends with Kyosti and Kirashi. Maintains his own brand of desert mercenaries separate from the Corps.</li>

    <li style="font-weight: 400">Shimsusa: Sold perfume. Had distinctive red hair. Worshipped Okkan. She was highly fanatical and often praised Okkan. She worked with her brother Enlil, the current high priest of Ash. Victim of Juddken''s sacrifice.</li>

    <li style="font-weight: 400">Harran: Sells silk. An early supporter of Boah, paying for his schooling, and remains a vital ally to him today. Often called sycophantic by others. Worships Okkan. Has a large mustache.</li>

    <li style="font-weight: 400">Kyosti: Sold beads and riding animals. Large man notable for his intricately braided beard. Worshipped Ati, one of Urash¡¯s closest friends. Killed by screamers.</li>

    <li style="font-weight: 400">Kirashi: Maintained a monopoly tax on wine and ale, worked closely with taverns. Worshipped An. Close friends with Urash and Kyosti. Tongue removed by Juddken for speaking out against Boah.</li>

    <li style="font-weight: 400">Namshi: Sold paint, former artist, and was responsible for painting the murals on the walls of the Manor. Worshipped Okkan. The survivor of a stroke/mental breakdown and unable to participate in political gatherings. He was represented by his granddaughter, Nami. Both perished to screamers.

    <ol>

    <li style="font-weight: 400">Grandfather of Nami. </li>

    </ol>

    </li>

    <li style="font-weight: 400">Digram Gizzal: Sold gemstones, descended from a family known for mining. Short-statured and overweight, adorned in many jeweled rings. Worshipped Ati, though is not seen as a particularly close with the other Ati worshippers. Kidnapped by Isbibarra and sacrificed to the Krazeek.</li>

    </ol>

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    Guard Corps

    -Penzer: Head of the Guard Corps, worked for Mendalla. Claimed by the screamers in the cells

    -Adok: Guard, works for Mendalla. Young, inexperienced. Assigned with guarding Jere. Trapped underground.

    -Duncic: Guard, worked for Boah. Friend of Jere. Killed himself after being scratched.

    -Heikk: Guard, works for Mendalla. Friend of Adok. Trapped underground.

    -Ipa: Guard, worked for Boah. Early Juddken sacrifice.

    The Yald Family

    -Garabi: Patriarch of the Yald Family

    -Erish: Garabi''s wife

    -Tomi: Young powerful magi. Killed by Isbibarra

    -Uten: Oldest. Killed by Isbibarra

    -Hulla: Youngest, saved by Appo

    Others

    -Anna ¡°Malefica¡± Olavintar: Shaman, Witch accused of cursing Ash. Worshipped the Godlin, Vijar. Exiled by Ashfolk.

    -Eanna: Caregiver, works for Boah. Knowledgeable in caring for the plague victims. Sacrificed by Juddken.

    -Bjorn: FIrst plague victim encountered by Appo

    -Mena: A desertfolk woman who cared for her husband after he became afflicted with the plague. Plague later claimed her and her family.

    -Mikal: Companion of Isbibarra, patient zero of the Screaming Plague

 Part III.I.I: Emerald Fog

    Zabukama

    ?

    Green ash floated around Appo¡¯s feet as he trudged along. He couldn¡¯t bring himself to look ahead. Only by the gentle push of Isbibarra¡¯s knife was he pressing forward.

    ¡°Keep moving,¡± Isbibarra commanded. ¡°We are close.¡±

    Appo obeyed. He¡¯d been pondering who this blind man had been this whole time. Isbibarra, someone Appo believed would deliver him to the cure of the plague, had just killed two children without an ounce of remorse. All just to drag a man to the middle of the Eivett? with the sole purpose of sacrificing him.

    Isbibarra was a monster. Even to stop the Screaming Plague, it was too much.

    They¡¯d walked for half an hour now, having left their camel on a stone outcropping shortly after they passed through the gates. The thick fog left Appo nearly useless, seeing only more than a few meters ahead of him. And the day was growing dimmer.

    ¡°Wait,¡± Isbibarra said, keeping his bonsai dagger pressed beneath Appo¡¯s scapula. ¡°Hold out your necklace.¡± Appo refused to move. After a few seconds, Isbibarra reached over Appo¡¯s shoulder and pulled the necklace out underneath his robe. ¡°Stop being obstinate.¡±

    ¡°Fuck you,¡± Appo spat.

    Isbibarra shrugged off the insult. ¡°If dragging your corpse were not so inconvenient, I would save us both time.¡±

    A shriek bellowed from the distance. Appo¡¯s body grow tense. The Krazeek had been killing screamers, it seemed. But what if there were more here? This was the source of the plague, after all.

    Dread enveloped Appo. The hair on his arms stood and his breathing slowed. He felt the cold sensation of a hundred slender fingers caress his body, flowing over him like a wave. Through the fog, Appo felt watched by invisible eyes. Even Isbibarra huddled behind him, burying his face into Appo¡¯s back.

    Then in an instant, it was gone. The heat of the sticky fog returned in full force.

    ¡°The spirits are strong here,¡± Isbibarra said, ¡°but they acknowledge your God.¡±

    Appo pushed Isbibarra away from him. ¡°Ghosts don¡¯t exist,¡± he said, not believing himself.

    ¡°Sure. Tell yourself that if it helps.¡±

    ¡°So that¡¯s all it is, then? You used Gizzal to get through the wall, and you¡¯re using me to get through the city?¡±

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    ¡°Believe what you want. Did I envision holding hands with you as we strolled through Zabukama? I at least hoped you would understand. Digram Gizzal sent countless men to their deaths, and countless more built his fortune. If a life has to be offered, whose would be more deserving? A raider? An old man?¡±

    ¡°He didn¡¯t have to die.¡±

    ¡°Yet so many do.¡±

    ¡°Yeah,¡± Appo said, his thoughts wandering back to Tomi and Uten. He thought of their family, knowing they would be waiting two more nights at the least. As stubborn as Erish and Garabi were, Appo figured they¡¯d wait indefinitely.

    As the two wandered, immense shadows emerged from the fog. One after the other, clutters of slender pyramids came into view. They arranged themselves in haphazard congregations like jagged teeth piercing the emerald sky. Many slumped into the ground at an angle, and even at their gargantuan size they seemed destined to be swallowed by the desert.

    A child¡¯s laughter broke Appo¡¯s concentration. Giggles echoed through the fog, coming from every direction.

    ¡°What¡¯s that?¡± Appo asked, his hatred lost in the shock of awe and fear.

    ¡°No lingering,¡± said Isbibarra, pushing Appo forward. ¡°One hears many cries in the Black Waste.¡± Appo wondered whether they were walking through an ether of some sort, conjuring hallucinations or illusions. Maybe he was imagining everything: he and Isbibarra could still be traveling with Uten and Tomi and Gizzal. Maybe it was all a dream.

    But Appo knew he would not wake up any time soon.

    The pyramids of Zabukama appeared from nothing, cutting into the roads. Cobblestone paths haphazardly tore through the city, barely wide enough for a single carriage, let alone elephants or crowds. It felt condensed and crowded, even without people.

    Appo would have given anything to see another person. Someone living. Someone other than Isbibarra.

    Isbibarra slowly led Appo through the labyrinthian city. It was a wonder he could have memorized it, for Appo became completely lost after only a few turns. The sun was only getting lower and Appo was losing what little sight he had left. With Isbibarra¡¯s perfect memory, Appo grew more nervous at the prospect of his uselessness. He could not even defend himself.

    Except Appo did: he still had Garabi¡¯s gauntlet. And as far as he knew, Isbibarra was completely unaware of its existence. Appo had never mentioned it prior and never used it against the Krazeek. If he needed to escape, he had a way out.

    ¡°But do I?¡± Appo thought. ¡°He¡¯s killed everything that¡¯s come our way. If he wants me dead, I¡¯m dead.¡±

    The two entered a clearing, in the middle of which stood a pyramid wider than the others. Its base was more equilateral, but sunk into the ground. The visage of Lowya¡¯s crisscrossed lines swayed from the top of the pyramid down to its base, outlining the only nondescript image that broke from its black limestone.

    ¡°Do you see it?¡± asked Isbibarra. ¡°Lowya¡¯s symbol?¡±

    ¡°You know better than me. Why even ask?¡±

    ¡°Just keeping you honest.¡±

    The two stood in the courtyard for just a moment, Isbibarra holding Appo tightly again. Looking at the Temple in its entirety, Appo came to a horrifying realization: Isbibarra could navigate this city with a perfect recollection, and the fog neutralized whatever advantage Appo had with his vision. Isbibarra still needed him for something.

    Isbibarra needed a sacrifice to enter Zabukama. It was very possible he needed another to leave.

    Appo recalled what Isbibarra told him the night he awoke from his bloodroot-induced coma. He had said treasure filled the pyramid. During his travels, Isbibarra listed as many jewels as he could name. Appo was only now making sense of it all.

    ¡°We¡¯re not here to return the necklace, are we?¡±

    Isbibarra said nothing.

    Appo shut his mouth. He rubbed his arm over his gauntlet, feeling the plate that covered his forearm. He would just need one chance, once lapse of concentration. Even if unsuccessful, Appo would kill himself before he let Isbibarra offer him to the Krazeek.

    But not now. For now, he would wait.

 Part III.I.II: Meeting Your Maker

    The hallway of Lowya¡¯s Temple provided little space for the two. Appo held his hand out, feeling nothing but smooth limestone. Isbibarra¡¯s torch helped, but only a little.

    ¡°I could get him now,¡± Appo thought. ¡°He¡¯s close. If I could only get in his way-¡±

    Before Appo could move further, Isbibarra clutched his robe and pulled him back, gesturing with more strength than Appo expected. ¡°What is on your mind, healer?¡±

    ¡°What do you mean?¡± Appo deflected.

    ¡°You are nervous. But not like before¡­ Whatever you are trying to do, it will not work.¡±

    ¡°Son of a bitch,¡± Appo thought.

    ¡°Why would I not be nervous?¡± Appo said, trying to redirect the conversation. ¡°I don¡¯t even know where we are. Why should I believe you even if you told me?¡±

    ¡°I may not tell the entire truth, healer. But I do not lie.¡± Appo repressed a laugh, allowing Isbibarra to continue. ¡°I received your necklace from this Temple. I uncovered this treasure. And I fled Zabukama like I told you. You will see soon enough.¡±

    ¡°You went through all this effort, all this killing and sneaking and kidnapping. For what? Buried treasure?¡±

    Isbibarra laughed. ¡°I hope when you see it, you will begin to understand.¡±

    Appo ignored him, focusing his attention on the Shadeonite language and murals along the walls. With protection from the elements within the Temple, he could see how pristine they were. Murals full of fantastical creatures and figures with elongated fingers covered the entire walls and ceiling. Bright primary colors assisted the torch in illuminating the hallway. Appo followed them as they passed through another corridor, and then another, descending ever so slightly into the ground.

    After a few more twists and turns, the corridor opened into a darkened room. Isbibarra¡¯s torch could do only so much here. Isbibarra approached a stone outcropping that rose a meter out from the entrance. He handed the torch to Appo, keeping his knife firmly at his backside.

    ¡°Place it there,¡± Isbibarra said, gesturing to the outcropping. ¡°It helped Mikal, I believe it will help you as well.¡± Appo did so, smelling a hint of spirit as he lowered the torch. As he did, the outcropping burst into flames. The flame followed a rectangular pattern, growing outward right and left about four meters until spreading forward, illuminating the entire room.

    Under the gentle flame of the outcropping, Appo finally made out the contents of the corridor. Chests full of gemstones and jewels and diamonds filled every space within the room, each glittering as the flame spread past them. Vases and jars crowded the sides of the room. Gold coins littered the floor, as if hastily spilled by generations of looters. How so much treasure could be in one place utterly baffled Appo.

    As the flaming outcropping rounded back into a rectangular formation, Appo¡¯s attention fell to the centerpiece of it all: a large sarcophagus, its many lids discarded to the side.

    The buried treasure made sense now: they were in a tomb.

    Isbibarra nudged Appo, handing him a large sac. ¡°Fill it,¡± Isbibarra said, his voice now barely a whisper. ¡°Gemstones and diamonds, preferably. Do it fast.¡±

    Appo approached a jar of emeralds and stuffed them into his bag, keeping his eye trained on Isbibarra. Isbibarra crossed the room, handpicking several platinum jewels. It felt wrong to be looting what was obviously a burial site, but Appo¡¯s focus was elsewhere. He searched for another passageway, some way to escape. But if Isbibarra had memorized the entire pathway, could he have known of alternate routes as well?

    As Appo maneuvered his way through the crowded treasure, his eyes wandered back to the sarcophagus. The casket in the center of the tomb consisted of three layers, its outer coffin adorned with gold. Appo placed his bag of treasure down as he approached, noticing each layer of the sarcophagus to be progressively more golden. With this much gold, Appo figured the coffin alone could disrupt the entire economy of Ash. And this was only one room!

    The thoughts of wealth suddenly fell far from Appo¡¯s mind when he noticed what lay within the innermost layer of the sarcophagus: scratch marks. Thousands of them criss-crossed over each other. Someone had been buried alive and had lived long enough to almost tear through one of the coffin lids.

    But the coffin itself was empty.

    Appo turned away, focusing back on Isbibarra. Or specifically, how little attention he was paying. Isbibarra wandered along fast, almost frantically.

    ¡°Where could it be?¡± Isbibarra whispered to himself. ¡°It has to be here somewhere¡­¡±

    At that moment, a scraping noise echoed at the entrance of the tomb. Both Isbibarra and Appo turned their heads. Isbibarra froze immediately at the noise.

    It took a moment for Appo to register what exactly he was looking at. After seeing the screamers and the Krazeek, abnormal humanoids were something Appo had become accustomed to. He quickly realized that this was neither of them. A figure stood in the room¡¯s entranceway, tall and emaciated even for a screamer. It had black, leathery skin that surrounded bone and little else. The figure¡¯s face was smoothed over, lacking a nose, eyes, or even a mouth. As it lumbered into the room on stiff limbs, it scraped against the limestone walls with fingers twice the length of its already enlarged hands.

    The figure stood so still that Appo wondered briefly whether it had always been there. But then it moved again, shifting its interlocked limbs with an uncanny speed. It placed both hands over the fire, leaving them there. If the flames bothered it, it did not show.

    Several things became apparent at the moment; the first was that this being had to have come out of the sarcophagus; second was how the figure¡¯s skin and long appendages reminded Appo of the beings he encountered in the cells of Ash; finally was that Isbibarra knew how to react to the open sarcophagus.

    This was a screamer. Possibly even where the plague originated from.

    Appo crouched in the center of the room, watching as the thin figure stood over the flames. He observed Isbibarra place down his sac of emeralds and reach for his longbow. The act of pulling back his drawstring created a slight creak, and the thin figure swiveled its head towards him. Before the figure could respond, Isbibarra launched his arrow toward the sarcophagus, sending its flying bird shrieking in the middle of the tomb toward Appo.

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    The thin figure scrambled over the fire towards the sarcophagus. Its limbs flailed wildly, locked in some joints and hyper-extended in others. It crawled along like a spider with damaged legs. Appo froze in place only a few meters from the sarcophagus as the creature slashed its claws against the gold plates in a frenzy.

    Then the figure stopped. Completely still. Listening.

    Appo held his eyes open. The figure¡¯s wide palms covered the edge of the sarcophagus, sticking its pin-like head within. Behind the figure, Appo watched Isbibarra gently trot towards the exit, his way out unimpeded.

    ¡°I was wrong,¡± Appo thought, grimly. ¡°This is why he wanted me here: to distract whatever in Gods¡¯ name this thing is.¡±

    As Isbibarra turned back up the corridor, he slowly turned his head to his side. Not two meters away from the door was Appo¡¯s sac, half filled with emeralds and jewels. He nudged towards it, keeping one ear directed towards the figure. He crouched with trepidation, picking up the sac and holding it out against his body before turning back to the corridor.

    When Isbibarra stepped through the doorway, Appo noticed a shimmering green light reflecting through the bottom of Isbibarra¡¯s sack. It was an emerald, clearly visible through a hole in the bottom.

    Then two emeralds pushed out, clanging like marbles as they fell to the ground. In the tomb¡¯s silence, the crash was as loud as an elephant¡¯s roar.

    The gaunt figure bent its head over its back, twisting around before crawling back over the flames towards Isbibarra. Isbibarra scrambled, immediately dropping his emerald sack and releasing an arrow at the figure. The arrow lodged itself into its shoulder but did little to stop it. Isbibarra screamed as he reached back to pull out another arrow.

    Appo turned away, hearing scratching and clawing, not sure if the creature was attacking Isbibarra or scraping its claws against the ground. Appo would not wait to find out, though. He needed to get out of the tomb.

    ¡° To your right! ¡±

    A soft voice echoed within Appo¡¯s head. It sounded foreign as if someone were speaking directly inside of him. Appo turned as the voice suggested and found a small square passageway behind a litany of vases.

    Appo slunk his way between the vases, crouching down. The light of the room did little to illuminate everything with clarity, and it was impossible to see down the passageway at all. But then, for a moment, Appo saw it: the faint outline of a young girl in a plain dress. Then he saw long, outstretched hands, their fingers stretching to infinity. Then there was nothing, before nothing gave way to an L-shaped light at the end of the tunnel.

    Appo had little time to comprehend it all. Whatever he had just seen was far less horrifying than whatever had come out of the sarcophagus.

    Appo pressed into the passageway, becoming enshrouded in darkness. He crouched forward, feeling its top squeeze against his back. He began moving slowly, trying to keep as quiet as possible until he heard a lump behind him. Appo scrambled forward, falling to his knees as the passageway unexpectedly narrowed. A scrambling body was making his way towards him and there was little he could do but keep pressing forward toward the light.

    Only a few meters away, Isbibarra tackled Appo from behind. Appo pushed Isbibarra back, coming face-to-face with him. He was missing his headband and his gray hair had become stained in blood, coming from a massive gash that cut deep through Isbibarra¡¯s remaining eye. As Isbibarra fumbled his hands over Appo, Appo noticed his hand was now missing several fingers. Appo felt the gush of warm blood spill over his body as Isbibarra lay limp on top of him.

    ¡°You ¡­  you ¡­ you¡­¡± Isbibarra stammered.

    Isbibarra reached for Appo¡¯s left arm, his fingerless hand clawing over Appo¡¯s gauntlet. Appo swung his forearm into the wall and the gauntlet¡¯s blade extended, slashing through Isbibarra¡¯s bicep tendon. Isbibarra moaned as his right arm fell to the side, completely unusable. Appo then kicked Isbibarra away and crawled closer to the light.

    As Isbibarra reached forward with his still-working hand, Appo saw two decomposed clawed fingers wrapped around his neck. Isbibarra was then dragged back into the darkness, leaving only a thick pool of blood where his body once lay.

    Appo sat at the end of the passageway, collecting his breath. Now in complete silence, Appo gingerly turned back to the L-shaped hole, now just a meter away. He crawled up the light, feeling a sandstone block in front of him. At first, he tried pushing it forward, but its was far too heavy for him. Appo lacked the strength to push it away with one hand.

    ¡° Push it aside, stupid! ¡±

    There was that voice again. He hadn¡¯t imagined it. It almost sounded like a young girl.

    ¡°Tomi?¡± Appo asked in his head, desperate to make sense of what was happening to him. The voice responded by blowing a raspberry and laughing.

    ¡° Pull it, pull it, pull iiiit aside! ¡±

    The voice was a girl for sure, but she sounded much younger than Tomi. She had to have been no older than ten. Appo did as the voice commanded, grabbing the block from the edge and pulling it back. Although heavy, the block gave slightly. After a few more heaves and tugs, the block gave away enough space for Appo to climb through. The light was bright, almost too bright. It could not have possibly been morning already. Appo had been in the tomb not even an hour.

    Still, Appo climbed through. He looked down at his robe: Isbibarra¡¯s blood had splattered all over it. Appo did not know how Isbibarra could have even reached him if he had lost so much. Without thinking, he wiped his hands down his tunic, trying to wipe off the dust and grime from it, only to smear the blood across his waist.

    Then Appo looked up, taking in the outside surroundings. The fog had completely vanished. He could see the tops of the pyramids with ease, appreciating now how massive they were in all their glory. The sun had set, but only just beyond the edge of the pyramid skyline.

    ¡°Hiya friend!¡± It was the girl¡¯s voice again, only this time it had not come from inside Appo¡¯s head.

    Two layers of blocks above Appo stood a golden-haired child, smiling from ear to ear. She wore a plain white dress, simple but elegant. Although she wore no footwear, her feet were completely clean. The girl leaned against the pyramid, folding her arms over her chest. It would have been an almost playful sight if Isbibarra had not just been dragged to his doom right in front of him.

    ¡°Uh¡­ hi,¡± was all Appo could stutter. A child lounging off the side of a pyramid made little sense here. He wondered whether the creature had actually gotten to him and he was just imagining everything in his last gasps of life.

    The child held her arms out, raising an eyebrow. ¡°Wait, do you not recognize me?¡± She spoke jubilantly as if struggling to repress laughter at every second.

    ¡°I, uh¡­ am I supposed to?¡±

    The child giggled before stepping off her ridge. She fell slowly through the air as if sinking through water before gingerly landing on her toes. She would have been tall for her age, but still barely rose above Appo¡¯s waist. ¡°Huh, weird. Most people I meet seem to remember me. You¡¯re not even crying!¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t- Who even are you?¡±

    The child dramatically rolled her eyes before skipping to Appo. She raised her hand and placed it on his chest.

    ¡°This should help,¡± the child said as she flicked his pendant. The pendant echoed like a church bell, vibrating through his entire chest out to his arms and legs. In an instant, Appo felt years¡¯ worth of memories roll through his mind.

    He saw screamers, dead and alive and turning and autopsied.

    He saw lepers, both the ones he assisted the day before and the lepers he ignored back when he was a student in Puvaan.

