《Abandoned》


 To the Grave

    In the distance, through the haze of the desert, a shape began to appear.


    At first, Isaac thought it was another sandwyrm surfacing through the dunes. He started to panic again. There were many things he had learned about the creatures since the start of his journey, more than any ancient tome had managed to teach. The beasts were colossal, highly territorial, and vicious when disturbed. Their natural armor was impervious to arrows and blades. And, if Isaac could see the wyrm now, then it had already sensed his presence long ago.


    He stopped, feeling the heat of the sand through the thin soles of his boots, and wiped sweat from his face. He squinted against the glare of the sun. Out in the distance, the shape only grew larger. Isaac couldn¡¯t spot the vestigial wings or any other identifying anatomy. The lessons and diagrams from his textbooks slipped from his mind like mist. The sun beat down on his face and sweat stung his eyes. All he could see were vague colors swirling on the horizon.


    He knew he shouldn¡¯t have been out during the day. Travel by night, his uncle had told him, pressing the scrolls and phylacteries into his pack. Don¡¯t ever go out during the day. His uncle had impressed upon him that this was not only to protect against the worst of the heat, but to avoid the sandwyrms at the peak of their activity.


    Isaac had followed that advice initially, making camp inside dry gulches during the day and travelling around the deeper pockets of sand during the night. But, by the fourth day, he¡¯d exhausted his waterskins, and had been forced to scavenge in the morning light for what little vegetation existed in this desolate area of the world, ripping the plants from the scraggly dirt and sucking moisture from their roots. His rations of salt meat and hardtack had only worsened his thirst. Now, at the dawn of the sixth day since he¡¯d entered the desert, he was stumbling half-blind through valleys of dunes, searching for an oasis his map told him was only a half-day¡¯s journey away. He knew that, if he didn¡¯t reach it soon, he would die.


    His journey was in grave danger. He couldn¡¯t fail. Not now. Not even at the cost of his life.


    Right now, the only thing he could be sure of was that the shape was heading in his direction. Isaac had read many adventurer¡¯s journals in preparation, and more than a few had spoken of mirages¡ªhallucinations brought out by thirst and heat. He couldn¡¯t be sure that this shape was not a trick of the mind. It seemed to float on the edge of the sand like a blade of grass on still water.


    He couldn¡¯t take the chance. The shape was still coming closer. If it was a sandwyrm, then he had to act now. Before it was too late.


    He wiped more sweat from his eyes and reached down into the quiver at his hip. Instead of arrows, it held scrolls. Catalysts, his uncle would insist. Amplifiers of his body¡¯s natural energies. No magic was free.


    He unfurled one of the few remaining papers and held the glowing sigil in the direction of the approaching shape. With his other hand, he performed the necessary mnemonics. A familiar draining sensation sucked through his inner being, channeling into the scroll. His arm grew weak, but Isaac forced himself to keep it aimed and steady.


    For all their might and ferocity, the sandwyrms were not mindless creatures. A single warning shot was capable of scaring them away. The spell was exhausting to perform, even with the scrolls, but anything less would not intimidate the beasts. He had to seem like a threat.


    Isaac aimed. His breath steadied. In the distance, the shape seemed to become¡ª


    A fireball erupted from the scroll. It arced across the dunes like a second sun blazing through the sky. Isaac wobbled on his feet, the sudden transfer of energy nearly making his legs buckle. He watched the fireball complete its downward trajectory towards the shape. It exploded into a nearby dune, searing the sand into glass, edges of the flames raining down close to the sandwyrm. A perfect shot. That would frighten the beast.


    But something odd happened. Instead of diving below the sand, as Isaac expected, the shape seemed to turn, and, as it turned, it grew larger. Suddenly, Isaac could make out more details. He saw the angled lines of netting and rope. He saw cannon portholes stitched in rows across a wooden broadside. And, finally, he saw twin masts sporting a single large sail, which glowed with the circular sigil of wind propulsion magic.


    The shape had not been a sandwyrm. It was a sandship.


    A sharp semicircle of sand kicked up into the air as the ship pulled a hard turn across the face of a dune. Seeing clearly now, Isaac could discern individual sailors rushing along the deck, some of them climbing into the rigging. Their forms seemed large and varied, covered in patches of leather armor and weaponry. The magical sigil on the ship¡¯s sail glowed brighter as the crew threw fire directly onto the fabric, which was absorbed like water and transformed into momentum. The ship was accelerating hard, and still turning in Isaac¡¯s direction.


    A black standard unfurled itself along the foremast, depicting a canine skull over crossbones.


    These were pirates, and they were not human.


    For a moment, Isaac could only stare in awe. He had read about the pirates of this desert, how their ships travelled across sand and gravel as easily as water, the magical technology plundered from neighboring nations. They were zoanthropes near exclusively¡ªpredator species that were more adapted to the desert, foxes and hyenas and lions. Most of them stood a head or two taller than humans. Most of them could kill him with a single swipe of their claws.


    And Isaac had just shot a fireball at them.


    He was knocked out of his shock by their first cannon salvo. Plumes of smoke burst from the broadside of the ship, and the ground erupted before him in a rushing line. Isaac dove away, feeling the wind of an iron ball screaming past the spot where his torso had been a second earlier. Clouds of sand pelted his face. He scrambled to his feet, blinking and spitting. The ship had completed its turn, gaining speed as it sailed down a valley of dunes, and it was now bearing down square in his direction, the black pirate standard fluttering in the desert breeze as the crew poured more fire on the sail.


    Isaac ran for his life.


    He sprinted to the edge of the dune and jumped, sliding down the slope in a desperate tumble. His worn and dirty clothes were destroyed even further by the rushing sand, flaying the skin on his hands and legs. Once he reached the bottom, he rolled head over heels, barely managing to regain his balance before he was running again.


    There was nowhere to go. All around him was sand, sloping off in gentle waves as far as he could see. His feet sank into it with every step, and he quickly lost any bearing or direction he had obtained from his map. There was only panic and fear, an urgent will to flee.


    He heard the cannon shots just in time. He dove again, and twin explosions of sand launched themselves up into the air, mere yards away. Crawling along the sand on his hands and knees, Isaac looked back to see the sandship crest over the dune like a normal ship would cross a wave, her bow pitching and yawing over the peak of the sand until the whole vessel was sailing clear down the other side. Smoke trailed from the forward cannons, and the crew were all manning their battle positions, foxes and lions clinging to the rigging and pointing their sabers at him.


    Isaac couldn¡¯t run. The ship was much faster than him.


    He had to fight.


    He dumped his quiver of scrolls onto the sand and grabbed the first one he saw. It just so happened to be the same catalyst he¡¯d used a minute ago. Fireball. Stumbling back to his feet, one arm performing the casting mnemonics as fast as he could, Isaac began to aim the scroll at the ship as it finished descending the dune, bearing down on him faster than any sandwyrm could possibly manage.


    Isaac was lucky. The pirate ship fired first, but the yawing of the vessel as it raced across the sand tilted it upwards, just enough for the twin forward cannons to shoot above his head. Even still, if Isaac hadn¡¯t been concentrating on feeding his bodily energy into the scroll, he would¡¯ve flinched. He pushed himself harder, gritting his teeth as his body was drained. The magical catalyst crossed its threshold, leaping to life in his hand, and the fireball that erupted from the scroll flew like a well-aimed comet right into the rear deck of the sandship.


    The effect was devasting. Half of the top deck was immediately engulfed in fire. Burning figures of hyenas and foxes flailed into the rigging, spreading the flames further. The lions who had climbed up the masts tried to scramble down, some of them jumping directly into the sand below.


    But the ship kept moving. Even if both the wheel and navigator were burning to ash, the ship itself still had momentum.


    Before he could fully regain his strength, Isaac grabbed another scroll and ran laterally, hoping to get out of the vessel¡¯s path. Pirates on the bow were close enough to fire crossbows at him, bolts whistling past his head as he kicked his way through the loose sand. He dove clear of the ship as a graveyard of buried shafts grew at his feet. Dozens of bolts flying at him, the desert sun directly in his eyes, Isaac got to his feet and unfurled the only scroll he had left.


    Wind. The same sigil that powered their ship. This one was much simpler to cast. Cock your arm back, concentrate as much energy into your palm as possible, then release. His uncle¡¯s lessons came back to him¡ªyears of constant practice and painful instruction. He had trained his entire life for this moment.


    Isaac pulled everything he had into his hand and flung it at the ship.


    The port broadside of the pirate vessel exploded in a shower of splinters, rope and blood. Bodies and flaming planks rained down across the sand. The bilge of the ship immediately sunk below sand level as its hull lost integrity, all its magical momentum arrested in seconds. As the front buried itself deeper, the flaming stern leaped into the air, nearly three tons of wood and sail rising like a bucking horse, and the entire vessel was ripped apart by shear force just as quickly as it could capsize. In seconds, all that remained of the sandship were flaming husks of the multiple decks tumbling across the sand, zoanthrope bodies twisting between nets, broken planks and spilled cargo.


    Isaac collapsed into the sand, breathing desperately hard. He¡¯d put too much of his energy into that hurricane. Blackness creeped into the edge of his vision. All he could do was gasp for air and watch the pieces of the ship burn. Somewhere, he was amazed that he was still alive.


    Then the pirates began to emerge.


    Some of them clawed their way out of the wreckage. Some of them had leaped from the ship to escape the flames, trudging along through the deep sand. Most of them were injured. All of them were armed.


    A lioness kicked some burning debris out of her way, snarling at him. Parts of her leather armor had melted into her fur, but her cutlass shone brightly in the hot sun. A male fox used his halberd to steady his balance as he limped across the sand. Two hyenas jumped down from the half-buried deck of the ship, one male and one female, both brandishing maces.


    They all made their way towards him, baring their teeth as much as their weapons. Isaac tried to get back to his feet, but his strength was gone. He¡¯d used too much magic. He could barely lift his arms now, let alone defend himself. All he could do was weakly pull himself along the sand, trying to crawl away.


    ¡°Gut him!¡± the lioness shouted. ¡°Cock to throat!¡±


    ¡°Watch the arms!¡± the male hyena yelled. ¡°Don¡¯t let him cast!¡±


    Isaac continued to crawl, sand leaking between his fingers. He never imagined he¡¯d die this way. All the years of preparation, all the lessons he¡¯d suffered under his uncle, all the study and pain and discipline. He never imagined this would happen. He never imagined he¡¯d die to some common pirates before even reaching the gravesite.


    There would be no one to rescue his father now. It was all for nothing. His entire life had been wasted.


    They were close. Growling of a lion, hiss of a fox. Isaac stopped crawling, gathered the last of his strength and flipped himself over. At the very least, they weren¡¯t going to stab him in the back.


    The male hyena stood above him, blood leaking down his furry fingers and onto the haft of his mace. His leather armor was scorched. Sharp, half-rotted teeth flashed in his snout. He was large enough to block out the late morning sun, providing the first moment of shade Isaac had felt in hours. The mace he wielded was covered in ornamental flanges and knobs, almost glittering in the light¡ªlikely some ceremonial symbol robbed from a noble in a faraway land.


    Isaac had studied battle injuries. Blunt force trauma. He knew how easy it was to crush a human skull. In the hands of this hyena, that mace could be swung with great force. As the zoanthrope raised the weapon high, growling in fury, Isaac found himself remembering a lesson on medicine taught by his uncle, identifying the various bones of the skull. He saw his mentor¡¯s face reflected in the candlelight.


    He knew his death would be quick.


    There was a splintering crash behind them. The male hyena stopped, twisting in surprise. In the wreckage, flaming debris began to churn behind sections of the hull.


    A hyena smashed through wood and flame. Her clothes were in tatters, a loose collection of fabric and leather that barely concealed her spotted fur. The long mohawk of hair running down her neck was coated in bright shining blood. In her hands was a poleaxe, the steel also stained a dripping red, and on her wrists were broken sets of manacles, the chains dangling down like writhing snakes.


    ¡°She escaped!¡± the lioness shouted. ¡°Kill her!¡±


    The hyena roared and charged, hefting her poleaxe high. Most of the pirates turned to face her. She swung down at the closest opponent with such vicious force that it shattered the haft of his halberd, nearly cleaving the fox in half down through the groin. She kicked a foot into his chest as the zoanthrope¡¯s legs buckled, yanking her axe blade free with a sliding of entrails. Two lions moved in to engage with short swords and cutlasses, and she met their challenge with a screaming sweep of blood and steel.


    The male hyena standing above Isaac hesitated. His mace came down slightly. For a moment, he could only stare in horror at the rampaging hyena. And that moment was just enough for Isaac.


    He pulled the phylactery from his pack and threw it at the pirate. The glass vial shattered across his chest. Immediately, the armor began to deform and twist, a hissing smoke erupting from the leather, and the hyena¡¯s confusion turned to panic as the acid began to eat into his flesh. The pirate flailed, dropping his mace, desperately trying to unclasp his armor as it melted around him. Isaac dove forward, grabbing the blunt weapon from the sand, pulling himself into the best fighting position he could manage.


    He struck the knee first, feeling the leather poleyn give along with the bone. The hyena screamed as he fell into the sand, twisting in agony. Isaac stumbled over to him, barely able to stand, and lifted the mace above his head. The first blow crushed the zoanthrope¡¯s snout, spraying teeth and blood. The second caved in his skull. Even still, the pirate continued to gurgle and twitch. Isaac had to strike a third time before all movement ceased.


    A lioness pulled her attention away from the escaped hyena to see Isaac standing over her fallen comrade. She roared loud enough for him to feel it in his chest, rushing at him with a curved sword.


    Isaac had no illusions about his chances in combat. He was exhausted to the point of collapse, and the only weapons training he possessed was play fighting with tree branches between rounds of mnemonics practice. Thus, he immediately dropped the mace and casted a spell.


    The lioness reached him just as he finished the movements. Bolts of ice flew from his fingertips. Two missed, but three bolts caught her in the chest, piercing through and shattering into shards. She gasped, her feline eyes going wide as the pull of her lungs only stabbed the pieces of ice further into herself. The lioness stumbled, still lurching forward, and, for a moment, Isaac feared she would manage to gut him with her sword. Instead, she tried to lift it, coughed up blood, and collapsed into the sand, groaning and choking.


    Isaac fell down beside her. Casting without a scroll was dangerous. The parchments acted as a catalyst, allowing for a higher efficiency of transfer. Without them, the caster was forced to draw up more of his natural energy. It could very quickly lead to death, and Isaac had already pushed himself to his limit.


    He hovered on the edge of consciousness. For a while, all he could sense was the sand on his face and the heat of the sun on his back. Slowly, he became aware that the sounds of fighting had stopped.


    He lifted his head. The female hyena stood alone amongst a pool of bodies, leaning on her poleaxe as she breathed. Her spotted fur was covered in blood, yellow and brown smothered in red. She stood up to her full height and wiped her face on her arm. Her muscular form was outlined by the various fires of the broken ship behind her.


    This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.


    She noticed him watching her. She hefted her poleaxe back into her hands and began to walk towards him.


    Isaac tried to stand on legs that lacked any energy. The massive hyena never changed her pace as he desperately struggled back to his feet.


    ¡°Yield,¡± she called out, ¡°and I¡¯ll show mercy.¡±


    Isaac grabbed the mace from the sand. It was heavy, far heavier than he had ever imagined from his readings. He could hardly keep it steady in his hands.


    The hyena flashed a hint of teeth, not slowing her pace. ¡°Come now. You can barely stand.¡±


    Isaac¡¯s grip was slick with sweat, his vision blurred. As the zoanthrope drew closer, he realized that she had nearly a foot of height on him. Her musculature was lean and taut, suggestive of a lifetime of fighting. He was hopelessly outclassed in reach, strength, and stamina. She could gut him with the tipped spear of her poleaxe before he even thought of lifting his mace.


    She stopped just out of his reach, seeming to regard his bloodied weapon with amusement. ¡°You ever held one of those before?¡±


    Isaac could only breathe, trying not to collapse.


    The amusement faded from her expression. ¡°Don¡¯t throw your life away, human. Yield.¡±


    ¡°No,¡± Isaac said. ¡°Never.¡±


    She regarded him for a moment, the fires of her former ship burning behind her. Embers drifted down past her bloodied mohawk, reflecting in her eyes. Then, without a word, she shifted her poleaxe close to her chest.


    She stepped forward. Isaac swung the mace. It clashed off the haft of her weapon, sparks flying on the metal. She heaved her poleaxe forward, ending the cross with a burst of strength. As Isaac stumbled back, she rushed in.


    The last thing Isaac saw was the haft of her polearm flying towards him.


    ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------


    He woke in pain, the sun beating down on his face.


    His pack lay at his feet, the contents scattered. Phylacteries buried in the sand, their liquids beginning to condense on the glass. Maps and ciphers, what was left of his rations. Empty waterskins. He hadn¡¯t been carrying much, and whoever had gone through his supplies hadn¡¯t seemed interested in what he did possess.


    Isaac tried to move his arms but winced as rope cut into his wrists. He became aware that he was lying in a sitting position amongst the smoldering wreckage of the pirate sandship, most of the wood reduced to cinders and ash. A small valley of shifted sand indicated where his body had been dragged. Twisting as much as he could, Isaac saw that his arms had been tied through a cannon hole along the broken edge of the hull. His wrists seemed to be bound together with torn sections of the ship¡¯s rigging.


    He pulled again. The rope was rough and gnarled, chafing his skin. His hands and legs were flayed from sliding down multiple dunes. His head throbbed with a latent concussion, and his nose was painfully swollen. Most of all, he was thirsty. He had never been so desperate for water. His throat seemed to bleed every time he swallowed into it.


    He kept yanking on his restraints. They didn¡¯t give. Isaac gritted his teeth, almost snarling through the pain as he pulled and pulled.


    ¡°Well, well,¡± a voice called. ¡°My rescuer awakes.¡±


    Above, at the edge of the burnt top deck, the spotted hyena was peering down at him. She tossed two heavy packs down into the sand and jumped after them. Isaac had time to note that one pack was smaller than the other before her approaching form demanded his attention. Sitting down as he was, she seemed impossibly tall. Her hands and feet were tipped with black claws, wrapped in overlapping lines of cloth like a pugilist. Most of the blood had been cleaned off her fur, but a few dashes of red remained.


    ¡°So,¡± she said, towering over him, ¡°how¡¯re we feeling, then?¡±


    Isaac swallowed what little saliva he had left.


    The hyena squatted down until she was only a head above eye level. ¡°How¡¯s it feel, smashing the finest pirate ship of the desert? Along with most of her crew, no less.¡± She gestured out to the burnt pieces of hull sinking into the sand. ¡°Terror of the dunes, the scourge of any caravan foolish enough to cross her path, and you bloody well exploded her with a few flicks of your wrist. Snuffed like some candle on a cake.¡±


    ¡°I¡ª¡± Isaac coughed, his throat raw. ¡°I didn¡¯t mean to.¡±


    Her ears perked up. ¡°That so? From what I heard, you shot first.¡±


    ¡°I thought your ship was a sandwyrm.¡±


    She straightened a little. ¡°The giant sand dragons? Them that fly from the ground in a flurry of teeth and scales, swallow men whole? You thought one of them was rounding on you, and your first move was to lob a fireball in its direction?¡±


    ¡°Sure. I suppose.¡±


    ¡°That your general strategy for dealing with giant monsters?¡±


    Isaac did his best to shrug. ¡°I started with frost rays.¡±


    The hyena sat back on her digitigrade feet, staring at him. Then she laughed, showing the teeth along her black snout. ¡°You just got that right blend of na?ve and foolhardy about you, huh?¡± She leaned in again. ¡°What¡¯s your name, love?¡±


    ¡°. . . Isaac.¡±


    She placed a hand to her chest. Her outfit was a torn and motley collection of leather armor and brown strips of cloth¡ªher hand ended up resting on an exposed patch of fur above her breasts. ¡°Zaria. Pleasure to make your acquaintance.¡±


    Isaac stared back at her.


    ¡°Might be you want to say that back,¡± Zaria said.


    ¡°I¡¯m not a very good liar.¡±


    She snorted. ¡°We going to be enemies, then?¡±


    Isaac yanked on his restraints. ¡°You tied me to a boat. How else should it be?¡±


    ¡°Well,¡± she said, ¡°I suppose I could be grateful to you for rescuing me from certain torture and death. If you did so by any other means ¡®cept flipping the gods-damned ship I was imprisoned in.¡±


    Isaac considered telling her about his mission. His father, trapped for decades in an ancient tomb festering with death and evil. His lifetime of training and all he¡¯d worked to save his only parent.


    ¡°Even then,¡± she continued, eyes roaming over him, ¡°one has to wonder how thankful they should be to someone who didn¡¯t even mean to help them? One has to wonder if, given the opportunity, they¡¯d kill her as easily as everyone else?¡±


    No, he couldn¡¯t tell her. He had to keep his mission a secret. For his safety, and his father¡¯s.


    Isaac made sure his voice was steady. ¡°One could have a sense of honor.¡±


    She grinned like he¡¯d told her a dirty joke. ¡°Honor supposed to replace common sense, is it? Suppose I feel so good about letting you go that I don¡¯t even notice you tossin¡¯ another fireball my way?¡± She shook her head, eyes never leaving his face. ¡°No. What one really has to wonder is¡ªwhat¡¯s some well-to-do mage like yourself, armed with vials and book-learning, doing all the way out here in the desert?¡±


    Isaac didn¡¯t say anything.


    Zaria stood up to her full height. Her thighs were nearly the size of his torso. ¡°Feeling thirsty, Isaac?¡±


    ¡°What?¡±


    The hyena gestured towards his ransacked supplies. ¡°Couldn¡¯t help but notice you¡¯ve got naught but empty skins in your pack. Nothing but salt meat and chemicals for nourishment, neither.¡±


    His maps and ciphers gently fluttered in the desert breeze. If she¡¯d read them. . . .


    ¡°Downright foolish, if you ask me,¡± she said. ¡°The sun out here kills men nearly as fast as the wyrms. I¡¯ve seen people go mad from thirst inside a day. And you¡¯re marching along on foot with barely a few cumshots worth of liquid, merry as you like.¡±


    He thought he recognized her accent. It was urban, the likes of tavern dwellers and ladies of the night. Valrynn was the name of the country, Isaac was sure. He could only guess her dialect based on the phrases she used and the way she stressed certain syllables. He¡¯d never actually heard the accent in person before.


    ¡°There¡¯s an oasis,¡± Isaac said. ¡°My map said it¡¯s only a few miles away. I was trying to get there. . . .¡±


    She chuckled. ¡°Your map¡¯s wrong. That watering hole is dried up. Safe to say that, if we hadn¡¯t stumbled across each other, you¡¯d be dead.¡±


    Isaac tried to swallow. He had no saliva left.


    ¡°I¡¯ll ask again. You thirsty, Isaac?¡±


    He looked up at her. ¡°Yes.¡±


    ¡°Want me to give you some water?¡±


    ¡°. . . yes.¡±


    ¡°Now, now,¡± she said, wagging a clawed finger. ¡°Mind your manners.¡±


    ¡°What?¡± Isaac thrashed in his restraints. ¡°What is your game, beastwoman? Let me go!¡±


    Her laugh echoed across the ash and sand. ¡°You get that line from a book, Isaac? Read it in one of your adventure tales?¡± She regarded him with amusement. ¡°Magic-wielder like yourself must come from the nobility. Educated in proper etiquette and such. So why don¡¯t you say please?¡±


    Isaac stared back at her.


    ¡°Come now,¡± she said. ¡°Simple word, isn¡¯t it?¡±


    His throat was raw. His muscles ached. His mind was dizzy. When his last waterskin had emptied, and his urine had been darker than sandstone, Isaac had realized he was in great danger. He had ventured out across the dunes during the day solely to acquire more water. Now, it seemed his only option to save himself from dehydration was the hyena in front of him.


    Even still, he hated himself for it. She was toying with him, knowing she had complete control over his life. Isaac had not become a journeyman in magical transmutation just to be bested and mocked by some common pirate. He would never submit that easily.


    But, right now, there was nothing for it. So, he gazed up at her and said: ¡°Please.¡±


    A grin emerged along her snout. ¡°Knew you had it in you.¡±


    She sauntered over to the two packs she had tossed down from the deck. In her temporary absence, Isaac ran his rope bindings along the edge of the cannon hole, hoping to find a sharp edge to cut them on. There was none. Nothing in the sand he could use as a weapon, either.