    He recalled every plague he had ever treated overlapped within his eyes, boils and buboes and papules expanding and receding thousands of times.

    He saw every surgery he had performed, all of their sutures coming together on the same skin before tightening.

    He was on his knees in a dark room, back in Jyv?sk, with his hands on an open book. He was alone, performing his consecration. No one else wanted to watch him, not even his closest friends and family.

    It was a second that lasted an eternity.

    And then Appo was back. Back with this strange girl in Zabukama. But now he had clarity.

    ¡°You¡¯re¡­ the Goddess of Pestilence.¡±

    ¡°Nice to meet ya!¡± Lowya said, giggling.

 Part III.I.III: A Parting Gift

    Urash prostrated on the edge of his bed, having thrown on his crimson robe for the first time in weeks. He had heard the rumblings from underground, just as his mercenaries had. Unlike them, he knew exactly the cause. He knew the prisoners had reached the lever and shut down the fountain. Everything had gone according to plan.

    Now all he had to do was wait. It wouldn¡¯t be long.

    The murmurings grew louder outside, and Urash made out the muffled sound of beatings on the other side of the door. Loud, pounding knocks broke the silence. The mercenaries nervously eased towards it, unsheathing their swords. They expected a fight and were not wrong to assume so.

    ¡°Enough,¡± Urash said, holding his hand high. ¡°Let them in before they break down the door.¡±

    The mercenaries hesitated before following his command. A shorter one nervously unlocked several hinges before backing away. The door slammed open, and the hulking frame of Thed pushed his way through, followed by several guards. A few mercenaries slunk between the entering congregation, placing themselves next to their companions. At least twenty people filled the room before Boah made his presence known.

    Urash smiled, tapping his cane. ¡°I see you¡¯ve brought a party. What¡¯s the trouble?¡±

    ¡°You fucking know what you did!¡± Boah roared, his face contorted in anger.

    ¡°I haven¡¯t the slightest idea,¡± Urash lied, flashing a devious smile.

    Boah barely gave Urash a chance before he slapped him across the face, nearly launching him onto the floor. ¡°That fucking hurt,¡± Urash thought, realizing Boah had been wearing jeweled rings across his fingers.

    ¡°The fountain,¡± Boah enunciated. ¡°Turn it back on.¡±

    ¡°As if I could just pull a switch?¡± Urash said, cradling his bruising jaw. ¡°Why would I do such a thing? I need to drink too, you know.¡±

    Boah slapped Urash again, this time forcing his cane out of the old man¡¯s grip. Urash struggled before slipping off the bed onto the floor.

    ¡°Turn it back on,¡± Boah repeated.

    Urash spat out blood, wiping the dribble off his lower lip. He wanted to retort, but the last assault cut deeply into his cheek. Still, he looked up at Boah, smiling the same grin he had greeted him with when he first burst through the door.

    ¡°That¡¯s it,¡± Urash thought bitterly. ¡°Finish it. Release me from this torment. They¡¯ll tear you apart before long. That¡¯s enough for me.¡±

    Boah did not slap him again. He instead gestured Thed over, and the massive guard stuck a meaty leg far backward and swung it into Urash¡¯s chest. The impact was enough to push him back into the bed. He heard a crack, certain it was a rib or two. Urash tried to block another kick but only succeeded in having his fingers snap backward. Thed punched him a few more times before lifting him by the shoulders and throwing him back to the ground.

    ¡°Hurts more than I expected,¡± Urash thought, surprised he was still lucid. Thed gave another swift kick at Urash¡¯s bad knee, shattering it completely. Urash wanted to cry, but Thed refused to give him enough time. It was not a beating meant to maim, Urash had seen what those looked like. No, this was a beating to kill.

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    ¡°Why persist?¡± Urash screamed at himself. ¡°Drop dead! Put me out of my misery. Don¡¯t hold out now!¡± But his body ignored him, desperately clinging to consciousness and pain. He endured more and more of the torturous beating as Thed pounded Urash with kicks and punches. He must''ve heard five more bones break, the pain coming from all sorts of places. All the while, Boah watched in a haze of fury.

    Finally, Thed placed his platter-sized hands around Urash¡¯s skull. Urash felt the pressure building up inside his brain, threatening to burst. He prayed to Ati one last time, expecting it to be the last thing that ran through his mind.

    Instead of being granted the sweet mercy of death, Urash felt the pressure release. He opened his eyes, seeing Thed screaming and holding his right hand, now cut between the middle of his second and third fingers. One of his mercenaries held a short, bloody knife, standing between Urash and the rest of the guards.

    ¡°Back up!¡± yelled the mercenary, holding out the knife. ¡°That¡¯s enough!¡±

    ¡°Odd,¡± pondered Urash. ¡°Since when do they speak Jyv?skish?¡±

    Boah stepped forward inquisitively. ¡°Who are you to make demands?¡±

    ¡°You¡¯ve made your point,¡± the mercenary said. It sounded like a woman. Urash had thought all of his mercenaries were men, but then again, he had never cared to watch them undress.

    ¡°You¡¯re not a mercenary,¡± Boah said. ¡°Who are you?¡± The mercenary fell silent. Boah looked around the room at the others, none of whom had come to Urash¡¯s aid. He turned his attention back to Thed, who remained on the ground, sniveling as he realized his right hand had been split in two. Boah laughed in disbelief. ¡°Amazing that after all this time, I would still recognize the voice of the proprietor of Eevi¡¯s Tavern? Have you been here this whole time?¡±

    The mercenary didn¡¯t respond. She continued holding her knife out at the crowd of guards. Urash didn¡¯t know an Eevi, but after the beating he sustained, he doubted he remembered his own name.

    Boah moved along, gesturing to each mercenary as if they were wall mounts. ¡°Who else has stowed away with you, Zaman? How many more plots against me?¡± He then turned, approaching Urash¡¯s broken body, kicking away his stick. Urash coughed again, trying his hardest not to drown in his own blood. Boah crouched, putting his mouth right next to his ear. ¡°I¡¯ll figure it out, you know. Maybe I¡¯ll burn this place down like your spice house?¡±

    Urash glared at Boah with his one good eye. ¡°Do it,¡± he tried to say with his gaze. ¡°Burn it all down. See where that leaves you.¡±

    A clattering of footsteps interrupted Boah¡¯s speaking. Boah turned, finding Juddken standing between the clearing of others. The room became completely silent, save for Urash¡¯s heavy breathing and Thed¡¯s whimpering.

    ¡°Juddken!¡± Boah said, surprised by his son¡¯s arrival. ¡°What brings you here?¡±

    Juddken walked around the room taking in the scene. He passed Thed, who desperately tried to squeeze his hand back together. He looked over Urash, his limbs broken and splayed over the floor. He even approached the mercenary, who angled her dagger towards him as he approached. Juddken made no reaction, not even a flinch as the mercenary kept her blade just out of reach. He then turned to his father, holding out a piece of parchment.

    ¡°What¡­ what is this?¡± Boah asked.

    ¡°Guh,¡± Juddken spat, before pointing down to the ground. Boah quietly read the parchment as the other guards stood in a tense silence.

    As Urash lay flat on the ground, pain crept up his shattered knee and met him at his broken rib cage. His time would be coming up, soon.

    But for now, Urash would watch. And what he saw was that Juddken seemed to command more respect than his father. It became clear as Boah read over the parchment again, looking up at his son and then down again. He gulped before speaking.

    ¡°There is another way. Juddken, my blessed son, has provided us a path forward. The sacrifices that we have delivered have not been enough. Tomorrow, at rising of the sun, we will deliver Okkan a true and proper sacrifice. We will take these men and women, in addition to the prisoners below, and offer them to Okkan. Then, the water shall return!¡±

    The guards and the crowd that followed gave a hearty ¡°hoorah!¡± at the statement. Urash¡¯s good eye shot between the glum Boah and the stoic Juddken, neither reacting to each other.

    ¡°Ati,¡± Urash prayed in his mind. ¡°Do me a favor and just let me die.¡±

 Part III.I.IV: The Lhugal

    ¡°Wait!¡± Appo called, trailing behind Lowya. The girl jogged in front of him, her golden curls flapping through the air as she ran down the pyramid steps.

    ¡°Hurry up, slow guy!¡± Lowya yelled. She seemed to float over the edges of the stairs as she glided over. As they descended, Appo realized that the city itself seemed to sink lower into the ground, falling in a pit that was destined to consume everything it had once been. Appo struggled to follow as he maneuvered down the staircase alongside the pyramid.

    ¡°No, please!¡± Appo immediately regretted shouting a command at something that claimed to be a God. ¡°I, uh, need to ask some questions.¡±

    Lowya floated down to the base of the pyramid, ignoring Appo¡¯s pleas. She turned to Appo, her bright blue eyes meeting his again. Appo almost stopped in his tracks, for she had the eyes of someone far older. ¡°Ask later,¡± she said. ¡°The Lhugal is after you!¡±

    ¡°The what?¡±

    Lowya laughed before running away again. Appo reached the bottom of the tomb, chasing her between two thin pyramids, struggling to keep balance as he followed her between the slanted pathways of cobblestone. She ran around an alley, and as Appo rounded it, she vanished.

    ¡°You really don¡¯t know who I am?¡± Lowya asked. Appo turned around to find her standing behind him, pouting and folding her arms. ¡°I¡¯m so mad at you, you have no idea!¡±

    Appo stopped his immediate thought, pondering his words. ¡°I thought¡­ are you not Lowya?¡±

    Lowya blew another raspberry before gesturing down at herself. ¡°Duh! I mean this body! This face! You¡¯ve never seen it?¡±

    ¡°I guess not¡­ I¡¯m sorry?¡±

    ¡°Haha, it¡¯s okay! Just surprised, is all. I suppose it doesn¡¯t matter! I can take on other forms if you need!¡±

    ¡°Other forms?¡±

    ¡°Oh! Well¡­ I¡¯m still learning your words! So much has changed since I¡¯ve last spoken to one of your kind.¡±

    ¡°So are you really a-¡±

    ¡°A God?¡± Lowya interrupted. ¡°Or Goddess, if you wish! I also answer to deity, lord, celestial being, demiurge, daemon, and so, so, so many others!¡±

    ¡°If you¡¯re a Goddess,¡± Appo asked, ¡°why are you so young?¡±

    ¡°I am young! I mean, I¡¯m been around the sun a few hundred thousand times, which is longer than you¡¯ve been alive, but most Gods are older than that! Still, after so many years of dealing with you folk, why wouldn¡¯t you want to see things through the eyes of a child!¡±

    ¡°I must admit, I have many questions.¡±

    ¡°You should have only one right now, Appo Illonnorot! And that one is: ¡®what is a Lhugal!¡¯ You better ask it before it¡¯s too late!¡±

    ¡°How do you know my, uh¡­ okay. What is a Lhugal?¡±

    ¡°Good! Good good good! The Lhugal is what you need to get away from right now! That or something very very bad is gonna happen!¡± Lowya smiled, pointing back through the alleyway at the sunken pyramid. There was a black smear that he could barely perceive exiting the hole he had just left. Appo remembered the long claws and emaciated body.

    ¡°That thing in the tomb?!¡± Appo almost shouted.

    ¡°He¡¯s been disturbed too many times this century,¡± Lowya giggled. ¡°He¡¯s gonna look for you, probably until he catches you, unfortunately.¡±

    Appo felt his stomach drop. He felt the desire to sprint away, but for whatever reason, this small Goddess was still next to him, giving him advice.

    ¡°What can I do to get rid of it?¡±

    Lowya released a dramatic ¡°hmm¡± before responding. ¡°Maybe get higher? He¡¯ll never stop looking for you, but going up could give you a few years!¡± Lowya paced around before dramatically sighing. ¡°Oh, but then you¡¯d have to eat. I always forget. Guess you can¡¯t do that, sorry!¡±

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    There were three pyramids directly next to Appo and Lowya, each with small entrances that vanished into darkness. Appo was afraid to find what else awaited him in the other buildings. Instead, Appo rounded a corner, finding a ramp that worked its way around one of the smaller pyramids. It would have to work for now. Lowya caught the decision before Appo did, for she began skipping her way towards it, humming a lullaby.

    As Appo scaled the ramp, he spotted a peculiarity coming out of a crack in a ruined wall. It was a singular daisy, a jarring sight in the desert, let alone an abandoned city. It had been over a year since Appo had seen anything like it. He stopped running, almost transfixed. On closer inspection, he realized his assessment was not quite right: its petals were bigger than a daisy¡¯s, with massive red thorns running down its stem.

    Appo reached down to grab the flower before Lowya jumped in front of him. ¡°Don¡¯t touch it!¡± She shouted. ¡°If you see a flower, stay very far away!¡±

    Just ahead of Appo were two more flowers extending out of the edge of the pyramid. Down in the alley below, he saw several hundred springing from various cracks and holes in the ground. None of them grew close together, which was odd.

    In the city¡¯s silence, Appo noticed hurried footsteps approaching behind him. If the creature from the tomb was following him, he had much more important things to focus on. He rounded the flower, keeping his distance, and continued to climb up the ramp of the pyramid. The higher he climbed, the thinner the ramp became.

    After another corner, Appo saw what seemed to be a connecting bridge to the pyramid next to him. It was a short pathway balanced by a multitude of thin columns. The bridge was perhaps twenty meters long, but it was thin and completely exposed. On the other side was Lowya, skipping without a care as if she were a street kid playing hopscotch. Appo crouched down to his hands and knees, slowly making his way across.

    ¡°What is it, exactly?¡± Appo asked, doing his best not to look below him. ¡°The one you call a Lhugal?¡±

    Lowya sighed, swaying her legs from side to side. ¡°He used to be really nice! Him and his brothers and sisters and mothers and fathers and grandfathers and great-grandfathers and on and on and on!¡±

    ¡°Are there more like him?¡±

    ¡°None that are freed. The others are still in their tombs! You have your friend to thank for that!¡± Lowya scrunched her face in anger before relaxing again. ¡°After centuries of being trapped inside, I¡¯m sure his hearing is very sensitive. Hope he can¡¯t hear you and I talking right now!¡±

    ¡° Or we can always talk here, if it comes to it ¡±

    Lowya¡¯s disarming voice came from within Appo, almost from his chest. If he responded at all in his thoughts, it came as various expletives. He had never been so high to develop a fear of heights, but he was quickly developing one.

    After more shuffling, Appo finished his way across the bridge. Looking back on it, the structure was less a bridge and more support beam for an aqueduct, one that connected to seemingly all the pyramids in the city in some form or another. He wished he had time to appreciate more of the architectural brilliance of the city.

    ¡°If I could only have just a moment of peace,¡± Appo thought.

    ¡° You swear a lot in your head ¡±

    ¡°Shit!¡± Appo said out loud, not expecting the voice to come again. ¡°I¡¯m sorry, I don¡¯t mean to insult. This is a lot of getting used to.¡±

    ¡°You are a strange man,¡± Lowya said, pacing down the middle of the aqueduct. ¡°You¡¯re the first one to have consecrated to me in who knows how long, yet you don¡¯t address me with monikers! Do your people still use them in this age?¡±

    ¡°Uh, I apologize. Where I come from, there¡¯s not a lot of information on you.¡±

    Lowya giggled. ¡°Yet you chose me, anyway?! Forever and ever? I¡¯m flattered! Even if you did it for yourself!¡±

    Appo nearly tripped over himself at the comment. ¡°That¡¯s not true!¡± he stammered.

    Lowya waved her hand at him. ¡°Relax! Some Gods care about those things, but I don¡¯t! I just like anyone who likes me back!¡±

    ¡°How did you know? Did I say it in my head?¡±

    ¡°Nah! There are some things in your life I can connect with. I knew your name, right? I know that you¡¯re a healer, I know that you¡¯re from some place called Jyv?sk, and I know that becoming consecrated to me hurt a lot of people¡¯s feelings. I also have a connection with some souls that have passed beyond the astral plane into the Great Beyond, but since you don¡¯t recognize who I am, I¡¯m wondering how true that is for your people.¡±

    ¡°Do you mean¡­ you can talk to the dead?¡±

    Lowya laughed, skipping ahead of Appo. ¡°If only! That would be good. No, there are some things even I can¡¯t do. I can look and sound like them if you wish, though! And with you, there are so many to choose from!¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m not sure I follow,¡± admitted Appo.

    ¡°I can show you! But first, come with me!¡± Lowya suddenly turned and sprinted away, jumping over the edge of the aqueduct. Appo reached out and attempted to grab her, but was too late; Lowya had jumped down a chute of the aqueduct that slid down at a sharp angle towards another pyramid. Appo stood around, looking side to side before sighing.

    ¡°Children,¡± Appo murmured before stepping into the slide himself.

    The chute was uncomfortable on Appo¡¯s back as he bounced over bump after bump. The aqueduct was smooth but not perfect, and he felt centuries of degradation punch into his back several times. His momentum almost launched himself out of the aqueduct before he landed on the ground. He held onto his back for a second, checking to see if he broke any vertebrae in the fall.

    ¡°Get up,¡± called a feminine voice. It sounded similar to Lowya, but deeper. As Appo saw who was speaking to him, he gasped in fright.

    It was Tomi Yald. She looked no different from this morning.

    ¡°There it is!¡± said Tomi, her voice dripping with sarcastic glee. ¡°That¡¯s the response I usually get!¡±

 Part III.I.V: A Nuanced Discussion

    ¡°Wha-wha-what are you?!¡± Appo exclaimed. He scrambled up the side of the slide, reflexively kicking away from what had to be a ghostly apparition. Tomi belly laughed at the sight.

    ¡°Relax, dumbass. It¡¯s still me, Lowya! I¡¯m guessing this girl was someone you knew? Someone close?¡±

    Appo couldn¡¯t respond, instead continuing to back away. ¡°It has to be a trick. This can¡¯t possibly be a-¡±

    ¡° I¡¯m not a ghost ¡±

    ¡°This is how Gods take form within our realm,¡± said Lowya, speaking with much more fluency through Tomi than she did as the blonde girl. ¡°¡®Ostroprojectral Aura¡¯ is the term I think your people use. I can¡¯t just change into whatever from nothing. Humans have too many irreplaceable details. Too much hair, too many fingers and toes. Perfect symmetry is a bitch, I tell ya.¡±

    After hearing her talk for a moment, Appo calmed himself. It was clearly Lowya, yet seeing her walk and talk as Tomi was disorienting. ¡°Do you¡­ know how she died?¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t have this girl¡¯s memories. Just her projection, which I only have based on you. Think of her as a memory, only one I can step into like clothes! I get a bit of her personality, too. Like, she swore a lot. Pretty fucking cool, huh?¡± Lowya grinned awkwardly, flashing Tomi¡¯s white teeth at Appo.

    Appo was far from thinking so. ¡°If it¡¯s not too much, can you change back to how you were? The girl you are now¡­ she died a little too soon.¡±

    Lowya shrugged. Within a blink of an eye, Tomi Yald vanished. Lowya was now the little blonde girl again, giggling with glee. ¡°You¡¯re very, very weird!¡± Lowya exclaimed, her voice now replicating a young child again.

    ¡°So you¡¯re a Goddess,¡± Appo said, somewhat calmed by the change in form. ¡°What are you doing in Zabukama?¡±

    ¡°Zabukama?¡± asked Lowya, genuinely curious.

    ¡°The capital city of the Shadeon Empire? Where we are now?¡±

    Lowya laughed. ¡°Never heard of those silly names before! The people here called it Zartoshta! You must be lost!¡±

    Appo sighed, before remembering that Zabukama was a local name. And although Ashfolk had referred to the empire as ¡®Shadeon¡¯, Isbibarra had also mentioned the Merkamensans had wiped away every trace of the empire¡¯s language. It seemed the passage of history clouded many things.

    ¡°And to answer your question,¡± Lowya continued, ¡°I¡¯ve been here a very long time. Ever since the fall.¡±

    ¡°¡®The fall?¡¯ You mean the plague?¡±

    Lowya didn¡¯t respond, instead smiling and shaking her head before running off again. Appo chased as best as he could. He wondered if talking with Tomi would have to work if he wanted answers.

    Despite Lowya¡¯s short stature, she moved remarkably fast. Appo was afraid he¡¯d lost sight of her before the cobblestone path led to what appeared to be a city square. It was barren except for a tall, narrow pyramid that towered overhead. It looked to be at least one hundred and fifty meters in height. Were it not for the fog, Appo would have been able to see it from leagues away. Surrounding this pyramid were thousands of individual thorny daisies, each growing out of every crack within the courtyard. The two walked around them as they talked.

    ¡°You want answers?¡± Lowya said, suddenly appearing to Appo¡¯s right. ¡°You¡¯ll need to talk to a grown-up. I can think of someone you can talk to, just don¡¯t get mad.¡±

    Within an instant, the small blonde-haired girl became a fully grown man. He wore a well-fitted crimson tunic that went down to his ankles. Like Tomi before him, Appo recognized him immediately.

    ¡°Parbast?¡± Appo asked.

    ¡°Ah, again you recognize me,¡± Lowya said, this time speaking in a deep baritone. ¡°I sense prominent emotion with this one, both respect and¡­ frustration. Who was Parbast to you?¡±

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    ¡°He was my mentor: a surgeon from the city of Loam. Our relationship was¡­ complicated.¡±

    ¡°Hm,¡± Lowya said, placing his hand on his goateed chin. ¡°Would it please you to know that if I can take his form, it would mean that he has since passed on?¡±

    Appo paused. ¡°No, it wouldn¡¯t.¡± At that moment, he realized what was off about Parbast¡¯s appearance. Although Lowya had taken his form, this version was a younger, more robust version than the one Appo knew. This Parbast was in his early forties, whereas by the time Appo met him a decade prior, he was at least in his late fifties. The Parbast he knew was hunched from years of surgery procedures, and his hair had become white with age. This Parbast was toned, postured, and sported perfectly groomed obsidian hair. It was as if Appo had traveled back in time.

    ¡°Ah. Shame you had to find out this way,¡± Lowya said. ¡°I hope this form can work for you. I¡¯m sure you¡¯ve noticed that my vocabulary augments with the soul I can extrapolate from. If you have questions, now is the time to ask.¡±

    ¡°The Screaming Plague,¡± Appo said, focusing on what brought him all this way. ¡°Did it come from here?¡±

    Lowya paced, walking deep in thought. Her postural resemblance to Parbast was perfect. ¡°It has been called many things in my time. ¡®The Desert Madness¡¯, ¡®The Everlasting Pestilence¡¯, ¡®The Great Soulrot¡¯ have all come to describe it. Of course, I know of many diseases that have been called an untold amount of names even far ago. But this new one, the ¡°Screaming Plague,¡± is an apt one.¡±

    The answer perturbed Appo. He had gone from babysitting to pacing the courtyard with a scientific peer. The haughtiness and self confidence in Lowya¡¯s tone were near identical to his mentor, in addition to his long-winded responses.

    ¡°Where did it come from? And did it destroy Shad- er, this civilization?¡±

    Lowya smiled, almost pitifully. ¡°To say the plague destroyed the Zartosht overnight would be disingenuous. These things are always more complicated than that. Centuries of warfare, the encroachment of the Eivett?, and crop mismanagement, not to mention several other outbreaks all did their part. But the plague certainly dealt one of the final blows, yes.¡±

    ¡°But you created them, did you not?¡±

    ¡°Only as much as the God of Thunder creates every strike of thunder, or the Goddess of the Ocean gaze upon every droplet of water. I merely guide them, and how much depends on the power provided to me. Do you know what a plague is, Appo? What a disease really is?¡±

    ¡°What is it?¡± Appo found himself asking, not even trying to hide how little he knew.

    ¡°They are organisms, like you or me. Only unperceivable. Smaller than the tiniest insect; they would be insects to those insects, and even smaller than that. There are trillions within you right now at all times, and countless more throughout the world. Many are harmless, but some are dangerous. A rare few even kill.¡±

    ¡°Oh,¡± Appo said, wrapping his mind around the concept. He had thought he had long moved on from Parbast¡¯s lectures, but here he was, teaching him in death. ¡°But how can they not be under your control?¡±

    ¡°Is your kind completely subservient to the will of the Gods? Take yourself as an example: even the most homogenous of people refuse to be united in all manners. Even the most desperate of creatures will cling to their own maxims if they are strong enough. My precious diseases require far less than your kind ever would.¡±

    Appo paced alongside Lowya, their steps completely in sync. They were not just talking: they were communicating. He had to make his statement.

    ¡°Goddess Lowya,¡± Appo began, ¡°I come here from the city of Ash to find a cure for the Screaming Plague. The outbreak has spread far beyond anyone¡¯s control. I was led here under the belief that the disease was a curse secondary to a stolen necklace, but those pretenses appear to have been¡­ misled. I humbly ask if there is anything you can do in your power to halt the spread of the plague. It could be very well spreading across the entirety of Ostior as we know it.¡±

    As Appo finished his request, he turned. Lowya stood a few paces behind him. She was no longer Parbast, but was instead a woman in her mid-twenties. She wore a white veil that covered the entirety of her head, emphasizing her bright red lips. Appo likewise recognized this form, more so than any other he had encountered.

    ¡°Mom?¡± Appo asked. He had not spoken with her in over a decade. Lowya taking her form only meant one thing.

    Lowya reached down, picking up one of the thorned daisies. She handed it to Appo.

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry, Appo.¡± Lowya spoke in a gentle voice far removed from the mother Appo recognized. Her voice had long become shrill by the time he had grown up.  ¡°I wanted to shield you from this. Take my hand.¡±

    Appo did so. As he did, his vision changed for only half a second, but it was enough to see the truth.

    He had still been walking in the fog, alone in the desolate city. He saw Lowya not as a human, but as towering columns of outstretched hands and fingers extending deep underground and into the sky, branching forever. He saw eyes both real and false covering her entire skin, approaching and receding like the waves of an ocean. In her outstretched clawed grip of several hundred fingers, Lowya held not a daisy petal, but the petrified skeleton of a corpse.

    Only it was not a corpse; the being was still alive, its soul trapped within its rotten flesh prison, long decayed by time and anguish. Thousands of them surrounded Lowya and Appo, all piled within the courtyard. They were all victims of the plague, still suffering from their afflictions and itches, too weak to relieve their pain yet not dead enough to be free.

    Appo came too again. He had just peered into what was reality, if only for a second. Even with the presence of his mother holding him close by, Appo fainted.

 Part III.I.VI: The History of the Screaming Plague

    Appo found himself in a dream, or at least what had to have been, for he awoke in a field of flowers. The sky cast brilliant hues of blue and indigo. The massive obsidian walls of Zabukama stood tall in the distance, carving through the land like a river. Its smooth and glistening white pyramids towered high over them all.

    ¡° They all died so young. Their forebears used to live such long lives ¡±

    Two children played at the top of the hill. One of them was a boy no older than five, adorned in beautiful teal jewelry and a multitude of nose piercings. His crown bounced as the boy chased after a young blonde girl who laughed as she outran him. Lowya was quick, but perhaps it was because the boy had already been winded by chasing her.

    ¡° The Pox claimed many. Lockjaw and Consumption took others. Eventually, it was any sickness. Their first fever was almost always their last ¡±

    The bejeweled boy smiled as he watched Lowya twirl in a circular dance. Her dress fanned outward as she spun. The boy tried to mimic her before losing balance, his crown falling off to the side.

    ¡° Most died by their tenth nameday, their bodies corrupted at the very foundation. With every passing generation, they died sooner than the last ¡±

    The boy fell back on his bottom, his body going limp. His eyes drooped and he brought his arms and legs together inside his body. He fell into a deep sleep, his smile frozen in place.

    ¡° That was why they came to me. They hoped I could save them, protect them from my many creations. And I did ¡±

    Lowya ran to the boy, who had become completely still. She stared at him, her giggles fading into a slight smile before she trotted away. Across the knoll, a slightly older girl waved at Lowya, who made her way over. When Lowya reached the girl, she had taken on the form of the young boy, jewels and all. The girl, with matching opals braided brilliantly within her hair, hugged the boy. They could have been siblings.

    ¡° Bodies with such a poor foundation were never long for this plane. I could only do so much. Still, I saw them sprout. A few fell in love. If they were lucky, they made heirs of their own. They too eventually passed on ¡±

    The bejeweled girl chased the younger boy, who now ran ahead at full speed. The two laughed together, though the girl¡¯s silent hacking coughs kept her pace from quickening.

    ¡° But they were happy. We¡¯d play together, seeing me as an older brother, or a forgotten mother, or a distant cousin. Only the consecrated could see... What the others saw, one could only guess ¡±

    As the boy ran up a hill, the girl abruptly fell to her knees. Her coughing spell continued until she became still, her face lying on the ground. The boy returned to the girl, his laugh slowly becoming a soft smile.

    ¡° You would think it wouldn¡¯t matter after seeing so many die ¡±

    A rumbling sound erupted from behind them all. Appo turned, finding a towering wooden structure pushed on several wheels, each the size of a man. The tower itself stood at least thirty meters tall. Fifty soldiers pushed it, yelling at each other as they took turns climbing inside. Arrows and spears and catapults launched over Appo as it crept toward him.

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    ¡° All they knew was war. Their magnificent capacity to build was surpassed only by their ability to destroy ¡±

    Appo was in a forest now, and ten armored Soturi charged past him with swords and spears and longbows. Their blades sliced through the siege engineers like parchment before they inevitably collapsed in the rain of arrows. The yells of the charge became deafening as the siege engine approached. Appo placed his hands over his ears and shut his eyes as the carnage crescendoed.

    ¡° I guess I just wanted them to stop dying ¡±

    Then it was silent. The siege engines and the Soturi were gone. The grassy plains and Zabukama were gone. Even the sky was gone. Appo opened his eyes into a void, finding only Lowya. She stood over a body draped in an elegant silk cloth. Her face was red from tears, her hands cradling a small orb of light barely the size of a marble.

    ¡° My creations had only taken away life. For once, I wanted to give it back ¡±

    The light slowly descended towards the body, splitting down the middle as it did so. The two halves split again into four, and so on, before enveloping the body in a haze.

    ¡° But all they knew was war ¡±

    In an instant, ten pairs of elongated hands clasped Lowya and the child. Lowya screamed, echoing with the body below her. The hands pulled her into the void, fading into nothing.

    Appo found himself standing over a sarcophagus. Ten men, pierced with jewelry from head to toe, stood beside Appo. They wore various jade bracelets but otherwise lacked any clothing at all. Within the sarcophagus was a shrouded child, screaming and thrashing as the men held down his arms and legs.

    ¡° They tried to take it for themselves. They studied and poked and prodded. Some longed for immortality. Others believed they found a weapon that could destroy their enemy once and for all. But none of them thought of the cost ¡±

    Two men closed the sarcophagus. The child¡¯s cries nearly vanished as the lid slammed shut.

    ¡° When I saw what they did, all I could do was scream ¡±

    The muffled cries of the child became longer before morphing into a piercing screech. The ten men around Appo stood uneasily, glaring back and forth at each other. One lifted his finger, scratched from the tip of his finger to his palm. As blood dripped down his forearm, the man laughed. The laugh slowly became a cry, and as he looked deeper into his palm, his sobs became screams. The others followed, becoming a chorus of screams. Appo joined them, his jaw becoming unhinged.

    ¡° They were all screaming before long ¡±

    The tomb and the screaming man vanished, and Appo was back in the field of flowers. Only now it was lit aflame. Beyond the wall, the pyramids of Zabukama burned, its smoke obscuring the entire city in a hazy ash. The siege engines collapsed under the weight of their burning rubble, crushing the occupants inside. Through the field, hordes of screamers engulfed the soldiers. There must have been at least ten thousand, trampling all before them. Appo tried to cover his eyes and ears again, but it made no difference. He heard and saw all.

    ¡° But then it all stopped ¡±

    Appo was back in the void. In front of him was Lowya, crying in solitude. The body below her was gone, and the light dimmed to a faint glimmer. She folded her arms in front of her, rocking herself from side to side.

    ¡° I was alone. Trapped in the very grave I helped dig ¡±

    Appo approached Lowya, who paid no mind to him. He stepped over ether as he found her, pulling her body close to his. Lowya sobbed into his tunic as Appo patted her golden hair.

    Then Lowya looked up at Appo. He didn¡¯t see one face. He saw only a blur: hundreds of faces morphing into each other instantaneously. He knew it was the faces of thousands of Ashfolk that he had passed by, ones only barely remembered. Thousands who had succumbed to the plague, their souls now barely clinging to their rotten bodies. They were here, with him.

    Appo shoved Lowya away, and the smooth featureless blur of a face morphed into a lumpy scar tissue. Her frame grew and her white dress gave way to gangly black appendages. Black claws scratched at its hips, still stained with Isbibarra¡¯s blood.

    When Appo awoke from his dream, the Lhugal remained standing over him.

 Part III.I.VII: Who You Were

    Appo stared at the Lhugal for what seemed an eternity. He had awoken on a stone slab underneath the Lhugal¡¯s presence. He could see the purplish night sky surrounding the black perimeter of the Lhugal. Wherever Appo was, he was outside. Were it not for the creature¡¯s infinitesimally small heaving of its slim chest, Appo would have presumed it to be a statue.

    But it was there. Completely unchanged, except it¡¯s one piece of armament: Appo¡¯s necklace, which now lay atop the creature¡¯s breast.

    Appo refused to move. He had not known how he had got to the slab, or who brought him here. If the Lhugal did, it had yet to harm him.

    ¡°They called it ¡®The Blessing of Lowya.¡¯ That was its first name.¡±

    Appo allowed his eyes to follow the voice. Lowya sat at the edge of his periphery, once again taking the form of the golden-haired child. She spoke softly, holding back tears. ¡°It could have saved them.¡±

    Appo¡¯s gaze fell back to the Lhugal. It remained still. He kept testing his luck, readjusting slightly with his fingers and toes. He allowed himself to swallow, clearing his throat ever so slightly.

    ¡°My blessing is what destroyed Zartoshta. And if it has escaped¡­ it will destroy the rest of your world as well.¡±

    Appo searched inside himself and found the courage to speak. ¡°Does¡­ it see me?¡±

    Lowya looked up at the Lhugal. ¡°Yes,¡± she whispered. ¡°But he is not scared.¡±

    ¡°Why?¡±

    ¡°Because¡­ I¡¯m not scared of you.¡± Lowya rose to her feet, moving ever closer to both Appo and the Lhugal. Lowya placed one pale hand underneath the Lhugal¡¯s claw, which seemed almost twice the size of hers.

    Appo steadily rose his body off the slab, not keeping his eyes off the creature. ¡°I thought you said you can¡¯t control the plague.¡±

    Lowya looked up at the Lhugal, her eyes still watering. ¡°Hm. He does seem different. Like I have a say¡­ Maybe that¡¯s because you are here.¡±

    ¡°Why would that make a difference?¡±

    ¡°Well¡­ you¡¯re consecrated to me. You give me strength I haven¡¯t had in a very long time. And since you¡¯re the only one here in this city¡­ that gives me a lot of say.¡±

    Appo¡¯s head began to work. He knew the basic principles of consecration. He knew the power of what uniform worship could give to the Gods. It was a power every civilization craved. Jyv?sk thrived off its uniform worship of Atta. Ash itself had paralyzed itself by having two Gods to choose from. Appo had his doubts on how much influence it had, but to see its power demonstrated gave him an idea.

    ¡°Lowya, if me being here gives you strength, can you not control the plague as a whole?¡±

    Lowya shook her head. ¡°No, no, no. This place you speak of, Ash is it? Too far away. One consecration would not give me such power, at least not here. There would have to be uniformity, and a ceremony would have to take place.¡±

    ¡°What type of ceremony?¡±

    Lowya reached up to the Lhugal, cradling the farthest tip of the criss-crossed pendant. ¡°Consecrations require a few things: a blessed altar, an element of Godship, and authentic commitment on behalf of the believer. All of these must likewise be present for me to have any say. This necklace is worthy of Godship, and you are a believer, but your city¡¯s altar is far from here. You would need to get there.¡±

    ¡°But if I did,¡± Appo said, his mind turning. ¡°Say I found a way back and place the necklace it on their holy altar. Would my consecration be enough?¡±

    Lowya sighed. ¡°It would have to be uniform in the city. If anyone were to disagree or refuse, my power would not be enough.¡±

    ¡°What if¡­¡± Appo trailed off, thinking of the gravity of his situation. ¡°What if there is no one left to disagree? What if there were only screamers?¡±

    Lowya thought of it for a moment. ¡°Maybe... The infected call to me, in their own way. If you were to guide them, maybe it could work.¡±

    ¡°Could you cure them?¡± Appo asked, fairly certain he knew the answer before he even asked. ¡°Return them to what they once were?¡±

    Lowya turned again to the Lhugal, cradling its claw. She shook her head.

    ¡°But you can influence them. Maybe even send them here, away from Ostior? You wouldn¡¯t need to be alone.¡±

    Lowya pondered the thought, remaining silent.

    Appo relaxed himself, feeling as if he could have a say. ¡°There were bad people here. I won¡¯t even lie, there are bad people out there as well. But there is good as well. People who don¡¯t deserve it.¡± Appo found the courage to stare at the immovable Lhugal. ¡°People like him. That is who your plague is killing the most. Children don¡¯t deserve to die.¡±

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    Lowya turned to him, her eyes watering again. ¡°No. No, they don¡¯t.¡±

    ¡°Then help me, Goddess.¡±

    Appo and Lowya stared in silence for a moment, each redirecting their gaze back to the Lhugal and back to each other. After a moment, Lowya¡¯s tears receded, her face lighting up.

    ¡°You need a way back,¡± Lowya said.

    ¡°Yes,¡± Appo admitted. ¡°I don¡¯t have a way through the wall, either.¡±

    ¡°Ew! No, there¡¯s a faster way. Much, much faster.¡± Before Lowya could even finish her sentence, she sprinted away, her giddiness returning in full force. ¡°Come on! Follow me!¡±

    Appo turned, keeping his eyes gazed on the Lhugal as it remained still at the edge of the slab. He backed away, keeping his eyes trained on it before putting space between them.

    Appo quickly discovered he had been on the top terrace of the middle pyramid. He was almost a hundred meters in the air. Appo felt winded even walking, though he figured it could have just easily been his fear and exhaustion as it was the thin air. He followed Lowya through a spiral staircase and even more corridors, passing degraded statues and untouched murals. He also passed a daisy or two, keeping a far greater distance than he had earlier in the day.

    Eventually, Lowya led Appo to a grand hall. Like the terrace, the outer wall of the pyramid was completely open, showing the Eivett? in all its glory. From this height, Appo swore he could even see the dunes of the Rust Waves from here.

    But this room was different. At the wall facing the pyramid center was a grand podium, behind which were several hundred metal-plated gears. The gears overlaid each other, forming a mosaic that took up much of the massive wall. Several plated bronze metal pieces extended from the walls, holding interlocked mirrors. It was a magnificent display of engineering; Appo had seen examples of gears forming together to create astrolabes or calendars, but never before had he encountered something so intricate.

    On the ground of the grand podium was a relief, with multiple etchings of Shadeonite speech carved into it. After a few seconds of making sense of the sight, Appo realized that it was entire map of the Eivett?. Quickly recognized the western Fincur mountains and the Thorne River, along what the city of what he knew to be Zabukama. The multitude of cities that filled the desert space astounded him, he wondered how many had been buried by time.

    ¡°What is this place?¡± Appo asked.

    ¡°The Room of the Jaunt!¡± Lowya exclaimed. ¡°The Lhugals used this all the time!¡±

    ¡°To do what, exactly?¡±

    ¡°Well, the Zartosht had many cities to go to, right? Their Lhugals had all the power, so they personally had to bless the many Temples. Well, that would take forever and ever, right? Going from one city to the next! That¡¯s all they would ever do!¡±

    Appo continued to look over the massive structure as she spoke, trying to make sense of it all. ¡°I¡¯m listening.¡±

    ¡°Eventually they created the Jaunt! It allowed them to travel from one city to the next in an instant! It could only take one person, but it took a lot of time and energy!¡±

    After everything Appo had seen, he had very little room left for skepticism, but Lowya still managed to find some. ¡°And how did they do that?¡± he asked.

    ¡°They weren¡¯t just engineers!¡± Lowya said, excitedly. ¡°They had many powerful Magi! All this machine did was focus its energy and redirect it towards somewhere else!¡±

    ¡°Huh. I wish we had that,¡± Appo said, thinking back to Tomi. She would have been amazed by it all.

    ¡°No problem! With my help, I¡¯ll get you there in no time! I always used to sneak the Lhugals away to some of the quieter cities at night. Their families never liked it, always keeping them inside all the time.¡±

    Appo took it all in. The gears were rusted, but nothing made it seem as if the machine was inoperable. He understood little about magic, but wondered what he would uncover if he stayed in this city. Or what discoveries he could have made with time. Even with his few conversations with Lowya, he had to reconsider so much about what he thought he knew about disease. He wished he could sit here and chat with her, answering any questions he could conjure. How many others would have such a privilege?

    But now was not the time. For the first time since he left Ash, he had a plan.

    ¡°Where will this take me, exactly?¡± Appo asked.

    ¡°No matter what, it always took us inside a Temple. None as nice as this one, but the rooms all looked the same. Lots of statues wherever we went.¡± Lowya giggled at the memories. ¡°People were always scared when we just showed up!¡±

    The answer concerned Appo. There was no telling who would be at the Temple, or how they would react to his arrival. If screamers were wandering around, they would kill him instantly. And neither had even considered the fact that this machine still worked; what if it killed Appo outright?

    ¡°No,¡± Appo said to himself. ¡°This is the only way.¡±

    Lowya adjusted a jangled mess of gears as Appo peered through the map of the Eivett?. It was difficult to find Ash, for the Thorne had changed significantly in the last few centuries. But after some searching, there was only one city that lay between a cliff face, one that would have been on the north side of the Thorne. At one point, the Temple would have been right along the riverbanks. As Appo pointed it out, Lowya made the necessary adjustments, angling the mirrors right on the center of the massive podium.

    Appo looked out over the city one last time. He realized what it was, a truly haunted place smothered by fog he could no longer perceive. He wondered what was real: Zabukama when he arrived, or Zabukama as he now saw it. Regardless of the truth, the effects of the Screaming Plague remained. He could not let that happen to Ostior.

    ¡°Hey.¡± It was Lowya, standing behind Appo. She held Appo¡¯s necklace in her hands. ¡°Don¡¯t forget this. You can¡¯t do the consecration without it.¡±

    ¡°Oh,¡± Appo said, taking it from her. He wondered how she had gotten it off of the Lhugal. ¡°Thank you.¡±

    ¡°So you never figured out who I was? This isn¡¯t your sister or daughter or anything like that?¡±

    Appo turned, trying his best to recognize the girl. ¡°I¡¯m sorry. I would have remembered hair like that, for sure.¡±

    ¡°Hmph,¡± Lowya pouted. ¡°I wish I knew. I like how happy she makes me. Even when she¡¯s sad, she¡¯s not really sad, you know?¡±

    Appo smiled, resisting the natural urge to pat the Goddess¡¯s head. ¡°I truly hope so.¡±

    Both Lowya and Appo took their place on the podium. Appo stood back, watching as the massive mirrors angled towards him, placed between him and the iridescent moon above him. Lowya placed her hands on stone columns nearby. As she did, beams of light illuminated her arms, traveling down the columns and into the ground. A great grinding noise echoed through the terrace. Appo¡¯s hair stood up, as did Lowya¡¯s, her golden hair flashing outward in great bursts.

    Appo looked at Lowya one last time. As the energy dispersed into the ground, Appo looked ever closer at her face. Her bright blue eyes seemed just slightly younger now. She smiled, and Appo realized that he had never gotten a look at her teeth, still young and crooked. He was unsure why, but right then and there it all clicked.