    Being tied like this was infuriating. Isaac knew over a dozen spells that could easily reduce the hyena to cinders, chunks, ribbons, and droplets. But, with his wrists bound like this, he couldn¡¯t cast a single one. He required the full use of his arms to perform the mnemonics. Without that, he was helpless. She clearly knew this, too.


    As Isaac pulled on his restraints again, he noticed the body of a pirate. It was the lioness he had killed with frost rays. She had died with a look of shock and agony on her face. Her glassy feline eyes seemed to reflect his stare. Isaac didn¡¯t feel guilty about killing so many pirates¡ªhe had spent many nights mentally preparing himself for such a scenario¡ªbut he still found her empty gaze unsettling. He looked away.


    Zaria stood over him, blocking the sun. She held a waterskin in her hand. ¡°Open up.¡±


    Isaac opened his mouth.


    She squatted down and began to pour. At first, Isaac drank greedily, the sensation of cool water on his tongue almost indescribable in its pleasure, but Zaria never slowed her pouring for his sake, and he couldn¡¯t swallow fast enough. Soon, he was nearly choking on the water, some of it spilling on his face and chest, and she continued to pour even when he bent double to cough and gasp for air. By the time the skin was empty, more of it had landed outside of him than inside, and the amount he had swallowed only blunted his thirst, not satisfied it.


    She tossed the empty skin over her shoulder. ¡°Well, now that we¡¯re bathed and happy, let¡¯s get down to business.¡±


    Isaac coughed, trying to lick more droplets from his scraggly beard.


    Zaria held out a piece of paper. ¡°What does this say?¡±


    It was the letter his uncle had written him just before the start of his journey. He had not been able to send Isaac off personally, having to attend to urgent business elsewhere, but the letter was there to wish him well and grant him safe passage with its wax seal. It contained references to his mission, where he came from, and the place he was to go. Over the days, he had read it many times.


    Isaac kept his face calm. ¡°It¡¯s written in Common.¡±


    The hyena moved the paper closer to his face. ¡°I understand that, love. What does it say?¡±


    He stared back at her for a moment before it clicked. ¡°Oh. Of course you¡¯re illiterate. Don¡¯t know why I expected¡ª¡±


    Her teeth went for his throat. Isaac squirmed against the cannon hole, an entire maw¡¯s worth of sharpness wrapping around his neck like scissors on paper. He could feel his rapid heartbeat pounding into her canines as she pressed into the skin. Her jaw seemed to tense . . . then she slowly pulled back, just far enough away that her breath caressed his jugular like a gentle promise.


    ¡°Don¡¯t make this hard,¡± she said, and, this close to him, he could smell her musk, strong and primal. ¡°I¡¯d hate to leave you for the birds.¡±


    Above the furry ears nearly tickling his nose, Isaac could see buzzards already circling above the wreckage. At least a dozen black shapes. He knew that vultures tended to eat the eyes of the dead first. Sometimes, they didn¡¯t wait until they were dead.


    ¡°Tell me if I¡¯m wrong.¡± Her hot breath danced across his skin. ¡°The gaudy seal comes straight from the desk of some equally gaudy mage, probably robed and such, granting diplomatic passage. The curly-cues and fancy lettering suggest said mage is probably high-ranking enough to jerk off to sigils in his spare time. And, finally, the sweaty fingerprints suggest you¡¯ve poured over this parchment like a letter from your special missus.¡±


    Isaac watched the buzzards circle overhead, trying not to breathe.


    Something hot and wet touched his throat. Zaria dragged her tongue across his neck, the small barbs scraping over his skin. His legs kicked and shuddered through the sand, but he was pressed into the section of hull by the bulk of her body, all his senses eclipsed by her weight and musk.


    Then she pulled back, one clawed hand gripping his shoulder, brown eyes meeting his. Several scars ran down her complexion¡ªone long line over her eye, another across her snout. The wind gently rustled her flowing mohawk.


    ¡°Last time I¡¯m asking,¡± she said, holding up his uncle¡¯s letter. ¡°What does it say?¡±


    Isaac looked at the letter, back at her, and said: ¡°Fuck off.¡±


    She didn¡¯t react. Kept looking into his eyes. Looking for weakness. Isaac met her gaze like any falter might be his last.


    Then she sniggered¡ªslowly at first, building up in strength until she was bent over, leaning a hand on his thigh, laughing with her whole body. Isaac took a deep breath, his throat still wet, thinking of his father.


    ¡°Can I tell you something, Isaac?¡± Zaria asked, pulling herself straight. ¡°I think we¡¯ll make a fine team, you and I.¡±


    ¡°Excuse me?¡±


    She stood up, pacing over to his upturned pack. ¡°Well, I may not have had the good fortune of education, but Idoknow good fortune when I see it.¡± She picked up a parchment lying on the ground, shaking the sand off.


    A chill went down Isaac¡¯s spine. That was his map. With all his markings and notes.


    She came back over, squatting down till she was only slightly above him. ¡°What¡¯s this?¡±


    ¡°I do believe that¡¯s a piece of paper.¡±


    ¡°Funny. I think it¡¯s a treasure map. See?¡± She pointed at the large X that denoted his destination. ¡°X marks the spot. Classic cartography. Even stuffy mages with silver spoons up their arse like that one, apparently.¡± She paused. ¡°No offense.¡±


    ¡°Much taken,¡± Isaac said.


    ¡°Well, just so happens I know this place. Most desert pirates do. The lair of some ancient sorceress, carved into the earth from the buried corpse of a giant, the smell of death so pungent it touches your very soul. They say that anyone who ventures into the mouth of that tomb has their essence consumed by demons, their spirit twisted into madness by eternal torture.¡± She glanced down at the map, then back at him. ¡°You believe in them old myths, Isaac?¡±


    ¡°Maybe just the gist of it.¡±


    ¡°Ah. Well, they also say that old sorceress left behind treasures not seen by any species for thousands of years. Gems and goblets of gold glittering in the dark, more than ten sandships could carry. You believe that, too?¡±


    He swallowed.


    Zaria pressed a claw into the X. ¡°See, I think you were sent out by some mage academy or what have you to claim that treasure, and maybe discover a few evil magics along the way. Group of bandits may stand no chance against whatever horrors lurk in those halls, but a mage like you? Someone who¡¯s quite obviously read his weight in books about monsters and incantations?¡± She looked him and up down. ¡°I bet you could take me right down to that horde of gold.¡±


    ¡°No,¡± Isaac said, quietly.


    ¡°Was that no, you can¡¯t, or, no, you won¡¯t?¡±


    ¡°No. I¡ª¡± He sighed. ¡°I¡¯m trying to rescue my father.¡±


    She tilted her head. ¡°Is he some aspiring weapon of mass destruction like yourself?¡±


    ¡°He was part of the Diet of Nine. One of the strongest transmutation experts on the continent. He went out to that tomb before I was born to make contact with that ancient sorceress. The Diet had reason to believe she was still alive, sustaining herself by necromancy.¡±


    ¡°Ain¡¯t that death magic illegal?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s . . . a complex discipline. Hotly debated. Some practical applications here and there. But stealing soul energy from the dead, corrupting the very essence of a person?Thatis a capital crime, and, thus, my father had orders to kill the sorceress if her presence there was confirmed.¡± Isaac looked away. ¡°He never made it back. Something trapped him down there in that tomb. Only reason we know he¡¯s not dead is triangulation of his soul energy with advanced machines.¡±


    ¡°Soul locating¡¯s just a thing you can do, is it?¡±


    ¡°Sort of. It¡¯s very experimental. Look, I have spent my life training with my uncle¡ªmy father¡¯s brother¡ªin order to rescue him from that tomb. Ever since I was able to speak, that has been my purpose. That is why I¡¯m walking across this wasteland of a desert, risking death by wyrms and pirates. I want to save my father from whatever evil thing is holding him down there.¡±


    Zaria blinked. She almost said something, then thought better of it.


    Isaac shrugged. ¡°That a good enough reason for you?¡±


    ¡°As far as they go, sure.¡± She was looking at him differently now. ¡°Still haven¡¯t answered my question about the treasure.¡±


    ¡°I doubt it¡¯s quite as big as you¡¯ve heard, but . . . yes. It¡¯s real.¡±


    She leaned in. ¡°It¡¯s real? Truly?¡±


    ¡°Diet of Nine thinks it is.¡±


    ¡°Free to claim, then?¡±


    ¡°Sure, I guess. Not like anyone else is coming.¡±


    Zaria sat back on her haunches. She ran her fingers through the sand before glancing around the wreckage. Bodies and pieces of pirates, shattered planks and smoldering cinders. The hot desert wind gently whistling through it all.


    ¡°Tell you what, Isaac,¡± she said. ¡°Since you¡¯ve done me several favors already, I¡¯ll do some for you.¡±


    Isaac glanced at the dead lioness again. ¡°You consider killing all your friends a favor?¡±


    Her snout curled. ¡°They weren¡¯t my friends. Fact is, an hour ago, I was expecting them to give me a painful death. Now, I¡¯m free as the wind, they¡¯re all dead, and I¡¯ve got an opportunity to be richer than the feline queen herself. You could say I¡¯m feeling pretty chipper about things.¡±


    ¡°I just thought you were always like this.¡±


    ¡°Here¡¯s the deal,¡± she said. ¡°I¡¯ll aid you in rescuing your father. Maybe vanquish some ancient evils if it catches my fancy. Then, you and I are going to split that treasure. Fifty-fifty. Might be your father grants me some titles and land, too, but we can discuss that later.¡±


    Isaac had several responses ready at once. Most of them were impolite, so he said: ¡°Did none of that talk of ancient necromancers scare you away?¡±


    ¡°Why should it? I¡¯ve got this strapping young mage ready to act as my squire boy. Clearly, he knows what for. He¡¯s got naught but his cock in his hands, and he¡¯s ready to march into blackness like a brave little lad.¡± She patted the haft of the poleaxe hanging on her back. ¡°I¡¯d dare say he¡¯s almost a damsel in need of a knight.¡±


    ¡°First,¡± Isaac said, ¡°I amnota squire boy. I am a journeyman of magical transmutation from the college of Khador, trained by a nation-renowned expert in necromancy and elemental magic. I have been certified by the Diet of Nine as proficient in the banishment of undead life, destruction of hexes, and counteraction of necrotic spells. I have been fully prepared to arrest or slay a sorceress powerful enough to rival armies!¡±


    Zaria grinned at him. ¡°You rattle off them titles to all the lasses, Isaac?¡±


    ¡°Secondly, I willnothave my mission sullied by some greedy pirate looking for treasure! You will only get in my way! I will not put my father¡¯s life at risk for some uneducated beastwoman who thinks she can do my job by swinging some steel on a stick!¡±


    The hyena stared at him for a moment, slowly nodding her head. Then, she shrugged and stood up. ¡°Fine, then. Have fun with the buzzards.¡±


    Isaac hesitated. ¡°W-what? Let me go!¡±


    ¡°Why should I?¡± she said. ¡°Clearly, you¡¯re as fearsome as they come. You can handle a few birds.¡±


    ¡°I¡ªwell¡ª¡±


    ¡°Oh, can you not cast them spells while tied like that? Shame. Rather puts you at my mercy, don¡¯t it?¡±


    On the edges of the wreckage, the first vultures began to descend. They stayed on the periphery, watching the two of them closely, but they seemed to be growing bolder by the minute.


    ¡°Which do you think will come first?¡± Zaria asked. ¡°Sunstroke or dehydration? Maybe they¡¯ll start nipping at your flesh while you¡¯re still breathing. Starting at the soft bits, of course. Eyes and lips. You name it, they¡¯ll get it. They¡¯re very patient.¡±


    Isaac tried to control his breathing. ¡°You will never see a single coin of that gold without me.¡±


    She squatted down again. ¡°I¡¯m well aware. That¡¯s why the deal¡¯s being offered. I help you get your father, you help me get rich. Otherwise, we part ways, here and now.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s not much of a choice.¡±


    ¡°Course not. That¡¯s why I¡¯ve already packed your bag.¡± She gestured to the two packs she¡¯d dropped down from the ship. ¡°Managed to pilfer enough skins and rations from the cargo to last us the whole adventure, looks like. Freely offered on condition of agreement, of course.¡±


    He looked at his upturned pack. His only supplies, aside from alchemical equipment, were empty waterskins and dwindling food. With that, he¡¯d never make it to his father, let alone the return journey.


    ¡°Smaller one¡¯s yours, naturally. Can¡¯t have my squire grow weak at the knees.¡±


    Isaac glanced at the vultures before focusing his attention back on the hyena.


    ¡°Whaddya say then, Isaac? Comrades in arms?¡±


    ¡°Just untie me, you mangy cutthroat.¡±


    ¡°Hm. Right. ¡®Bout that. Them magic cannons of yours are staying bound till the coin¡¯s in our pockets.¡±


    He stared at her long enough to hear some of the vultures begin to squabble over the lioness. Then, he leaned forward, raising his tied wrists further up the cannon hole.


    She grinned, pulling out a dagger. ¡°Just you wait. You¡¯ll be enjoying my company in no time.¡±

 Heat

    The sun was a growing white hole, searing across the sky.


    So far, Isaac had never ventured out during the day. He had been very careful to only travel under cover of darkness. Every night, he¡¯d stopped hours before morning just to make sure he had adequate shelter for camp. His uncle had insisted he not take unnecessary risks. Rescuing his father was all well and good, but the man had been trapped for decades, and he could wait a little longer, if only to make sure his one begotten son would not die of sunstroke.


    But even in the cool shade of a slot canyon, the heat was miserable. It was a constant muddiness that clung to his skin and rubbed against his mind. It never ceased¡ªonly fell and rose in intensity, like waves in a tide. By the sixth day of travel, dried sweat had collected in every crack of his skin, and no amount of water ever seemed to slake him of thirst. Even the sandwyrms and their frightening speed hadn¡¯t quite made him panic like the thought of being caught by the sun¡¯s light without shelter.


    Right now, he judged the sun to be just past its apex. There was no shade or cover. Only sand. Endless sand. Gently flowing in dunes as far as he could see. Specks of it flew with the hot wind, catching in his eyes. Each step of his boots felt akin to stuffing his foot in a blacksmith¡¯s forge. Before long, his shins were covered in burns from his feet constantly sinking through the mire. The fact that his wrists were bound in front of him was also not improving his balance.


    Sweat poured from his face. His eyes ached from the light. The heat seemed like a physical weight smothering his body, sapping his energy.


    ¡°We should have stayed with the ship,¡± Isaac said.


    Zaria was ahead of him, working her way up a dune. She had wrapped herself in some kind of shawl, the white fabric alternatively loose and form-fitting. The pads of her clawed feet seemed to barely break the sand.


    ¡°Them buzzards would¡¯ve given us away,¡± she replied. ¡°Like a beacon for whatever nasty sort wants easy pickings. Best we get some distance from it.¡±


    Isaac scoffed, tugging on his restraints. ¡°Don¡¯t want to share the treasure with your cutthroat friends?¡±


    ¡°Not my friends. Not yours, either. Some human mage like yourself, carrying more potions than sense¡ªodds are they¡¯d rob you on principle alone.¡± She glanced back at him. ¡°You going to cover yourself?¡±


    He had to raise both hands to wipe sweat from his eye. ¡°Why would I want more clothing?¡±


    ¡°No one ever think to teach you basic survival? It¡¯s insulation. Protection. Keeps you furless sort from sunburn, too.¡±


    Isaac had noticed the robes she had stuffed into his pack. He¡¯d thought little of them, more concerned with how heavily laden it was with water and rations.


    He held up his tied hands to her. ¡°Can¡¯t exactly dress myself now, can I?¡±


    She stopped climbing the dune. ¡°Suppose not.¡±


    She came down towards him. Standing next to her was still an intimidating experience. His head barely reached her shoulders, and she had a presence of muscle and speed that seemed to trigger something primitive in Isaac. His heart raced whenever she was near.


    ¡°Raise your arms,¡± she said, reaching over his shoulder. ¡°Far be it for a knight to let her squire go underdressed.¡±


    ¡°I am not your squire.¡±


    She yanked the bundled robes from his pack and forced his arms over his head. He stood there, baking in the sun and no less embarrassed, letting the gnoll wrap the thick fabric around his body. With her standing so close, he caught another waft of her unwashed body. The smell was thick and strong. Isaac grimaced as she secured the makeshift shawl in place with several belts. He felt like a baby wrapped in blankets.


    Zaria stepped back, looking him and up down. ¡°Quite a fearsome sight. Try not to strike terror in the meek and innocent.¡±


    A hot gust of wind blew at him, carrying more of her scent. Isaac coughed and moved around her, continuing up the dune.


    ¡°Something wrong, squire?¡± Zaria asked, keeping pace with him.


    ¡°You have quite an odor on you.¡±


    ¡°Thanks, love. Made it myself.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s the problem, actually.¡±


    She glanced down at him. ¡°Whose problem, exactly?¡±


    ¡°Anyone downwind.¡±


    She chuckled. ¡°Spoken like someone who¡¯s never lacked for soap and bathwater. You don¡¯t smell like a wee cherub yourself.¡±


    He tried to climb the dune faster, his feet sinking into the loose sand. He had to admit¡ªdespite the thick layers, the shawl was insulating him from the heat rather well. ¡°You know nothing of my upbringing. It wasn¡¯t fancy tarts and trips to the local tourney.¡±


    ¡°Oh, truly?¡± She caught up to him again. ¡°All cloistered in your tower, with three hot meals, a fire in the hearth, and a bed of feathers to rest your head. Quite the image of suffering.¡±


    ¡°How do you sleep, then? Warm and snug with all the gold and jewelry you rob from the innocent?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m supposed to feel bad for pinching fancy baubles? What good does a silver necklace do anyone ¡®cept look real pretty? Least I turn it into food and ale.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re a pirate,¡± Isaac said. ¡°I doubt you stop there. Can¡¯t leave any witnesses behind.¡±


    ¡°Just admit you know nothing of the world ¡®cept from books, Isaac. Save us all the trouble.¡±


    He reached the top of the dune and turned to face her. ¡°Do you even know how many travelers you¡¯ve killed as a cutthroat? Did you stop counting over shame or lack of care?¡±


    She stopped just before him. With the slope of sand, she was at head height. ¡°Neither. The answer is none. Never killed a soul that didn¡¯t have it coming.¡±


    ¡°I find that hard to believe.¡±


    ¡°¡®Cause you don¡¯t know better. Killing your mark¡¯s the worst thing you can do.¡± She waved off to the horizon. ¡°You rob a family in a carriage, and no one looks twice. Should¡¯ve hired protection, they¡¯ll be told. You slaughter that family down to the last, and you¡¯ll have the entire town guard up your arse before you break camp. Don¡¯t need to be morals involved. It¡¯s just sensible craftsmanship.¡±


    Isaac shook his head, continuing on. ¡°I still don¡¯t believe you.¡±


    ¡°Look, it¡¯s all about fear, right? You brandish your steel, you bear your teeth, you get the lads all laughing mean like you¡¯re excited to gut something for a change, and you¡¯ll have the target pissing their britches, begging your mercy. Might just convince the young boy in the back not to try nothing ¡®fore he makes a mistake. Little bit of coin¡¯s not worth anyone¡¯s life.¡±


    ¡°Great,¡± Isaac said, walking ahead. ¡°I¡¯ve seen it all now. A philanthropist pirate, just trying to help the common folk while she robs them blind. Never hurt a flower in all her life.¡±


    Ahead, the dunes stretched off past the horizon, not a single color other than brown to focus the eye. The sun was shining so brightly that the sky seemed nearly white.


    ¡°Never claimed my hands weren¡¯t bloody,¡± Zaria said. ¡°Killed a couple score, at least. Town guards, rival pirates, organized soldiers once or twice. Ain¡¯t proud of it, but that¡¯s life for you.¡±


    Isaac snorted. ¡°Like you had no choice.¡±


    ¡°Got a right to defend me and mine, don¡¯t I?¡±


    ¡°No one forced you to turn to piracy.¡± His ankles were hurting from twisting in the sand. ¡°You chose that path of your own free will.¡±


    He heard something like a snarl behind him. He turned and saw her teeth emerge from underneath a curling lip. ¡°I won¡¯t be talked to like such from a pissant little human who¡¯s lived naught but a bleeding life of luxury compared to mine.¡±


    His heart raced, but he held his ground. The heat swirled around his head. ¡°Tell me I¡¯m wrong.¡±


    ¡°No.¡± She poked a claw in his chest. ¡°You tell me, Isaac. You ever gone a day in your life without food in your belly? You ever wonder where you¡¯re going to sleep at night ¡®fore now?¡±


    Isaac stared back at her.


    Her claw pressed deeper. ¡°You watch some fat pig nobleman saunter by with fresh bread in his hooves, all while the little pup next to you is crying from hunger, and you tell me you wouldn¡¯t snatch that loaf without a second thought.¡±


    ¡°Maybe. I wouldn¡¯t pretend to be better than I am.¡±


    Her ears flattened. ¡°How ¡®bout you keep your focus on tombs and mages. Clearly, it¡¯s all you intend on understanding.¡±


    She shouldered past him, knocking him to the side with a leather pauldron. After a moment, Isaac followed, keeping a distance.


    They continued on. There was no landmark amongst the sand to guide their path¡ªonly Isaac¡¯s map and the general position of the sun for bearing. With the makeshift shawl, he felt some measure of relief from the heat, but their journey ahead was long, and the hottest part of the day still approached. His legs ached. Each step through the sand was more exhausting than the last. Retrieving a waterskin from his pack was difficult with his hands tied, and the water itself was invariably hot.


    Zaria¡¯s tail shifted back and forth as she walked ahead of him. The wild mohawk of hair on her head and neck flowed down her upper back, brushing over the white fabric of her shawl. Below that, her leather cuirass was torn open in several places, and exposed portions of her spotted fur appeared near golden in the sun. Further down, at the base of her tail¡ª


    Isaac blinked, looked away, tried to recall his map. Zaria was in possession of it now, but he knew the gravesite was fairly close. If they travelled the rest of the day, and made a short camp, they¡¯d reach it before noon tomorrow.


    He almost couldn¡¯t believe it. All his life, he¡¯d imagined what the place would look like. He¡¯d poured endlessly over encyclopedias describing its appearance. A tomb built around the colossal skeleton of some extinct giant, sinking deep into the earth, its corridors built under the arches of ribs and petrified muscle. How dusty would its halls be? What kind of engravings would line the burial chambers? Where would his father lie amongst all that ancient ruin?


    In a day, he would finally know. It almost didn¡¯t seem real.


    He glanced at Zaria again. His entire life had led to this. He couldn¡¯t fail now. Not when he was this close.


    ¡°So,¡± Isaac called out, ¡°what¡¯d you do to anger your friends? Why did they imprison you?¡±


    Zaria¡¯s tail immediately stiffened. ¡°I¡¯d cease my gab if I were you, Isaac.¡±


    ¡°You were giving plenty of it before.¡±


    ¡°At your expense. Not mine.¡±


    He quickened his pace, closing the gap between them. ¡°Was it just between you and your shipmates, or was it something bigger?¡±


    She kept walking ahead of him.


    ¡°Zaria. I need to know if other pirates are going to come after you.¡±


    She looked up at the sky. ¡°Aye, they will. That¡¯s why we need the distance. Hope the wind covers ours tracks.¡±


    ¡°Terrific. Not only have you kidnapped me for coin, but you¡¯ve also sicced a band of cutthroats after me. Anything else you care to hamper my mission with?¡±


    ¡°Well,¡± she said, ¡°if my squire continues to slow us down, I¡¯ll be sure to tell them who blew up one of their prized magic ships.¡± She glanced over her shoulder at him. ¡°Don¡¯t you start thinking you¡¯ll get off better than me.¡±


    ¡°Hey,¡± Isaac said. ¡°What did you do?¡±


    She shifted her white shawl, scratched her neck.


    ¡°I¡¯ve got a right to know at this point.¡±


    ¡°Week or so back,¡± the hyena said, ¡°we got a contract for moving cargo from Valrynn, some shipping company or other that wanted their goods delivered to an outpost deep in the shrubland. Forgot the name. Should¡¯ve paid attention.¡±


    ¡°A company hired pirates to move their supplies?¡±


    ¡°Sure. Best insurance one can buy. Who¡¯s going to steal from a pirate ship?¡±


    ¡°The pirates themselves, probably.¡±


    She gave a small snort. ¡°I believe them ledger keepers usually call it ¡®loss reduction¡¯. Skimming from the top is better than stealing wholesale.¡± She waved a hand. ¡°Anyway, we get the merchandise, we set sail, everything¡¯s cheery. We pass up on more than one caravan since the contractor made such a fuss about fast delivery.