    ¡°Oh,¡± Appo said. ¡°I remember who you were.¡±

    A great beam of light enveloped Appo and he vanished in an instant.

 Part III.II.I: Here

    Ash

    ?

    For a moment, Appo believed he was dead. His view of view became completely black, only for everything to slam back into place. One second, Appo stood at the edge of the pyramid overlooking Zabukama. The next, he had entered a grand chamber, and a thunderous crack echoed back towards him as it all came back into view. A wave of nausea hit Appo and he stumbled to his knees, just barely keeping himself upright.

    ¡°Am I alive?¡± Appo thought, before immediately puking.

    Appo didn¡¯t know where he was. He¡¯d appeared in a spacious room, lined on all sides with thick limestone. Whether he made it to the Temple, he didn¡¯t know, but it reminded him of the sacrificial chamber he had snuck into a few weeks prior. But then again, so had most Shadeonite architecture he had encountered. He could have been in any forgotten underground structure.

    Appo¡¯s dizziness eventually subsided, allowing him to get to his feet and take in his surroundings. The first reassuring sign was that Appo noticed the chamber was lit by torchlight. The second was the stuffiness of the room. He assumed people had at least once lived there.

    ¡°Okay,¡± Appo thought, still recovering from the jump to speak, ¡°how do I prove I¡¯m back in Ash?¡±

    As Appo gradually got to his feet, the stuffiness of the room grew stronger. The smell worsened when Appo realized that below him, puddles of blood stained the floor. His disgust morphed into fear as he followed the trail to his right. A gangly, twisted spire of rotten flesh met him. Appo made out a base of four legs, propped together by bits of wire and straw, holding two naked torsos on top of each other. Bits of flesh hung from stripped limbs, spiraling out as the arms split into needle-like appendages. A debrided skull sat on top of the torsos, and from each of the limbs, Appo spotted four degloved faces. Piles of other discarded body parts littered the room, painting the floor of the chamber in a sea of red.

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    The smell and the sight of it all hit Appo in another wave of nausea, and he retched again. He needed to leave. At least before whatever created this fresh shrine found him and added to it.

    Appo crawled blindly, falling away from the shrine as far as possible. He spotted the vague shapes of statues as he passed, but he refused to look, fearing the sight of more rotten flesh. He dragged himself against the far wall, backing against it before calming himself. No one was coming after him yet.

    ¡°This is a mistake. What am I doing here? What even is ¡®here?¡¯¡±

    As Appo took in the rest of the room, he found more signs of life. There were several footsteps, many stained piles of blood, and even a firepit. Considering the shrine, someone had spent much time here. But there were no cots, no evidence of someone sleeping here. Appo figured he was alone for now.

    Appo followed the footsteps, which seemed to come from a side of the wall. With more investigation, he saw a clear trail pushing dirt from a triangular passageway. Appo looked inside, but it traveled deep. If there was anything on the other side, he could not see it.

    Suddenly, the weight of his task felt too heavy a burden. He believed he could come back to Ash and convince Ashfolk to become consecrated to a mysterious God? After all that had assuredly happened since then? If there were survivors, he had never assumed what had become of them. Were they still even sane? What would stop them from killing him on sight?

    ¡°Nothing at all,¡± Appo thought.

    Whoever created the shrine, Appo reluctantly realized that he would have to convince them to act otherwise. It was his only chance at stopping the plague. He could do that later.

    Appo crawled into the tunnel, compelled by both duty and compulsion.

    The tunnel was dark and long and smooth. It went on for far longer than Appo could¡¯ve been comfortable with, but he continued. He needed to rest multiple times, sliding against the sandstone wall every few minutes. Even with two hands, it would have been a struggle. He let his mind wander, thinking back to what Lowya told him. Consecration gave her power, but only if uniform. Appo remembered how militant and passionate many of the worshipers were. Would he need all of them to become consecrated? The more he crawled, the more daunting his task became.

    ¡°Talk to me, Lowya,¡± he pleaded in his head. ¡°Tell me I¡¯m making the right decision, please.¡± But Appo knew better. Worship wasn¡¯t a conversation, at least here.

    He would have to come up with a plan. But what arguments would work? He didn¡¯t even know who lived, or whether he¡¯d want to meet him. He prayed that whoever was at the other end of this tunnel was reasonable.

    Appo saw a dim light in the distance after nearly half an hour of crawling. Too late to turn back now.

    Appo finally found himself in another open room. He took a deep breath, taking a chance to stretch and get to his feet.

    He only had a moment to get his bearings before being punched in the face.

 Part III.II.II: Synthesis

    ¡°It couldn¡¯t possibly be¡­¡±

    Jere stood in disbelief, one hand gripped around the intruder¡¯s robe and the other gripping his shackles. He hadn''t expected Juddken, but this didn¡¯t look like any of the victims. And it was certainly too quiet to be a screamer. No, even in the dim light, Jere recognized who it was. The slim frame, the black robe, the naturally smug look.

    ¡°Appo?¡± Jere asked.

    Appo opened his eyes, quickly matching Jere¡¯s incredulousness. ¡°Are¡­ are you real? You can¡¯t be real.¡± The two men stared at each other, waiting for some trick to make themselves known, or to wake up from some awful dream. Jere loosened his grip around Appo¡¯s robe.

    But in an instant, they knew. Jere brought one arm onto Appo¡¯s shoulder and brought him close. He hugged him as wide as his chains allowed. Appo hesitated before hugging him back. The two men began an uproarious laughter. Neither seemed to believe their luck, but were it not real, both were willing to indulge just a little longer.

    ¡°I didn¡¯t take you as the hugging type,¡± Appo said, chuckling.

    ¡°Shut up.¡± Jere¡¯s retort would get no better than that. He was just happy to see a friendly face at all, let alone one he had long thought to be dead.

    ¡°Last I heard, the Corps locked you away. How¡¯d you get here?¡±

    ¡°They did,¡± Jere laughed. ¡°I got out. Wouldn¡¯t believe how even if I told you.¡±

    Appo shook his head. ¡°After everything I¡¯ve been through, I bet I would.¡±

    Jere released his grip, looking the healer over. He looked much the same, though he clearly needed a bath. Jere¡¯s eyes fell to Appo¡¯s left arm, realizing it ended halfway down his forearm. Jere could only assume who was responsible.

    ¡°Sorry about the hand.¡±

    ¡°Oh!¡± Appo said as if he had forgotten about it. ¡°Yeah. Is what it is.¡±

    Before they could reminisce further, Adok called out from behind them. Jere had told him he would only be a moment, so he was sure the sound of laughter would have been confusing to comprehend. He motioned Appo to follow.

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    ¡°More survivors?¡± Appo asked. ¡°How many of you are there?¡±

    Jere winced at the memory of there being others. ¡°Few. It¡¯s not what you¡¯d expect.¡±

    Jere led Appo down the tunnel, not giving him much time to make sense of the surroundings. They greeted Adok halfway down the tunnel, who seemed curious to meet the source of the second voice.

    ¡°Appo!?¡± Adok exclaimed, his voice quivering at the sight. ¡°What are you doing here? I thought¡­ I thought you were dead!¡± Jere recalled how guilt-ridden Adok had been only a few days prior. It was just now registering that seeing Appo alive after all this time would be a surprising sight for both of them.

    ¡°Indeed,¡± said Jere. ¡°You failed at killing either of us, it seems. Forgive yourself now?¡± Jere noticed Appo showed slight trepidation upon seeing the boy. ¡°He¡¯s on our side,¡± he reassured.

    ¡°Ah,¡± Appo said cautiously, only now taking recognition of the chains and the walls. ¡°What is this place, exactly? Where are we? Are you¡­ prisoners?¡±

    It was a peculiar question. ¡°What do you mean?¡± Jere asked.

    ¡°We¡¯re beneath Ash Manor,¡± answered Adok. ¡°Where have you been?¡±

    Before Appo could respond, a coughing fit broke out from the far end of the tunnel. Jere and Adok had become used to it, so Appo¡¯s quickness in brushing them aside caught both off guard. Appo pushed past the boulders and found Heikk lying flat against the wall.

    ¡°What¡¯s wrong?¡± Appo asked, not even stopping to ask his name.

    ¡°He broke his leg,¡± Adok said. ¡°We tried to set it, but he¡¯s getting worse.¡± Appo cupped his head on Heikk¡¯s forehead, recoiling at the heat. Heikk was unresponsive, his breath coming in quick bursts. Appo looked down at Heikk¡¯s leg: it was straight, set between piles of rocks, but the skin had become blackened and puffy above the break.

    Jere and Adok let Appo look over Heikk in silence. Eventually, Appo stood and shook his head.

    ¡°Well?!¡± Adok pleaded. Jere already knew the answer before the healer explained it.

    ¡°He has bloodrot,¡± Appo said. ¡°Gangrene has already set in, as well. Taking his fever and state into account¡­ He doesn¡¯t have long.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s it? But there must be something you can do! Can¡¯t you amputate the leg?¡±

    ¡°I know bloodrot better than most, believe me.¡± Appo raised his left arm, showing his bandaged stump. ¡°I almost died of it in the desert, and I had access to clean air and medicine far more effective than what I have now. If only kept some on my person, but¡­¡± Appo¡¯s voice trailed off. ¡°The best we can do is make him comfortable. I still have a few poppy seeds that can lessen the pain, but it¡¯s all I can do.¡±

    Adok looked back and forth between Appo and Heikk, his eyes pleading for a better answer.

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry. I wish I could tell you better news.¡±

    Jere came from behind Adok, patting him on the back. Adok¡¯s mouth turned into a frown, but he nodded. He knew the answer, just like Jere did. ¡°Just,¡± Adok stammered, ¡°make it easy.¡± Appo nodded in return, reaching into his satchel. As he did, Jere realized something.

    ¡°I¡¯m confused. You said you were in the desert. How did you come to the Temple then? Is there a tunnel?¡±

    Appo sighed as he crushed the poppy seeds. ¡°Neither of you would believe me.¡±

    ¡°Try us.¡±

    As the three of them crowded around Heikk, Appo told them where he had come from.

 Part III.II.III: In the Land of Pain

    Urash was in agony. He struggled to decide the worst of it; the pain in his knee had become excruciating, but he also struggled to breathe with his broken ribs pinching his lungs. The few limbs that didn''t torment him had long gone numb, and his movements became uncoordinated and stiff. His bad eye was now completely blind, and the left side of his face sunk at an odd angle. He was in too much pain to sleep or eat, and he begrudgingly accepted he would likely starve to death before the pain did him in.

    At the very least, Urash was outside. The guards granted enough mercy to prop him against a log near the fire pit, but he had fallen to his side and now lay flat on his back. Once there, he refused to move. He¡¯d let someone else bother with him, anything to avoid the pain.

    But even the embers of the firepit overwhelmed Urash''s senses. It wasn¡¯t long before he missed the comfort of his master suite.

    ¡°If only they knew how flammable this Manor truly was,¡± pondered Urash, watching the flames fizzle overhead, ¡°they¡¯d think twice about this pit.¡± He attempted to laugh, but the pain in his chest was too much for even that.

    Two of Urash¡¯s mercenaries joined him around the pit, tied and bound to the surrounding logs. Most had already taken the chance to kill themselves, ingesting some sort of poison they carried on their persons. He had long heard rumors that his mercenaries carried it, but he had never been in a situation to see them follow through. Either from a lack of understanding or willful ignorance, they had never realized how dire the situation was until now. The ones left were too cowardly to have followed through.

    But then there was the scarred woman. Boah had called her Eevi, so she must¡¯ve stowed away in one of the mercenary¡¯s outfits. He recalled Kirashi frequenting a place called ¡°Eevi¡¯s Tavern.¡± Either way, she was why he remained alive.

    Urash hated her. More than Boah or Juddken or even the fat bastard that nearly crushed his skull.

    Eevi sat at the end of the log, closer to Urash than the other mercenaries. She stared at the flames in silence, her eyebrows furrowed in frustration. She stayed completely still until a group of two young guards interrupted her. Urash doubted they were even part of the Corps; they could have been hooligans or outsiders, based on how they carried themselves. They hovered behind Eevi, smiling wicked smiles. Urash knew immediately what they would do once the others went to sleep.

    ¡°I keep telling her how pretty she is, but she won¡¯t listen,¡± said one guard, looking deep into Eevi¡¯s good side. ¡°Cheer up, lass. Thought you¡¯d know how to take a compliment. It¡¯s a scary place here, didn¡¯tcha know?¡±

    The other guard ran his fingers through Eevi¡¯s coarse hair. ¡°They¡¯re plannin¡¯ a big sacrifice for ya¡¯ tomorra. Wouldn¡¯t wanta leave ya alone. I¡¯ll protect ya, make sure to keep ya all nice''n pretty!¡±

    ¡°Oh yeah, always wanted to lay with a raider. It¡¯d be like riding a yak!¡±

    ¡°Ow ¡®bout this: you take the girly side, and I¡¯ll take the scars. Always liked my meat well done!¡±

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    The two guards laughed and nudged closer to Eevi. As they did, Urash watched her flash a smile, biting her lower lip and side-eying both of them. ¡°Oh, you boys want to make love the steppefolk way? Ride me like one of your beasts of burden?¡±

    The guards hadn''t expected such a candid response. It halted their encroachment.

    ¡°You sweet, sweet boys. You have much to learn. In the desert, we begin with tongues. We don¡¯t wait. I chew before I swallow. Real men have the skin to handle it. But when they don¡¯t, I take it with me.¡±

    The guards were with her until her last bit. ¡°The fuck you on about?¡± one of them asked.

    ¡°You want to make love to an animal? I¡¯ll give you an animal. You¡¯ll get it all. Scratching, clawing, biting, ripping, gnashing! Believe me, you show me that shriveled shaft and I¡¯ll leave you a eunuch. If you want sex you could only dream of, it¡¯ll be the last thing you ever experience.¡±

    The guards stood away in a mixture of arousal and fear. One of them pressed forward, trying to play with Eevi¡¯s hair again. Before he could reach, Eevi hissed at him and reached for his groin with her bound hands. The guard yelped as he bounced away, and Eevi did the same for the other. The noise was enough to attract the attention of the other guards, who yelled across the firepit.

    ¡°Oy! Get the fuck away from the sacrifices!¡± A voice shouted. The guards, either from embarrassment or terror, slumped away back into the dark. Urash had to repress a laugh. He''d never seen men so well played by a woman.

    ¡°Feral,¡± Urash slurred. ¡°Effective.¡±

    Eevi grunted. ¡°Bet they¡¯ve never even slept with a woman. Blew their chance, poor things.¡±

    A laugh escaped Urash, sending him into waves of pain.

    ¡°Sorry. Guess I shouldn¡¯t be funny.¡±

    ¡°No,¡± Urash whispered. ¡°No, no¡­ Why didn¡¯t you just let the oaf finish the job?¡± Urash wheezed, trying to reposition himself but failing. ¡°Why blow your cover on me?¡±

    ¡°It wasn¡¯t from the kindness of my heart. You dying wasn¡¯t good for me.¡±

    ¡°Still a stupid thing. You being here at all. You were asking for trouble.¡±

    Eevi sighed. ¡°I¡¯m stupid? Why¡¯d you do it, anyway? Why piss them off? You had a good thing going, a bed and food and an escape plan and everything! All you had to do was not give them any reason to care! You had to fuck up my plan.¡±

    ¡°Whatever plan had you sneaking into the Manor was a shit-fucking-plan.¡±

    Eevi shook her head, adjusting closer to her log. Urash saw the pity in her eyes. She knew how broken he looked. He hated pity. He¡¯d rather be exiled than pitied.

    ¡°They¡¯re in my home,¡± said Urash, defiant of pain. ¡°If I want to turn off the water, I¡¯ll do that. If I want to burn the Manor to the fucking ground, it¡¯s my right.¡±

    ¡°And how did you do it?¡± asked Eevi. ¡°Turn off the water?¡±

    ¡°If I had to guess, it probably had something to do with who you¡¯ve been searching for.¡±

    ¡°Jere¡¯s alive?¡± Eevi said suddenly, unable to hide the excitement in her voice. ¡°Where are they?¡±

    ¡°They were under the bed, you dumb bitch.¡± Urash spat, his frustration overcoming his pain. ¡°I told them there was a tunnel that led out to the outside, around the screamers. They all ate it up. Little did they know they were digging into the fountain mechanism. Told them all they just needed to turn a lever and that they would be free¡­ People are so disgustingly predictable. They¡¯ll tear each other apart the first chance they get. They crave it, and will stop at nothing to get it.¡±

    Urash, amid his rant, kicked his knee so the pain could push him through to the end. ¡°Except you, for some fucking reason! You saved me! Miserable old me, who has craved nothing but death and gets everything but! Fuck you!¡±

    Urash fell back to the ground, clutching his chest. His lungs were on fire, and the pain was overcoming him. Eevi said nothing. In fact, he could see it in her eyes that she still pitied him. She just watched him rolling next to the log as his whines turned to moans.

    ¡°Ugh,¡± Urash huffed, his eyes glazing over. ¡°It matters not¡­ Soon¡­ it¡¯ll all go up in flame.¡±

    ¡°What?¡±

    Urash mumbled some more. Mercifully, his consciousness lapsed, relieving him of pain for at least one more night.

 Part III.II.IV: Every Little Detail

    Appo had explained it all, but he hadn''t realized how bizarre his journey had been until he said it all out loud. Jere inquired occasionally about Isbibarra, and Adok asked about the leper colony and the trepanning surgeries. Appo expected Jere to ask more about what the Eivett?n Death Worms really were, but he let it pass. When Appo¡¯s tale reached Zabukama, both fell into silence. Appo quickly realized that he himself struggled to understand exactly what had happened to him there.

    All the while, Jere and Adok kept themselves busy. Jere spent much of the conversation trying to pick the locks of his chain links with Appo''s gauntlet blade. Adok watched over Heikk, whose breathing slowed after ingesting some of the poppy.

    Before long, two hours had passed. Appo sat awkwardly, unsure how his new roommates would respond to it all.

    ¡°Okay,¡± Appo said, anticipating a poor reaction. ¡°Tell me I¡¯m crazy.¡±

    After a pause, Jere spoke first. ¡°It¡¯s¡­ something. Blind marksmen, magi women, conversing with Gods. Beats Eevis'', that¡¯s for sure.¡±

    ¡°Oh. You don¡¯t believe me?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ve never pinned you as the creative type¡­ I actually think you¡¯re telling the truth.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t know about a lot about what you said,¡± Adok added, ¡°but there were some things that caught my ear. I lived in the desert with my uncle when I was young. Everything you said about the Rust Waves and the stone trees is true, but stories travel¡­ then you mentioned the wall. No one who¡¯s ever there talks about it. And those who live inside¡­ they are not to be spoken of.¡±

    ¡°You mean the Krazeek?¡±

    ¡°Gah!¡± Adok exclaimed. ¡°Please don¡¯t say it down here.¡±

    "I don¡¯t blame you, Adok." Appo said, shuddering at the memory. "I really don¡¯t.¡±

    ¡°I''m curious about what this God said,¡± said Jere. ¡°You came across your Lowya - a God that created the plague - and that the only way to control the plague is to make the entire city consecrate themselves to her?¡±

    Appo disliked how Jere made it sound. ¡°Yeah.¡±

    Jere sighed, taking a break from his lock-picking. ¡°We aren¡¯t the only ones here. There are other survivors. They¡¯ve done nothing but kill and maim and torture in the name of Okkan. To have all of them consecrate to a foreign God is impossible.¡±

    ¡°Um.¡± Adok almost seemed embarrassed to speak up. ¡°I¡¯m not so sure that''s so. The whole¡­ convincing-people-to-change-sides aspect of it all.¡±

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    Jere laughed. ¡°Am I the only one who saw the flayed bodies? Or witnessed the riot where they pushed out half of their fellow citizens to be taken by screamers?¡±

    ¡°What?¡± Appo interjected. He had expected things to be bad, but that was something else.

    ¡°In all fairness Jere, I was there, and you weren¡¯t. Many are doing bad things, sure. But most are afraid. Why wouldn¡¯t they be? It¡¯s only gotten worse since then¡­ I think Boah is losing his grasp.¡±

    ¡°Hold on,¡± Appo said, trying to keep up with everything. ¡°Boah is still alive?¡±

    ¡°Very much so,¡± Jere said. ¡°Juddken too.¡±

    The very name of Juddken sent Appo into a bout of shivering. He recalled slicing blades and laughter.

    ¡°That¡¯s the thing,¡± Adok continued. ¡°Boah has done everything to convince them that everything is okay. He gives speeches every day, talking about how Okkan has provided them with food and water. But think about it: the screamers overran their food supply. They ran out the Ati worshippers, who they blamed for all of their misgivings. And now, I don¡¯t even think they have water anymore.¡±

    ¡°Why do you assume all that?¡± Jere asked.

    Adok stood, walking over to the boulder outcroppings of the tunnel. ¡°Think about it: Urash sends us down here and tells us to look for a lever. I kept wondering why Boah left him alive, but it all makes sense now¡­ Urash told them there was a way out, but all we had was this tunnel. That was why the water stopped when we pulled the lever!¡±

    Appo looked at the back of the tunnel. Adok and Jere had dug out an intricately laid pattern of pipes that ran up and down the wall. The rock behind them jutted precariously, to where it was a wonder that the tunnel had not collapsed already.

    ¡°You think Boah never told the others?¡± Jere asked.