    ¡°Night three or four, I hear a cry from the cargo deck. Checked it out, as you do, but there¡¯s no one below. Still hear the crying. Sounds real pitiful like. Finally tracked it down to one of the crates.¡± Her fist balled at her side. ¡°Crack it open and there¡¯s three tiger kittens staring back up at me. Starved and covered in their own filth. Next crate I check has two young horses, and one¡¯s clearly been dead a while. Third has humans. Fourth was boars. You get the idea.¡±


    Isaac almost spoke but stopped himself.


    ¡°By then, my shipmates had come down to investigate the ruckus. First one brave enough to approach asks what the hell I¡¯m doing. I ask him if he knew we were transporting slaves. Children, at that. He tells me no, but why should he care? Job paid too well to ask questions. Hopefully they hire us again. Then he kicks the crate and screams at the kittens to stop crying so much.


    ¡°Before I know it, I¡¯ve split his head open. Next two shipmates liked me some so they try calming me. I tell them clear as I can that the next person who gets near these kids is dead. By then, more are coming down.¡± She gazed off towards the horizon. ¡°I¡¯m so beside myself with fury that I kill nine others before a different plan strikes me. Managed to barricade the stairs long enough to rig a small satchel of blackpowder next to the hull. Blew a hole in the ship, resealed the crates, and started dumping them out the side.¡±


    She shrugged. ¡°We were close enough to a border town for the local garrison to hear the explosion. Course, I never saw if they mustered. Managed to dump maybe a third of the cargo before they broke through the barricade and pinned me down. Just had to hope those kids had more of a chance tumbling down into the sand than wherever they were headed. Ship broke hard off course to avoid pursuit, so I know they never retrieved what I tossed. That¡¯s something.¡±


    She spent the next few moments walking in silence.


    ¡°They tortured me for a couple days. Friends taking vengeance. Captain never let them do nothing permanent. People like me get reserved for special treatment¡ªmade a big show of, keep the others in line¡ªso the captain tossed me off to the next ship heading back to base while she completed delivery and got her hull patched. Promised to have me begging for death. Then you came along, and now we¡¯re here.¡±


    Isaac watched her for a moment. ¡°There weren¡¯t slaves on that ship, right? The one I found you on?¡±


    ¡°No. I checked.¡± She glanced back at him. ¡°Is my squire suggesting he would have stopped his holy mission to rescue a couple kids?¡±


    ¡°Yes! Of course I would! Just. . . .¡± His voice trailed off, carried by the quiet wind.


    ¡°Just worried you might¡¯ve burned a couple kids to cinders without realizing?¡±


    ¡°Not just that. How many other ships are loaded with slaves? Who¡¯s paying for all this?¡±


    ¡°You know,¡± she said, ¡°I¡¯m wondering that, myself.¡±


    ¡°Do you . . . know where those ones are? Where they might¡¯ve been taken?¡±


    She shook her head. ¡°Like to think I know for some. Safe and sound, or near as you get in an orphanage. The rest? No idea.¡±


    Isaac didn¡¯t respond. He gazed off into the distance, looking for smoke or signs of ships. He saw nothing. Just sand and sky.


    ¡°That satisfy your curiosity, Isaac?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t think satisfy is the right word.¡±


    ¡°Aye, probably not.¡±


    ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.


    They travelled for a few hours more, Isaac¡¯s mind growing numb with heat and exhaustion, before Zaria suggested they take cover in the growing shade of a dune.


    He slid down the sand as carefully as he could, managing to get only a modest amount stuck in his boots. His makeshift shawl was soaking with sweat and heavier than a rug. Underneath his tattered clothes, all the exposed skin had burned a bright red, like stripes on a zebra. Most of the sunburn was concentrated on his neck and face, where the bruised nose Zaria had given him continued to painfully throb. His general condition could be described as some combination of swollen, tender and already peeling.


    But, he had to admit, the shade was a relief. It was only marginally cooler, considering it was just the recently formed shadow of a dune as the sun continued to burn its way west, but any amount of coolness was more than welcome.


    Once he¡¯d slid to the bottom without adding to his injuries, Isaac ripped off his pack as fast as his tied hands could manage. Tossed out everything in the way while digging towards the bottom. His rations. Pirate grub. The same sort of salt meat and hardtack that had been packed for him initially, but in much higher quantities. He ripped into the meat¡ª it was pork, probably, but he was too hungry to care. Despite it being tougher to chew than his boots, he gnashed at it eagerly until it was soggy and torn enough to swallow.


    ¡°My word,¡± Zaria said, sliding down next to him. ¡°Never thought I¡¯d beat a mage for table manners.¡±


    ¡°Hungry,¡± Isaac managed to say.


    ¡°I gathered that, love.¡±


    Isaac licked his lips, tasting the salt, and began to smash off pieces of hardtack. ¡°Energy. Magic requires energy. Get it from calories.¡±


    ¡°What¡¯s a calorie?¡±


    Isaac raised his hardtack in demonstration before chomping on it. The texture was similar to clods of dirt, and about as easy to swallow.


    Zaria unsheathed her poleaxe, shoving the spear tip deep into the slope of sand. When it was firmly buried, she leaned back against the haft and wiped her mohawk away from her eyes. ¡°Suppose wrecking a pirate ship would work up one¡¯s appetite. No word on dignity, of course.¡±


    Isaac focused on chewing another strip of salt meat, washing it down with hot water.


    He could feel the hyena watch him for a few moments longer, but he was much too ravenous to bother with etiquette. His body was desperate for nourishment, almost to the point of not caring about the taste of his rations. Almost. Since he¡¯d left, more than anything, Isaac had spent his time thinking about food. Camping in the shadow of a gulch, he¡¯d remembered meals taken in the library. Warm bread, hearty stews, chicken and fish, garlic and cloves and butter. Sometimes, but not very often, his uncle would join him in breaking his fast, and he would bring fresh eggs with milk. One of the only times Isaac ever felt like a nephew rather than a disciple.


    He stopped his chewing when he noticed movement.


    Zaria was unwrapping her shawl, pulling it over her head. For a moment, her face was obscured, and he could see her chest. Her leather cuirass was now more ribbon than armor. Her spotted fur poked out between the cuts and slashes, and underneath that fur were numerous scars. Some were fresh, still healing¡ªothers were not. Some seemed to bend with the flex of her muscles. One, in particular, ran down past her sternum, travelling towards a breast¡ª


    ¡°Does my squire wish something of his knight?¡±


    Isaac jerked his head away like he was dodging a cane.


    Zaria slowly adjusted the piece of torn cloth acting as her brassiere, her eyes never leaving him. ¡°Don¡¯t think I haven¡¯t noticed your ganders.¡±


    ¡°Just . . . curious about your scars.¡±


    ¡°Are you? Truly?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t mean to pry.¡±


    She leaned back against her poleaxe, rolling her shoulders. ¡°I¡¯m an open book, Isaac, and I know you can read.¡±


    He planted his gaze on a small cloud in the distance. ¡°How long should we rest?¡±


    There was a pause behind him. He wasn¡¯t entirely sure how much of the heat on his face was blush or sunburn.


    ¡°Actually,¡± she said, ¡°I think we should make camp. It¡¯s fairly sheltered.¡± The area around them was an almost square courtyard of rolling dunes, like a natural caldera of sand. ¡°Fairly hidden, more like. Close enough to the tomb to scare any but the bravest sort from pursuit. If they find our tracks at all.¡± There was another pause, as if the idea was gaining traction. ¡°It¡¯s like to be twilight soon. What do you say we slumber now, awake before dawn, and march to danger and fortune by moonlight?¡±


    Isaac made himself look back at her. ¡°Are you actually asking my opinion?¡±


    ¡°If it agrees with mine, sure.¡±


    ¡°Well, it does. But I¡¯ll try not to do it again.¡±


    Isaac reached into his pack and pulled out a few phylacteries, along with a mortar and pestle. Various herbs and extracts¡ªchamomile, mostly. He mixed the ingredients together and grinded them until the poultice was a pale, even yellow. After adding a tiny amount of water, he began to rub the solution onto his burns and scrapes. It both stung and cooled his skin.


    He could feel Zaria watching him. She had started on her own rations and was loudly ripping into a hunk of salt meat. Facts from his encyclopedias rose unbidden into his mind. Hyenas had one of the strongest bites of all mammals¡ªthey could easily shatter bone with their teeth. The large carnassials at the back of their jaw provided leverage, while the front canines both gored and crushed. Most of all, he could remember the killing power he had felt as they clamped around his throat¡ª


    ¡°Squire,¡± Zaria said.


    Isaac nearly dropped his mortar.


    ¡°Entertain your knight. She grows weary from travel.¡±


    Isaac continued to rub his burns, focusing on his swollen nose. ¡°Maybe she should change her direction? Perhaps, away from the tomb full of death and defilement? Towards a warm bed and cold ale?¡±


    She continued to chew her meat. ¡°Is that cowardice I¡¯m hearing?¡±


    ¡°Oh, merely concern. Wouldn¡¯t want a righteous warrior such as herself to . . . overestimate her abilities.¡±


    ¡°Well, you fret naught about that. She¡¯s won more battles than a dwarf climbing stairs. She¡¯ll keep her squire safe.¡±


    ¡°Of course,¡± Isaac said. ¡°Surely that¡¯s the way it¡¯ll work.¡±


    He sealed the remains of his poultice in an empty vial and stuffed it in his pack. He doubted that he could assemble his tent on the loose sand, so he leaned back into the slope of the dune, sinking in just enough to be comfortable, and closed his eyes. For a moment, all he heard was a gentle desert breeze. His aching muscles began to rest.


    ¡°Squire.¡±


    His eyes shot open. ¡°I am not your squire!¡±


    She grinned around a pull of her waterskin. ¡°You going to list your titles again? Best fire-blowin¡¯ wizard this side of the continent?¡±


    ¡°Untie me, and I¡¯ll give you a demonstration.¡±


    ¡°Oh, I bet you would.¡± She tossed the empty skin over her shoulder. ¡°Tell me about yourself, Isaac. Consider me curious.¡±


    He wished greatly for sleep. ¡°Why?¡±


    ¡°Well, maybe I consider fireballs flying from your hand to be an interesting topic of discussion.¡± He heard the folding of her leather armor, as if she was shifting position. ¡°And you like to bluster much, even when tied and helpless, but I know there¡¯s a certain¡ªwhat¡¯s the word¡ªtimidness about you that belies a lack of experience. Like you¡¯ve been shut up in a mage tower all your life, mistaking book-learning for true knowledge.¡±


    Isaac stared up at the sky, watching the sunlight slowly turn red.


    ¡°You certainly peek at me like a shopboy who¡¯s still afraid of lasses.¡±


    He clenched his jaw. ¡°I suppose you won¡¯t let me sleep if I remain quiet.¡±


    ¡°Quite right.¡± She shifted again. Definitely closer. ¡°So, if you please, enlighten me as to how baby Isaac became a man.¡±


    ¡°I was raised by my uncle, lived in the tower granted to him by the local college of elements. Educated in elemental casting and necrotic counteraction. This is the first time I¡¯ve ever travelled away.¡±


    He listened to the whisper of the wind, remembering how it sounded through his high bedroom window.


    Zaria snorted. ¡°You¡¯re not gonna make me prompt every sentence, are you? Give me the full portrait.¡±


    ¡°My day always started at dawn,¡± Isaac said. ¡°If I was not awake, bathed, and dressed before then, I was caned. Mornings were dedicated to mnemonics practice¡ªthree hours, at least, and frequently longer. If I forgot a motion in all the complicated sequences, I was caned. If repeatedly casting the spells left me too weak to stand, I was caned. In the afternoon, I studied by candlelight in the cellar of the tower, reading endless biographies of centuries old sorcerers and their contribution to magical knowledge. If I could not name one of these sorcerers and their treatises upon demand, I was caned. Evenings were spent doing chores¡ªcopying manuscripts, preparing lab equipment. I rarely spent any nights not nursing both welts and fatigue.


    ¡°The only people I ever talked to beside my uncle were experts he would bring to expand my curriculum. Without fail, they would mention my father. They would say they¡¯re sorry. He was a good man, and it¡¯s a shame what happened, and what a proper boy I was growing to be. They¡¯d tell me stories of the man he was. All the favors he¡¯d done them. Again, without fail, they¡¯d tell me how much I resembled him. The spitting image, they¡¯d say.¡± Isaac paused. ¡°One time, I told my hex instructor that, if he was so dismayed about my father¡¯s capture, he should aid in his rescue. The second he left, my uncle caned me until I was bedridden.¡±


    ¡°Where was your mother in all this?¡± Zaria asked.


    ¡°She died giving birth to me.¡±


    The wind gently sprayed sand across his boots.


    ¡°Anyway,¡± Isaac said, ¡°you were right. I never lacked for hot meals. We had a servant who¡¯d cook our food and wash our clothes and tidy our rooms. I was never hungry. I was always warm. I always had a bed. That¡¯s more than many.¡±


    ¡°Is that . . . normal? All the caning and discipline?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s not abnormal. Magic is complex and difficult to learn. It requires strict discipline and years of practice. I am considered fairly . . . prodigious for my age.¡±


    His head sank deeper into the slope of sand. Even in the shade, he was still miserably hot.


    ¡°I know the difference between tough love and mean spirit,¡± Zaria said. ¡°Your uncle sounds like the latter.¡±


    ¡°He resented being my caretaker. He¡¯d often tell me so. Whenever the cane flew, he¡¯d say I was ungrateful for all the sacrifices he made for me. All the work he put into my lessons, the cost of feeding and sheltering me. He¡¯d tell me the only reason my insolence hadn¡¯t gotten me kicked to the gutter was because of his debt to my father. Not to mention all the scorn he would receive from our neighbors and the Diet if they knew he¡¯d abandoned me.¡± Isaac sighed. ¡°He wasn¡¯t evil. Sometimes, he¡¯d dine with me, and I¡¯d see a different side of him. He¡¯d joke and share bits of court politics. He¡¯d bring adventure novels for me to read. When I earned my journeyman title, I remember looking into the crowd and seeing him smile.¡±


    For a moment, Isaac was lost in memory.


    ¡°You know that letter I have? The one with the seal? It was written by him. Mostly, it¡¯s just a reminder of my mission, a means of granting safe passage. But there¡¯s this¡ª¡± Isaac couldn¡¯t get the words out. ¡°He wrote a line, towards the end. ¡®Your father will be proud of you.¡¯¡±


    He had read that line many, many times.


    ¡°Isaac,¡± Zaria said, ¡°I don¡¯t mean this ungently, but I¡¯ve seen this tale before. Pirates, mercenaries, soldiers¡ªany band of rough men that brings along kids. It¡¯s abuse, and it¡¯s real measured like. You smack the lad frequently, insult every effort he makes, but throw in a reward every now and then, and he¡¯ll love you. He¡¯ll try desperately to win your approval. He¡¯ll think all the horror you put him through is for a purpose rather than plain meanness.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t care for your opinion on my family,¡± Isaac said. ¡°You asked, and I answered. That¡¯s all.¡±


    ¡°So be it. Your business, in the end.¡± He heard her start to chew on more meat. ¡°If we¡¯re changing the subject, then I feel obligated to inquire something.¡±


    ¡°Yes?¡±


    ¡°You ever laid with a woman before?¡±


    Isaac turned onto his side, facing away. ¡°I¡¯m going to sleep now.¡±


    ¡°Hold a moment. Don¡¯t think I¡¯ve heard the full truth.¡±


    ¡°You think I¡¯m lying?¡±


    ¡°No. I think someone¡¯s lyin¡¯ to you.¡±


    He rolled back over. ¡°How do you mean?¡±


    She unfolded his map from a pocket and shifted over until she was sitting next to him. She held the map out, and Isaac noted, disdainfully, that it had acquired her musk. ¡°You came up from the south, correct? This way here?¡±


    He studied the map. ¡°More or less.¡±


    ¡°You say that like it doesn¡¯t mean nothing.¡±


    ¡°Should it?¡±


    She snorted in disbelief. ¡°Where do you hail from, Isaac? Be specific.¡±


    He looked up at her. The scar across her eye was the same dull pink as the sunset above.


    ¡°Do you really think it hurts to tell at this point?¡±


    Isaac rolled his eyes. ¡°The outskirts of Khador, close to this river here.¡± He pointed it out.


    ¡°That¡¯s to the east. Quite far, in fact.¡±


    ¡°I hope you¡¯re getting to a point, somewhere.¡±


    ¡°Isaac, why were you coming up from the south if your home lies to the east?¡±


    ¡°My uncle told me to venture around the eastern portion of the desert. He said there were vicious pirates around those parts. Clearly, he was right.¡±


    ¡°You have no idea what lies to the south, do you?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m sure you¡¯ll tell me.¡±


    She jabbed a claw into the map. ¡°These are spawning grounds for the sandwyrms. Largest nursery for the beasts this side of the continent. And now you¡¯re telling me you strolled right through their love nests because you thought it was the safest bloody option.¡±


    He blinked, reexamined his path from home to present. ¡°That can¡¯t be right¡ª¡±


    ¡°Isaac, I don¡¯t think you fully grasp the magnitude of what you¡¯ve accomplished. You are the first person who has ever entered those dunes and not come out the other side half-digested, and you did so on foot, no less. If word of this feat ever hits the masses, your name will be remembered for centuries. I mean, they¡¯ll write songs about you.¡± She cleared her throat and began to sing in a flat pitch. ¡°¡®O brave Isaac, small and frail but strong in mind, marched through the sand and burned their hides.¡¯¡±


    ¡°I can imagine it without your aid, thanks.¡±


    ¡°Did you not suspect nothing? Did you not consider that maybe encountering a horde of limbless dragons was not a normal travel experience?¡±


    ¡°I¡ª¡± He looked at his map markers again, as if seeing them for the first time. ¡°I was prepared for adversity. The sorceress in the tomb could¡¯ve been controlling the beasts. I wasn¡¯t entirely sure she wasn¡¯t sending them after me.¡± He let his head fall back into the sand. ¡°It wasn¡¯t heroic. I was terrified. Almost swallowed whole a dozen times over. It seemed every step brought rings of teeth erupting from the sand. I had to use most of my scrolls just to keep them at bay.¡±


    Zaria hummed. ¡°Probably explains why you were so eager to blow your load at a perfectly fine sandship.¡±


    ¡°Which I¡¯m sure you¡¯re very grateful for.¡±


    ¡°Oh, dearly indebted, love. But here¡¯s the rub¡ªyour uncle told you to walk through that nest, didn¡¯t he? Showed you exactly where to go?¡±


    ¡°I mean . . . yes, but¡ª¡±


    ¡°He also the one that packed your bag?¡±


    Isaac almost reached for his pack instinctively. ¡°Yes, he was.¡±


    ¡°So he¡¯s the reason you were wondering around the desert with far too little water, then? Told you to depend on an oasis that had dried up years prior, didn¡¯t he?¡±


    Isaac gazed up at the reddening sky, mind racing.


    ¡°Here¡¯s the thing, love,¡± Zaria said. ¡°This may come as a shock, but many pirates are freeloaders. Idle sinners.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t break my heart like that.¡±


    ¡°Oh, yes¡ªwith great pain, I speak true. You got your lads whose only interest in life is their next drink, their next fight, and their next fuck, and usually in that order. Their patrols are sloppy, they¡¯ll break the face of the first bloke that looks at them funny, and they¡¯re even more like to kill innocent folk that don¡¯t need killing. Dangerous to be around, as I¡¯m sure you¡¯d agree, but code of conduct prevents a simple throat-slitting from solving the dilemma. You know what the solution is?¡±


    ¡°Enlighten me.¡±


    ¡°You send them off on an errand you don¡¯t expect them to come back from. A scouting mission when the town guard¡¯s all riled, or a rearguard action they got no hope of blocking. Something deniable if you ever get questioned by their mates. Makes it look tragic rather than calculated.¡±


    A tense feeling crept into his chest.


    ¡°I¡¯m thinking your uncle did that to you. Problem is, you managed to survive it.¡±


    ¡°No,¡± Isaac said.


    ¡°Surely, a man such as him would know better, if your mission was so important. And yet¡ª¡±


    ¡°No,¡± Isaac said, more firmly. ¡°My uncle did no such thing.¡±


    ¡°I understand them accusations might¡ª¡±


    ¡°You understand nothing!¡± Isaac shot back up to sitting, dragging a cloud of sand. ¡°My uncle is a high ranking member of the Diet and a tenured instructor at the college of Khador. He is petitioning for entrance into the Council of Heavens and well expected to receive it. He is not some¡ªsome¡ªsome cutthroat stabbing a lazy thug in the back! I am his kin!¡±


    Zaria¡¯s ears flicked back and forth. ¡°It¡¯s like you said. He never wanted you, resented the time and coin you stole, and his only obligation to your livelihood was the disapproval of his neighbors. Either he tried to kill you, or he¡¯s stupid. Take your pick.¡±


    ¡°He raised me! Took me off my mother¡¯s corpse! The trials and lessons he put me through were for a purpose! He has trained me my entire life to rescue my father¡ªhis brother! Why would he spend decades raising me as a sorcerer if he just wanted to kill me without question?¡±


    ¡°How do you explain the wyrms and the water, then? Incompetence?¡±


    With his hands tied, he clenched one fist inside the other. ¡°I don¡¯t rightly know. But it¡¯s not your place to wonder.¡±


    She held out a palm. ¡°Easy, Isaac. I may not know your business, but I know mine, and I know a setup when I see one. It looks wrong, is all. Might be you¡¯d consider that if you weren¡¯t so desperate for his approval.¡±


    He noted the poleaxe at her back and the dagger at her hip. Some reason returned to him, and he sat back. ¡°Of course you¡¯d think that way. Some common pirate like you would assume the worst of everyone. We¡¯re all just trying to take advantage of each other, aren¡¯t we?¡±


    ¡°Suppose you aim to prove me wrong.¡±


    ¡°No. Why should I? It¡¯s exactly what you did. You dug through my belongings and saw my map, thought you¡¯d have a chance to get filthy rich, and threatened to leave me for dead if I didn¡¯t lead you down to buried treasure. You¡¯re threatening my life¡¯s mission just to line your own pockets. I¡¯d say you¡¯re a perfect example of cutthroats the world over.¡±


    Her ears flattened against her skull. ¡°I don¡¯t have a choice. Some of us don¡¯t got the luxury for morals.¡±


    ¡°You could walk away with your life at any time. You are choosing to do this.¡±


    ¡°I betrayed my crew! Do you know what pirates do to traitors? Torture. Public torture. My captain¡¯ll flay my skin, and spill my guts, and tell all the onlookers exactly what happens to them that kill their mates! Right now, half the gods-damned ships in the region are combing the desert for yours truly, and if they find me, they¡¯ll end up throwing what¡¯s left to the dogs!¡±


    ¡°Hide in a town, then. Try an honest profession.¡±


    ¡°You mean the towns that all got wanted posters with my furry visage lining the taverns? All that waits for me in civilized society is a cot and piss bucket in a dungeon. That¡¯s what being an outlaw means, in case you weren¡¯t aware. It means that if I got an army of thugs wants to kill me, then I have no recourse but death. On their side or mine.¡±


    Isaac shook his head. ¡°None of that requires you to pillage a tomb full of necromancy. You have no idea of the dangers that lurk in those halls. It¡¯s a fool¡¯s errand, and you¡¯re a fool for dreaming of it.¡±


    ¡°That make you a fool, too?¡±


    ¡°The difference is that I was trained for it. You were not.¡±


    She breathed out slowly through her teeth. ¡°That gold ain¡¯t just a wild dream of mine. That gold is power. It¡¯s peace of mind. It¡¯s the only bloody chance I got left to buy some measure of safety. It¡¯s bribing a magistrate for asylum, paying a smuggler to ship me off to sea, or just plain hiring enough protection that I don¡¯t got to look over my shoulder the rest of my life. If I don¡¯t find that treasure¡ªif you don¡¯t help me get it¡ªthen I¡¯m dead. No question, no chance.¡±


    Isaac stared back at her, meeting a gaze that was lined with teeth, scars and fury.