    Adok nodded. ¡°Imagine they found out they had an escape right underneath them and Boah hid it from them. If someone came to them with that knowledge, they¡¯d turn on him immediately.¡±

    ¡°Huh.¡± Jere pondered for a moment, before reaching back down to his gauntlet. ¡°You know what I bet? I bet tomorrow when Juddken comes down for us, he¡¯ll take us right up to the courtyard. Boah is a showman, and if what you¡¯re saying is true, he needs to get them all back on his side. What better way than to sacrifice prisoners in a big spectacle?¡± Jere then turned to Appo. ¡°Perfect place to make a speech.¡±

    It made sense, but Appo shook his head. ¡°I don¡¯t know. I¡¯m not sure I can look at those two after what they did to me.¡±

    ¡°Think of it this way,¡± Jere said. ¡°Imagine how they¡¯ll feel when they see you?¡±

    ¡°What do you mean?¡±

    ¡°You warned them this would happen. Then it did. You¡¯re as much of a monster to them as they are to you.¡±

    ¡°And you spoke to a God, Appo,¡± Adok said. ¡°Who else can claim the same? Boah says he does, but I doubt he believes himself.¡±

    ¡°Put the fear of God into them,¡± Jere reassured. ¡°If you can do that, you can get them to turn.¡±

    Appo didn''t know what to say. He doubted he could pull off such a feat. ¡°I recall Jere once said I played a great corpse.¡±

    ¡°Halfway there,¡± Jere said, dryly.

    ¡°We don¡¯t need to convince all of them,¡± said Adok, ¡°but we can convince most. If we can get them to just question themselves, that can be enough. Then we just take them back here and go to the Temple.¡±

    ¡°And if it comes to it,¡± Jere said, his shackles finally loosening with a clang. He massaged his now-freed wrists as he continued. ¡°I¡¯ll take care of anyone unwilling to convert.¡±

    Adok and Jere seemed so certain that they could do it, though Appo wondered whether they had anything else to lose. He was right there with them. He would have to go along.

    For the first time in his life, Appo had faith. He smiled.

    ¡°I need you both to tell me as much as you can about what¡¯s happened here. Every little detail.¡±

 Part III.II.V: Execution

    Rays of dawn crept over the Manor courtyard, providing a modicum of comfort from the night¡¯s coolness before the heat inevitably overwhelmed. The thirty that remained outside were slow to rise. Knowing there would be no food or water waiting for them, they huddled in the dirt, trying to settle their rattling stomachs. They would rise when Boah commanded them to, but no sooner.

    The four prisoners lay against their logs, unable to sleep from their various forms of restlessness. Nightmares attacked Eevi for most of the night, and the remaining mercenaries were still building the courage to swallow their vials of poison, knowing they wouldn¡¯t be able to until the last moment. Urash was the last to open his eyes, irritated by the very fact he still drew breath.

    ¡°On yo¡¯ feet,¡± Thed commanded. The guard had regained some confidence since his injury last night, but not much. Eevi had stabbed his dominant hand, and despite spending most of the night trying to bandage it, he couldn¡¯t move his fingers anymore. He used his left to curl the wounded hand repeatedly, but the pain was too great for now. He had other guards that¡¯d assist him if need be.

    Eevi and the guards did as told, but Urash lay still on the ground. At first, Thed thought the man had died overnight, but he knew better. He kicked the crippled man in his shattered knee, waking him with a yelp. Thed giggled, proud he had reduced this pathetic fool to a soon-to-be corpse. His humor lasted only for a moment before he realized that the man couldn¡¯t stand. Thed grunted, picking up Urash and throwing him over his shoulders.

    Eevi saw this all as she realized the massive guard carried her crossbow on his back. Urash flopped against the weapon, his body contorting against its strings. She winced; after all she had done to protect it, this guard would certainly destroy it, probably by falling back against a wall too hard.

    Thed led the prisoners to the fountain, its once perpetual gushing of water unnaturally still. Despite insistence by the guards not to touch it until fixed, the fountain had already dried up considerably in the sun. Even untouched, it would certainly evaporate in the next few days.

    Eevi licked her dried lips at the sight of the fountain. It had only been half a day, but the heat was already unbearable. If asked, she would have gladly forfeit her life for one more drink. If they sacrificed her early, perhaps she would not die too thirsty.

    Thed and the other guards positioned the prisoners along one side of the fountain, commanding each to get on their knees. Only Urash lay flat, for obvious reasons.

    ¡°Merciful Ati,¡± Urash whispered. ¡°Why is it taking so long?¡±

    Eevi could only pity the man so much. Despite everything, Urash clung to life in defiance of his own will.

    As the prisoners settled, the others in the courtyard approached. Their attention focused past the prisoners towards the fountain, having watched its water evaporate through the day. Some of the more astute wondered whether any guard helped themselves for a cup or two, noting that they were far too energetic to have gone without it this whole time. Many reminisced back to the Day of Akkavan, when they tossed water so lackadaisically in all the commotion. They dreamed of being able to splash it on their faces, or swimming in the Thorne like they had done so long ago.

    Most, however, knew that once they offered the prisoners, they would drink more than their fill.

    It was not long before the rest of the Corps exited the Manor, rested as much as one could be. Boah, Juddken, and Harran led the procession, eager to move things along. There was a muted response from the crowd. They cared not for words, for their stomachs craved water too much for that. Boah took note, requesting the prisoners to be brought out posthaste. Of course, Boah had asked for them to be brought much earlier. He knew first-hand how long it took to climb those steps.

    But the prisoners hadn''t arrived yet. Boah would have to test the crowd''s patience just a little further. He motioned for all to gather around the fountain. There were barely fifty. He met a few in the eyes before turning away. He felt only frustration and anger. Not at him, but it would not be long before they did.

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    ¡°I¡¯ve tried my best to give you all a good life,¡± Boah almost whispered as he trudged around the fountain. ¡°Ever since I was a little boy, carrying water across the Eivetta. Over the years, you¡¯ve heard my words. You¡¯ve memorized them by this point. You know where I stand, and you¡¯ve seen what I¡¯ve done for the betterment of us all. But despite everything, it has not been enough. Witches, outsiders, and nonbelievers... all have tormented us. I¡¯m sure even out in this crowd, there are still some who doubt.¡±

    Boah stared out now, trying to greet their eyes. Some did. Many did not. He would have to move things along.

    ¡°We have betrayed at every chance. This curse has hurt us all. It has taken the lives of our mothers and fathers. Brothers and sisters. Friends. Our children. We can never go back.¡±

    Mercifully, the last few guards exited the Manor. They led three men wearing dark hoods, their shackles clacking as they trudged toward the fountain. A few jeered, but most watched in silence. Boah¡¯s smile quickly vanished as the crowd¡¯s excitement plateaued at nothing.

    ¡°What will another sacrifice do for us?¡± a voice in the crowd called out. ¡°Is this truly the only way?¡±

    Boah sighed, trying to find the perpetrator in the mix. He could always add another blasphemer, but he had to temper himself. Too much aggression would do little to placate the masses. He instead pointed to his son, who watched with unblinking eyes as the guards placed the prisoners around the fountain.

    ¡°Among you, there is another who has been blessed by Okkan¡¯s grace. One who has proven time and time again that he is a conduit. You see Juddken¡¯s strength yet still doubt? He knows that our sacrifices have been too small, too diluted. Only by purging the guilty are we to be saved.¡±

    Instead of silence or jubilant applause, another voice made itself known, a woman from the far back. ¡°Can we not just leave? Our numbers are many. What if we take a chance for the wall?¡±

    Boah shook his head. ¡°Impossible. The demons are too many. It is a life we cannot live. I would rather die than have any of you become one of them.¡±

    Boah hoped that his proclamation would be enough, but it instead roused the others. Suggestions for fleeing or fighting or fixing the well again made themselves known. It would be too plentiful to add any to this sacrifice now. But he had to stop the criticisms before they became too bold.

    ¡°Enough!¡± Boah yelled. ¡°Enough with the suggestions! This is the way! There is no other, so cease your prattling!¡± None had ever seen him so agitated, or even let his emotions get the best of him. The courtyard became completely still, save for the rattling of the chain shackles.

    Boah paced around the prisoners, the seven of them now kneeling in front of the fountain. He stood over Urash, gesturing to him and his remaining mercenaries. ¡°Behold, the arbiter and his tribe of traitors! Their machination takes away our water, leaving us at the mercy of the sun!¡± Boah gently placed his hands on each of their shoulders, leaving his on Eevi¡¯s just a hair too long. She repressed a shutter before he moved on.

    Boah then grabbed the hood of the first prisoner to the right of Eevi. ¡°Behold! The one who defied Shadeon Law! Who aided the one who propagated this very curse, desecrated our bodies, and attempted to kill our conduit!" With his announcement, Boah flung the hood back for his crowd to see. A spattering of boos met Jere as he squinted at the newfound light.

    Eevi¡¯s mouth fell at the sight. ¡°Jere?¡± she mustered in disbelief.

    Jere forced his eyes open, still adjusting after a few days of darkness. ¡°Eevi?¡± he said. He smiled, even if mixed in with shock and surprise.

    Boah waited for the jeering to die down before moving on to the next prisoner. ¡°Behold! One of many who aided the defilers.¡± He removed the hood of Adok, which resulted in a far more muted reaction. Boah was quick to take note. ¡°Even a traitor the size of a mouse is an elephant in the eyes of Okkan! Do not temper judgment by familiarity, for he is an example of what inauthentic faith resembles!¡±

    Adok likewise squinted in the sun, though his change came more slowly. Despite everything, Eevi was happy to see him unharmed, even if it was just a moment longer.

    Finally, Boah stood behind the last prisoner, noting his Corps outfit. He wished he had ended with Jere or Urash, but he could work with it. ¡°And finally, behold! Another who not just defiled our God, but had the audacity to return here and steal our water! These thieves, living off what the faithful provide. He is no better than any raider, bandit, or treasure seeker who takes advantage of others! He, too, will be punished!¡±

    Boah pulled off the prisoner¡¯s hood, already moving on to the fountain. But the reaction of the crowd stopped him: more a collective gasp than a jeer. Boah turned, expecting to find the Corps guard Heikk. Instead, he greeted the face of a ghost.

    Appo Illonnorot stood, his chains unshackling.

    ¡°Your sacrifices will do nothing, Boah Awil-Ishtar,¡± Appo said. ¡°You know this.¡±

 Part III.II.VI: Discourse

    ¡°Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck,¡± Appo thought.

    He was here, really doing this. No going back now. The sight of Boah immediately filled him with fear, but coming face to face with his frightened expression pushed him back into confidence.

    ¡°What are¡­¡± Boah struggled to find the words. ¡°How did you escape?¡± It was easy to see why the sight confused him: Appo had donned the Corps armor of Heikk. Seeing a healer in a uniform like that would have been quite the contrast. The excitement confused many in the crowd who had not encountered the healer beforehand, but those who did weeks prior were completely dumbfounded.

    ¡°I did not escape, as you know,¡± Appo said, his voice projecting loud enough to echo off the walls. ¡°By your hand, I was tried, found guilty, and executed under Shadeon Law. It is by the grace of the Gods that I stand before you today.¡±

    ¡°Preposterous!¡± Boah shouted, smiling in utter disbelief. ¡°Utterly preposterous! You speak blasphemy!¡±

    ¡°Blasphemy? Look at your conduit and see who is truly blasphemous.¡± Appo gestured next to Boah, who turned to find his son¡¯s stunned face. Juddken had gone completely wide-eyed. He even blinked, as if trying to remove something from his eye.

    Appo briefly scanned the other prisoners. He saw Eevi, who he was ecstatic to see alive. She was slack-jawed at the sight. Jere and Adok feigned surprise as well, but unconvincingly. Appo hoped he could command the crowd¡¯s attention away from them. He then turned to the crowd, outstretching his arms like he recalled Boah doing. Indeed, the crowd showed a variety of emotions. Many of the confused began whispering amongst each other, with the words that they were looking at the infamous healer Boah had spoken about for what felt like an eternity.

    ¡°I have seen your struggles, people of Ash!¡± Appo began, speaking his memorized speech. ¡°I have watched screamers spread, leaving death and destruction throughout the Eivett?! What I called a disease, you once called a curse, but they are one and the same!¡± Appo then pointed back at Boah and Juddken. ¡°But I have also watched what these men have made you do. How they subjected you to flayings and sacrifices that have left just as many dead as the screamers ever did. I¡¯ve seen brother turn against brother as the old ways have come back!¡±

    ¡°But the old ways have saved us!¡± shouted a voice from the crowd.

    Appo expected pushback. In fact, he was relieved at how little there had been so far. ¡°How so? By turning two hundred survivors into fifty?¡±

    This opened the floodgates. Many within the crowd began spitting and cursing, throwing every bit of insult at the resurrected healer. They claimed everything from witchcraft to trickery, but there was an undercurrent of desperation.

    ¡°Oh,¡± Appo thought. ¡°That¡¯s what we expected.¡± Fortunately, Jere suggested an idea if they did.

    Appo raised one glove in the air, removing his armor plating. Beneath it was his amputated arm, it¡¯s bandage removed and his wound stained grey. It quieted the crowd to near silence.

    ¡°Jere, you wonderful bastard.¡±

    ¡°You have suffered,¡± Appo continued, now commanding the crowd¡¯s attention. ¡°And it has worsened. Not because of your prayers, but because of who commanded you to give them. The screamers took your people, yet in the last few days, you have lost your food and your your water. Have you not done what everything asked of you? Ask yourselves who has been telling you what has been right and proper.¡±

    A deep, bellowing laugh echoed behind Appo. It was Boah, wiping away tears of laughter. ¡°You fucking fool!¡± he nearly yelled. ¡°Do you expect us to believe this trite? You¡¯re an outsider! An imposter! You didn¡¯t come back from the dead! You were the one who maimed our conduit! The one who spread lies and traded curses with the witch! You are guilty of everything they are, only more so!¡±

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    ¡°I see it,¡± Appo thought. ¡°We¡¯re playing a game here. He just made his move.¡±

    Appo chuckled with the slightest hint of nervousness. As Boah trudged towards him, Appo backed away, each circling the still water fountain. ¡°You¡¯re wrong, Boah. You think I¡¯m here to spread falsities about Okkan-¡±

    Boah cut him off, turning his attention back to the crowd. ¡°The healer thinks you are all foolish! He calls you ¡®people of Ash,¡¯ for crying out loud! Nothing more than another false conduit, here to spread lies! He comes here, now claiming this is a curse after insisting it is no worse than your common cold! What will he conjure next? Are we going to let this outsider dictate our fates? He is likely the very reason our prayers have fallen on deaf ears!¡±

    Appo feared the response. If Boah wished, he could simply overpower Appo with rhetoric and force. And if Appo interrupted, it would make him look far from the figure he was attempting to portray.

    Instead, Appo waited. Some in the crowd cheered for Boah¡¯s retort, but only the ones who had attacked Appo earlier. Many remained silent, their eyes darting back and forth between the two.

    It was impossible to hide: the reaction stunned Boah.

    ¡°My turn,¡± Appo thought.

    ¡°You¡¯re wrong,¡± Appo said, speaking to Boah. ¡°I don¡¯t claim that Okkan hasn¡¯t heard you. I mean, how could he not? No, he¡¯s heard it all. He¡¯s heard every scalping and every flaying and every murder. But he has rejected your offers. The truth is simple: he does not care.¡±

    ¡°Lies!¡± Boah screamed. ¡°Lies, all of it!¡± The rebuttal was unconvincing.

    Appo turned back to the crowd, leaving Boah standing alone. He projected his voice even louder now. ¡°Ashfolk, you must learn the truth! If the ¡®Big Man¡¯ truly wanted what was best for the ¡®Little People,¡¯ he would¡¯ve told you about the tunnel.¡±

    As the crowd murmured amongst themselves, Appo returned to Boah, his face frozen in anger. ¡°But you didn¡¯t, did you? You kept that information for yourself and your son, forcing the prisoners to dig. That was why you kept them alive. You even confided with Zaman Urash, a man whose crimes are severe enough for execution, in the hopes he would aid you in your escape.¡± Appo pointed to Jere and Adok, who knelt in front of him now. ¡°You even shared this with these¡­ ignoramuses!¡± Appo, as usual, could not help himself. Jere smiled at the remark. Even Eevi seemed to catch on.

    ¡°But-¡±

    Appo interjected. ¡°When, High Priest, did you intend to share all this with your people?¡±

    Boah stood alone, seething at Appo. One by one, his guards looked to him. Many within the surrounding crowd did as well. The courtyard became silent, except for a single whisper deep within the crowd. ¡°I knew it,¡± they said.

    In the stunned silence of the courtyard, Appo turned away from Boah. ¡°You all lived side by side with Ati worshipers until Boah told you to kill them! Life was harsh, but not like this. He¡¯s lied to you all, and because of this, it has tainted your sacrifices! Okkan has rejected you, and further sacrifices will not bring back the water, or remove this curse!¡±

    ¡°Then what will?¡± someone in the crowd asked.

    ¡°Okay, here it goes.¡±

    Appo held out his hands, closing his eyes in determination. ¡°You must seek the favor of another God: one that approves not of this false Shadeon Law, but a true one. I beseech you all to consecrate yourselves to the Goddess Lowya, the ancient Shadeonite who lives in the ruins of Zabukama! It was with her blessing I passed through the Krazeek unscathed, and even spared me from the clutches of the dreaded Eivett?n Death Worm! It must take all of us, for if we consecrate our souls to her, we can truly overcome this plague!¡±

    It was it: this was his plea. Jere and Adok had worked with him throughout the night, trying to perfect the speech. Resurrected or not, he was an outsider. He needed to use words they knew well. It had to appeal to desertfolk and Ashfolk alike, for he needed as many to follow him as possible.

    Appo opened his eyes. Some looked to him. Others looked to Boah. The crowd remained evenly split. Some would never change their minds, no matter what he said. Whether lies or truth, they would never waiver.

    Appo finally looked to Jere and Adok, his composure evaporating. Both realized what was happening. They hoped it would not come to it, but they still had one chance. They all could free themselves the moment they wished, for Jere had broken all of their shackles. Appo had his gauntlet, but that was their only weapon. They would have to fight their way out, and hoped they had swayed enough to protect them from the others.

    But none of that would be necessary. As they all stood amongst each other, the Manor Gates suddenly exploded in a massive ball of flame, the force of which knocked them all to their feet.

 Part III.II.VII: Aftermath

    Jere awoke in a daze. He hadn¡¯t been out long. He¡¯d been watching Appo work the crowd, impressed by his gall and his choice of words. The last thing he remembered before the explosion was how good of a performer Appo proved to be.

    ¡°Explosion. Why was there an explosion?¡±

    Jere lifted himself off the ground, his ears still ringing from the blast. He could barely see it through the dust: the entire Manor gate was lit aflame, with two massive holes blown away on each side. Wood and mud-brick littered the courtyard, and a smokey haze permeated the air. Was it Brown Ash that he smelled?

    The explosion seemed to have knocked the entire crowd off their feet. Some were already up, chattering amongst each other in utter horror. Others were still unconscious by the blast.

    ¡°That wasn¡¯t part of the plan,¡± Jere thought.

    Adok lay next to Jere, laying sprawled out. He was one of many knocked unconscious, but he was breathing. Jere tore off his broken shackles and tried to shake Adok awake.

    ¡°Get up!¡± Jere shouted. He could barely hear himself, still muffled by the ringing in his ears.

    Behind them, another blast launched debris through the air. Jere huddled down over Adok as he heard more brick fly past him. The ringing of his ears returned in full force. As he ducked his head, Adok suddenly awoke, gasping for air. Jere could only feel him as he struggled underneath.

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    After a moment, Jere turned back to the site of the explosion: it was near the far left corner of the gate. This explosion seemed to have been smaller, but it knocked away another piece of the Manor wall. The entire left side collapsed over, the iron doors vibrating as they crashed into the ground. Everything seemed on fire. Jere even noticed a few poor souls flinging their arms about as the flames engulfed them.

    Jere heard muffled shouting. He turned back to Adok, who pushed against him. ¡°What happened?¡± Adok¡¯s lips mouthed. Jere shook his head. He had no clue.

    As Jere moved to his knees, he looked to his right, expecting to find Eevi. She had behind the fountain, which could have protected her from the full force of the blast. But she was gone. All the prisoners were, even the crippled Urash.

    ¡°Jere!¡± a voice called, the ringing diminished again. Jere followed the voice, finding Appo¡¯s silhouette stumbling through the dust storm. ¡°Are you okay?!¡±

    ¡°What is going on?!¡± Jere shouted, unable to control the volume of his voice.

    As Appo helped the two get to their feet, he looked around. ¡°Eevi?!¡±

    ¡°Who gives a shit?!¡± Jere said, angrily. ¡°We need to get out of here, fast! Go back to the tunnel!¡±

    Appo looked behind Jere, his eyes suddenly going wide. Jere turned back, realizing what he was looking at. More burning bodies were coming through the flaming walls now, but they moved in an uncoordinated fashion. Their screaming did not even seem unusual until he noticed how their red, translucent eyes focused on all of them.

 Part III.II.VIII: Bolts

    Eevi ran through the halls of the Manor as fast as she could, though her shackles hampered her speed. The explosion had rocked her, but she got away before most realized what was going on. She recalled all guards carried identical keys, capable of freeing her.

    But she had her eyes set on one. And she saw him flee into the Manor proper just moments before.

    Eevi slid down the corridor, taking a guess where he could''ve ran off. Sure enough, Thed stood outside Urash¡¯s room, pounding on the door with both fists. Eevi¡¯s crossbow remained tied across his back, swinging as he thrashed.

    ¡°Hey!¡± Eevi shouted. Thed turned, and Eevi saw his eyes red, either from the explosion itself or tears. Probably both. Eevi couldn¡¯t give less of a shit.

    Thed didn''t really respond so much as wail. He attempted to pull out his scimitar, but dropped as soon as he felt its weight. His hand was in no shape for swordplay.

    Eevi charged, gripping the ends of her shackles, and swung the chain into Thed¡¯s face. The force cracked Thed¡¯s jaw, dislodging a tooth. Thed blindly swung his wounded hand at Eevi, but Eevi caught it with her chain. The force broke through Thed¡¯s bandage, breaking his hand in two. At the sight of his hand once again split in half, Thed wailed once more. Eevi then brought down the shackles with all of her weight on top of Thed¡¯s skull. He collapsed to the floor with a thud.

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    ¡°Dumb fucker,¡± Eevi muttered, spitting over him. ¡°If you busted the mechanism, I¡¯ll kill you right here and now.¡±

    Eevi reached down at his pant legs, fumbling for a key. After looking through a pocket, she found an assortment of keys, trying one after the other. There were at least two dozen to choose from.