    ¡°Now you listen to me, Isaac, and you listen well. I¡¯m sorry for doing this to you. Truly. If I weren¡¯t so desperate, then I¡¯d have sent you on your way with no harm or malice. I think highly of your mission, and, despite your best efforts, I¡¯m beginning to think highly of you, too. And if my word means anything at all, then I promise to honor our deal. I help you rescue your father, we split the treasure, and say goodbye. I got no intentions, otherwise.¡±


    She leaned forward, elbows on her knees. ¡°Here¡¯s how this will play out. Your hands will remain bound until I can trust that you won¡¯t blow me to cinders while my back is turned. If a situation arises where your hands need to be unbound, then they will be so with a dagger at your back, lest you try something stupid. I will be watching sharp for any indication of treachery. And if I find any inclination of such¡ª¡±


    Before he could blink, she drew her dagger and pressed it to his throat.


    ¡°Then I will not hesitate to end your life.¡±


    Above, the sky had turned the color of blood.


    ¡°Do we understand each other?¡±


    Isaac felt the edge of the blade as he swallowed. ¡°I suppose so.¡±


    ¡°Good.¡± Without taking her dagger or her eyes away from him, she reached into her pack and pulled out a wheel of rope, tossing it into his lap. ¡°Tie your ankles to your wrists.¡±


    ¡°Why?¡±


    ¡°So you can¡¯t slit my throat while I slumber, that¡¯s why.¡±


    Isaac glanced down at the rope, rubbing it through his fingers. ¡°I, uh. . . .¡±


    ¡°What is it?¡±


    ¡°I . . . don¡¯t know how to tie a knot.¡±


    For a moment, there was no movement. Not from him, her, or the dagger.


    Then she burst into laughter, letting her arm drop to the sand. She tried to say something, holding up a finger, then laughter overcame her again. It echoed out across the dunes, almost a howl.


    ¡°Of course you don¡¯t,¡± she said, still snickering. Her canines pressed against her snout in a toothy grin. ¡°Why should you ever need to learn something so basic? Probably wipe your arse with magic instead of paper.¡±


    Isaac couldn¡¯t tell if he was embarrassed or relieved.


    ¡°Scoot your legs out. I¡¯ll do it.¡±


    She returned the dagger to her hip and begun to tie several knots into the rope, fast as a sailor. She formed two loops, fastening them around his ankles. By the end, his legs were as bound as his arms, and both were connected together by a single line of rope that ran along his torso. It wasn¡¯t tight enough to force him to bend, but he would certainly have trouble doing anything other than flopping on his belly.


    Zaria returned to her position on the slope. ¡°Why do you have to make me say things like that, Isaac? I was enjoying our conversation.¡±


    He tested the new range of his limbs. It wasn¡¯t far. ¡°All that was my fault, huh?¡±


    ¡°Obviously. Just to be clear¡ªif I weren¡¯t growing so fond of you, you¡¯d be hogtied.¡±


    ¡°Ah,¡± Isaac said, calm as he could. ¡°Well. I¡¯ll certainly . . . continue my charm. As you like.¡±


    She gave him a smile that wasn¡¯t entirely sarcastic. ¡°I hope so.¡± She nestled herself into the sand, folding her arms and closing her eyes. ¡°Well, night night. Don¡¯t let the sandwyrms bite.¡±


    Isaac watched her for several moments. ¡°Is . . . that it?¡±


    ¡°What do you mean?¡± she asked, not opening her eyes.


    ¡°You just threatened me with a knife and now you¡¯re going to sleep?¡±


    ¡°Sure.¡±


    ¡°. . . really?¡±


    ¡°Isaac,¡± she said. ¡°For you, that was the first time someone¡¯s threatened your life. For me, that was a business greeting.¡±


    He blinked a few times, watching her chest slowly rise and fall.


    ¡°Stop staring at my tits, by the way.¡±


    He quickly laid down in the sand, trying to pull his sweat soaked shawl into a blanket. ¡°Right, uh . . . goodnight?¡±


    ¡°Sweet dreams,¡± she replied.


    Isaac felt his body sink into a snug depression, soft sand spilling over his shoulders. He was warm, and the poultice had soothed his burns. For the first time in nearly a week, he had slaked his thirst and calmed his hunger. Around him, the dying light crawled its way up the dunes in rich shades of pink and orange.


    He watched the sky until the stars appeared. After a while, Zaria began to snore. A little longer after that, he fell into a dreamless sleep, more out of exhaustion than anything.

 Eyes & Teeth

    Isaac awoke to a starry sky. A furry hand covered his mouth.


    ¡°Be still,¡± Zaria whispered. ¡°They¡¯re coming.¡±


    With his arms and legs tied together, and a paw pressing his head to the sand, he had to look solely with his eyes.


    The night was dark and cloudless. A thin crescent of yellow was the only indication of the moon. All he saw was varying shades of black and the vague flowing curves of dune tops¡ªthe stars were the only sign of where the land ended and the sky began. There was no movement save a small spout of sand twisting in the wind.


    Then the sandship emerged, rising over the waves. Lanterns dangled across the edges of the top deck, orange light illuminating the magically treated wood of the hull. The glowing sigil on the twin masted sail emitted a faint beam of light, like an afterimage from staring into the sun. The ship glided along the crest of a dune, silent as a knife, and he could faintly see the outlines of lions and hyenas at watch positions across the length of the vessel, peering into the night with a predator¡¯s vision.


    ¡°Not like that they¡¯ll spot us,¡± Zaria said. ¡°Best not to take the chance, though.¡±


    Isaac nodded slowly, smelling her musk through the hand on his mouth.


    ¡°Going to let you breathe. Don¡¯t scream like a maiden.¡±


    He looked at her indignantly.


    She released his face from her grip, and the glint of her dagger reached down towards his midsection. There was an audible series of cuts. His legs were freed, severed rope falling past his ankles. Using as little movement as possible, the two hefted their packs to their back and began to climb up the dune on hands and feet, clinging to the thin shadow that it offered.


    When they reached the top, the ship was still sailing east at a watchful pace. Its black pirate standard fluttered in the night breeze, and the brass lips of the cannon holes glinted underneath the light of the lanterns.


    ¡°Xotra¡¯s cunt,¡± Zaria said. ¡°Check the broadside.¡±


    If Isaac squinted, he could just barely make out a circle of light wood against the hull¡¯s darker brown. At this distance, it was about the size of a coin, but must¡¯ve been quite large up close. Looked like an emergency repair on the middeck hull.


    ¡°That¡¯s my old ship,¡± Zaria said. ¡°The Silent Saber. Thought she¡¯d head back to port after I blew a hole in her side. Didn¡¯t think she¡¯d range so close to the tomb, neither.¡±


    He caught glimpses of various species holding positions along every side of the vessel, perched up in the rigging like bugs in a spider¡¯s nest. It seemed half the crew was currently on watch.


    ¡°They must really want you dead.¡±


    ¡°Aye. That they do.¡±


    The Saber dipped down the face of a small dune, her lanterns disappearing below the sand. Only her glowing sail remained visible, like the fin of a shark skulking through water.


    ¡°We should go,¡± Isaac said.


    The hyena continued to watch the sandship, her mohawk swaying with the breeze. The fur on her neck was standing on end.


    ¡°Zaria.¡±


    ¡°Aye,¡± she said. ¡°Right. Onwards.¡±


    ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------


    It was two hours through the night before Zaria stopped peering over her shoulder. Even still, she refused to let them travel over the tops of the dunes¡ªinstead, they had to walk in the deep depressions between the hills of sand, forced to diverge from their main route whenever an easy path did not present itself. They used the star constellations overhead to navigate by the cardinal directions, always near the thin shadows and gentle slopes.


    No more sandships were spotted. The desert night was quiet and pleasantly cool. Eventually, the sun began to return like a mortal enemy.


    It was at least an hour after dawn before she tried to engage him with conversation.


    ¡°What¡¯ll you do with your half of the treasure?¡±


    Isaac continued picking at the peeling skin on his sunburnt face, pausing only to push some blond hair away from his eyes. ¡°No idea.¡±


    ¡°Not a clue?¡± she asked, the morning sun illuminating half her face. ¡°None whatsoever?¡±


    ¡°Hadn¡¯t thought about it.¡±


    She hummed to herself. ¡°Are you taking suggestions?¡±


    ¡°I suppose you¡¯ll give them, regardless.¡±


    ¡°Well,¡± she said, ¡°considering a mage like yourself is probably chaster than a nun, I recommend you indulge in drink and whores till your cock¡¯s as wet as your gullet. Healthier than a thousand books, in your case.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s more chaste, not chaster. Please conjugate properly.¡±


    ¡°See, now, that¡¯s exactly my point. That tongue¡¯d be put to better use licking cunts than teaching vocabulary.¡±


    Isaac shook his head, pacing slightly ahead of her.


    ¡°Oh?¡± she said, and he could hear the smile in her voice. ¡°Does mention of them bits and bobs make you squeamish, Isaac?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m just wondering why you insist on chatting with me like I¡¯m not your hostage.¡±


    She blew a raspberry. ¡°Come now. Is that really gonna get in the way of our relationship?¡±


    ¡°Yes! Yes, it will!¡±


    ¡°You talk as if we haven¡¯t aired our feelings already. Tension¡¯s been released, hasn¡¯t it? We¡¯re all better for the experience, aren¡¯t we?¡±


    ¡°Oh, yes. Having my life threatened with teeth and blade makes me feel quite warm and fuzzy inside. Right at peace with the world.¡±


    She clapped him on the back, squeezing his shoulder. He almost lost his balance. ¡°I see the problem now. You¡¯re in need of more catharsis. Need to let your frustrations run wild.¡±


    He wriggled out of her grasp, shuffling through the sand. ¡°I¡¯m fine.¡±


    ¡°No, no, no. Go on, then. Let me have it. Air your complaints.¡±


    ¡°No.¡±


    ¡°Come on. Do your worst.¡±


    ¡°I refuse.¡±


    ¡°Squire, I command you to insult me.¡±


    ¡°By the gods, will you ever leave me alone?¡±


    ¡°Isaac, I shall not rest until you have wounded my character.¡±


    ¡°Fine!¡± Isaac shouted, louder than he expected. ¡°Fine! You know what? You¡¯re a horrible snorer! Worse than my uncle! It felt like sleeping next to a snarling rhino!¡±


    The hyena chuckled, scratching her snout. ¡°Sorry, love. Broke my nose a year back. Never healed proper.¡±


    ¡°And by the grace of Ivtarr, you smell! I have no earthly idea how it manages to get everywhere! It¡¯s on every breeze I feel, every breath I take! I would rather bathe in sewage and entrails than rub against you again!¡±


    Her tail began to wag, a grin on her face.


    ¡°And do you know what I despise most? What I can¡¯t forgive, above all else?¡±


    ¡°All ears, squire.¡±


    ¡°Grammar! Your grasp of sentence structure is atrocious! Every word you speak is an affront to language itself! If my hands were not tied, I would beat you with grammar books until a proper dialect was caved into your fucking skull!¡±


    She reared her head back in laughter. Isaac growled to himself, trying to feel like something more than a barking dog on a leash.


    They were marching up a gentle slope of sand, in the wide valley between two enormous dunes. There was no cover for hundreds of feet in any direction. Zaria didn¡¯t seem to mind the exposure¡ªor, at least, the paranoia brought by seeing her old ship had slipped from her mind. Her laughter was full and becoming quite high pitched, almost a yipping sound.


    ¡°On my word, Isaac,¡± she said, clapping him on the back again, ¡°I will make a proper man of you yet.¡±


    ¡°I am quite fine how I am, thanks.¡±


    The morning sun began to catch her face as they ascended the slope. ¡°Might be, when our adventure is over, I¡¯ll show you some fine taverns near the shrubland, places where we could¡ª¡±


    They both stopped.


    In the distance, a colossal skull rose from the sand. It was so spectacularly massive that the dunes around it seemed to be the size of wrinkled skin. It tilted up towards the sky like a drowning man sinking below water, its maw half-submerged and opened wide. Isaac could only imagine how far the rest of the skeleton sunk below the earth. Various holes and gaps ran along its snout and cranial plate, and he wasn¡¯t sure which were openings for eyes and nasal cavities or simply damage brought by centuries of time¡ªregardless, the gaps in the skull were cavernous, and the bone itself had been bleached a chalky white by the desert sun.


    ¡°Well,¡± Zaria said. ¡°Fuck me, that¡¯s ominous.¡±


    Isaac didn¡¯t move. He almost couldn¡¯t breathe.


    This was it. The tomb.


    He was really here.


    Somewhere, deep in the earth, perhaps right where he was standing, his father lay trapped. He wanted to say he could feel his presence, sense him through stone and sand, but he couldn¡¯t¡ªthere was only the wind and the sun and a feeling of awe.


    Zaria snorted. ¡°Now I understand why my fellows always stood clear of this place. Superstitious lot.¡± She glanced at him. ¡°You ready?¡±


    He nodded absently. For a moment, she seemed ready to give a jest, but the look on his face stopped her. She closed her mouth and straightened her back, her poleaxe glinting in the sun.


    Isaac took a deep breath and began to walk forward. Zaria followed close behind.


    It took them over an hour to close the distance to the skull. Its massive size seemed to distort all sense of perspective. Flocks of birds flew around the eye sockets and nostrils, less than ants in comparison. Colonies of vines and stalks hung limply from sockets in the bone, almost like scraggly hair¡ªit seemed to be old vegetation that had grown in trapped pockets of dirt, now dead and desiccated by the sun. At its open mouth, the teeth of its lower jaw jutted from the sand like giant calvary spikes.


    ¡°Incredible,¡± Isaac said, gazing up in wonder. ¡°Do you know what this means?¡±


    Zaria unsheathed her weapon.


    ¡°Current theory is that creatures beyond a certain size cannot exist naturally. Something about the speed of blood flow and delay in nourishment.¡± He pointed like the whole thing might¡¯ve escaped her notice. ¡°Someone created this monster. Very advanced magic. I mean, the energy dynamics alone must¡¯ve¡ª¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s dead now, Isaac. Keep your focus.¡±


    Her entire body language had changed. Before, she was something close to relaxed. Now, her stance was firm on the sand, her grip was tight on her weapon, and her ears had flattened back to her skull. She was staring at the colossal skull like it might challenge her to a duel¡ªa challenge she had no intention of yielding to.


    Isaac¡¯s mind raced with visions of monsters lurking through dark corridors. Thralls and abominations, hexes and animated machinery, an ancient sorceress wielding eldritch power. His father, respected and feared by many, bested by this tomb¡¯s horrors. And Isaac himself, out of scrolls and low on vials, barely more than an infant compared to the knowledge and skill of a millennia-old necromancer.


    He couldn¡¯t let this happen.


    ¡°Zaria,¡± he said, stepping in front of her. ¡°Don¡¯t go in there.¡±


    ¡°Isaac¡ª¡±


    ¡°No. Listen to me.¡± He pointed north, towards an endless expanse of sand. ¡°Walk away. Forget about the treasure and take your chances somewhere else. Escape to the hinterlands, join a watership, ask a town bailiff for clemency. Find a different solution.¡±


    She peered down at him with a controlled expression. He became very aware of their difference in stature and strength.


    ¡°I¡¯m prepared to die for my mission. Your odds of survival are much better up here than down there, especially if you insist on keeping my arms bound.¡±


    She gazed up at the skull. It loomed so far overhead that she had to tilt her head to see the sky.


    ¡°You told me not to throw away my life. I¡¯m telling you not to throw away yours, either.¡±


    Her scarred gaze returned to him.


    ¡°Walk away. Please.¡±


    She blinked, breathed slowly out through her nose, and, for just a moment, a hint of grim resignation crossed her features. Then it was gone. She pressed the haft of her poleaxe into his chest and pushed him towards the skull.


    Isaac caught his balance. ¡°At the very least, untie me. For your sake.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ve said my piece already.¡± Her voice was quiet but firm. ¡°I¡¯m not doing it again.¡±


    Her axe blade tilted slightly in his direction.


    Isaac pulled himself straight. Then he shook his head and began to walk forward. With his hands tied and the hyena behind him, he imagined being led by an executioner to a bloody stump.


    The mouth of the skull was shaded and dark, the top teeth bristling with dead vines. It was opened so wide that a sandship could¡¯ve sailed clean through, if its hull survived the bed of teeth jutting from the ground. Walking towards the maw, Isaac received the distinct impression that this creature had died in agony, roaring its fear and pain towards the sky. What had killed it? How had the rest of its body been buried? Who had created it in the first place?


    A relatively open entrance presented itself at the center of the snout¡ªthe creature¡¯s incisors barely poked up through the sand, no taller than sapling trees, while its canines loomed to the sides like sharp pillars. It was easy enough to walk past them. He leaned on a canine for leverage and gingerly stepped over an incisor, squinting his eyes to adjust to the gloom.


    Inside the mouth, he found a scene of carnage. The ground was covered with bodies. With his unadjusted eyes, all he could see were impressions of death¡ªslivers of bone, torn cloth, and rusted weapons. It was like stumbling upon the site of an ancient battlefield. Most of the corpses were concentrated towards the back half of the mouth as if ready to be swallowed, clustered in groups or slumped against the molars to the side. An old stench of decay rose to greet him.


    Three glints of light appeared through the shade. They seemed like eyes. Isaac quickly held out his bound hands, stopping Zaria behind him.


    At the back, a wall of granite had been erected around the ring of the throat, the edges smoothed down into seamless connections with the flow of bone. The granite had become porous and rough, cracked through with roots and vines. Reliefs were carved into the stone, sculptures of figures and battles long since faded into illegibility by the elements.


    A doorway sat in the stone, leading towards a staircase that descended down at the same angle as the creature¡¯s vertebrae. Perched above this doorway, on a raised dais of slate and bronze, a four-legged statue sat back on its haunches. It had the face of a lion, its mane striped with gold and jewels, and two large wings stretched at its back, connected to the granite behind by the tips of its topmost feathers. The lion face had three eyes¡ªtwo at the normal position, and one in the center of the forehead. They formed a perfect triangle.This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it.


    Isaac had to force himself to remain calm.


    He recognized the statue. It was a sphinx. A stone automaton often used by ancient cultures to guard places of importance¡ªpalaces, burial sites, things of that nature. These statues were designed to fend off both invaders and grave robbers alike, and, as such, were almost always imbued with powerful magics. He had read stories of archaeologists stumbling across these automatons without warning. There were reports of flaming lances, comets of raw entropy, and even, in one case, claims of banishment to alternate planes of reality.


    The amount of bodies at the feet of this statue suggested it had stopped many explorers before, and the glint in its three eyes suggested that it could still do so now.


    ¡°Don¡¯t like that statue,¡± Zaria said. ¡°Should I?¡±


    ¡°No. You shouldn¡¯t.¡±


    ¡°Why¡¯s the lion have four legs? And wings, for that matter. Why not make it more true to life?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s art, Zaria, for fuck¡¯s sake.¡±


    All the bodies were clustered close to the sphinx. Their positions suggested they had been struck down where they stood¡ªhe was beginning to make out scorch marks and severed limbs. At the very least, their positions also suggested that the sphinx had a limited range. It wouldn¡¯t shoot them just for standing at the teeth.


    Still, the entrance to the tomb was right below the statue. There would be no entering without crossing below it. Getting into its range, mainly.


    Isaac had an easy solution to that. His uncle had prepared him for just this sort of obstacle. But something was catching his eye¡ªthe area just before the start of the corpses. It was smooth. Too smooth for natural sand. The faint traces of black ichor leaking from the bodies seemed to just¡ª


    Firm hand on his shoulder. ¡°Isaac. What¡¯s the plan?¡±


    The trail of ichor ended at the smooth patch of ground. Ended in a perfectly straight line. . . .


    A trapdoor. The blood and rot from the ancient corpses had flown between the hinges. Of course. Sphinxes tended to have mechanical traps, too. Anything to preserve their magical energy as long as possible. These trapdoors would drop down to a simple pit with metal bars wrapped around the bedrock. A jail cell. Probably a network of them running below the ground, built between the mandible bones of the jaw.


    In ancient times, this trapdoor would catch and hold would-be grave robbers long enough for the proper authorities to come and arrest them. Now, with every trace of this civilization crumbled to dust, anyone who fell through that trapdoor would be stuck there until they died.


    ¡°Oh, Isaac,¡± Zaria whispered into his ear. ¡°Feel free to explain the corpses at your leisure.¡±


    He couldn¡¯t enter the tomb with his hands tied and expect to come back out alive. He couldn¡¯t enter the tomb with the hyena accompanying him at all. She wouldn¡¯t listen to him. She would only get in his way. And he couldn¡¯t take that kind of chance with his father¡¯s life on the line.


    He had to escape. But he had no hope of physically overpowering her. Running away would be pointless, as well. There would need to be some . . . improvisation.


    He made a split-second decision.


    ¡°It¡¯s an automaton,¡± Isaac said. ¡°It¡ª¡±


    ¡°A what now?¡±


    ¡°An, uh, automated device.¡±


    ¡°Still lost me.¡±


    ¡°By Oerin, it¡¯s a statue that shoots fire, okay?¡±


    ¡°Right,¡± Zaria said, keeping her poleaxe pointed in its direction. ¡°There a way to stop that?¡±


    ¡°No need. It¡¯s lost power.¡±


    She looked at him, then back at the sphinx. It¡¯s three eyes continued to glint in the shade. ¡°You keen on testin¡¯ that?¡±


    ¡°If it hadn¡¯t,¡± Isaac lied, ¡°we¡¯d be dead by now.¡± Casually as he could, he slipped his pack off his shoulders and began to dig. ¡°You know, they¡¯ve got some fascinating construction history. The way these ancient builders used to both infuse statues with power, and get them to cast specific spells, is extraordinarily complex. Inside that lion head, there¡¯s an extremely fine network of vents and valves, shunting all the¡ª¡±


    ¡°Isaac,¡± she said. ¡°Consider my interest purely practical. As in, shut your mouth.¡±


    While he was rambling, he had grabbed his uncle¡¯s letter, folded it so the seal was displayed prominently on the parchment, and slipped it down his sleeve. His ruse had worked. She hadn¡¯t noticed anything. She was staring down the statue like the winged lion might leap at her at any moment.


    ¡°If you insist,¡± Isaac said, putting his pack back on while sipping from a waterskin, as if that¡¯s what he¡¯d wanted the whole time. ¡°Lead the way, madam knight.¡±


    She eyed him carefully. ¡°I think my squire deserves the honor.¡±


    Had she seen the trapdoor?


    ¡°Oh, surely I¡¯m only fit to polish your steel and give girlish screams.¡±


    ¡°Appreciate you learning your place, love, but you¡¯re still going first.¡±


    He glanced at the sphinx. ¡°That¡¯s it? Am I just your human shield?¡±


    ¡°Said it was fine, didn¡¯t you? If there¡¯s no danger, what¡¯s the problem?¡±


    Isaac wasn¡¯t sure if she didn¡¯t trust him or the statue. It seemed to be a little of both. She wouldn¡¯t be insisting on keeping his hands bound if she had much faith in him, and walking past a fire-breathing statue with a pool of corpses at its paws was probably not a very reassuring task, either.


    But that was fine. He had been expecting that.


    He made sure to place his back to Zaria before approaching. In the shade of the throat, the sphinx¡¯s eyes glittered over a pool of corpses. His arms remained together in front of him¡ªto the pirate behind him, they would appear casually held in place. But, at his front, his hands twisted as much as they could through the restraints. His uncle¡¯s letter fell into his palm, and he quickly held it out towards the lion statue like a protective ward. The wax seal was red and still mostly intact.


    No one was quite sure why the symbol pacified the automatons. There was little detail of its purpose in the archeological record. Some evidence suggested that ancient cultures worshipped the symbol as a sort of emblem for their gods. Other theories pointed to the possible existence of an empire that predated even the oldest known civilizations. The symbol itself was fairly plain¡ªan ordered collection of stars wrapped with thick stripes. To Isaac, it had never seemed regal enough to represent royalty or godhood. A family dynasty, perhaps, or maybe even the secret logo of a long-forgotten conspiracy of powerful nobles.


    Regardless, the symbol allowed safe passage past the sphinxes. His uncle had placed particular emphasis on keeping the wax stamping in good condition. If the symbol melted too much. . . .


    Isaac stepped onto the trapdoor. The sphinx jerked its head down with artificial swiftness. Its three eyes centered on him, and its stone jaw fell open. Fire boiled out of its mouth. He steeled himself, clutching the paper tight, and took another step forward.


    The fire receded from the sphinx¡¯s jaws. The trapdoor stayed shut. Its three glittering eyes remained focused on him for a moment, then the head shifted back to its original stoic position. Dust fell from the stone jaws as they closed.


    Isaac continued to slowly walk forward as if his heart wasn¡¯t pounding in his throat. When he reached the pool of bodies, he slipped his uncle¡¯s letter back up his sleeve and turned to face Zaria, displaying empty palms.


    ¡°See?¡± he said. ¡°No danger.¡±


    He could see the whites of the hyena¡¯s eyes. ¡°That bloody thing still has fire in its belly.¡±


    ¡°Sure, but not enough to cast anything. Without a catalyst, it can¡¯t reach transmutation potential.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t use them made-up words on me, squire. Speak plain.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s fine.¡± He gestured to the corpses at his feet. ¡°It didn¡¯t kill me. It¡¯s not going to kill you, either. It just does that to scare off grave robbers.¡±


    Her poleaxe was still hefted as if fending off a cavalry charge. The fur on her neck was standing needle straight. All at once, Isaac realized she was afraid. It wasn¡¯t solely from the giant skull and the bodies and the fire-breathing lion, either. She was terrified of being caught by her former shipmates. In the endless dunes of the desert, she had nowhere to hide except for an ancient crypt full of dangerous magic. She feigned confidence well enough¡ªperhaps trying a little too hard to seem self-assured¡ªbut now the reality of her situation was becoming obvious. He imagined it might feel like a sailor standing on the deck of a burning watership, getting ready to jump into the ocean when she knew she couldn¡¯t swim. Staying with the fire was certain death, but taking the leap into water held slim odds of success. It was the only choice available, but that didn¡¯t make it easy.


    He almost felt guilty.


    ¡°Zaria,¡± he said. ¡°Those eyes are a weak spot. Break them and you¡¯ll break the circuit, keep it from firing.


    ¡°I¡¯m supposed to toss my polearm like a javelin, am I?¡±


    ¡°Just, uh, you know¡ªtrying to help.¡±


    ¡°You do it, then!¡±


    He held up his bound wrists. ¡°Can¡¯t exactly climb statues right now.¡±


    She shuffled back and forth on her feet, fingers curling around the haft of her weapon.


    ¡°Hey,¡± Isaac said. ¡°It¡¯s alright. You¡¯ll be fine. I promise.¡±


    She stared at the three-eyed statue. She looked at the tomb entrance just below it. She glanced behind her, where the morning sunlight illuminated the colossal teeth and rising dunes. Finally, she looked at him. He nodded, careful to manage his expression.


    She walked forward with the pace and stance of someone ready to leap away at a moment¡¯s notice. Her ears flat, her tail curling down, Zaria took the exact same path Isaac had taken. The one that lead right over the trapdoor.


    Isaac fingered the letter in his sleeve. He hoped the sphinx would follow its programming. They were finicky at the best of times, especially the ones that had stood for millennia. He had to be ready for anything.


    Zaria stepped on the trapdoor. The sphinx¡¯s head snapped down to her, its jaws opening with a cocked roar of fire. She almost reared back, breathing hard. She looked to him again. Isaac swallowed, a bead of sweat rolling down his face, and beckoned her forward.


    She took another step, and the trapdoor opened.


    The floor beneath her gave way so suddenly that she didn¡¯t have time to cry out. There was a spurt of dust, a vicious shunt of rusty mechanisms, and then she was gone. After a second, a loud thud echoed from below. A few seconds later, a faint gasp followed, punctuated with coughing and groans.


    Isaac let out such a sigh of relief that his entire chest sunk with it. Behind him, the sphinx had already closed its mouth, returning to its eternal vigil over the mouth of the skull. Trying not to think about the ancient corpses, or how close he might¡¯ve been to joining them, he paced over to the trapdoor and squatted down at the edge.


    A thick cloud of dust drifted up from the open hole, disturbed from the fall. He batted it away until he could see further in. The pit beneath the trap door went twenty or thirty feet down to a bed of rock. Rusted metal bars lined one wall of the pit bottom, but parts of the gate had bent inwards from a previous cave-in, the pieces of rock just barely held in place. The entire jail complex between the jaw bones had probably collapsed sometime in the previous centuries. Otherwise, the pit was devoid of anything save earth and sand.


    Zaria struggled back to her feet, coughing and waving away the dust. Her mohawk and fur were coated in dirt.


    ¡°You alright?¡± Isaac shouted down.


    She wiped her face with an arm and peered up towards the light. ¡°What happened?¡±


    ¡°I let you fall into a grave robber¡¯s pit.¡±


    Her tail flexed upwards.


    Isaac took his uncle¡¯s letter from his sleeve and displayed it over the edge. ¡°Should¡¯ve held on to this. I told you it would grant me safe passage.¡±


    She breathed out, swirling the dust. ¡°Isaac, you best believe¡ª¡±


    ¡°No, Zaria, listen to me¡ª¡±


    ¡°Get me out of here, you sodding ape!¡±


    He took a slow breath. ¡°I¡¯m sorry. You gave me no choice. For what it¡¯s worth, I only did this because I knew the fall wouldn¡¯t kill you.¡±


    ¡°No, it didn¡¯t!¡± she shouted back. ¡°And you¡¯ll be right fucking sorry about that if you don¡¯t free me this instant!¡±


    ¡°I¡¯d advise you not to threaten me anymore.¡±


    She stood straight, fists clenched, breathing slow and hard.


    ¡°Look,¡± he said, shrugging his pack off, ¡°I¡¯m going to give you this.¡± He dug around in his pack and pulled out a glass vial full of green liquid. ¡°Catch.¡±


    He let the vial fall, and she caught it in her hand, twisting the capsule as she peered inside.


    ¡°What¡¯s this?¡± she called back. ¡°Some poison to end my life so I don¡¯t die of thirst? You call that mercy?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s corrosive acid. You¡¯re in a grave robber¡¯s cell with metal bars. You can figure out the rest.¡±


    She glanced over to the cell bars. A flow of rock was bulging it inwards, the rusted metal barely holding to its foundation.


    ¡°Of course,¡± Isaac said, ¡°it looks like there was a cave-in. It¡¯ll probably take you a while to dig your way to the exit. But, hey, you¡¯re a grizzled pirate with more kills than bathing sessions. I¡¯m sure you can handle it.¡±


    She clenched the vial in her fist. ¡°So help you and your furless neck, once I¡¯m clear from this¡ª¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re not going to follow me,¡± Isaac finished, ¡°because I¡¯m going to enter the tomb now, and the sphinx will end your life if you try.¡±


    The dust had mostly settled again, and Isaac could finally make out her eyes. She was glaring up at him with a snarling lip and raised hackles. He was very glad there was a twenty foot drop between them.


    ¡°You still have my map, don¡¯t you?¡±


    ¡°That I do,¡± she replied. ¡°Want to come down for it?¡±


    ¡°No, actually. I want you to keep it. In fact, check the markings for me.¡±


    She continued to watch him.


    ¡°Go on. I can wait.¡±


    Without taking her eyes off him, she slung her pack off, nudging her poleaxe along on the floor, and took the rolled map from a side pocket. She unfolded the parchment like she wanted to rip it in half just on principle.


    ¡°Check the south-eastern edge of the desert. I¡¯ve marked a star on a little farming hamlet, close to the flood plains. You see it?¡±


    ¡°Aye. There¡¯s a¡ª¡± She squinted at it. ¡°What¡¯s these letters say?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s the name of the Diet of Nine contact we have in the region. Goes by the alias of Sparrow, mostly because he is a sparrow. The rest of that writing is the code phrase he¡¯ll expect you to recite. ¡®The snake flies alone.¡¯ Can you remember that?¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s the dumbest cloak and dagger shite I¡¯ve ever heard in my life.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, well, I didn¡¯t pick it myself. He operates a safehouse for travelling mages and apprentices working on Diet business. The kind of agent that scares away assassins, if need be. He owns the tavern in the middle of town, third building to the right of the well. Go to him and say that phrase. He¡¯ll probably look you at funny, but he won¡¯t ask questions. You¡¯ll be safe.¡±


    ¡°What game are you playing? You trick me into a trap, and expect me to blunder into another one?¡±


    ¡°No, I¡¯m offering you protection from the band of pirates trying to kill you. If you can get there, of course. Not much I can do about that, but, again, you¡¯re pretty resourceful. I¡¯m sure you¡¯ll manage.¡±


    She huffed. ¡°Glad you decided to take that chance for me.¡±


    ¡°Go to Sparrow, say the phrase, and wait for me in the tavern, okay? I¡¯m going to have to return there on my way back to Khador, and, when I do, I¡¯ll have a provisional survey claim ready for you to sign.¡±


    ¡°What the bloody hell does that mean?¡±


    ¡°It means I¡¯m giving you the entire treasure. All of it. There¡¯ll be some taxes, of course, but the fortune will be yours, fair and legal. You can pay off any bounties you might have. Start your life over.¡±


    She leaned her head back, mohawk flowing above her eyes. ¡°I¡¯m supposed to believe that? You¡¯d give up unimaginable wealth to some cutthroat you barely know?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t care about the treasure. Never have. I just want my father back.¡±


    She scoffed, shaking her head.


    ¡°I want to say this again.¡± He leaned over the edge of the hole. ¡°I¡¯m sorry, Zaria. I¡¯m sorry for doing this to you, and I¡¯m sorry for what¡¯s happening to you, as well. I¡¯m sorry you¡¯re being punished for doing something good.¡± He glanced down at the rope around his wrists. ¡°You did a brave thing, trying to help those kids. And I think you deserve a reward for it. There¡¯s no trick. It just seems like the right thing to do.¡±


    He stood up straight. Outside, the desert sun creeped in through the gaps of giant teeth.


    ¡°I¡¯m trying to save your life,¡± Isaac said. ¡°I hope you realize that.¡±


    ¡°Isaac.¡±


    ¡°Goodbye. Hopefully, we¡¯ll see each other again.¡±


    ¡°Isaac,¡± she said, voice rising.


    He walked away from the open trapdoor, eyes set on the tomb entrance.


    ¡°Isaac! Isaac!¡±


    First order of business¡ªcutting off his restraints.


    The sphinx didn¡¯t accost him as he passed back within its range. They had long memories. He supposed a millennia old automaton would need them. Isaac made his way over to the pool of bodies spread around its feet. His goal was to find a weapon. It was likely he wouldn¡¯t find anything that hadn¡¯t turned into a rusty hunk of iron, but that would have to be good enough.


    He bent down, pilfering through rotted bone and tattered garments. He vaguely recognized the age of some of the bodies just by the clothes they were wearing. Turbans and robes that hadn¡¯t been fashionable for centuries, old chainmail and boiled leather. Most of it had decayed to scraps and shards.


    At the trapdoor, Zaria stopped shouting. A silence fell over the skull mouth.


    Isaac found a bronze sword underneath the body of what must¡¯ve been a cleric. The human had been clutching it in his hands when he died, and his forearm detached from the skeleton when it was relieved from him. The blade had remarkably little rust, despite its age and the general heat of its climate. As Isaac sat on the sandy floor of the mouth, trying to angle the weapon between his wrists, he thought of afternoons in his uncle¡¯s library, studying metal alloys and the economics of smithing.


    He began to saw. Progress was slow. Even if bronze did not rust, it could still become dull. His bound wrists prevented him from gaining much leverage, as well. Still, he could see the blade gradually work through the ship rigging. He¡¯d be free in minutes.


    Something caught his eye. A frock of hair falling over an ear. Isaac bent over, ignoring the metal groans coming from the trapdoor behind him.


    There was a human corpse slumped over on the back of a giant molar. It was fresh¡ªrelatively, at least. The skin was still intact and there were no visible maggots. He was lying on his side, facing away, and the sickly purple blotches of lividity were pooling on his head and neck. Isaac gripped his shoulder, finding the muscle stiff and uncompliant. He remembered anatomy lessons on the decomposition process as he flipped the body onto its back. It was no more than a day old.


    The face was of a young man, his eyes open and blue. His throat had been slit, and his head listed slightly back like an opening door. His face was unshaved, and his skin was a pallid grey. He didn¡¯t look shocked or angry or afraid. He had no expression whatsoever.


    A sigil had been crudely carved into his forehead, probably with something no more sophisticated than a knife. Isaac recognized it immediately, and a chill went up his spine. Some scholars referred to it as charm magic, but most agreed on calling it what it truly was¡ªparasitism. The sigil turned the victim into an unwitting thrall, their higher functioning overridden and their body¡¯s energy leeched into the caster. Some of these criminal sorcerers used the sigils to raise an army of slaves. Others simply utilized the mindless victims as energy reservoirs. The two were not mutually exclusive.


    Isaac gazed towards the tomb entrance. It was dark, a bed of stairs leading down deep into the earth. As he looked, he saw the young man had twisted his left ankle.


    He imagined a sequence of events. A puppeteer sorcerer leading an entourage into the mouth of the skull, gaining safe passage from the sphinx. One of the thralls tripping over a skeleton because he lacked the sense to watch his step. The young man twisting his ankle. The sorcerer, considering the matter no more deeply than a horse with a broken leg, ordering his thrall executed for no longer being useful. And now here he lay¡ªa young human, presumably with history and family and friends, lying dead in the sand for a mistake he did not have the presence of mind to avoid.


    He had not died more than a day ago. Whoever had carved that sigil into his head could not have been far. And there was only one place they could¡¯ve gone. Had another sorcerer arrived before him? Or was the necromancer residing in this tomb capable of recruiting new thralls from the surface?


    Isaac watched the shadowy tomb entrance a moment longer before reaching over and gently closing the young man¡¯s eyes. He sighed and looked away.


    A loud crash echoed behind him. When he looked, he saw the ground before the trapdoor begin to splinter and shake. Underneath a cacophony of falling earth, he heard yelling and groans of effort.


    He dropped the bronze sword from his bindings and raced over. Down in the grave robber¡¯s pit, Zaria had started to yank the metal bars free with her bare hands, and the cave-in was now spilling into her cell. With her foot braced and her teeth gritted, she ripped another pair of bars directly from their rusty foundations. Beneath him, the ground continued to tremble as the long-dormant cave-in was now free to continue spilling, triggering cascades of load-bearing failures.


    She looked up at him. With a snarl, she wrenched a small boulder free from the growing stack of rock, accelerating the collapse.


    The ground beneath Isaac gave a sickening lurch. He began to run.


    A semi-circle of earth collapsed beneath him, and he didn¡¯t quite make it. His chest slammed into the edge of solid ground, his body draped along a new slope of cracked rock and dry scree. A room-sized cloud of dust kicked up into the air. Isaac fought for purchase, his feet kicking uselessly beneath him, trying to pull himself toward safety.


    ¡°Isaac!¡±


    Zaria climbed from the wreckage of spilled earth. Her mohawk was wild and covered in dust, blood leaking down her face, her poleaxe held tightly in hand. She climbed free from a pile of boulders and sprinted up the slope of rock and scree. Isaac scrambled back to solid ground, crawling desperately on his hands and knees. He fell nearly face-first into the ancient skeletons, gripping rotted cloth for purchase as he struggled back to his feet.


    Zaria emerged from the crater of the cave-in, panting with all her teeth displayed, eyes dead focused on him.


    ¡°Stop!¡± Isaac shouted. ¡°Stop!¡±


    She stood in place, breathing heavily. Above, he heard the sphinx shunt its head down to her, catching the glint of magical fire from the corner of his vision.


    ¡°Don¡¯t come any closer,¡± Isaac said, holding out his tied hands. ¡°The sphinx will kill you.¡±


    Her pink tongue threaded over her teeth.


    ¡°Okay,¡± Isaac said. ¡°Okay. Listen to me. You need to think about this¡ª¡±


    She took one hand off her poleaxe and tossed it upwards, catching it in an overhand grip. Arm cocked at a ninety degree angle, leaning her weight on her backfoot, she twisted her body back and shot it forward with a shot-putter¡¯s grace, throwing her entire weight behind the swing. Her polearm flew like a javelin.


    Isaac heard the crunch of magically-treated glass before the shards rained down over his shoulders. The forehead eye of the sphinx had been pierced clean through with the spear tip of her poleaxe, buried up to the axe blade. The lion head reeled back, the old stone of its neck cracking apart, fire spewing from the open stump like a dragon¡¯s breath, and, finally, the head tilted forward, breaking free from its hinges and tumbling towards the ground. It shattered partially on the floor, the gold tipped mane rolling on the sand. The flames quickly died on its tongue, and the poleaxe remained firmly embedded in its face.


    Zaria clenched her fists, growling from deep in her chest.


    ¡°Oh, fuck,¡± Isaac said, and ran into the tomb.

 A Life Restrained

    Things had gotten out of hand.


    ¡°Isaac!¡±


    He sprinted down the stairs so fast that it felt like he wasn¡¯t touching them at all. All around was cracked stone and dusty cobwebs. Above, the ceiling of the stairwell was the segmented vertebrae of the giant, unknown creature, each arc of bone bigger than a house. The darkness grew thicker with frightening speed.


    ¡°Isaac!¡±


    All at once, he couldn¡¯t see the stairs. There was only darkness. All he could hear were gasps for air and pounding footsteps. Each step into the black was a leap and a prayer.


    He should¡¯ve untied himself while he had the chance. He should¡¯ve ran into the tomb before she could follow. He should¡¯ve never cast that gods-damned fireball at that fucking ship.


    The stairs ended without warning, dark as it was, and the transition to flat ground sent him sprawling face-first across cracked tiles. Isaac barely felt the impact, his limbs scrambling for purchase, somehow stumbling back to his feet. Down below the earth, in the heavy silence brought by overhanging rock and sand, every sound echoed in the confined space like a clarion.  The loudest sound was heavy footsteps. Moving at a quicker pace than his own. Louder, faster, closer.


    Green light ahead, flickering like fire. Suddenly, he could see the outlines of pews and carpets assembled in columns. A vaulted ceiling above, the curving segmentation of vertebrae acting as the apex¡ªbelow, lines of pillars with corrugated stone and connecting arches. Arcaded piers, Isaac remembered. Architecture lessons wormed through his panicking mind. A nave was the center aisle of a church. The wings were called transepts. The space behind the altar was the apse.


    Tombs had chapels for the dead. They had false doors. Traps for grave robbers. Designed to kill and fool those who did not belong.


    Louder. Faster. Closer.


    Green fire ringed the arcaded piers, magically treated torches burning inside sconces. Ahead, at the foot of the altar, an onyx statue stood beneath the vaulted ceiling. Two figures¡ªone standing, one kneeling. One human, the other an animal he had never seen before. Something to do with forgiveness. Uplifting. Absolution.


    Rotted carpet bunched at his feet. No smoke came from the rows of green fire. All around were pews and aisles and curving friezes.


    He reached the stairs before the altar. He felt the rushing wind behind him. In a single moment of clarity, he saw the stripes and stars symbol patched on the human figure of the statue.


    She tackled him with the force of a carriage. They slammed into stone tile, sliding along in a tangle of limbs before bouncing off the carved reliefs of the altar. One clawed hand gripped his shoulder. The other pressed a dagger to his throat.


    ¡°You furless weasel!¡± Her wild eyes reflected rows of green fire. ¡°You sodding ape!¡±


    Isaac squirmed beneath her, pushing and kicking. The blade of the dagger wedged deeper into his neck.


    ¡°Tell me why I shouldn¡¯t!¡± Hot breath, snarling teeth. ¡°Convince me not to end your life!¡±


    His neck bulged against the blade with every panicked breath. ¡°I tried to save you!¡±


    ¡°You buried me! Tried to leave me for dead!¡±


    The edge went deeper. His bound hands sunk into the fur of her chest. All he could do was twist and gasp.


    ¡°Beg!¡± she yelled. ¡°Beg for mercy!¡±


    Blood trickled down his neck. ¡°Fuck you.¡±


    ¡°Isaac¡ª¡±


    ¡°No! Fuck you! I¡¯m sick of your threats! I¡¯m sick of being tied! And I¡¯m sick of you getting in my way!¡±


    The blade trembled at his throat. Mohawk spilling down, ears flat, eyes reflecting fire.


    He looked her right in the eye. ¡°You need me. You won¡¯t do it.¡±


    Long, panting breaths. Her weight on his abdomen. Her face framed in green light. Behind, a vaulted ceiling rising up into colossal vertebrae. He didn¡¯t think about the history of this chapel¡ªits purpose and architecture and all the exalted corpses which might have passed through its halls. For once, his life of study and research faded from his mind.


    There was only him and her and a dagger at his throat.


    Her black snout curled. The blade twitched, and her grip on his shoulder tightened. Their eyes never left each other.


    She yanked the dagger away, stabbing it back into her hip sheath. Her now free hand gripped his other shoulder, and her clawed fingers almost met at his spine. Isaac thought of pulling apart a cooked chicken.


    ¡°¡®Just seemed like the right thing to do¡¯,¡± she hissed. ¡°Xotra¡¯s cunt, you actually believe that, don¡¯t you?¡±


    He could only take ragged breaths, wincing at every stretch of his open wound.


    ¡°What was I to do if I couldn¡¯t dig my out, huh? Was I supposed to starve in that hole while you traipsed off to glory?¡±


    ¡°I gave you¡ª¡±


    ¡°You gave me nothing! No rope, no prybar, nothing! I would¡¯ve died down there if rust and rock hadn¡¯t worked in my favor!¡± She clamped down on a snarl. ¡°Thought you were being heroic, did you? Thought giving me the choice of starvation or capture was some noble mercy, huh?¡±


    ¡°I did my best! I could¡¯ve just let the sphinx kill you! Maybe that would¡¯ve been smarter!¡±


    Her breath was hot on his face. ¡°Don¡¯t talk to me about smart decisions, Isaac. I¡¯m still close to making some, myself.¡±


    ¡°I gave you privileged information! Sensitive Diet contacts! The guild would have me censured and exiled if they knew I told that information to a pirate! I took an enormous risk trying to give you aid!¡±


    ¡°Lot of good your aid would¡¯ve done me! You saw my ship skulking nearby! If I leave this giant skeleton, it¡¯ll be as a lamb to slaughter! Dead by dusk, if I¡¯m lucky!¡±


    ¡°If you don¡¯t leave this skeleton,¡± Isaac said, ¡°it¡¯ll be worse, I promise you. Do you know what necrotic magic does to skin and bone? Do you know how easily a sorcerer could wrench your soul from its tether? Would you rather be ripped apart by undead thralls, or have your essence burned for fuel like oil in a lantern?¡±


    She pushed herself up to a full sitting position, trailing a hand over her tattered leather cuirass. ¡°Take another gander at these scars, Isaac. I know you¡¯ve stolen your fair share.¡±


    She guided his gaze across her torso, pointing out the most recent injuries. Many were just now scabbing over. They must¡¯ve still been hurting her quite severely.


    ¡°For my one good deed,¡± Zaria said, ¡°I got the pleasure of being whipping post for a ship of angry pirates. Tied to a mast, denied food and drink, cut by every sharp object the imagination allowed. Only reason I¡¯m still drawing breath is ¡®cause the captain of the Saber wanted me subjected to treason charges. A fate she was keen on inflicting herself.¡±


    She leaned in, and her musk fell over him like a blanket. ¡°You ever had someone explain how they¡¯re going to torture you to death? Right in your ear, real slow like, relishing every word. Soaking her britches just from the thought of pulling your entrails out with hot pincers, smashing bone and ripping flesh, wringing every ounce of pain to the drop. Would you be eager to see that person¡¯s face chasing you down a dune?¡±


    Isaac rubbed his bloody throat.


    ¡°Since you seem to know fuck all about anything that matters, I¡¯ll assume you don¡¯t know who she is. Black Eye Soren, captain of the Silent Saber. One of the few pirates who¡¯s got a reputation for brutality and sadism that isn¡¯t tall tales and exaggeration. She relishes putting down rowdy sailors. Any top deck she graces better not have a single unbent knee on its planks, or it¡¯ll be drenched in blood before half the cargo¡¯s been taken. She¡¯s not crazy. Not reckless. And not a bad captain, neither. Generous with her grog.¡± Zaria rubbed a cut on her shoulder, grimacing. ¡°She just waits for an excuse. Once she¡¯s got it, you¡¯ll wish you were never born.¡±


    He laid back on the stone tiles, catching his breath and rubbing his neck.