    As she finagled with the keys, Eevi looked over the crossbow. It seemed to still be in working condition. He even carried her quiver with him. How convenient.

    Still, as Eevi sat in the hall, she wondered whether she did the right thing. She had left them there, unconscious. But she needed to defend herself. Sure, there were plenty of guards to choose from at the moment, but only one carried a weapon she could use.

    ¡°You¡¯re going back,¡± Eevi said to herself, switching from one key to the next. ¡°You¡¯re going back for them, otherwise what was the point?¡±

    After her tenth attempt, she nearly threw the key ring in frustration. Instead, she kicked the unconscious Thed.

    ¡°You¡¯re going back,¡± she repeated in her mind. ¡°Remember which key works, and then you¡¯re going back and saving the others. You¡¯re going back.¡±

    A screech interrupted her internal lecture. Eevi looked up in fright, recognizing the sounds immediately. At the end of the hall stood two charred screamers, their heads swiveling. They flinched as Eevi¡¯s key ring clashed against itself.

    Eevi took a deep breath. ¡°You¡¯re going back.¡±

    Suddenly, the shackles unlocked and fell to the ground. The screamers immediately sprinted down the hall towards her. They moved fast enough to snuff out what flames remained on their scarred skin.

    Eevi dived on top of Thed, pulling the crossbow off as fast as possible and inserting two bolts. She aimed it at the screamers, firing away.

 Part III.II.IX: Panic

    A screamer lept at Appo, its rotten limbs outstretched. He hadn''t expected them to move so fast. He closed his eyes, hoping the screamer at least finished him quickly.

    Before it would get the chance, Adok stepped in front of Appo, swinging a scimitar straight into the chest. The screamer released a high-pitched gasp before collapsing to the ground, taking the scimitar with it. Adok waited a moment for it to stop squirming before he reached over, trying with all his might to pull it out. The scimitar refused to budge, firmly lodged between the screamer¡¯s ribs.

    ¡°Leave it!¡± Jere shouted from behind them all. Appo and Adok looked ahead. More screamers poured through the gates, and at least a dozen had already made their way through the courtyard. The sounds of screamers and Ashfolk alike bounced off the walls, clawing and scratching at each other. A few of the Corps rallied briefly, but the growing swarm quickly overwhelmed them.

    Appo looked around. They couldn''t stay here, at least in the courtyard. To his right, he saw a flight of wooden steps leading up the wall. Some had already fled there, cowering on the top of the walls. ¡°There!¡± he shouted, and Adok and Appo ran towards it.

    Before they even crossed half the courtyard, the right corner of the Manor gate erupted in the largest explosion yet. The shockwave leveled everyone still standing, and shrapnel once again flung through the courtyard. Appo saw the stairway obliterate, barely catching the bodies as they flung through the air.

    Appo once again pushed himself off the ground, his strength nearly spent. He looked back at the crowd. He saw the fallen screamers scrambling on the ground towards the other Ashfolk. Appo saw veins stripped open and bellies split.

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    But they were in luck. The firestorm of the most recent explosion had swirled into a tornado of flame, halting any new screamers from rushing in. The ones left in the courtyard became preoccupied with their already claimed victims.

    The only exception was three screamers chewing on a guard only a few meters away. One by one, they spotted Appo and Adok, screeching as they caught their eye.

    Appo rushed to Adok, pulling him up as the screamers lumbered towards them in a haze. But before they could close in, Jere rushed aside, brandishing a large spear he pulled off the weapons rack behind them. ¡°Back up,¡± Jere said as he swung the spear from side to side.

    Jere¡¯s first strike landed in a screamer¡¯s knee, knocking him to the ground. His next sliced into the neck of another, and a gush of blood erupted from its jugular. Jere then thrust the spear into the chest of the middle, its chest folding around the spearhead. Jere pulled out the spear just in time to swing it towards the screamer with the bloody neck, knocking it to the ground. He did the same to the screamer on his right, slamming the side of the spearhead across its head. As it twisted back to the ground, Jere drove the spear into the screamer¡¯s back, lodging firmly within. He tugged twice, unable to pull it out as the last screamer got to her feet.

    Appo, who stood aside as Jere struggled, jumped between him and the screamer. He smashed his forearms together, and his gauntlet blade ejected with a twang. He held it out towards the screamer, hoping it would charge into the blade before it released any errant swipes.

    As the last screamer closed the distance, two bolts lodged themselves in the screamer¡¯s right chest. The screamer fell with barely a gasp.

    Jere gave a hearty last tug and pulled out his spear. He turned around, finding the dead screamer on its side. He walked up to Appo, panting.

    ¡°Huh,¡± Jere said. ¡°Good kill.¡±

    Before Appo could correct him, a whistle blew from the Manor proper. From the second-story window sat Eevi, her crossbow aimed at the dead body. She grinned at the sight of the kill.

    ¡°Move your asses!¡± she yelled, beckoning them over.

 Part III.II.X: On His Own Terms

    Urash leaned against the Manor, watching the firestorm expand across his walls. Its heat alone was enough to melt the flower murals, the greenery dripping into a jagged mosaic. He wondered whether Namshi, that great artist, would have approved of the new abstract design. It was certainly more interesting than all those daisies and roses. In another life, he would''ve lamented over the loss of his precious family heirloom. But at least this way he got to send it off on his own terms.

    Urash was still catching his breath after crawling across the courtyard. He was fortunate the fountain shielded him from the initial blast, but crawling with one good arm and barely a leg was more than taxing. Fortunately, through the chaos, he was one of the lucky few who crossed the courtyard unscathed. After propping himself up against the wall, he watched as the walls burst into fiery explosions and the screamers kill every person within the Manor.

    He had to give himself credit: he could not have planned it any better. If he still had his tobacco pipe, it would have been downright pleasant.

    At least, it was for a moment. Then the others showed up.

    Eevi came down from the steps, greeting Jere, Adok, and the healer. The sight perplexed Urash, as he thought the healer had died weeks ago. Maybe he was mistaken, but he cared little at this point.

    As the four walked back to the Manor, Eevi caught Urash where he lay. He rolled his good eye as she approached.

    ¡°Let me be, woman,¡± Urash slurred.

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    ¡°This was your doing, wasn¡¯t it?¡± Eevi asked. The other three crowded around her, trying to get a good look. Urash wondered how disgusting he looked now, how broken his body had become.

    Still, someone had to know. Urash wished he could have told Boah, but these four would have to do. ¡°Kegs of brown ash,¡± he said. ¡°Buried them in the walls decades ago.¡± He winced, trying to adjust his legs to prop himself up. ¡°Lit the fuse yesterday¡­ Didn¡¯t think they¡¯d take this long to light, but¡­ I must admit¡­ the timing is impeccable.¡±

    The five all looked back to the courtyard. The firestorm swirled within now, and most of the screamers long ago burnt to crisps. Still, it would be only a matter of time before the fire died out and more screamers followed.

    ¡°You¡­ should move on,¡± Urash continued, his wheezing worsening as he spoke. ¡°It¡¯ll all be rubble¡­ before long.¡±

    They stared at him for a moment before moving off. Before they could, Urash coughed one more time, pointing to Eevi. ¡°Wait¡­ I¡¯ve been wondering all night¡­ You came through the toilets¡­ right?¡±

    ¡°Yeah,¡± Eevi said, clearly done with him.

    ¡°Hmm¡­ Go back the way you came¡­ through the shitter!¡± Urash laughed before it settled into a croak. ¡°And if you make it to the cordon by any chance¡­ check a chest on the top building¡­ Little present from Kirashi.¡±

    ¡°Zaman,¡± said Adok, struggling to meet his eye. ¡°You¡¯ve helped us. We could help you, if¡­¡± his voice trailed off as he realized Jere and Eevi turned, cutting him off with glares before he could finish.

    Urash giggled at the request. ¡°Don¡¯t fool yourselves¡­ I never did it for any of you.¡± He leaned back against the wall, his body sliding towards the ground. He felt himself getting sleepier, the pain beginning to fade. It would be over soon, he knew it. ¡°I¡¯m a homebody¡­ Always been exactly where I needed to be.¡±

    Urash closed his eyes. When he opened them again, the four were gone. He was alone at last. He smiled as he watched the firestorm dance and swirl around him. It was a sublime sight.

    Another explosion burst, this one leveling the Manor in its entirety. Zaman Urash was dead long before the flames reached his body.

 Part III.II.XI: Rumbling

    Boah nearly tripped as the ceiling rumbled above. He¡¯d heard many on his journey down the spiraling staircase underneath Urash¡¯s room, but none as long or as sustained. He feared it was the Manor, finally collapsing in on itself. Briefly, he wondered if anyone escaped.

    But there was no place safe in Ash. If there were any left, they would not be for long.

    ¡°They¡¯ll be fine,¡± Boah reassured himself in his mind.

    Boah saw the faint glimmer of Juddken¡¯s torch about fifty steps below him, dimming as it descended. Boah pressed his hand against the wall, steadying himself until the rumbling ceased. The last thing he needed was to fall. He would wait this out.

    But the full weight of the morning hit Boah at once. He couldn¡¯t ignore the reality that he was now living in. He needed to catch his breath.

    Everything had been going to plan. Appo, despite his best efforts, failed to cull the crowd. Boah knew that if he had enough time, they all would have come to their senses. But then there was the explosion and all that debris. Boah had been more fortunate than Harran, whose skull had been caved in by a block of mud-brick. He kept seeing his mentor¡¯s bloodstained mustache. A man he knew for his entire life, dead in an instant.

    ¡°They¡¯ll be fine,¡± he repeated.

    Boah had run to Urash¡¯s room, the one place he knew would be safe from the burning and the screamers. But he saw Thed run after him. He saw him yell to wait, as if it would make a difference. Boah closed the door on him, ignoring the pounding of Thed''s fists and desperate cries.

    Boah left them all to die. Every one. He would have to accept that.

    Finally, the rumbling ceased. Boah gradually released his hand from the bumpy walls and motioned downward. Juddken¡¯s torch had long since vanished. He¡¯d have to catch up.

    Boah¡¯s thoughts returned to Appo. Not only to how he survived, but how he bested him. They¡¯d planned it for weeks, Boah realized. Perhaps Appo worked with Urash the entire time, having stowed him safely underground while the plague spread. It was the only way they could¡¯ve done it.

    But Boah conceded: however they did it, it worked. He¡¯d lost everything.

    Except Juddken. Boah still had him, for what that was worth.

    For the first time in a long time, Boah thought back to his wife. Iamaya Awil-Ishtar was everything Boah was not. She had too much hair. She lost herself in poetry and scripture. She was a good mother. He tried to recall Juddken bouncing on her lap when he was a boy, giggling at the absurd songs she would sing. Juddken was never the same after she died. In a way, Boah was never the same either.

    Boah tried to recall her face. A little more than a tracing of a tracing, now. He¡¯d long said his biggest regret was that Namshi never painted her before he lost his mind. Boah had always just said it, hoping it''d make him appear more empathetic. But as he trudged down the steps, he recalled he¡¯d always meant it.

    Maybe if he caught up to Juddken, he would see it again. Just a spark of Iamaya. It would be enough.

    Eventually, Boah reached the bottom of the stairs. As he leaned against the wall, he saw Juddken staring down the triangular pathway, murmuring silently to himself like he always did.

    Boah focused on that triangular pathway. An epiphany hit him, and suddenly the world made slightly more sense. ¡°That must be how the healer did it!¡± Boah said, trying to get Juddken¡¯s attention. ¡°He came from there! Urash always said it led to the Temple, but what if it was just where he hid the healer this whole time?!¡± Boah laughed loudly, his voice filling up the entire chamber.

    Juddken paid no mind. He continued looking down the tunnel, pursing his lips endlessly. Boah might as well have been on another plane.

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    ¡°Hmph,¡± Boah exclaimed, realizing the lost cause. ¡°It doesn¡¯t matter. We¡¯re alive! And the prisoners have already cleared out much of the tunnel. I¡¯ve already figured out what to do next¡­ Many years ago, Mendalla filed a claim with a reputable bank in Beyshran. The payout we could receive for the damages¡­ We could be wealthy for the rest of our lives! We¡¯ll move to Jyv?sk, spending our days courting with the Rosewoods and the Albrechts! Imagine what we could do there!¡±

    Little of what Boah said seemed to register to Juddken. He stared into the triangular void.

    ¡°Juddken?¡± Boah said, patting his shoulder. ¡°We can do this. Just¡­ listen to what I say.¡± There was no reaction.

    ¡°We¡¯ll be fine.¡±

    Juddken lurched forward. He crouched, heading towards the triangular passageway. ¡°What are you doing?¡± Boah asked. ¡°Listen to me when I¡¯m talking to you!¡± It was no use.

    Boah reached out, gripping Juddken¡¯s shoulders and throwing him against the wall. ¡°Don¡¯t you dare walk away from me you-¡±

    Juddken pulled out a knife, sticking it directly under Boah¡¯s apple. Boah hesitated, refusing to give Juddken an inch. He looked at the boy¡¯s gaunt features, his sunken eyes and dilated pupils. There was no trace of Iamaya anywhere. He had as much humanity as a lizard.

    Boah slowly realized his grasp. Before dropping his knife, Juddken hissed at him. He then turned away, crouching below the tunnel.

    Boah felt his lower lip quiver, the power in his voice rising to a crescendo. ¡°Fine then, boy! You¡¯re just as worthless as I thought! Useless waste of space¡­ You never amounted to anything until you started carving up bodies!¡±

    Juddken ignored his father. He crawled forth through the triangular space, vanishing into the dark.

    ¡°I¡¯ll be fine.¡±

    Boah cursed until his voice gave out. He stomped and ranted and threw his fists against the walls. He refused to follow, instead making his way back to the crawl space.

    ¡°Who needs him?¡± Boah reassured himself. ¡°I¡¯ll start it all over. I¡¯ll find a new wife, sire new children who can complete a fucking sentence.¡±

    Before making it too deep in the crawl space, Boah tripped over a pile of rocks. He lowered his torch, recoiling when he realized it was a body, already purplish and stiffened by rigor mortis. He took a deep breath before lowering the torch again. After uncovering a few of the rocks, he recognized who it was.

    ¡°Heikk,¡± Boah said. ¡°Of course. How clever.¡± The body was naked, thanks to the healer taking his clothes. Boah kicked an errant rock out of the way, its toss echoing off the walls.

    The more Boah considered it all, the more his mind wandered elsewhere. He realized it couldn¡¯t have possibly been just the healer. Or Urash. Or Heikk or any of the poor souls who died alongside him. No, it had to have been the slave. Jere, who he had sent to meet the healer almost a month prior. Jere, who was so smart and methodical. That was why Boah had bought him, after all. He was ahead of him every step of the way.

    Boah laughed. ¡°Just one problem with that, slave: you didn¡¯t kill me.¡±

    Boah moved along the cramped tunnel, ranting to himself. He ignored the rows of pipes along the wall, moving straight to the pile of rocks at the end of the tunnel. He even pushed past the dripping water. Besides, who else knew thirst like he did? He, who conquered water trading as a boy. He, who survived droughts before he could even stand.

    ¡°Once I get my coin, oh, just you wait,¡± Boah proclaimed as he picked up the nearby metal rod and slammed it into the rock. ¡°You¡¯ll never escape me, slave. I¡¯ll hunt you until the day you die.¡± He slammed it again. ¡°You¡¯ll reminisce of the days I owned you.¡±

    Boah slammed the rod one last time, and the large boulder came loose, tumbling to the ground beside him. He could stay here for days if he had to. Weeks even. Whatever it took to dig his way out, he would do it. He had his own will. How had he gotten this far, anyway? He had begged for money on the street. He got out under the thumb of his pathetic father. He married himself into a dynasty and funded his own education. Boah Awil-Ishtar was the ¡®Big Man for the Little People,¡¯ the man who came from nothing to rule the entire city of Ash.

    ¡°I¡¯ll be fine.¡±

    Another rock came loose, this one much easier. The wall shifted above him, and the rumbling noise returned. Boah wondered how he could still hear the explosions so far up above him. But he paid no mind, slamming his rod once more into the wall.

    Several boulders collapsed above Boah, and in an instant, a gush of water burst from above. He had never felt such a force of power. The water slammed Boah forward, trapping him against the wall he had just attempted to dig out of. Boah pushed back, but it was no use. The gushing grew stronger.

    Boah tried to kick his way out, his body trapped against the rocks. He shook his head, trying with all his might to spit out the water. But the hole above him was grew larger, the column of water heavier.

    Boah held his breath as long as he could. From all his years of speaking, he had stronger lungs than most. But even then, he only held out for a minute. His lungs cried out at him, and the pressure against his chest intensified. Boah opened his mouth and the water rushed in.

    And so it was that Boah Awil-Ishtar, once the High Priest of Ash and the Head of the Awil-Ishtar Jewelry trade, became the first man in a hundred years to drown in the Eivett?.

 Part III.III.I: To Them

    The Great Temple

    ?

    Appo, Jere, Adok, and Eevi passed from the Manor to the cordon with little difficulty. They traveled in silence, watching the hordes disperse and congregate around the gates of the flaming Manor. When the final explosion leveled the structure, they had long ago reached a safe distance.

    The group prepared to spend a night along Main Street, but sure to Urash¡¯s word, the Cordon was tall enough to be out of reach. Eevi and Adok helped Appo to the roof, Jere snooped around just enough to see that there were no screamers within. Over the last few weeks, all had escaped their confines. It would be safe for the night, at least.

    They needed the rest. One by one, they all collapsed on top of the roof, exhausted by all they had been through. None had slept in at least a day.

    As the others attempted to relax, Appo found himself unable to. How could he? He failed again. It was as if he had lost the city all over again. He lay against the roof, watching the burning skeleton of Ash Manor as a column of smoke rose overhead. The rubble would sizzle for days. He had only just recognized that he had lost his way into the Great Temple. There would be no way to get to Urash¡¯s tunnel, and hundreds of screamers still lined the perimeter of the Temple. Getting back inside would be impossible now.

    But gradually, as he watched the inferno, Appo forgave himself. He had given his all. No one would fault him, not even himself. He still thought of all who had he lost over the last few days, but he would not honor their memories by blaming himself.

    Eventually, Appo dozed off. It wasn''t for long, for Jere awakened him, scrounging in a small alcove behind their rooftop. The sun had set, but the light of the Manor fire pit shone brightly still.

    ¡°Aha!¡± Jere exclaimed as he returned to the group, rousing them all with playful shoves.

    Eevi rubbed her eyes. ¡°What?¡± she asked, annoyed.

    ¡°Vintage Thalassian Wine,¡± Jere announced proudly, holding the massive maroon bottle out for all to see. ¡°Won¡¯t taste anything finer.¡±

    Adok raised an eyebrow at the sight. ¡°Urash told us to come here for a drink?¡±

    Jere uncorked the bottle, unable to hide his excitement. He sniffed it before sipping, smiling brightly. ¡°Any objections to drinking our sorrows away?¡± There were none.

    Appo was the first to take the bottle, allowing himself a generous chug. He couldn''t remember the last time he drank wine, which was unfortunate, as he once considered it his favorite. The wine went down smoothly, its bitterness morphing into cherry and raspberry.

    ¡°This is the greatest thing I¡¯ve ever drank,¡± Appo said, truthfully. Before he could have another, Jere swiped the bottle from Appo¡¯s hand and passed it back to Adok. He cradled it nervously before taking a light slurp, grimacing.

    ¡°Ugh! This is what you people drink in your free time?¡±

    Jere motioned him to continue. ¡°Acquired taste. Don¡¯t be such a kid.¡± Adok struggled with another sip before passing the bottle to Eevi, who stuck the bottle up to her nose.

    ¡°Red?¡± Eevi asked, recoiling as she sniffed the bottle. ¡°No thanks. Kirashi ruined those for me. I¡¯ll keep on lookout¡­ Let me know if you find any spirit.¡± Jere shrugged, passing the bottle back to Appo.

    The four of them sat on the roof as the sun set, drinking and talking in relative peace. Stories of debauchery and adventure became the mainstay. Their memories fell to the past, doing their best to ignore the present. Adok gradually loosened, reminiscing about his uncle and his various herbs. Jere talked of his mentor, Quartermaster Cahara, and his ability to drink over seventy jugs of ale. Appo discussed the intricacies of red wine, and the best methods he knew of to extract flavor. All the while, Eevi sat in silence, cradling her bow and watching for screamers. For a moment, they all had forgotten where they were.

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    ¡°¡®Ay, Appo,¡± Jere slurred, the full effect of his wine hitting him. ¡°Did¡­ did ya'' really talk with ¡®ur God? The one of ¡®pessilence¡¯?

    ¡°What do you mean?¡± Appo asked, not handling the wine much better. ¡°You said you believed me, right?¡±

    Jere slapped Appo on the shoulder. ¡°Frien¡­ I woulda¡¯ believed anathing down thar. Coulda told me I had three arms!¡±

    Appo laughed loudly, before being shushed by Adok. He was quick to take to the wine. ¡°You¡­¡± Adok slurred, pointing at Appo. ¡°You¡­ are the¡­ GREATEST actor¡­ I¡¯ve ever seen!¡±

    Jere chuckled. ¡°Bullshit! Man barely pulled offa¡¯ corpse!¡± Appo laughed with the three, putting his hand against his chest.

    ¡°And you!¡± Adok continued, pointing to Jere. ¡°I have a confession¡­ That night, when you snuck out¡­ I didn¡¯t go to Penzer¡­ I just¡­ walked around a bit¡­ I didn¡¯t want to cause no trouble.¡±

    Jere yanked the bottle out of Adok¡¯s hand. ¡°Pussy,¡± he grumbled, before leaning over to Appo. ¡°He¡¯s had too much!¡± Appo giggled at Adok as he struggled to keep himself upright. It was indeed excessive for someone his age, not that it mattered here.