    ¡°I¡¯m not risking that again,¡± the hyena said. ¡°I¡¯ll take any bloody chance other than seeing her standard come my way.¡±


    ¡°How¡¯s this treasure supposed to stop her, exactly?¡± Isaac asked. ¡°Some gold sitting at the bottom of a tomb won¡¯t do you much good. Might as well be some shiny pebbles, in that case.¡±


    ¡°A vain hope is better than none. At the very least, she won¡¯t dare approach the tomb while I¡¯m inside. ¡±


    ¡°Fine.¡± Isaac held up his hands. ¡°If you¡¯re so desperate for survival, then untie me. Now.¡±


    She snorted, sitting back fully on his groin. ¡°Oh, what, I¡¯m supposed to trust you after you stabbed my back first chance you got?¡±


    ¡°Better now than when it¡¯s too late.¡±


    ¡°How ¡®bout you be grateful you got all your breathing tubes intact?¡±


    ¡°How about you be grateful that I rescued you from your captain in the first place?¡±


    ¡°Accidental rescue don¡¯t garner much appreciation, love. Don¡¯t tell me you wouldn¡¯t have burnt me like a bonfire if I hadn¡¯t found you weak and trembling.¡±


    Isaac thrashed his legs, but her weight had him pinned down tight. ¡°My mission is too important for you to get me killed! Untie me!¡±


    She leaned forward, draping herself over him. ¡°The tiny squire stays tied, and he best be happy to serve his knight.¡±


    ¡°This is more important than you! This is my life¡¯s only purpose!¡±


    ¡°And I¡¯m still aiding that purpose, despite your best efforts. I¡¯m on this quest now, same as you.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re endangering this quest! I will not let you risk my father¡¯s life! I will not let you squander his only chance at rescue from an evil sorceress!¡±


    ¡°Who said you were letting anything anymore?¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re going to get us killed!¡±


    ¡°Hold your tongue, sir mage, before it¡¯s relieved from you.¡±


    ¡°No! I will not, you filthy pirate! You furry mongrel! You stupid cunt!¡±


    Her response was halfway between a snort and a growl. ¡°Fine, then. If you¡¯ll choose not to obey, then I¡¯ll be forced¡ª¡±


    She stopped, eyes widening slightly, as if something had touched her. Shifting up a little, she looked down at the connecting point between them.


    And, clear as day, illuminated by magical green fire, Isaac¡¯s pants had pitched upwards at the groin. The already ripped fabric was straining at the frays, and he only now became aware of the crushing tightness around himself. He had never had such a painfully hard erection in his entire life.


    Perched above him, Zaria glanced between his lower half and his face, momentarily at a loss for words.


    Isaac scrambled, trying to wriggle away, but she sat back down on top of him and pinned his shoulders to the tiled floor. Her laugh started hitched, struggling to get out, and when it got going, it went from surprise to disbelief to naked amusement.


    ¡°What¡¯s this, Isaac? You got a weapon I¡¯m not aware of?¡±


    He tried to push her off, but she grabbed both his wrists in one hand and forced them down over his head. All he could do was kick his legs and twist his abdomen.


    ¡°Does my squire want something of his knight?¡±


    He couldn¡¯t look at her. He turned his head away. Shame burned across his face.


    Her weight shifted, and, when she spoke again, her voice was right at his ear. ¡°Do you want to fuck me, Isaac?¡±


    He focused on the church architecture. Apses. Arcaded piers. Studded reliefs and curving pews. The purpose of a mortuary chapel¡ª


    She sat down on his erection, pressing it against his body. Her hips rocked back and forth, as insistent and firm as rubbing out a tough stain. He could feel her lips slide across his length through the twin fabric layers between them. It seemed to grip¡ª


    Anatomy lessons. Sandwyrms. Vestigial wings. Composition of scales. Digestive tract.


    Labia, vulva¡ª


    ¡°Gotta be honest,¡± she said, breath hot and close. ¡°Never usually this chatty with a hostage. Real strict professional, I am.¡±


    He wanted to thrust. He wanted to grab. He wanted to run and hide and never be seen by anyone ever again.


    ¡°Maybe I am grateful for you saving my life. Maybe you got a countenance about you that just begs for teasing.¡± She bucked her hips particularly hard, and his leg kicked out against smooth tile. ¡°Maybe I¡¯ve got a weakness for the cute and helpless.¡±


    His father. Think about his father. Portraits, stories. Questing into the tomb¡ª


    Her teeth nibbled at his ear. ¡°Maybe I want you to stop lying to yourself.¡±


    Weight. Pressure. Sliding.


    ¡°Whatever it is¡ªyou¡¯ve been driving me mad, Isaac.¡±


    His arms wouldn¡¯t budge an inch. Fur and claws rubbed against his wrists, holding tight. She had complete control.


    Her face rose above his, noses inches apart. A number of emotions crossed her scarred complexion. Anger. Amusement. Calculation.


    Lust.


    ¡°Now what am I supposed to do with someone like you?¡±


    Face burning hot. Heat of their breaths. A furnace at his waist.


    She lifted her rear off him, his erection springing back to position, and her hand reached down between them, probing and shifting. ¡°Here¡¯s the deal, love,¡± she said, looking right into his eyes. ¡°You can stop this anytime. Say the word and it¡¯s over. Pirate¡¯s honor.¡±


    Her hand wrapped around the hem of his pants. Cocked and waiting.


    ¡°If you don¡¯t want this, say so. Right now.¡±


    Her breasts pressed into his chest. Her thighs wrapped around his waist. His cock strained against his clothes like a bolt notched in a crossbow.


    She was waiting, watching him with gleaming eyes. It wasn¡¯t a ploy. He could tell, right then, that she really would stop if he said so. Nothing further would happen. He had the choice, and  that was the point. That was the humiliation she was inflicting. That was what made it so much worse.


    There would be no violation. There would be no shame. All he had to do was speak. Say the word.


    Stop.


    She had left a faint dampness behind. A residual heat. It was all he could focus on. There was so much warmth and wetness and pressure and guilt and fear. Her musk seemed to smother him.


    ¡°Speak up, or hold your tongue.¡±


    Isaac gazed past her, towards the high-vaulted ceiling and giant vertebrae, giving one last bit of defiance against himself. Then he tilted his head back across the tiled floor, looking up at the ornate carvings of the ceremonial altar, and closed his eyes.If you come across this story on Amazon, it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it.


    He didn¡¯t see the expression she made, but he still felt it all the same. ¡°Knew you had it in you.¡±


    She pulled down his pants, and his erection was freed. Her fingers wrapped around his shaft, stroking up and down, making him twist and clench. Gentle pads around soft fur, lubricated with his pre-cum, folded in a perfect sleeve. She kept pistoning at a measured pace, and Isaac kept his face turned up and away, knowing she was waiting for a reaction.


    She raised herself off his chest, and her other hand began to lift off his wrists. Slowly, at first, like she was testing if there would be any resistance, and then all at once when none was found. Her weight on his groin shifted away, her strokes slightly changing angle, and the gentle motion of her thighs made him realize that she was undoing her own clothes. Lowering, letting free.


    Think of the altar. Think of the reliefs on its face. Think of their importance. Think of the history that could be¡ª


    A drop of liquid fell on the head of his cock, warm and viscous. Before he could stop himself, he opened his eyes and saw her loins glistening in the green firelight, strands of her excitement already dripping down her thighs. Around the wet fur laid a subtle play of creases and folds, a pinkness that seemed to emit almost a hot fog of musk against his exposed skin.


    ¡°Ready to ride, squire?¡±


    She was grinning down at him with equal parts amusement and cruelty. He turned his head away, embarrassed at being caught, but the hand not currently gripping his cock came to his face, forcing his gaze back on her.


    ¡°No,¡± she said. ¡°Look at me while I fuck you.¡±


    She tilted his cock up until his head ran over her lips, slowly sliding through until he was poised at her opening. Heat and wetness and desperately sensitive skin.


    He could stop this. He just had to say the word. It was right there on his tongue.


    She paused again, like an executioner holding their axe high, ready to swing. Looking right through him. Waiting for any sign of rejection.


    With her hand gripping his chin, Isaac met her eyes, opened his mouth, tried to force something out, and only managed a shaking, needful breath.


    She dropped down on him, no easing or mercy, letting her heavy weight drive his erection deep inside her. The blow on his pelvis nearly knocked the wind out of him. She rose back up, leaving only his head inside, and slammed down again, forcing a gasp from his throat. His vision swam, green torchlight blurring around him. He was smothered by sensation. An immense heat, her walls impossibly soft and slick and tight, sliding around him so fast and strong that he almost didn¡¯t notice her grinning at his expressions.


    And he was back in his bedroom, in the roof of his uncle¡¯s tower, watching students his age stumble drunkenly down the street, their voices and cheers echoing through the night. He stood alone, crouched in the shadow of the window, watching one girl in particular as she swung her diploma high in the air. She was too far away to see her face, but her legs were long, and her body curved so beautifully, and he was burning with imagination, consumed with questions, wondering her name, wondering which shouting voice was hers, wondering why he couldn¡¯t be down there with her, wondering¡ª


    Zaria smashed down, hilting him with such force that his back arched off the floor. She grinded herself against him, back and forth, smearing their combining fluids across each other. Shifting for leverage, she began to rise and fall at a savage pace, like a blacksmith¡¯s anvil had decided to pound the hammer instead, and the sounds of striking flesh echoed across the chapel walls. The sound was both obscene and enchanting, wet and loud, almost like¡ª


    The cane flew, and white hot lines of pain seared across his back. The sound was a loud crack in the morning air. His muscles ached, he could barely stand, he had casted the purifying evocation for hours, and still it was not enough. His uncle struck again, and the new wound joined the old, joined the other flayed lashes that never had the chance to heal. Shouting instructions, belittling his efforts, insulting everything he ever did, and still he tried, despite his anger, despite his wants, he continued to try, and the cane continued to strike¡ª


    And she lowered herself over him, almost eclipsing the light, almost covering him in muscle and leather and fur, her breasts spilling over his chest. She licked him across the face, her tongue heavy and wet. He barely felt her saliva cling to his skin because she was still spearing herself onto him, never losing the merciless rhythm, practically beating his pelvis into the tiled floor.


    She bent down again, tongue perched to drag and scrape, and Isaac bit the pink muscle when it came¡ªnot enough to wound, but just enough to give pain and spite. When she cocked her head back, he spit in her face.


    Her howl of laughter was loud and frenzied, her teeth glistening green in the light, and she snapped down towards his throat like a reaction of pure instinct. Her jaws wrapped around his neck, the pressure small but growing. The impacts of her drops and thrusts were hard enough to continually bounce his neck against her teeth as they tightened and tightened, and they finally pierced through his skin as precisely as breaking the surface tension of water. Twin rows of punctures widened the dagger wound on his jugular, quickening the blood flow.


    But she was licking again, running the wet muscle over blood and sweat, almost soothing, and the pressure on his throat¡ª


    And he couldn¡¯t stop the tears from falling, couldn¡¯t keep the sharp knot from rising in his throat, couldn¡¯t wipe the wetness from the old parchment, the dim candlelight flickering as he heaved and gasped as loudly as he dared, lest his uncle hear from above. He cried from shame, from all the feelings and dreams he could not purge from himself, all his hopes and wants cause for punishment and blame, but he couldn¡¯t stop, he always wanted, he always imagined, it was a burning need inside of him, a lighted dawn shining through prison bars, and so he wept over his studies, trying¡ª


    Her face above, hot breath and scars. With a wicked grin, she intensified the pounding both in strength and frequency, every angle driving him deeper, her insides like a hundred gripping tongues, a dull pain blurring into ecstasy with every strike of flesh. She wanted his reaction, and he almost lost composure. Seeing weakness, she slowed the frequency but struck even harder, each thrust as deliberate and vicious as the killing blow of a sword, and the moan escaped his lips before he could stop it, the sound perking her ears and lighting her eyes, only encouraging¡ª


    And he laid in bed, moonlight draped across his form, stroking and wondering, picturing how the act would feel. Imagining the buildup, the flirtations that he knew only as dialogue from characters on a page, using their example to build his own dream because he had no other reference, no real experience of soft skin and hungry eyes, and so he knew in his heart that his imagination was hollow. He didn¡¯t know any better, no one had taught him, and he would have no chance to ever experience¡ª


    The curve of her breasts, bouncing and shaking. Her hot breath mixing with his, both of them panting loud enough to echo. The wetness of it all¡ªsweat drenching him, thick streams of fluids at their pistoning connection. Heat¡ªshe was unbelievably hot, like an enveloping sun. Even her smell, the musk he had grimaced at, it was so thick in the air he could almost taste it, and it was intoxicating now, burning something basic and primal inside him.


    Isaac realized he¡¯d stopped thinking about resisting, and, in fact, had completely lost track of time and his mission.


    And now it was building inside of him, a coming release more intense than any he had ever given himself before, seeming to coalesce from every fiber of his body. Zaria saw it, as watchful as a surgeon above him, and she intensified her efforts like an orchestra reaching crescendo. Her thighs closed around his hips, her mouth nibbled and licked at his neck, and she started pounding him even harder than any previous increase in force, as if she¡¯d been saving her true strength for when he was helpless and writhing and beyond the point of no return. Pain and pleasure, soreness and ecstasy, all of it swirling together in a rushing speed.


    He came inside of her with such raw intensity that his soul seemed to leave his body. He almost went blind. Zaria pressed herself down on his battered pelvis, grinding him deeper, and his cock spasmed and lurched like a bucking horse, all his muscles contracting as he rode an overwhelming wave of euphoria, only relaxing when every single rope of cum was wrung from him. Isaac melted into the tiled floor, his skin tingling, gasping in exhaustion and pain.


    She waited above him, hands leaning on his shoulders, until he could focus on her face again. Then, when eye contact was made, she grinned, raised herself up his still hard length, and slammed her weight back down.


    Isaac gave a less than dignified moan, his cock unbearably sensitive, but she lifted him up by the shoulders until he was almost sitting straight, shoving his face between her breasts. Her chest fur was soft and almost fluffy, her breasts yielded around his head, and her musk was an overwhelming aroma burning into his brain. His entire world became her. Her smell and touch and warmth.


    ¡°Almost there, love.¡±


    She alternated between rough pounding and insistent grinding, using him purely for her own sake, and Isaac¡¯s groans of painful sensitivity were muffled by the valley of her breasts. Her arms wrapped around him, seemingly both to hug him intimately and stop him from squirming, claws digging into his back as her thrusts became more erratic and needful, lubricated with his cum. Finally, her breath hitched, her body shook, and she squeezed the air out of his lungs as she held him tight.


    Her insides undulated around him, her cry echoing down the chapel walls. His mind almost went mad with unbearable pleasure, but she pinned him in place as her loins contracted and gripped, scraping and sliding. Fur in his face, muscles flexing around him, he could only groan into her chest and ride out her climax.


    Slowly, she relaxed, her grip continuing to lighten until he was dropped unceremoniously to the tiled floor. She remained perched above him, blinking and panting. Then she seemed to recall his presence, grinned with delight and authority, and bent down towards him. He tried to turn away, but she gripped his head, holding him still while she licked his face one final time, dragging the tongue laboriously across his features as if painting him for ownership.


    ¡°You know,¡± she whispered, ¡°for such a powerful mage, you sure can make some cute moans.¡± She lifted herself off his cock, eliciting one last moan from him, and climbed back to her feet. ¡°All the fight pounded out of you, then?¡±


    Isaac could only breathe and watch the ceiling.


    She glanced back towards the darkened stairway leading out of the chapel, looked down at him, and said: ¡°Don¡¯t go nowhere.¡± Then she walked down the aisle of pews with casual confidence, her ass still exposed and glistening wet, her tail perked and wagging. She disappeared into the darkness.


    Isaac didn¡¯t get up off the floor. He didn¡¯t feel capable of moving at all. The dull ache in his pelvis was growing in intensity, and he felt as if he¡¯d run across a country. There was no part of his body that was not covered in some combination of sweat, blood, saliva, and both of their cum.


    Instead, his mind drifted away. Away from the tomb, away from the desert, and away from his father. He had never felt such a strong sense of clarity before.


    He imagined fields of golden wheat shining in the sun. He imagined towns of stone and brick, towers and castles, palaces and temples. He imagined uncharted jungles teeming with life and danger. He imagined waterships sailing through storms, horsemen galloping through mountain passes, airborne machines flying through the heavens with magic and metal.


    He imagined meeting friends at a tavern. He imagined fighting duels with bandits, swords clashing in mud and rain. He imagined meeting grand sorcerers so wizened and old that they marked generations of people as most do the seasons, he imagined meeting kings and queens wearing luxurious furs and studded crowns, entrusting him with tasks of kingdom-saving importance, and he imagined meeting fabled knights and brilliant generals, each of their scars suggesting adventure, honor, and glory. He imagined bedding many women, of all shapes and species and temperaments, showing them the wonders he had just experienced.


    The old shame burned at his face. These dreams had been a comfort to him all his life. Every night, he had laid in bed, tired and wounded, imagining the things he might accomplish. But they had always been fantasies. Something he would be punished for if he ever spoke them aloud. Always, he would go to sleep and wake up and begin his routine again. Year by year, the dreams receded further from his mind. Only his father mattered. Only his training mattered. That was his purpose. That was his duty. That was why he was born.


    But now, lying before the altar of a mortuary chapel, staring up into a ceiling buttressed with giant vertebrae, Isaac dreamed his old dreams and finally allowed himself to want.


    Footsteps echoed at the entrance. Zaria came out of the darkness wielding her poleaxe in one hand, trying to dislodge the sphinx¡¯s head with the other. After a few failed attempts, she struck the lion head into the tiled floor, placed her foot on it, and yanked the spear tip free from its third eye.


    ¡°Come now,¡± she called out. ¡°Up you go. Quit lyin¡¯ about.¡±


    He didn¡¯t move. He didn¡¯t feel ready to stand. She continued to saunter over to him, pausing only to grab at the carpet lying in the aisle. She wiped the ancient fabric between her legs, digging out the drying streams of fluid.


    Isaac grimaced at the sight.


    ¡°What? You think the sorceress¡¯ll be mad?¡±


    He leaned his head back against the floor, returning his focus to the present.


    She came over and stood above him, green firelight shining on leather. ¡°Sheathe yourself, at the very least.¡±


    He pulled his pants back to their proper position. She held down an open hand, flicking her head upwards. He shoved it away and climbed back to his feet, wincing at the pain in his groin. He would be amazed if his pelvic girdle wasn¡¯t cracked. He was certainly amazed that she hadn¡¯t severed any arteries in his neck. Frankly, he was amazed that he had survived the experience at all.


    ¡°Oh, come on,¡± Zaria said. ¡°Don¡¯t look so broken. I¡¯m clean. Won¡¯t be no pus coming from your yogurt slinger.¡±


    He shook his head and looked away.


    ¡°Hey,¡± she said, clamping an arm on his shoulder. ¡°You got uppity, and I had to put you back in place. That¡¯s all. Standard business.¡± She paused. ¡°Well, mostly. Can¡¯t say I¡¯ve elected for that method of punishment before, but it¡¯s got its favors.¡±


    He rubbed his bloody throat, unwilling to meet her gaze. He tried to move away, towards the transept and the hidden stairway that must lead further down, but she held firm to his shoulder.


    ¡°Isaac.¡±


    He looked down at his sweaty and ragged clothes. He could now smell her scent on them.


    ¡°Hey. Look at me.¡±


    He met her gaze, and found the whites of her eyes starting to show, ears flicking back and forth.


    ¡°Was that . . . really your first time?¡±


    Isaac didn¡¯t answer. He couldn¡¯t stop blushing. He couldn¡¯t stop imagining how disheveled and pitiful he must¡¯ve looked.


    She blinked, as if certain thoughts were only now seriously occurring to her, and released her grip from his shoulder. She stepped back out of arm¡¯s reach, holding up her hands. ¡°You know I¡¯m just teasing you, right?¡±


    He wiped blood from his neck.


    ¡°Look,¡± she began to say, but stopped. She sighed and cleared her throat. ¡°I¡¯m aware this wasn¡¯t the best¡ª¡±


    An explosion shook the room.


    It was felt more than heard. A wave of pressure slapped through the chapel, shaking pews and quivering the organs. Above, the ceiling quaked, old tiles of stone sliding loose and crumbling to the ground. One segment of the vertebrae cracked open, just enough for the load it was bearing to slowly snap the fissure wider and wider until the bone splintered like wood.


    Immediately, another explosion crackled out, a cacophony of smaller ones erupting together, and there was a great rumbling above, sounds of deep thuds and cracks and collapses of giant structures. One series of thuds, in particular, seemed to increase in intensity, bouncing fast and hard.


    ¡°Get down!¡±


    Zaria pulled him to the floor just as something rushed from the darkness. He only caught a brief glimpse of a splintering pew before a sharp wind gusted at his face, the altar shattering behind him. When he looked, he saw the crude and dull iron of a cannonball sticking out of the carved reliefs. In the green light, it almost didn¡¯t look real, but there it was¡ªblack and round and heavy enough to sunder a hull. Or destroy a tomb entrance.


    ¡°Oh, no,¡± Zaria said. ¡°Oh, please, no.¡±


    Above, another cannon salvo began, and this time it was louder, as if much of the structures between it and them had collapsed. More thuds echoed out, punctuated with the shattering of stone, and more bouncing crashes came rushing down the long stairwell, almost too fast to react. She forced him down again. He could only brace and close his eyes and listen to screaming balls of metal smash their way through ancient architecture, thinking of geometry and angles of impulse and what direct hits did to soft targets.


    When he looked again, the entrance to the chapel was little more than piles of shards and dust. Multiple arcaded piers had been hit directly, leaving shattered stubs where support beams had once been. Small streams of light shined down from the stairway. If they could see the light from down here, then the destruction was far worse up above.


    ¡°They weren¡¯t supposed to¡ª¡± Zaria¡¯s ears flattened, neck fur rising. ¡°They never come near this place. I thought they wouldn¡¯t¡ªeven she would never think to¡ª¡±


    Another explosion above their heads. More ceiling tiles fell, more quakes and dust. It sounded like barrels of blackpowder, probably placed at the back of the skull on the surface. They must be using an ear-splitting amount of explosives to feel it this deep in the earth.


    Isaac tried to get up, but she was still holding him down, frozen in place. Watching the chapel entrance with wide eyes and panting breath.


    ¡°We need to go,¡± he said. ¡°Now.¡±


    ¡°Fuck me. Soren¡¯s here. The Black Eye, the Saber, all of her¡ªI thought they wouldn¡¯t¡ª¡±


    ¡°Get off me!¡±


    And, above, echoing down the crumbled passage of the stairwell, voices began to be heard. A multitude of them, an overlapping tumble of shouts and cheers and roars. Some of them were singing shanties and battle hymns. He imagined an entire crew of pirates gathering in the mouth of the skull, cutlasses and daggers and crossbows held below snarling teeth.


    Then they stopped. All at once, like snuffing a flame. An eerie silence descended down.


    ¡°Zaria!¡±


    A small voice, distant and singular. The hyena immediately tensed.


    ¡°I know you¡¯re down there! Don¡¯t bother staying silent!¡±


    Isaac couldn¡¯t identify the species. She was too far away, her voice too obstructed by the wreckage, but, even still, the silence around her words made them echo through all the clearer.


    ¡°Were you not satisfied with the lives of my crew? Was it purpose or vengeance that drove you to sunder a ship of the fleet? Were you truly brash enough to think you could slaughter all her hands and live to tell the tale?¡±


    Isaac cleared his throat.


    ¡°I want no more pirate blood on your hands!¡± Soren called down. ¡°You come out with whatever hostage you¡¯re dragging in tow, and we fight proper! Dueling blades! Otherwise, I¡¯m bringing this skeleton down on your head!¡±


    ¡°There¡¯s no way out,¡± Zaria whispered, almost to herself. ¡°No door down here. I can¡¯t go up there. She¡¯ll slaughter me. She¡¯ll make it slow, deliberate, a bloody spectacle¡ª¡±


    ¡°Listen to me¡ª¡±


    ¡°You got one minute!¡± Soren yelled. ¡°One minute to bare your furry visage, traitor!¡±


    ¡°This is a mortuary chapel,¡± Isaac said. ¡°There are hidden doors. It¡¯s supposed to fool grave robbers. She¡¯ll never know where we went.¡±


    Zaria only looked at him.