    Adok continued, pointing back to Appo. ¡°But no¡­ I mean it¡­ you are an amazing healer. You are so good at what you do!¡±

    ¡°You don¡¯t know any other healers, Adok,¡± Appo laughed. Adok threw his hands in the air. Appo continued, turning to Jere. ¡°To answer your question, though¡­ Yeah. I did. I learned some amazing things out there¡­ If I ever make it back home, I¡¯m gonna share it with the world.¡±

    ¡°Oh yeah?¡± Jere asked. ¡°Like what?¡±

    ¡°Like¡­¡± Appo stumbled over his words, before pointing to his face. ¡°Disease! They¡¯re¡­ organisms. Infinitesimally small, unable to be seen by our eyes¡­ But they¡¯re everywhere. Good and bad.¡±

    Jere raised an eyebrow, leaning back. ¡°So¡­ tiny bugs? Alright, sure. Why not?¡±

    The two laughed again, but Adok cut them off by immediately sobbing into his hands.

    ¡°Heikk,¡± Adok said between gasps of breath. ¡°He¡¯s¡­ He¡¯s¡­ He¡¯s-¡±

    Jere cut him off, taking the bottle and placing it around Adok''s hands. He suddenly looked very sober. He pushed the bottle up, leaving Adok holding it in the air. ¡°It¡¯s okay. I¡¯m going to teach you how to toast. Do you know how to toast?¡±

    Adok sniffed. ¡°I¡¯ve seen others do it.¡±

    Jere stood back, sitting back in his place. ¡°Say something. Anything you¡¯d like.¡±

    Adok held the bottle high, his lower lip quivering. ¡°Heikk¡­ none of you knew ¡®em like I knew ¡®em. But he was a good man¡­ He only did what was right, right until the end¡­ He was the brother I never had.¡±

    Jere motioned him to sip. ¡°Say, ¡®to Heikk.¡¯¡± Adok did so.

    With the mood suddenly quiet, Jere took the bottle from Adok and looked around. ¡°I¡­ I''ll also give a toast.¡± He lifted his bottle in the air. ¡°To Penzer. Another good man. Hope he¡¯s well, wherever he is.¡± He then leaned back, taking a healthy swig before handing the nearly empty bottle to Appo.

    Appo twisted the bottle, watching what remained of the wine swirl. He thought of whom to give a toast to. He had so many to choose from, but none that anyone here would know. Tomi and Uten crossed his mind first, before remembering their family. Garabi and Erish were likely still out in Thornestone Wood, awaiting their return. He even thought of Gizzal.

    Instead, Appo¡¯s thoughts turned to one other.

    ¡°If you don¡¯t mind,¡± Appo began. ¡°I¡¯d like to toast to the one who made me who I am today. It may take some time, though.¡± The three sat around, listening.

    ¡°When I was a young priest in Jyv?sk, I was to become consecrated to Lord Atta. I apprenticed at the Holy Lacrum for a year, listening to the gossip and complaints of nobles¡­ every day, I passed this beggar girl, who sat at the corner of the street. Even now, I see her: a skinny, ragged thing, her hair gone completely white. Didn¡¯t need a healer to tell you she was dying. But every day, from dawn to dusk, she sat out collecting Jiks, earning a meager handful. After the day was done, she gave it all back to the church.¡±

    Appo leaned back, swirling the bottle still. ¡°I¡¯d see her every day before I arrived and after I left. Never asked for anything. She prayed every day for Lord Atta to fix what was wrong with her. And the church took her coin without question.¡±

    Appo looked up. To his surprise, they listened intently. Adok¡¯s nose was still red from the tears, but the story entranced him.

    ¡°I watched her every day for a month. Then one day, she collapsed. She was seizing. No one knew what to do. I didn¡¯t¡­ To this day, I¡¯m not sure what I would have done. No one did except for a lone woman: a healer named Martta. Just passing by. Rubbed some herb into her nose and she calmed. It was exactly what she needed. The girl came back to life. It was a spectacle.¡±

    Appo paused. He could see her face so clearly now. He rarely went a day without thinking about it. ¡°She died a week later. It was inevitable, I suppose. When she died, the church threw her a parade. They sang songs, praised her in sermons¡­ all an example of what the devout could be. And¡­ they didn¡¯t even offer her a bed.¡±

    Appo took a swig from the wine, finishing it. ¡°I left the church a week later and joined the Healer¡¯s Guild.¡± He raised his bottle in the air. ¡°To her.¡±

    The four were silent. After a moment, Eevi reached over and picked up the empty bottle, lazily gesturing to around her eye line.

    ¡°To world peace,¡± Eevi said before putting it down.

 Part III.III.II: Punishment

    Juddken knew it none of it was real. So many unusual things had happened. Okkan had to be testing him, putting his body and mind to the brink. Heikk becoming the Healer. The Manor erupting into flames. Demons ripping the faithful to pieces. His father, eyes blackened and mouth agape, commanding him to turn back. It wasn¡¯t him. It couldn¡¯t have been him. It had to have been a monster that replaced his father.

    Since then, the voices shouted unceasingly. They were his punishment.

    ¡° mimimimimimimimimimimimi ¡±

    The high-pitched voice mumbled incessantly. Even as Juddken covered his ears it persisted. What voice was Okkan speaking to him as? How did he recognize it?

    The throne room torches had dimmed, and Juddken would have to relight them. Water leaked from the triangular passageway now, flowing into the canals on his side of the room. Unless it was another vision, of course. Even now, as the water pooled around his armor, he was no longer sure.

    ¡° mimimimimimimimimimi ¡±

    Juddken looked up at his shrine, that magnificent tower of flesh and bone. He had done a marvelous job flaying their skin. He would soon lay it over the arms, draping them in a flag that Okkan would approve. But why had the voices continued? Why could Juddken not recall who made the high-pitched voice? Was it not enough?

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    He accepted his father was a false conduit. He accepted his followers were impure. Okkan had reduced them all to cinder and dust. Juddken was all that remained.

    Juddken closed his eyes, hoping the visions would go away. Instead, he saw his mother cradling a swaddle of centipedes and spiders. His mother flicked her lips repeatedly, cooing the festering abomination.

    ¡° mimimimimimimi ¡±

    Juddken opened his eyes in fright. He''d heard the corpse of a mother. If he still had his dagger, he would have driven it straight into his ears. The centipedes crawled on his skin now, underneath his armor. His attempt at a scream ripped into his throat, and in defiance of pain, he tore off his armor.

    In a few minutes, the voices calmed. The throne room remained flooded, but the clanging of the armor overwhelmed their calls. Juddken, now stripped to his undergarments, heaved his chest. He looked into his armor, trying to see himself in the reflection, finding nothing.

    It all became clear to him then. He had been selfish. He drew as much passion and pride from it as anyone else. As punishment, Okkan sent him his most powerful visions and chants. He would need to correct his course now, before he became his father.

    Juddken looked back to his shrine. The High Priest and his sister were a good start, and the guard and the caregiver were excellent additions. But he needed the traitors. If Juddken could add them to the shrine, he would obliterate the curse. He would be the one true conduit. If Okkan sent any more visions his way, Juddken would conquer them and add them to the shrine.

    And they would come. Then Okkan would save them all.

 Part III.III.III: Clarity

    ¡° Healer! ¡±

    ¡°Lowya?!¡± Appo called out. He wasn¡¯t sure how he heard her, or even where he was. Everything was black. ¡°Are you really there?!¡±

    The void expanded, and Appo found himself back in the field of flowers. Only this time, the sky was bright blue. It reminded Appo of Ash.

    ¡° Whatever you¡¯ve done, it¡¯s working! Have you succeeded? ¡±

    Appo looked around the endless field for Lowya. He heard her voice everywhere, coming from all directions. ¡°Things didn¡¯t go exactly to plan,¡± he sighed. ¡°There¡¯s not enough of us left. I¡¯ve even lost my way into the Temple.¡±

    ¡° It¡¯s not about how many! Even now, I can see your city much more clarity! ¡±

    ¡°Can you control the plague?¡± Appo asked. He looked up to the sky, hearing a voice so expansive could not register to his brain. It was as if every blade of grass was talking to him. ¡°Is it enough?¡±

    ¡° Hmph, not quite. There is still opposition. Singular, but strong. Somewhere in the Temple. ¡±

    Appo frowned. He recalled the shrine that greeted him when he first arrived, the monstrous amalgamation of corpses. Based on what Jere and Adok had told him, he had an idea who it could be. Even here in this dream-like world, Appo felt his wounded arm ache in pain.

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    ¡°The one in the Temple will not be convinced,¡± Appo said. ¡°He is too far gone.¡±

    ¡° Very well. Kill him ¡±

    ¡°What?¡± Appo felt rumbling underneath his feet, but he kept his gaze up to the sky.

    ¡° If you wish for me to stop this plague, the opposition must be removed ¡±

    Appo recalled how angry he''d been when Juddken sliced off his hand. He shuddered with horror at the stories Jere and Adok told him, how Juddken had been terrorizing those within the Manor for weeks before he arrived. Juddken was a monster in every sense of the word. If anyone deserved death, it was him.

    But Appo wouldn''t have become a Healer if he believed that. ¡°Is there no other way?¡± he asked.

    Lowya didn''t respond. Instead, the ground erupted beneath Appo, a pile of dirt growing until a sandstone structure pierced the grass. He recognized it as the Great Temple, its golden top reflecting the sunlight. The Temple rose into the air, far beyond its initial four stories. The tiers fanned out into a column, rising faster and faster. It quickly grew to twenty stories and beyond, blocking out the sun.

    This was what the Temple truly was, in all its glory.

    It all vanished, and Appo found himself on a flight of finely carved stairs. The stairs descended into nothingness both above and below him, carving into each side of the wall in a square formation. He walked down the stairs before he again found himself at the edge of a wall. The number ¡°twenty-three¡± seared into his mind.

    Appo was then in the throne room where Lowya had sent him. It was perfectly lit, as if an impossible sun shined through the slits in the walls. In the very center was a small podium, curving upward into a spiral that reminded him of a neck.

    Appo reached around his own and pulled off the necklace. He would just have to place it there. Once he did, he could begin the consecration.

    A hand grasped his shoulder. Appo turned in fright, finding Juddken. He was smiling, having used Appo¡¯s own severed hand to grip his shoulder. Appo screamed.

 Part III.III.IV: Time

    Jere barely kept up with Appo¡¯s ramblings. He watched the healer rise from a nightmare, talking about a dream. It was so vivid and so specific that Jere could not outright dismiss them as conjecture, as much as he wanted to.

    ¡°So,¡± Jere said, piecing together the story. ¡°We beat the plague if bring your amulet to the Temple?¡±

    ¡°And consecrate ourselves to it, yes.¡± There was no wavering in Appo¡¯s voice. ¡°We''d have to pledge ourselves, and it must be unanimous.¡±

    ¡°But Juddken is there,¡± Adok said, still groggy from drinking the night before. ¡°You think he¡¯s waiting for us?¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t know. But¡­ if he¡¯s alive, our consecration won¡¯t be enough. He¡¯s building some shrine of his own to Okkan.¡±

    Jere shrugged. ¡°Okay. So we kill him. Easy.¡± He understood why Appo was hesitant, but Jere had seen what the boy could do. Ostior would be a better place with him gone.

    ¡°Just because he¡¯s done what he did¡­ doesn¡¯t mean we have the right to do the same to him,¡± Appo said, trying to make sense of it.

    ¡°Appo,¡± Jere emphasized, ¡°if I¡¯m to believe you, then your own God told you to do it. This isn¡¯t even up for discussion.¡±

    ¡°He¡¯s right,¡± Adok said. ¡°What¡¯s your moral high ground here? The highest authority, the very being we plan to consecrate ourselves to, permitted you. Was he not the one that cut off your hand?¡±

    Appo shook his head, indignant. ¡°I won¡¯t do it.¡±

    ¡°Fine, don¡¯t,¡± said Jere, gripping his spear. ¡°I¡¯ll make quick work of him.¡± Jere hated to admit it, but Juddken besting him a few nights prior lingered in his brain. He''d hesitated. It wouldn''t happen again.

    ¡°Even if this is all true, how are we going to get inside?¡± Adok asked. ¡°There are thousands of them out there. There¡¯s no way to get through from here.¡±

    Appo pondered for a moment. ¡°Well, when I was in the desert, I had this method with a camel¡­¡±

    Adok and Appo went back and forth, dissecting the logistics of the best possible way to get around the Temple. Meanwhile, Jere¡¯s eyes strayed to Eevi. She''d stayed exactly where she had been for most of the night, watching for screamers. She had listened to Appo briefly but now had strayed aside to the other half of the cordon.

    Jere had not thought about Eevi, considering everything. She helped them escape the Manor. Were it not for her, it was possible they would have all died in there at some point or another. Yet Jere had not even thanked her. He had barely said a word to her, both from the awkwardness of their last encounter and her current coldness.

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    ¡°Hey,¡± Jere said, awkwardly. Eevi jumped at the sound, before turning back to the ground beneath. ¡°Any thoughts about the Healer¡¯s nonsense?¡±

    Eevi said nothing. Jere thought back to her time on the wall with him, and how she had handled his mood. She''d just been present, asking questions and leaving him alone. He''d let her grumble in private, but now was the time to talk. If not now, then when?

    Jere reached out and placed his hand on Eevi¡¯s shoulder. She jumped again, swiping at Jere¡¯s arm and moving a few paces away.

    ¡°What¡¯s your problem?¡± Jere asked, flinching his hands. ¡°If you don¡¯t want to talk anymore, just tell me.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s not that,¡± Eevi said.

    ¡°I just¡­ want to know if you¡¯re okay.¡±

    ¡°Yeah.¡±

    Eevi¡¯s monosyllables were getting under Jere¡¯s skin. ¡°You worried I¡¯ll get too close? Because don¡¯t worry, you left me and Adok in a pretty good place the other day at Nami¡¯s. Shouldn¡¯t have even bothered coming to get us.¡±

    ¡°Stop it, Jere.¡± Eevi pleaded, her voice quivering as she asked.

    ¡°Then what is it? What¡¯s with the fucking attitude?¡± Jere immediately regretted what he said. None of it was how she would have handled this if their roles were reversed.

    There was silence. Eevi took a deep breath, struggling with exactly what she wanted to say. When it finally came out, it came in a flurry of words. Jere had to ask to repeat what she said, not understanding it for the first time.

    ¡°I will make the screamers follow me. I¡¯m giving you three a chance of making it to the Temple.¡±

    ¡°I¡­ what?¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t know what the healer is on about. I don¡¯t know where he came from, or whether any of what he¡¯s saying is true. But if there¡¯s even a slight chance of you three making it-¡±

    ¡°Are you joking?¡± asked Jere. ¡°We¡¯re going together. We¡¯ll figure out another way around.¡±

    ¡°You don¡¯t understand, you fucking idiot!¡± Eevi snapped. ¡°They¡¯re drawn to the Temple. Fires won¡¯t cut it. No, it has to be one of us. And that¡¯s going to be me.¡±

    Before Jere could interject, he looked down at Eevi. She rubbed one of her sleeved arms. No, she was scratching it.

    ¡°I denied it at first,¡± Eevi said, laughing. She rolled her sleeve up, showing a thin scrape just beneath her wrist, already red from scratches. ¡°But when I saw the wine, I knew. Took everything in me not to retch.¡±

    ¡°You,¡± Jere began, his words trailing off. ¡°When?¡±

    Eevi pointed to her crossbow. ¡°This thing has almost killed me so many times. Bound to do me in, eventually.¡± She shook her head in disbelief at it all. ¡°Feels so pointless now.¡±

    Jere reached out to touch her but hesitated. ¡°I- I thought you-¡±

    ¡°Jere,¡± Eevi said, turning now to look at him. Her eyes watered, already reddened. She smiled, sheepishly. ¡°I crawled through a fucking toilet for you¡­ You¡¯re okay.¡±

    It was too much. Jere felt his eyes tear as well.

    ¡°I¡­ I wish we had more time,¡± Jere said. He wanted to say more, but it was already taking all of his will to not reach out and hold her.

    Eevi stepped forward, stopping just a pace or two away. She was so close, yet had never looked so far. Never had she looked so beautiful, scars and all. ¡°When you stop this plague, and you will stop it,¡± Eevi paused, yet never wavered in her gaze. ¡°Come find me.¡±

    Jere sniffed. He couldn¡¯t hide it anymore. ¡°Okay.¡±

    ¡°Okay.¡±

    Eevi smiled once more, before turning back to the Temple. She stepped forward, took a deep breath, and dropped from the top of the cordon and ran to the Temple.

    ¡°Boys!¡± Jere yelled after some hesitation. ¡°Move your asses! We¡¯re leaving!¡±

 Part III.III.V: Diversion

    Appo struggled to follow Jere through the twists and turns of the streets. Adok seemed equally confused. Sand blew in their eyes as they ran, obscuring much of their sight. The wind had been picking up through much of the morning.

    ¡°Any idea what¡¯s going on?¡± Appo huffed as kept pace with Adok.

    ¡°No clue. I think Eevi ran ahead.¡±

    ¡°What? Why?¡±

    Adok shrugged. ¡°Dunno. Wouldn¡¯t be the first time.¡±

    The two found Jere hiding behind a structure corner. Appo nearly ran out into the open before he came face to face with the Temple, catching sight of the mass of screamers. Appo repressed a yelp as he slid back behind Jere. No one had screamed, at least not yet.

    Appo pressed his hand against the wall, squished between Jere and Adok. Out of the three, only Jere had a proper view of the clearing around the Temple. ¡°What are we doing?¡± Appo asked. ¡°Where¡¯s Eevi?¡± No answer. Appo crouched around, peering through the dust storm. Jere pushed him back at first but gradually relented, keeping one of his hands on Appo¡¯s tunic.

    Hundreds of screamers surrounded the courtyard, coalesced into a tight circle around the Temple. From here, Appo could hear the sea of cries and whines and moans that echoed through the courtyard. He had never appreciated how awful their noises could be until now.

    But then he found what Jere had been staring at: Eevi, standing defiantly not ten meters ahead of them, carrying two pots that she had pulled from a nearby cart. She pressed forward with no hint of self-preservation.

    ¡°What is she doing?¡± Appo whispered. ¡°They¡¯re going to see her!¡±

    ¡°She¡¯s giving us a chance,¡± Jere grumbled.

    The answer left Appo stunned. It was suicidal. Had she been contemplating it all night? Was that why she refused to speak with them? Appo wanted to stop her. But Jere pulled back on Appo¡¯s tunic, keeping him firmly in his grip.

    Before Appo could ask any more questions, errant screams pierced their ears.

    ¡°Hey!¡± Eevi yelled, bashing her pots together in a reverberating twang. The sound of a thousand screams unleashed, drowning out her noises. The three covered their ears.

    As the screams shifted away, Appo leaned out from behind the corner again. Hundreds of limping, decaying bodies swirled around the Temple. They tripped and trampled over each other. Eevi had run to the other side of the Temple, ducking and twisting and sliding out of the way of the screamers¡¯ jagged nails with ease.

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    After running around the Temple once more, the screamers had collectively become a moving mass, more akin to a giant slug than individuals. Another couple dozen exited the Temple, their coordinated movements dissipating once coming outside. Eevi looked back at the horde, banged her pots once more, and gave a rousing holler before sprinting off away from the courtyard. The vast majority of the horde followed, leaving the several dozen trampled screamers crawling on the ground after her. When it was all said and done, there were barely a dozen who lined the walls of the nearest entrance to the Temple.

    ¡°Where is she going?¡± Appo asked.

    ¡°Her tavern,¡± Jere said, stone-faced. ¡°Only thing in that direction.¡±

    ¡°Will she be okay?¡± Adok asked. Jere didn''t reply.

    Appo looked out again. A dozen screamers were far more manageable than the horde that once surrounded the Temple, but still be formidable. If any of them chased them inside, they¡¯d have no way of defending themselves.

    Before Appo could offer any suggestions, Jere sprinted out in front of them, charging forth with his spear outstretched. Appo and Adok could only follow.

    Jere¡¯s first victim was a broken thing, crawling forth with shattered legs. He thrust his spear through the screamer¡¯s back, and it immediately fell flat. Jere pulled out the spear and charged again at a standing screamer, crushing its sternum with the blade. Again, the screamer fell instantly. Jere continued forth, swinging and thrusting at another two before the others took notice.

    Appo stayed behind Adok, who had unsheathed his scimitar. Most of the screamers ran to Jere, who swung his spear with a skill and ferocity Appo had only assumed he possessed. As Appo reached the halfway point, Jere had killed or maimed at least six screamers. The others along the wall had finally taken notice, but they reached Jere one after the other. They fell to him easily.

    When Appo reached the Temple entrance, there was only one screamer who had yet to move: a former Temple guard who had scratched off the entirety of her ears. Adok ran forth, plunging his scimitar into the back of the screamer, who released a gasp as it crumpled to the ground. With no one left, Adok ran into the Temple, looking around to see if there were any inside.

    ¡°Don¡¯t see any!¡± Adok yelled. ¡°Get Jere!¡±

    Appo turned, finding Jere still several paces away. He had killed all the screamers, save for a few already wounded. It mattered not. Jere impaled them with his spear, twisting it through the bones before moving on to the next one.

    ¡°Shit,¡± Appo mumbled, before turning to Adok. ¡°Wait here!¡±

    Appo ran back outside, seeing that Jere had succumbed to pure bloodlust. His face contorted, his mouth locked in a grimace. Jere wanted to kill them all.

    ¡°Jere!¡± Appo called. Jere didn''t answer, continuing to thrust his spear into the broken screamers, many already dead. Appo closed in, calling his name out again. This time, Jere turned to Appo, as if he were about to swing the spear at him. Appo did his best not to waiver.

    ¡°Jere,¡± Appo said once more. ¡°Let¡¯s go.¡±

    Jere watched him for a second before looking around. Thirteen corpses lay around them all, either still or squirming. A few in the distance were making their way towards them, but slowly. Jere inhaled, taking it all in, before pulling his spear out of his fresh kill.

    ¡°Right,¡± Jere said.

    The two entered the Temple, the few limping screamers closing in behind them.

 Part III.III.VI: Descent

    Appo and Jere bounced through the corridors, zigging and zagging in search of Adok. Eevi¡¯s distraction cleared out the Temple, though both were careful to check for stragglers. Jere found an errant torch, stumbling as he lit it.

    ¡°Alright,¡± Jere asked, sticking his spear out around a corner. ¡°Where did your God tell us to go?¡±

    ¡°There¡¯s a stairway that goes deep beneath the Temple.¡±

    ¡°Know where it is?¡±

    Appo hesitated. ¡°I thought you¡¯d know?¡±

    Jere shook his head. ¡°You serious? Some fucking vision.¡±

    Before Appo could retort, a voice called for them down another hall. The two followed, finding Adok, carrying a torch in one hand and pulling his scimitar out of the back of a legless screamer in the other. There were two other corpses of the lame screamers, so wounded that they could''ve barely crawled. Adok tried to catch his breath, winded after clearing the hallway.

    ¡°You okay?¡± Jere asked.

    ¡°Yeah,¡± Adok huffed. ¡°Almost didn¡¯t see the bastards.¡±

    ¡°What are you doing, anyway?¡± Appo asked. ¡°Why¡¯d you run back here?¡±

    Adok raised an eyebrow. ¡°What do you mean? I thought you were taking us here.¡± Adok ran down the end of the hallway, pointing to a massive stone slab at the end. ¡°Did guard duty here once, saw the High Priest and his sister come here and disappear for an entire night. Has to be here.¡±

    ¡°It could be a damn closet, for all we know,¡± Jere said.

    Appo stepped over the bodies and approached the slab. It reminded him of the slab that had blocked Mena''s and Duncic¡¯s bodies so many weeks ago. It looked incredibly heavy, requiring the strength of several grown men to move.

    ¡°Or one strong one,¡± Appo corrected himself.

    ¡°Jere,¡± Appo said, stepping away from the slab. ¡°Think you can push it?¡±

    Jere stepped forward, grumbling. ¡°Looks heavy. This where we go?¡±

    ¡°One way to find out.¡±

    Jere leaned his body against the side of the slab, pressing his entire weight into it. Adok and Appo assisted behind him, attempting to push themselves. At first, the slab remained immovable, but after another grunt or two from Jere, it gave. Eventually, he shoved the two out of his way and began heaving himself into the block. With barely an inch at a time, the slab moved to the side. Finally, after one last heave, Jere slammed his body into the slab enough to provide enough space to slither through.

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    Jere gasped, turning to Adok. ¡°How many of the High Priest¡¯s men did it take to move this?¡±

    "Eight,¡± Adok said, awed by the impressive feat of strength.

    Jere grinned, catching his breath. ¡°That¡¯s what I thought.¡±

    The three maneuvered within, finding a hallway. Behind the slab was a strap, which allowed Jere to pull it back in place with ease. This time, Appo and Adok stood out of Jere¡¯s way, realizing how little help they actually provided. After pulling the slab shut, Jere pushed ahead of the two and pulled out his spear.

    As the three exited the hallway, they found themselves in a massive stairway. Shaped like a square, the stairway descended downward in a spiral formation. There was no railing. Appo peered over, realizing that he could only see darkness. Jere dropped a rock into it, waiting for an echo. None came.

    ¡°Twenty-three stories?¡± Jere said. ¡°Sounds about right.¡±

    The three descended, hugging the wall as closely as possible. Appo had been familiar with the Shadeonite mega-structures in his journey to Zabukama, but this was Jere and Adok¡¯s first time witnessing it. Neither had any idea the Temple could go as deep as it possibly did.

    ¡°We need to discuss what happens next,¡± said Jere, trying to get his mind off the cavernous hole next to him. ¡°With Juddken.¡±

    ¡°What¡¯s there to discuss?¡± Appo asked, despite knowing the answer. ¡°We get to the shrine, and we consecrate ourselves to Lowya.¡±

    ¡°That part¡¯s easy, Appo,¡± Adok answered. ¡°But if Juddken is there, we need to figure out how to get past him.¡±

    ¡°I fought him not two nights ago,¡± said Jere. ¡°He¡¯s tougher than he looks, but I almost beat him with a broomstick. He¡¯ll be alone and he¡¯s not expecting us. As long as you stay back, you won¡¯t need to do a thing.¡±

    Appo continued on, uneasily. ¡°Is there no other way?¡±

    ¡°Appo,¡± Jere said, almost in disbelief. ¡°He has flayed people, burned them alive, scalped them, removed their tongues, digits, hands. All in the name of Okkan. If he puts a blade to your throat, you¡¯re not talking your way out of it.¡±

    Appo wondered why this bothered him so much. Had he not wished for Isbibarra¡¯s death not a few nights before? Had he not told himself that he would kill him the first chance he got? Did his eventual death not fill him with joy?

    But Isbibarra was a monster. He had just killed two children. And even then, Appo had only acted in self-defense. He hadn''t even delivered the final blow.

    No, Appo was a healer. Regardless of how awful Juddken had become, this was deliberately seeking someone¡¯s death. He''d pledged that he¡¯d do no harm. Not to Lowya, but to his guild. He had lost his hand, but he could still heal.

    But if Juddken killed them? Appo couldn''t imagine how many lives that would mean.

    ¡°I understand,¡± Appo said, after walking a few flights in thought. ¡°Do what needs to be done.¡± Jere grunted, gripping his spear tightly.

    ¡°All this time,¡± Adok suddenly said, looking above himself. ¡°The Heads always knew about this. They always kept secrets.¡±

    ¡°Yeah,¡± Jere said. ¡°They¡¯re not good people.¡±

    ¡°Maybe we deserved it. The plague, the droughts¡­ everything.¡±

    ¡°There were good people here, Adok,¡± Appo said. ¡°Good people died here. Friends, families¡­ There¡¯s good people out there, too.¡±

    Jere huffed. ¡°I¡¯ve seen the world, Healer. There¡¯s plenty of shit people out there, too.¡±

    ¡°Then why bother?¡± Appo asked. ¡°Why keep going?¡±

    ¡°Because I¡¯ve gone through too much to die in fucking Ash.¡±

 Part III.III.VII: A Healer Above All Things

    The three continued in silence. With each descent, Jere tapped the side of the wall, keeping count of how many floors they had gone down. Eventually, they had traveled so far down that even the torchlight above them vanished into nothingness. Even as they reached their twenty-third story, they still were far from seeing the bottom.

    ¡°This is it,¡± Appo announced. Looking down the hall, Appo could see the slightest sliver of light. As they pressed through the darkness, their torch lights revealed an intricately carved teak door. They passed through.

    Appo quickly recognized the throne room where he had materialized a few days prior. It was still lit by torchlight, but some things had changed. For one, a thin puddle of water completely covered the floor. But that paled compared to the grotesque shrine that took up the center of the room. The gangly fleshy arms flailed outwards, carving through the room¡¯s air. The three of them hesitated at the sight.

    ¡°Ati¡¯s dirt,¡± Adok whispered.

    Jere stepped forward, pointing his spear toward the shrine. ¡°You two, stay back,¡± he commanded. He pressed on, his footsteps rippling the water as he did. From here, Appo could see that the shrine leered over a podium in the center of the room. With the neck-shaped mantle, Appo recognized it as the one from his vision. They were so close. He would just need to place his necklace on top of it.

    But only once they rid themselves of Juddken.

    As Jere reached the center of the room, Appo and Adok followed slowly behind. They scanned the room, searching for another figure lurking in the shadows. For just a moment, Appo wondered if Juddken had already died.

    The hope didn''t last long. Juddken leaped from behind a column, thrusting a dagger into Adok¡¯s belly.

    Adok screamed in pain. Appo fell away, scrambling at seeing Juddken suddenly so close to him. Juddken pulled the dagger out, and blood splattered on the water-stained floor. He tried to stab Adok again, but the dagger deflected off armor.

    ¡°Hey!¡± Juddken turned to the sound of the voice, releasing Adok into the water. Juddken stared with wide, dilated eyes, almost obscured in the shadows of his skeletal face. From here, Appo could see Juddken with clarity: he was completely shirtless, demonstrating an extremely gaunt and bony frame. Despite his lankiness, he moved with a surprising speed. Most notably, Appo could see the wound that Isbibarra had left him: a bloated and misshapen lump of pale flesh that pulsated around his neck as Juddken breathed.

    Jere charged back at Juddken without hesitation. Juddken leaped away, motioning behind a column and grabbing a spear of his own. Jere positioned himself between Juddken and the others, and the two circled each other.

    Appo turned to Adok, who squirmed in the water. Blood squirted out underneath his belly. Appo quickly crawled over to him, surveying the damage. It was a deep cut, and Adok grimaced as Appo placed his hands over his belly.

    ¡°No,¡± Appo said. ¡°Not this one.¡±

    Juddken stood with a blank stare, looking past Jere and towards his fallen victim. He gently angled his spear back and forth, mumbling as he stood in place. Appo almost wondered whether he could even fight before he suddenly lunged forward, bringing the spear to the edge of Jere¡¯s ear. Jere ducked, pushing back against the spear with his own before the two paced around each other again.

    ¡°Ooh!¡± Adok suddenly screamed. Appo pressed down into Adok¡¯s belly, pulling a cloth from his side. He wished he had something on him. If only he thought about collecting the wine from yesterday instead of drinking it. Appo cursed himself for not even considering the idea. He lifted Adok¡¯s armor plating: the blade had indeed pierced him, leaving a mark of about two centimeters above his pelvis.

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    ¡°Could have been worse,¡± Appo thought as he desperately tried to stop the bleeding. As he did, the occasional sounds of blades crashing against each other echoed in the chamber. Jere and Juddken were properly dueling, taking time to attack and lunge and defend.

    Appo flipped around to Adok¡¯s other side, watching the two fight. They were closer to the shrine now. Judging by the cuts on Juddken¡¯s arms and body, Jere landed several shots already. Appo watched as Juddken swung his spear overhead, only for Jere to dive underneath it and slice the outside of Juddken¡¯s thigh.

    ¡°What¡¯s going on?¡± Adok asked, wincing through his pain.

    ¡°Jere¡¯s winning,¡± Appo said. Jere had added another slice on Juddken¡¯s abdomen. Juddken held his blade closer to his chest, retracting his arm to cover the wound. Jere continued to dance around him, striking methodically. It was as if he were going to beat Juddken not with a single stroke, but by a thousand cuts.

    It would only be a matter of time.

    Juddken swung his spear downward in the water. Jere dodged it with ease, but Juddken quickly brought the spear back up, flicking water into his face. Jere backed away, putting distance between himself, but it left him far away from Appo and Adok. Juddken dropped his spear, pulled out his knife, and rushed toward the two.

    ¡°Oh God.¡±

    Juddken tackled Appo, rolling him over the side. He stuck his dagger right beneath Appo¡¯s throat. Appo froze, his arms outstretched underneath, the cool water soaking his tunic as he did so. Appo closed his eyes, expecting the blade to slit his throat and finish him.

    But he was still alive. Appo slowly opened his eyes, meeting Juddken¡¯s gaze. The blank stare had gone, leaving one of desperation. His eyes darted back and forth like a wounded animal¡¯s. He heaved, his bloated throat scar inflating and deflating as he tried to catch his breath. Fresh scratches covered most of his body; Jere had done more than enough damage already.

    ¡°Guh, guh,¡± Juddken murmured, his growth collapsing in on his neck as he spoke. It pained him.

    ¡°Appo.¡± It was Jere, standing a few meters away near Adok, holding out his spear. He said it not out of concern, but as a statement.

    ¡°Use the gauntlet, ignoramus,¡± Appo imagined Jere saying in his head.

    Appo was the only one of them who could perform the consecration. Juddken would die, whether by Jere¡¯s hand or starvation or whatever. But if he killed Appo right here and now, everything would have been for naught. Tomi. Uten. Gizzal. Heikk. Eevi. Maybe even Adok. All Appo had to do was extend the blade and put it into Juddken¡¯s chest.

    Appo hesitated. He knew what Jere had told them. But right here, on top of him, Appo recoiled at who Juddken really was.

    He thought back to the game he used to play, where he¡¯d watch people in the streets. He thought of the ones who darted around without a care, mumbling to themselves incessantly. They claimed to hear voices, and could do horrible things under their whims.

    That was exactly how Juddken looked.

    ¡°He¡¯s sick¡­¡± Appo struggled to say underneath Juddken¡¯s blade.

    ¡°Do it, Appo,¡± Jere said.

    ¡°But¡­¡±

    ¡°I am a Healer, above all things,¡± Appo recited in his head. ¡°And above all things, a Healer does no harm.¡±

    He looked at those pleading eyes. Eyes of someone who was just trying to survive.

    ¡°How would I cure this?¡±

    Appo slammed his left arm into the ground, extending the blade into Juddken, right beneath his ribcage and towards his heart. Juddken gasped, his eyes going wide. He rolled over, dropping his knife as he fell to the side. He steadied himself briefly before collapsing, becoming still.

    Appo stayed locked in Juddken¡¯s embrace. He tried to pull his gauntlet blade out, pulling back with all his might as if he could take back what he had just done. But the blade remained lodged in. He tugged harder, but the blade refused to release its clutched grip from Juddken¡¯s heart. In a fit of anger, Appo tore the gauntlet off his forearm, leaving the gauntlet and its extended blade in Juddken¡¯s chest.

    Jere approached, still clutching his spear. ¡°Is he¡­¡±

    Appo did not respond. He got to his feet, walking away from both.

    Appo took gingerly steps through the throne room, ignoring the monstrosity of a shrine in favor of the simple podium. Without a word, he removed Lowya¡¯s necklace and placed it on the podium. The consecration would be a long process, and they would need to begin with haste.

    But before he did, Appo removed his pendant. He looked it over, feeling Lowya¡¯s lines swerve through his fingertips. He had carried it ever since he left Jyv?sk, ever since he had become a Healer. Ever since he saw that poor girl die in the streets. Every person he had ever treated gazed upon it in some form or another, no matter what they had come to him with.

    Appo removed the pendant from his neck and placed it on the podium.

 Epilogue

    Epilogue

    The consecration would take a few nights. There were many words to be recited and proclaimed. Although Appo had long memorized them, he had little energy after all they had passed on their way to the Temple. Adok¡¯s wound initially worsened, and Appo feared he would develop bloodrot. But on the second day, Adok recovered, his fever lessening. Despite all this, Adok completed the consecration more quickly than Jere, who struggled with the simple phrasings and became frustrated with their words. But eventually, he too completed the consecration.

    The three spent an additional day removing the shrine, taking it down and placing its pieces into a nearby tomb. Jere blessed the remains of the shrine, hoping his simple words would be enough to guide their souls to the next plane. They took Juddken¡¯s body and buried it separately, providing him with the same words. None were keen to sleep in the throne room, instead moving out to the hallway between them all. Appo remained uncertain whether the consecrations would work at all. Adok struggled to sleep through the pain, though Appo¡¯s remaining poppy allowed him some comfort. Jere had grown tired of talking, spending most of his time in meditation.

    On the third day, enough time had passed. The three made their way up the Temple stairs and pushed aside the stone slab. No screamers awaited them on the other side.

    It was difficult to determine the time as the three exited the Temple. When they found darkness on the outside, Adok believed the sun had just gone below the skyline. He asked whether they should wait any longer before leaving.

    But Appo and Jere knew better: they were looking at clouds. Clouds never covered the sky over the Eivett?.

    Appo was the first to exit the Temple. He noticed how cool it was, almost chilly against his skin. It was a sensation he had not felt since the Raider¡¯s tent in the Rust Waves. But it was even cooler now. Adok wondered aloud whether he was dreaming.

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    Then they noticed the screamers. They were still outside with them. They stood like statues, blending into the shadows underneath the dim light of the clouds. There were thousands of them, all standing side by side around the Temple courtyard.

    The consecration worked.

    ¡°Bless you, Goddess Lowya,¡± Appo said in his mind. He''d tried to talk with her below the Temple, but she never responded.

    The screamers only blocked some of their surroundings. Main Street remained empty, and something had opened the gates of the outer wall. Slowly, the three pressed forward. Even though a few nights had passed, the embers of Ash Manor continued to sizzle. A small column of smoke rose ahead, curving over them as it followed the breeze of the sky. There was an orderliness that seemed unusual, considering everything. It was as if the screamers cleared out the path themselves.

    Appo watched the faces of the screamers as he passed them. Men and women, old and young, decrepit and beautiful. All shared the same blank expression and widened red eyes. These were not people who had returned to who they once were.

    Their faces slowly changed. One by one, their mouths curled into smiles. Soon, they collectively giggled in complete silence. Their nodding heads reverberated through the crowd of thousands. In Appo¡¯s head, he heard the faint giggling of a small girl.

    Thunder crackled overhead. Adok nearly fell in shock.

    The three pushed their way through, ignoring their silent nodding and focused on making it past the gates. Appo noticed one screamer in the crowded, a tall woman, her face and body spared except for a large burn. Appo did not stop to confirm if it was who he thought he was. He watched Jere do the same in front of him, keeping his eyes locked on the gate, seeing screamers continuing well beyond.

    No one looked back at the city. Appo hoped they could make it to the river. Then they could find someone to help. A Jyv?skian legion who had somehow survived the plague. Maybe Norsu would provide a ride. He even hoped he''d find the Yalds, and apologize to them for what had happened to their children. He knew they would never know unless he told them.

    Raindrops fell from the sky. Then the drops became a pour. The Goddess Lowya would provide the city of Ash with its greatest rainfall in centuries. One its new citizens would all be grateful for.

 Acknowledgements

    The Screaming Plague of Ash has been in the works for about four years now, which is absurd to think about. It wasn''t a consistent four years by any means, with writes and rewrites and rewrites yet to come. Sometimes when writing this story poured out. Other times, it felt like chipping away at marble with a mechanical pencil. But it''s finished, and I''m proud of it. Regardless of what comes with this project, I felt myself grow as an author and committed to not only the art but the love of writing.

    What I didn''t expect was for people on here to enjoy it. This isn''t the biggest thing on RR by a long shot, but there are many of you out there who kept up with this story despite all its crazy turns and my more than occasional hiatuses. The fact many of you stuck with it truly meant the most to me. Without you guys, I don''t know if I could have pushed through to the end. Before RR, I only had myself to judge SPOA''s merit (anyone who writes fantasy knows that getting people to read your stories is more than daunting), but you all gave me the feedback and energy to push it through to the end. To each and every one of you, I thank you immensely.

    As for what''s next, I''m not sure. I''m not on RR as much as the early days, and I''m not particularly interested in publishing this work on Kindle for now. As far as I''m concerned, this is still a first draft. I already have several ideas on how I can improve the story, and I still want to give myself room to breathe before revisiting this. I''m currently diving into the world of screenwriting, and I already have a couple other works in the lineup (they''re not fantasy or a novel, so they won''t see the light of day, at least here). But I want to return to this story and make it as good as it can possibly be. As such, it''ll stay up on here for the immediate future.

    Some of you may be upset that the story ends the way it does. While the story of Ash is complete, I have a very strong idea for a sequel. I want it to take place in Jyvask, Appo''s home city, and for it to take place several years after the events of SPOA. In between writing this, I''ve also written nearly one hundred pages of lore that I''d love to explore in some capacity. I intend for Jere and Appo to return, and I assure everyone that the threat of the Screaming Plague is far from over. I don''t have specifics for how that story would end, as my writing process for this began with little outlining and I found that much more engaging to write with that strategy. I think it would be a very fun story. It would also be longer (something like four parts instead of three). Unfortunately, as of right now, I haven''t started it for a few reasons. 1). This book took way longer than expected and I''m still giving myself space from it. But more than that is 2). it''s a lot of work and it doesn''t pay the bills (I also don''t think I have the popularity to rely on donations on here and I''m not really about that life anyway). If this initial work got published that''d be one thing, but I''m still a ways from that and the publishing world is a crapshoot. So for the foreseeable future, the story is on standby, and if I do return, it''ll probably be to tighten this up. You may see this story again, but slightly different.

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    But that''s down the road. We''ll see what happens. Life is weird like that.

    For now, I want to thank people both offline and online that got me over the hump.

    _________________________

    To K.W., for whom the world of Ostior owes a great debt. I credit him for looking over early drafts, world-building, brainstorming, and being a general source of inspiration and encouragement.

    To C.A., for being an early reader, writing partner, and an occasional source of inspiration (you know how). He was the first to read my story and the first to encourage me to finish my tale.

    To my loving family who always support me regardless of what nonsense I got into, and were more than willing to give feedback whenever possible (sometimes too willing... looking at you, Dad)

    To my close friend, poetry confidant, and early editor X.K., who has been an encourager of reading and writing for many years, and someone who I can count on to always give me constructive literary criticism.

    To C.C., another editor and close friend of mine who did an outstanding job of catching many of my early grammar errors, especially in regards of ¡°show, don¡¯t tell.¡±

    To Dosei, one of the first authors I networked with and was an important mentor throughout the later writing process. Thank you for introducing me to the art of marketing and being an energetic and compassionate friend.

    To StainedGlassThreads, for being my first editor and one of my earliest fans. The person I can count on to make sure I put my commas where they need, to, b,e,

    To LooseCultivator, the most dutiful of commentators. Even if there''s only one person left to read this story, I knew you''d be that person. Thanks for sticking with it.

    To everyone else on RoyalRoad and all those who read this first draft. Your comments and feedback gave me the endorphin rush I needed to push myself through to the very end. I don¡¯t have enough kind words for you all.

    To D.D., who was a source of encouragement through the good times and the bad. Hope you are well.

    To J.E., for creating my first cover art.

    To that one radiologist who answered a million questions I had regarding epidural hematomas, answers which allowed my to write one of my favorite chapters.

    ____________________________________

    I''ll still be around on occasion to respond to comments. This isn''t goodbye, but make sure to keep an eye out for my work in the future. I''ll return to Ostior, one day.

    -B