    ¡°Do you want to die or not?¡±


    She shook her head stiffly.


    ¡°Get the fuck off me, then.¡±


    They stood up off the floor, shaking off bits of stone and dust, and Isaac guided her to a transept over to the side. In the little alcove, there were rows of friezes and cornices on the back wall, smooth lines of stone rising and falling in subtle patterns. Isaac trailed his hand down over the decorative grooves, searching for the hidden trigger. A pressure plate nearly indistinguishable from the rest of the architecture.


    ¡°Best not be craven!¡± Soren yelled. ¡°I got enough booming powder to split open a palace!¡±


    He found the spot. He pressed into it, and a small rectangle of stone sunk into the recesses of the wall, triggering a shudder of mechanisms. But nothing happened. No hint of a doorway emerged from the wall. It remained as smooth and seamless as any other edifice.


    ¡°Hurry this along now, Isaac.¡±


    ¡°It should¡¯ve worked.¡± He pressed the square again. ¡°Something¡¯s wrong.¡±


    ¡°Time¡¯s up! Light the fuses!¡±


    He bashed his shoulder into the wall and felt the slightest bit of give. A fine crack of darkness emerged in a vertical line. ¡°It¡¯s stuck. Help me push.¡±


    They braced against the door, digging their feet into smooth tile, and pushed together. The crack of darkness slowly grew into a thick line, some bit of ancient and broken machinery audibly straining against their efforts. It was taking all their strength just to budge it inch by inch.


    An explosion ripped through the chapel. The shockwave pulsed through his guts, nearly knocking him to the floor. Around them, stone and masonry crumbled, shaken loose or broken apart. Two gigantic chunks of vertebrae snapped off the spine and crushed an entire column of pews, including the twin statues. Isaac noted, almost absently, that he¡¯d never had the chance to study the figures. He¡¯d missed their significance.


    The crumbling continued, a quaking of earth and stone that was growing louder and louder, building upon itself. A coming cascade.


    The crack in the doorway was now almost as wide as a bookshelf. Zaria squeezed through first, scrapping the cavalry hook of her poleaxe across the wall. She disappeared into blackness, gone immediately, and, for a moment, Isaac was left alone with a growing avalanche of falling stone. Then her arm reached out from the void, grabbed his elbow, and yanked him bodily through the gap.


    They collapsed into dirt just as the roof of the chapel split apart with another explosion. Large chunks of ceiling piled up at the open doorway, admitting through only slivers of green light. The door groaned to a stop with the heavy rubble pressing against it. As the destruction of the chapel continued, and more wreckage flooded to the floor, it did not budge a single inch further. It was stuck again, and for good this time.


    Eventually, the rumbling ceased, and all he could hear was the gentle fall of dirt and dust, the last little bits of collapse settling into place.


    Orange fire blazed through the dark. Zaria had lit a torch, stuffing the flint back in her pack. She handed it to him. With his wrists still tied, he had to grasp it with a doubled fist, fingers pressing against each other. The hyena unsheathed her poleaxe and turned away from the door.


    Ahead of them was a dirt-floored hall that continued far past the end of the torchlight. The walls were lined with horizontal niches like the holes of a beehive¡ªloculi, Isaac remembered. Inlets to rest the bodies of the deceased. They rose in sequence towards the ceiling, stacking over each other. If the hall continued for long enough, there would be enough loculi to store hundreds of bodies.


    Catacombs. The tomb of an ancient necromancer.


    ¡°Nothing for it now,¡± Zaria said, holding her weapon tight.


    There was no light ahead. The hall was blacker than night. Isaac took a deep breath, feeling a chill in the air.


    They ventured into the dark.

 In the Face of Evil

    The darkness was too thick to be natural.


    Like all magic, spells of light and darkness required energy transfer. But darkness was merely the absence of light¡ªa death of energy. One could not create light with only darkness, but darkness could easily be created from light. A powerful enough sorcerer could drain the sun. A powerful enough necromancer could wring the very air of all its energy.


    The torchlight in his hands felt like an air bubble at the crushing depths of an ocean floor. Blackness held at every angle, heavy and dense, seeming to bray at the edges. Even the orange tint of the fire appeared to drain away into nothing as it touched the stone walls. Of course, by now, they must¡¯ve travelled deep into the earth. Darkness was to be expected. There would be no light down here ever again.


    Isaac found that, as his eyes struggled to pierce the dark, his other senses became highly sensitive. He could hear every scuff of dirt beneath his boots and every poorly controlled breath at his lips. He could faintly smell the bodies that used to be in the walls. He could feel the stiff and cool air on his sunburned skin, seeming to wrap around him like mist.


    ¡°You need to untie me,¡± Isaac said.


    Zaria was leading the way, spear tip jutting into darkness, her every step as smooth and silent as a predator stalking through brush. He could hear her breathing, too. Her ears swiveled back and forth, and her hackles were raised like blades of grass.


    ¡°Zaria. Untie me.¡±


    ¡°Not treading this ground again, Isaac. Torch up, mouth shut.¡±


    He gritted his teeth and raised the torch overhead, holding it awkwardly in two overlapping hands. His pelvis ached with every step he took.


    They came into a rectangular room that was large enough to fit four coffins, laid end to end across the center. A hypogeum. An underground burial chamber for the dead. The coffins were merely blocks of sculpted stone with a shallow inlay for the corpse to rest on top. Loculi lined the walls like empty teeth sockets.


    Zaria brushed away some dust from one of the coffin inlays. ¡°You got a layout for these catacombs?¡±


    ¡°No.¡±


    ¡°You know which way to go?¡±


    ¡°Down.¡±


    She snorted quietly. ¡°Terrific. Expert grave-robber you are, squire.¡±


    ¡°You signed up for this.¡±


    ¡°Aye. Suppose I did.¡±


    She glanced at the cobwebbed loculi around the walls, and Isaac used the opportunity to move in front of her, blocking the exit across the room. ¡°We need to follow the vertebrae. The base of the tomb is at the feet of this creature, and we¡¯ve barely reached the neck. The bone is our path.¡±


    She looked up at the dirt-packed ceiling. ¡°Don¡¯t see no bones, now.¡±


    ¡°We should go find them, then, shouldn¡¯t we?¡±


    ¡°Your genius is stunning, love.¡± She made to move past him. ¡°Try not to hurt someone with it.¡±


    He stepped in front of her. ¡°Have you not noticed anything?¡±


    ¡°Dust and stone, mostly. Along with my scent on your nethers.¡±


    He waved around the empty room. ¡°We have not seen a single skeleton since we got here. It¡¯s just been empty walls and empty graves.¡±


    ¡°So?¡±


    ¡°So what do you think happened to them? What do you think I¡¯ve been trying to warn you about?¡±


    ¡°Speak plain, then. Enlighten me of my peril.¡±


    He held up his wrists, the torch blazing overhead. ¡°You need to untie me. We¡¯re in the sorceress¡¯ lair now. Her domain. You need my abilities.¡±


    She stepped forward, towering over him. ¡°You had your chance to earn my trust. You squandered it, and it¡¯s a testament to my good mercy that you still got your lifeblood in your veins.¡±


    ¡°Zaria¡ª¡±


    ¡°No, Isaac. You got mass destruction at your fingertips. You could end my existence with a flick of your wrist. I ain¡¯t risking that at my back.¡± She shoved him with the haft of her poleaxe. ¡°You lead the way, you call out the threats, and I decide whether they warrant your freedom. Not you.¡±


    He exited the room with the torch held close to his chest, trying to wriggle out of his restraints. The torch might¡¯ve been capable of burning them off, but that would likely destroy his hands in the process, let alone his spellcasting ability. He rubbed the well-worn cuts on his wrists and continued on through the darkened hall.


    They ventured through corridors and burial chambers, curving paths that seemed to twist and bend without any warning or reason. The ancient culture that built these catacombs made them deliberately maze-like¡ªsudden dead-ends, looping hallways, and endless turns. Isaac was growing increasingly certain that they¡¯d passed the same sepulchral chamber multiple times. Everything looked the same. It was impossible to develop a layout in the mind¡¯s eye. There was only darkness and dust and vacant stone.


    He could not get over the feeling of being watched. There seemed to be an unnatural stillness to the air. Every sound they made was swallowed in an instant.


    He kept his eyes peeled for traps. Sigils carved into dirt and stone, ready to unleash fire and raw entropy and necrotism. Hex barriers at doorways, deadfalls in the floor. Animated machinery, shooting spikes and swinging axes. Perhaps even the necromancer herself, a cocoon of darkness surrounding her, aware of their presence from the very start, awaiting just the right moment to strike.


    ¡°Stop,¡± Zaria hissed.


    Isaac froze, nearly fumbling the torch. ¡°What?¡±


    ¡°Something up ahead.¡±


    She nudged him forward with her weapon. Isaac raised the torch high, steeled himself, and continued down the hall.


    He saw the blood first. Its redness was vibrant compared to the ancient stone around them, pooling in the shallow grooves of the dirt floor. Next came the gradual reveal of boots, tattered cloth, and the vague suggestion of legs and arms. A slumped over body, half fallen into a loculus. Judging by the general shape, it was human.


    Zaria nudged him back. She stepped forward and poked the foot of the body with her spear tip. It sunk through the foot and came out as dry as when it entered. Nothing moved.


    Isaac paced over, squatting down and balancing the torch on the edge of a higher loculus. He grabbed the shoulder of the corpse and found the flesh just as stiff and uncompliant as the other fresh body at the mouth of the skull. Like they had both been killed around the same time.


    He flipped the corpse onto its back. A screaming skull stared back at him. It was a human face with the same sigil carved into his forehead, but the similarities ended there. This thrall¡¯s life force had been sucked down clean to the marrow. His body was drier than the dirt beneath him, all his muscles and organs had deflated down to wrinkles and folds, and the skin wrapped around his bones was like thin fabric over stored furniture. The symbol of parasite magic stood empty on his forehead, but the rapid desiccation had given it the appearance of something carved into tree bark.


    What remained of the man¡¯s expression was locked into a scream of terror¡ªhis eyes were only shriveled remnants lying in their sockets, his bones poking against husks of flesh. Isaac thought, briefly, that if he had managed to make that expression, then the charm magic controlling his brain had failed. It was probably why he was dead.


    ¡°We¡¯re not alone down here,¡± Isaac said.


    ¡°Healthier looking, though.¡±


    ¡°No.¡± He pointed at the parasite sigil. ¡°There¡¯s another sorcerer who entered this tomb before us. I found a body like this at the surface. They¡¯ve got multiple human thralls under their command.¡±


    ¡°You only mentioning this now?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ve been rather distracted lately.¡±


    Zaria glanced behind her. ¡°Who is it?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t know. No one should¡¯ve come here but me. It¡¯s a strict Diet mandate. All transmutation specialists cannot interfere¡ª¡±


    ¡°Quiet.¡±


    Her ears swiveled back and forth. Slowly, beginning to feel his heart pound in his chest, Isaac grabbed the torch and stood up.


    It began as a soft chittering sound, like a swarm of insects rustling through grass. It seemed to bleed from the walls, coming from every direction. Slowly, the noise shifted, the quiet shuffling growing sharper sounds, something as hollow and brittle as old wind chimes.


    ¡°Untie me,¡± Isaac said, fighting down panic. ¡°Untie me right now.¡±


    A moan trembled out from the darkness. It was rasping and thin, hissing like a dying breath. Behind it, the chittering grew louder, building up into a wave of shuffling cracks, like a tide of dry reeds scraping across stone and dirt.


    ¡°Zaria!¡±


    She placed a firm hand to his chest and nudged him behind her. ¡°Keep the torch steady.¡±


    The pirate stepped forward, poleaxe grazing the edge of the darkness. The growing cacophony reacted, churning around them like a shifting swarm of flies, undulating and crackling. A rattling gasp echoed down the halls.


    Zaria growled from deep in her chest.


    A skeletal arm emerged from the darkness, as smoothly as a pin piercing through black fabric. It waved limply, missing fingers and palm bones like a broken doll¡¯s hand. Another arm joined it, far above at the ceiling, angled down and faintly spasming. And another came above the first, pointed the wrong way and unable to articulate further, and several more came after that, splayed like twitching feathers below a wing, and all at once there were dozens of arms, grasping and bending and waving like limbs on a centipede.


    A writhing mass of bone shuffled into the torchlight, blocking the narrow hall. Isaac imagined a ball of snakes twisting together. There were rib bones connected to femurs, arms jutting from pelvises, chittering skulls acting as kneecaps, vertebrae studding shoulder blades, and they were all encased in a porcupine shell of arms, all of the bones sliding and crackling against each other as if seeking some undefined structure, constantly building and disconnecting. He saw human bones, canine bones, feline and bird and reptile, binding together with no more thought of unity than one would chop down a forest, saw the different trees into planks and use them to build a house.


    Atop this swirling mound of bodies sat a skull, the head of a rhino with two overlapping jaws, one inside the other, and it roared with a chorus of voices, a rattling siren call for all that hated life and blood and flesh.


    Zaria raised her weapon overhead, scraping the spear tip along the ceiling, and smashed the axe blade down into the rhino skull. It split in half, the two jaws still biting as they separated from their joints, and the mass below surged forward in two parallel waves, almost like reaching for a hug. She stepped back and swung sideways, the axe splintering through the nest of bone with such force that arms and ribs rained down like leaves from a tree. She yanked the blade back, the cavalry hook ripping out an entire skeleton¡¯s worth of bones with it, and struck again, sundering and cleaving as the writhing mass became loose tentacles and pouring chunks, growing a pool of splintered bone across the dirt floor.


    When nothing was standing higher than her ankles, she stopped, leaning on her weapon and breathing heavily. But the bones were still moving, still shuffling and sliding, already forming connections again. And the waves of chittering around them only grew louder, surging through the black.


    Something fell on Isaac¡¯s shoulder. A finger bone¡ªhuman metacarpal¡ªwriggling like a maggot. He jerked back into the wall of loculi, flailing it off, and the rapid wave of his torch illuminated the area behind him. A sea of bones crawled in his direction, scapulas and jaws and kneecaps scuttling along dirt and stone, covering every surface like writhing films of moss. They rained from the ceiling and leaped at him from the floor, flinging themselves in bouncing arcs. He stumbled back, shielding himself with his arms, feeling sharpened bone slice through his skin as they began to leap and pour over him.


    ¡°Run!¡± he shouted.


    They sprinted ahead, leaping over the rattling pool of bone already reforming itself into knots and limbs. Another conjoined mass of skeletons leered at them from the darkness, but Zaria lowered her polearm forward like a game of jousts, spearing the tangle of bone through its center frame and dragging it along as she ran. More walking piles of bodies came, wriggling and jerking and moaning, but the hyena kept charging, the swarm of bones caught on her weapon head growing wider with each impact. The bones detached from the central mass and began to snake up along the haft of her weapon, squirming towards her hands, but she smacked them off on a wall like ridding a broom of dust.


    They ran through corridors and burial chambers, dodging pockets and swarms of bone, the masses sloughing off and into each other like droplets of water. There was no way to see ahead. The torchlight did not go far. All they could do was run forward into darkness, reacting to whatever came ahead, be that a curve in the hall or a shambling ball of ancient corpses.


    Then he saw it¡ªoverhead, the giant vertebrae began to poke through the ceiling. It continued on through an intersecting corridor, and it came so suddenly that he almost ran straight through the intersection without spotting it. Isaac grabbed his companion by the tail, eliciting an almost girlish shriek of surprise, and yelled: ¡°This way!¡±This novel''s true home is a different platform. Support the author by finding it there.


    Now, following the bone, the tilt of the floor was obvious. They must¡¯ve been descending this whole time, but the darkness had prevented him from taking notice. The corridor they found themselves in now was almost a ramp leading deep into the earth, forcing his feet to slap down into the slope and his momentum to build into an almost uncontrollable pace. Zaria stayed in the front, swatting away clusters of bone whenever possible, ignoring the fingers and toes that leaped like grasshoppers.


    He only saw it when it was too late. He had dodged a leering arm from a high loculus, only to turn his head forward and suddenly see a churning wall of bone in front of him, something that completely sealed off the hall ahead. With his downward momentum, he couldn¡¯t stop in time. Zaria was either unable to stop as well or had never planned on it in the first place¡ªshe braced her shoulder and smashed through the thick layer of slithering remains. Isaac barely missed the wide gap she made, slamming half his body into the broken membrane of arms and legs.


    He dropped the torch and stumbled to the floor. A giant slug-like mass of skeletons fell from the ceiling, crushing him into the dirt. It enveloped him like sharp, flowing water.


    ¡°Isaac!¡±


    Zaria tried to turn around, but an avalanche of bone poured from the loculi around her, and more masses shambled in from the dark, full of sharpened rib cages and chattering skulls. She swung, bashed, and stomped, lost in a swirling shower of bone.


    On the floor, Isaac wrenched his arms and legs, trying to break free, but the bones were a sliding cocoon around him, squeezing tighter and tighter. They pressed into his skin like beds of needles, threatening to crush and perforate him at the same time. All his training failed him, and he flailed desperately, overwhelmed with terror.


    He managed to get his arms free. When he lifted them overhead, they caught on something.


    It was an old, rusted torch sconce, something unused for centuries. Now, it was barely more than a rusty blade of metal sticking from the wall. And Isaac had snagged his restraints on the jagged edges.


    He pulled his bindings down with all his strength. The mass of bones continued to stab and constrict around him, slithering up towards his neck and face. For a horrible moment, the torch sconce seemed ready to break from the wall, and the bones were nearly at his mouth, rattling against each other in an overwhelming crescendo.


    Then his bindings tore through, and his hands were freed.


    Quickly, with the ease and grace of a lifetime of practice, he performed the mnemonics around crawling curtains of bone, balling two hurricanes into the palms of his hands. He slapped his right hand into the ground, bouncing the force off the floor and into the air like an ascending geyser of wind. He broke the cocoon around him, creating constellations of flying bone above, and, with his left hand, he slashed a lance of wind in a sweeping arc overhead, flinging the wriggling swarms of bone back into the darkness like dust in a storm.


    He jumped to his feet, already performing the movements for another spell. Ahead, Zaria caught her balance, having nearly been thrown to the floor. She looked back at him, and naked fear crawled across her face. She watched with wide eyes as he faced her direction, a churning ball of fire growing between his hands. She took a step back, trying to say something. Her quiet whisper was lost under the crackling flames in his palms.


    ¡°Get down!¡±


    She dropped to the floor and Isaac shot the fireball over her head. It roared down the narrow hall, shadows racing across stone. Twirling masses of bone flailed like bonfires breaking apart in the wind. But the fireball ended in a dying light, swallowed by the darkness beyond, and the bones themselves did not burn for long. They were hollow, stripped clean of all the substances of life. Humanoid shapes reformed themselves, undulating in their direction with smoldering limbs and crackling faces.


    At his back, the chittering became overwhelming, and Isaac turned to see a triangular wall of bone lurch towards him like a wave in the ocean, streams of arms and legs sucking into it from the ground. He stumbled back, trying to create space, but the tide of bodies gushed forward like a churning liquid, surging over the torch he had dropped on the floor.


    Suddenly, there was no light. Only darkness. Only the chittering of sliding bone, only rasping cries and hissing screams, only the slither of necromancy, only the overwhelming rush of limbs and heads and bodies.


    Isaac felt a massive wall loom over him as he rushed through the mnemonics.


    White light burned from his hand. The tide of bones above him lurched back like a tongue, screaming in rage and fear. Hissing steam erupted from its nest of connections, the old bone melting on its frame, and Isaac poured more energy into the casting, intensifying the anti-necrotic spell until it was blazing as bright as a lighthouse in the palm of his hand. When he stepped forward, open hand held in front, the wave fell apart around him, the surging tide below scurrying away like a swarm of insects, all the individual bones bubbling and steaming and bursting into blue flames.


    ¡°Get behind me!¡± Isaac yelled.


    Zaria stepped around him as he marched on. Ahead, the wriggling slugs of bodies slithered away, their cries of fear echoing down the long, empty tunnels, and those who could not squirm and crawl and shamble fast enough were burned to ash under his white light, acrid smoke rising in wisps and clouds. Another solid wall of bone presented itself at a junction of corridors, a pulsing orifice of limbs, and Isaac balled another hurricane in his free hand, smashing it apart like a bird¡¯s nest. Splinters of bone flew past him from behind, and Zaria¡¯s groans of effort told him there was still a tide at their back, only barely held at bay.


    He took a turn into an intersecting hall, still following the vertebrae, but he stumbled, having to lean his shoulder into stone. When he pressed a hand to his chest, it came away shining red. The cocoon of bones must¡¯ve stabbed him all over his body. He was so full of adrenaline as to hardly notice¡ªeven now, he could barely feel the punctures. Most of them were likely shallow, but his energy stores were already draining at an unsustainable pace. He wasn¡¯t sure which would him weaken him faster¡ªthe magic light burning from his hand, or the blood leaking from his body.


    He had no scrolls left. He could not defeat them all by hand. There were too many. They were going to die.


    Zaria grabbed him by the shoulder, pushing him forward. ¡°No slacking, squire!¡±


    He stumbled forward, letting only a ragged gasp escape his lips, and he continued on with brilliant white light shining high above his head, feeling her presence at his back. They marched together as one.


    The vertebrae in the ceiling were a straight, curving line heading down into the earth. But the paths through the catacombs were circuitous and long, bending and turning, leading them through burial chambers and mausoleums, passed coffins and endless sockets of loculi. The spinal column disappeared from sight frequently. Every turn was a guess, every room a hope, every vanishing a fear.


    ¡°Isaac! Behind!¡±


    He turned, and a vague humanoid shape sprinted at them from the darkness, fast and large and spiked with sharpened arms. He smashed it down to chunks with a sharp blast of wind, all the separating bones burning and boiling under the white light.


    They were growing bolder. Fiercer. Trying to angle themselves into ambushes, twisting into deadlier shapes. They were still circling around his spell light like wild animals around a raging campfire, but they weren¡¯t beasts. They were intelligent. Controlled. Waiting for one gap to exploit, one single slip of weakness.


    But their ferocity might mean something else, too. It might mean they were getting close to the exit.


    When he reached a four way intersection of halls, they sprung their trap. Shapes and masses flooded in from the darkness, coming from all directions, leaping and churning. He could not cast fast enough.


    ¡°Zaria!¡±


    A bulbous mass of skulls leaped at him, but the hyena smashed it down from overhead, scattering the screaming faces across the floor. Isaac pressed himself into her back, seeing a torrential rain of bone flying sideways down an adjacent corridor, and he only barely managed to encase the hall with a solid wall of ice, trapping the body parts like flies in amber. In the third corridor, cylinders of flailing arms and legs spun across the ceiling and screeched across the walls, but Zaria slashed with her axe, cleaving through hands and femurs, and Isaac incinerated the uncoiling limbs as they detached and squirmed. Every scattered piece of bone smaller than a pelvis was burned to cinders as they continued forward.


    He couldn¡¯t sustain this pace for much longer. The arm casting the light was shriveling, all the energy in its cells sucking away. His legs were unsteady, and his vision was blurring. His body was draining so quickly of lifeforce that it was becoming a conscious effort to draw breath. He pressed a hand to his shirt, and it came back almost dripping wet with blood.


    And he was back in the yard again. The morning sun shined on his face, and his uncle¡¯s voice shouted in his ear. He had attempted to cast the warding light dozens of times that session, and he was now only managing sparks from his fingertips. He panted, leaned on his knees, and told his uncle that he could do no more. If he tried again, he was sure he would faint.


    And, in a rare moment, his uncle had stayed his cane¡ªinstead, he had kneeled down next to him, and told him that he must try again, he must push himself beyond his limits, because the time would come where he would be in great need of this spell, and it would not be a time where he could falter. He had great strength hidden inside of him. He could reach heights of power beyond his expectations, if only he changed those expectations themselves. And the only reason he was challenging his nephew so harshly now was because he believed, in his heart of hearts, that the boy could meet the task ahead of him.


    The light began to flicker and fade. He could no longer hold his arm above his head. Immediately, the swarms of bone seized in, braying at the edges of the light, hissing and screeching.


    Something with seven legs and three skulls leaped at him like a frog. With a roar, Isaac straightened his arm, concentrated the light, and shot it from his hand like a ballista bolt of raw energy. It skewered clean through the flying mass, sending it flailing to the floor as its bones burned and flaked to ash. Isaac turned and shot the light again at the crawling legions behind them, focusing the beam into a lance of shining brilliance that scoured the corridor clean. Bodies and shapes and creatures screamed as they burst aflame, writhing layers of bone scattering in swarms.


    He roared his defiance into the shadowy halls, echoing a primal cry down the festering graves. He challenged the darkness to fight, and he found the darkness afraid.


    He continued on, bathed in radiant light, marching past empty graves and silent coffins. Ahead, a crawling layer of bone retreated back into the dark like the white foam of a wave. Twitching masses flung themselves to the ground as he approached, falling over into their base components to run away with greater speed. Rasping shrieks echoed from every side corridor and adjacent passage. Any shifting mass that did not retreat was burned to ash and smashed to pieces with the heavy blade of a poleaxe.


    The vertebrae changed. They were no longer cervical¡ªinstead, the blocks of bone began to sport the articulation joints of thoracic vertebrae, each protrusion larger than the blade of a windmill. And, in the distance, the corridor widened further and further until the walls disappeared from the edge of his light. All of a sudden, there were no more loculi and coffins. The catacombs had ended.


    They had made it through the neck. They were almost into the torso. Almost to the necropolis. Almost to safety.


    A large stone door stood at the end of a circular chamber, carved into the bulge of a massive sternum, and Isaac could only compare it to the gate of a high-walled castle. Vertebrae acted as the central pillar of the chamber, the floor around it carved with religious reliefs and mythologic figures. Giant clavicles curved away from the sternum into adjacent corridors, the shoulders somewhere far off in the darkness.


    Zaria ran across the chamber, pieces of splintered bone falling from her leather armor. She bashed into the massive stone door as if she meant to knock it over. All she received in response was a puffing cloud of dust and a slight quake in the walls. ¡°What stupid idiot made a door out of stone?¡±


    Isaac had only barely reached the vertebrae in the center of the room. He had to lean on it for support.


    ¡°Isaac! Work your book-learning!¡±


    He pushed himself off the vertebrae and made to speak. An instant later, he was face-down on the floor and the light was gone. Complete darkness, a frantic heartbeat in his ears. He tried to cast the spell again, but his arms were stiff and empty. He flopped them into position, working the incantation like a wet campfire. When he got the light shining from his hand again, Zaria was leaning over him, pulling him up to standing.


    ¡°Fuck me, love, you¡¯re bleedin¡¯ bad.¡±


    He couldn¡¯t feel the punctures anymore. He knew that was a very bad sign.


    She leaned him against herself as they walked, their difference in height bringing his head to the top of a breast. ¡°Exit, right? Door leads to safety, aye?¡±


    Isaac managed to nod.


    ¡°Well, come on, open sesame and all that.¡±


    He flopped his arm towards the side of the door. ¡°Lever.¡±


    ¡°That easy, is it?¡±


    He grunted into her fur.


    She moved him across the rest of the chamber, then gently lowered him into a sitting position at the front of the door. ¡°Stay awake. Breathe. In out, in out.¡±


    ¡°Hurry up¡ªcutthroat.¡±


    Zaria raced over to the lever. It was located in the range of his light, but he couldn¡¯t see that far anymore. His vision was growing narrow and dim. He felt cold all the way to his soul. Back the way they came, the chittering continued to echo and churn. It seemed to be growing louder and faster.


    He heard some wrenching sounds off to the side, then a clamped snarl. ¡°Is any blasted bit of metal gonna work properly?¡±


    He could hear them coming. It didn¡¯t sound much different than rushing water. Only drier, full of cracks and scrapes, punctuated with raspy screams and grinding roars. The chamber they were in held many doors along the opposite end of the sternum. There were many open mouths of darkness. Every one of them seemed to twist and boil.


    Zaria was next to him again. ¡°It¡¯s not budging.¡±


    He concentrated on breathing.


    ¡°Isaac! It¡¯s stuck!¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t¡ª¡± He swallowed some saliva. ¡°I don¡¯t know. Do something.¡±


    Zaria stared back up at the massive stone door.


    ¡°Do something,¡± he said. ¡°I¡¯ll cover you.¡±


    ¡°You couldn¡¯t cover piss in a blanket.¡±


    He grabbed a sliver of her ruined leather cuirass and pulled himself to a hunched standing position. His fists clenched, and the white light grew brighter. ¡°I will cover you.¡±


    She looked to him, then back at the door. ¡°I suppose brute force is my specialty.¡± She walked up to the door, cracked her neck, braced against the stone, and began to push with all her strength. More pockets of dust rained down, the sternum itself seemed to shake, and, slowly, the door began to scrape along its ancient path, moving inwards at a glacial pace.


    A roar came from the darkness. More joined it, warbling and torn, and the chittering rushed into a frenzy of movement, like a thousand crackling fires combining into an inferno. The roars became a chorus, a synchronized battle cry.


    Isaac gritted his teeth and performed his mnemonics.


    They came at him like a horde of beasts, sprinting from all directions. He pointed his finger at the largest mass of bones he could see. A gust of energy snapped through his arm and the mass exploded in a burst of raw sound, like concentrated thunder. The noise was deafening, slapping his eardrums, and the shockwave blasted apart the nearest beasts like a blackpowder bomb. Shrapnel made of splintered bone hit the back ranks, shredding many down to their base components.


    He pointed again, shooting the raw sound at points of maximum effect, tearing apart entire lines of galloping masses. Shattered bone flew through the air in streams. But they were coming from every side, pouring out of every chamber entrance in gushing tides, and they had staggered their lines, coordinated their charges. He couldn¡¯t cast fast enough. There were too many to kill. They closed the distance with rapid speed.


    He performed new mnemonics, losing even more ground in the casting time, and slammed the twin hurricane balls into the floor. A tidal wave of wind erupted from the ground, knocking back the edges of the horde like a solid wall of force. The masses of bone were slapped into showers of arms and legs, and, for a moment, their advance was halted. But the front lines were replaced with new bone immediately, almost stumbling over each other in rabid fervor, and the tide continued in as if it had never been struck at all. Isaac casted the wind again, sending constellations of bone spinning through the air, but the lines only grew thicker with sprinting masses. It felt like beating the ocean tide with a broom.


    Behind him, Zaria had managed to push open a crack in the doorway. Pale yellow light trickled in from beyond.


    Isaac fell back, increasing the strength of his white light. The first swarm of beasts that leaped into it immediately burst into blue flame, melting into puddles and ash at his feet. A restless mob of skulls and fingers and limbs grew at the edge of the spell, hissing and screeching. They swiped into it, bit at it with teethless jaws, each thrust into the light boiling their bones.


    The light began to dim. He had reached the ends of his strength. As the casting radius shrunk around him, the horde closed in. He could see eyeless faces and sharp ribs and twisted legs, piles of bodies squirming like slugs, entire waves of bone splashing at the backs of creatures only vaguely shaped like living beings. They came in, closer and closer, hundreds of arms reaching and grasping.


    She had widened the crack in the doorway to a small gap. More yellow light, glimpses of statues and buildings.


    They were almost at him. The light was nearly gone. Each swipe of claws barely missed his chest. The horde was frenzied, smelling blood and life.


    And, all at once, Isaac felt a sense of calm. A feeling of rightness. A sense that he had achieved his place and purpose. Everything he had ever known had built up to his moment. And, as he pulled the last bit of lifeforce from his body, a single sentence wormed through his mind.


    His father would¡¯ve been proud.


    The light at his hand grew from a dim flicker to a blaze, and the horde scrambled over each other as they fell and burned. The blaze grew into a shining beacon, and the screams of the dead echoed down the chamber walls. The beacon erupted into a second sun of light, every shadow in the room erased, every flicker of darkness destroyed, every line of color fading into pure, radiant white. All movement of bone and death vanished from sight. There was only whiteness, thick and bright like the darkness had been black and empty, seeming to cover all of existence. For a long moment, he felt as a star shining in the night.


    Then the spell ended, the light dying like a snuffed flame. He caught a brief glimpse of the chamber as the incantation died, and he saw only twirling clouds of ember and ash. The room was silent and empty.


    His heart skipped in his chest. His legs buckled. He collapsed.


    Stone on his face. A carved relief. Figures and words.


    Movement. Distant voice. Pressure on his back. Shaking, yelling.


    The world flipped. He bounced, held off the floor. A yellow light. Walls and doors.


    Running and running.


    The world went black.

 Unrealized

    He woke in pain.


    The first thing Isaac saw was a colossal rig cage which seemed to hold up the sky. The ribs spread across the night like comet trails, curving and falling, and the cartilage connections between the ribs and the central pillar of the sternum were glowing the same color as fool¡¯s gold. He realized, all at once, that he wasn¡¯t looking at the night sky, but a gigantic cavern underneath the rib cage, carved out like a body cavity. The twin glowing rows of cartilage casted only a faint light, leaving the ceiling of this cavern hanging in a starless black and the floor below in a pale twilight.


    He was lying on stone. The white fabric they¡¯d used for shawls had been laid out beneath him like a blanket. He was shirtless, and his torso was wrapped in bandages.


    His face felt like a skull wearing a loose human mask. His body was deflated. Dangerously low on energy. He might¡¯ve lost a sizable fraction of his bodyweight in the catacombs. He tried to move, and his entire body screamed in response. There were so many punctures in his skin that he might¡¯ve appeared like a victim of an iron maiden. Underneath the more severe injuries, his pelvis continued to throb with a dull pain.


    He turned his head. Next to him, Zaria was slumped against a battlement made of brick and mortar. The haft of her poleaxe rested on her shoulder and her chin laid on a bent knee. She was watching an open hole in the floor, the rungs of a ladder curving down from one end, as if she expected a horde to climb through at any moment. The sluggish blink in her eyes suggested that she¡¯d been keeping this watch for some time.


    ¡°Hey,¡± Isaac said.


    She nearly dropped her poleaxe. ¡°Xotra¡¯s cunt, Isaac, I was beginning to think you¡¯d never wake.¡±


    ¡°Me too, actually.¡±


    She rested her weapon on the stone and crawled over to him. ¡°So, how¡¯re we feeling, then?¡±


    His body seemed to be suffering a number of crises. He had to pick which one to solve first. ¡°Water.¡±


    She tilted her head. The cartilage light shining from above framed her face like a row of fireflies. They seemed to be on the top of an open-roofed watchtower, complete with battlements and arrow loopholes.


    ¡°Water,¡± he repeated.


    ¡°Now, now. Mind your manners.¡±


    He looked up at her with as much indignation as he could manage.


    She shrugged. ¡°You know me. Stickler for rules.¡±


    ¡°Please.¡±


    She reached beneath his head to rummage through his pack, which he only now realized was serving as his pillow, and pulled out a waterskin. He tried to sit up off the floor, but he lacked both the energy and willpower to work through the pain. Instead, she reached down and gently lifted his head, bringing the waterskin to his lips. She poured slowly, pausing to let him swallow and breathe. The fur of her hand was soft and warm.


    ¡°Does my squire need further aid?¡± she asked, tossing the skin over a battlement.


    ¡°Rations. Please.¡±


    She dug into her own pack and tossed him several cuts of salt meat. He attacked them like a starving animal.


    ¡°Afraid I need to shield myself from this sight,¡± she said, sitting back. ¡°Might be collateral damage.¡±


    He gnawed furiously at the meat, only barely chewing it enough to swallow. He had never been so ravenous in his entire life. Even the worst of his uncle¡¯s training sessions hadn¡¯t left his body quite so desperate for nourishment.


    It was only when he started on the third cut of salt meat that he noticed something. His hands were still freed. He looked down at them as if he¡¯d never had the privilege before. He flexed his fingers, twisted his wrists, went through a few mnemonic movements. It felt good.


    ¡°Heavy lifting,¡± Zaria said, as if it was a speech she had rehearsed many times. Her body had tensed, her eyes focused on his hands. ¡°I mean¡ªyou know¡ªall the broken machinery. Stone doors and what not. You need some gallant knight for the heavy lifting, frail human that you are.¡±


    He stopped chewing and watched her.


    ¡°A-and your casting, right? Not fast enough, at times¡ªheat of combat, the point where every second counts, you need some solid steel at your back. Simple and true, that is.¡±


    He licked salt off his lips.


    ¡°And¡ªand you barely know how to lace your boots. I¡¯ve forgotten more practical knowledge than you¡¯ve ever studied. Tying rope, dressing wounds, battle tactics. I should be the one leading this expedition, really.¡±


    He feigned the casting motion of a spell, sudden and quick, and she flinched away, grabbing her poleaxe.


    ¡°Mutual dependency,¡± she said. ¡°That¡¯s all I¡¯m saying. Trapped this far in the earth, harried by monsters and thralls . . . well, there¡¯s nothing for it now but cooperation. Right?¡±


    ¡°It would be smart,¡± Isaac said, his hands still raised.


    ¡°Aye. Brilliant, actually. Wise beyond measure.¡±


    ¡°I agree.¡±


    Her hand was still on her weapon. ¡°Do you?¡±


    ¡°Sure.¡±


    ¡°Good. Great. Relieved to hear it.¡±


    ¡°Thanks for pulling me out of there, by the way.¡±


    ¡°Oh, think nothing of it, love. That lighthouse mimicry was more impressive, really.¡±


    ¡°Thanks for saying so.¡±


    ¡°Anytime, squire. Quite a . . . quite a powerful mage you are.¡±


    ¡°Got the titles to prove it.¡±


    ¡°Aye. Right. Heard those before.¡±


    Neither of them moved for several moments.


    ¡°Zaria,¡± Isaac said. ¡°I do agree with you. I need your help. I would¡¯ve never made it out of those catacombs without your assistance. There is a place for dumb, brute strength.¡±


    ¡°No need to qualify my talents as such, love.¡±


    ¡°Accurate, though, isn¡¯t it?¡±


    ¡°To a point, I¡¯d like to think.¡±


    ¡°Look,¡± he said. ¡°I¡¯ll just need one favor from you, and we can bury the hatchet. Okay?¡±


    She nodded vigorously. ¡°Sure. Anything you require.¡±


    ¡°Come closer.¡±


    She looked at him, unsure. He beckoned her forward. She leaned in.


    ¡°Closer,¡± he said.


    She hesitated, almost said something, and came nearer until she was perched over him. He grabbed her by a sliver of her torn leather cuirass and tried to pull her in. She hardly budged, not even really trying to resist him, and so he had to lift himself closer to her. ¡°I told you so.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s a bit petty of you, Isaac.¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± he said. ¡°And I fucking told you so.¡± He released his grip on her armor and laid back down on the white fabric. ¡°That¡¯s all. Consider the matter resolved.¡±


    But she stayed above him, eyes roaming over his face, and she looked like she had much to say. More excuses to give, more tales of pain and fear, more descriptions of pirate laws and customs. Instead, she cleared her throat, looked away, and said: ¡°Sorry. Should¡¯ve listened.¡±


    She sat back down next to him. He continued to tear his way through the rations. After a while, his body seemed to have acquired enough nourishment to begin healing itself.


    ¡°Where are we?¡± he asked.


    ¡°A watchtower for some constabulary, looks like. It¡¯s got high cover, perfect overwatch, and one way in and out.¡±


    Isaac looked down at the open hole in the tower floor. She must¡¯ve climbed up the entire ladder with his limp body hanging on her shoulders.


    ¡°It¡¯s a city,¡± she said. ¡°No different than any other I¡¯ve seen. Just empty. Nothing but old stone and dust.¡±


    He pulled himself up between two battlements and gazed out over the edge.


    Buildings stretched down the body cavity of the giant corpse, their rooftops covered in shadow from the yellow cartilage light. It was a far bigger city than the one he had grown up next to¡ªit might¡¯ve held a population in the tens of thousands, far in the past. He could see streets and shops, the occasional pillar of watchtowers, water mills and granaries, signs written in a language that hadn¡¯t been spoken in millennia.


    All the buildings were made of stone, curving and concave like the sockets of bone, and most were still in remarkably good condition. Of course, there was no sunlight to beat down on their roofs, no rain to erode their walls, and not a single footprint in the dust that covered the streets. It was an archaeologist¡¯s wildest dream.


    ¡°It¡¯s a necropolis,¡± Isaac said. ¡°A city for the dead.¡±


    ¡°Ain¡¯t that just a big graveyard?¡±


    ¡°No. This was an actual city meant to house the dead, people like you or me brought back to life. This empire practiced necromancy as commonly as agriculture. That¡¯s why the catacombs are above the city. They conquered many nations, transformed them into vassals, and part of their demanded tribute were shipments of bodies and prisoners, which they¡¯d use to sustain their unnatural lives. The bodies would be left in the catacombs, then collected and processed.¡±


    Zaria tossed a loose brick over the edge of the tower. ¡°Glad they¡¯re gone, then.¡±


    ¡°They¡¯re not all gone. There¡¯s one left. And she knows we¡¯re here now.¡±


    For the first time, he became aware of the silence all around him. It wasn¡¯t just a lack of sound, like he¡¯d experienced in the desert. The silence had a weight to it. It felt full and heavy.


    ¡°Well,¡± the hyena said, ¡°I travelled a good ways through this necropolis with you on my shoulder, and I saw nary a soul. Wherever she is, she hasn¡¯t been here for centuries, at least.¡±


    ¡°We¡¯re probably safe here. She¡¯ll need time to consolidate her forces again.¡± Isaac sat back down on his blanket. ¡°Give me a moment, and I¡¯ll cast a warding spell on the floor. Keep anyone from climbing up.¡±


    ¡°You can do that sort of thing?¡±


    ¡°I can do a lot of things. If I¡¯m given the chance.¡±


    She gave a sheepish nod and dug into her own pack for a waterskin. He laid back down on the blanket and continued to chew his way through the rations. Despite their difference in size, he was easily eating more than her. They laid next to each other in silence, sating their various needs, resting and breathing.


    Isaac took stock of his injuries. Most of his body was covered in punctures, but, like he thought, they were mostly shallow. It had just been the sheer number of them that had driven him to blood loss. Some good sleep and a prodigious amount of rations would have him combat ready in less than a day.


    He realized, absently, that it was likely night on the surface. Much had happened today. They had been awoken by a patrolling sandship, travelled to the tomb, dealt with the sphinx, certain other things had occurred, and then they¡¯d fought through an army of thralls. He was exhausted. Sleep called to him.


    Speaking of . . . certain things, he could still feel the wounds on his neck. The dagger wound gave him a slight discomfort every time he swallowed, and her teeth marks ached whenever he bent his neck. His pelvis throbbed with his heartbeat. And, lying on the floor as he was, he could smell her musk on his skin, like it had seeped through his clothes. He grabbed his shirt, took a tentative sniff, and grimaced at the fierceness of the odor. He would likely reek of her scent for days.


    A snort came from his side. She was grinning down at him. ¡°Thinking of fond memories?¡±


    ¡°Just remembering that I need to burn my clothes and skin.¡±


    ¡°Uh-huh. Betcha five silver you¡¯ll be poppin¡¯ a stiffy every time you catch a whiff.¡±


    He tossed his shirt away. ¡°Could we, just once, have a normal conversation?¡±


    ¡°Are we normal people, all of a sudden?¡±


    ¡°I just want to state, for the record, that it would be nice.¡±


    She folded her arms, sliding down the battlement. ¡°You wish to speak serious about the topic, then?¡±


    Isaac glared up at the glowing rib cage.


    ¡°Didn¡¯t mean much by it,¡± she said. ¡°Didn¡¯t even cross my mind you¡¯d think different, neither. Fucking¡¯s always seemed like something basic as breathing. Everyone does it. Everyone wants to.¡± She paused. ¡°You certainly seemed like you did.¡±


    Isaac got back to his feet, fast enough that he wobbled and almost fell off the tower. ¡°I¡¯m casting the ward now.¡± He went through the mnemonics, gathering a purple light in his hands, and spread it over the ladder hole. It remained as a solid purple film across the gap. He knew, from experience, that he could walk across it, but the tower reached very high in the air, and he didn¡¯t wish to try.


    ¡°Seemed like you took it different than I intended,¡± Zaria continued. ¡°Seemed half a world away, afterward.¡±


    He walked to the opposite end of the watchtower and gazed out over the city. It stretched far past what he could see with the faint cartilage light. He remembered his texts, the essays he had read, describing the overview of this empire and how it had fallen. No one had found this city before. No one knew it was here. It was nameless and barren.


    ¡°If you want to speak your piece, Isaac, now¡¯s the time. I think we¡¯re both of the mind that I deserve it.¡±


    He gripped the battlement.


    ¡°Wasn¡¯t my intention to hurt you,¡± she said. ¡°Not permanent-like, anyway. If I did so . . . I¡¯m sorry.¡±


    He turned, ready to say something rash, but stopped himself. She was sporting new injuries. He hadn¡¯t seen it that well from the side, but fresh blood was coating the spotted fur of her thigh, and she was leaning against the battlement in a way that suggested painful bruises.


    Her ears rose up. ¡°That your way of asking for round two?¡±


    ¡°No,¡± he said, stopping his stare. ¡°You¡¯re still bleeding. Why didn¡¯t you bandage yourself?¡±


    ¡°Used most of them on you, love.¡±


    He ran a hand down the white fabric wrapped around his chest. ¡°Thanks,¡± he said, quietly.


    ¡°Nothing to it. Just . . . triaging. That¡¯s the word, right?¡±


    ¡°Yes. That¡¯s¡ª¡± He looked at her wounds again, both the new ones and the old, and made a decision. ¡°I can make you a poultice. It¡¯ll ease the pain, accelerate the healing.¡±


    She blinked. ¡°You can do that?¡±


    He went for his pack. ¡°Like I said, I can do many things. Some would say useful things.¡±


    ¡°No, Isaac,¡± Zaria said. ¡°What I mean is¡ªI told you of the torture and horror I went through before we met, didn¡¯t I?¡±


    ¡°Yes, you did.¡±


    ¡°You could see evidence of this very same plight splayed across my body. Clear as day.¡±


    ¡°Of course.¡±


    ¡°And anyone with a bit of medicine practice could tell that these wounds were causing me great woe and suffering, aye?¡±


    ¡°Definitely.¡±


    ¡°And you did nothing for this. Could¡¯ve eased me of my troubles at any moment. Just kept your mouth shut and let me fester in pain.¡±


    ¡°Sure did!¡±Unauthorized use: this story is on Amazon without permission from the author. Report any sightings.


    She blinked up at him with a mixture of surprise and anger.


    He shrugged. ¡°Didn¡¯t seem smart to aid my enemies.¡±


    ¡°Didn¡¯t seem smart to admit that, neither.¡±


    ¡°Look, do you want to die of blood sickness or not?¡±


    She waved, lying back fully on the floor. ¡°Aye, aye. Work your learning.¡±


    He pulled out the alchemical supplies from his pack¡ªmortar, pestle, and various vials of liquids and powders. The specific poultice he had in mind would be difficult to craft with his travel kit. The recipe called for precise measurements of its ingredients, along with a very specific ratio between the bases and reagents. In fact, with his dwindling supplies, crafting enough of the poultice to heal Zaria¡¯s various injuries would likely exhaust many of his vital ingredients.


    He glanced back at her. She was lying on the floor with her eyes closed, taking shallow breaths like it would be too painful to do anything else.


    Isaac crafted the poultice in several batches, storing the excess in empty phylacteries and tossing used vials over the watchtower edge. The mixture was a dark green emulsion, still boiling upon itself. It usually took a few minutes for the liquid to evaporate. As he waited, he gazed out over the necropolis again and thought of crafting elixirs in his uncle¡¯s laboratory. Beakers, flasks, flaming bellows, the quickening of ingredients into solution. His mentor¡¯s face over rows of glowing potions.


    When it was ready, he crawled over to her and tried to determine the worst of her injuries. It was difficult. She had many of them.


    ¡°Which one hurts the most?¡± he asked.


    In response, she rolled over onto her front, displaying her back. A long, diagonal slash went from her shoulder blade to the opposite hip. It had bled prodigiously into her fur.


    He gently applied the poultice into the laceration. Immediately, Zaria flexed and gasped. ¡°My word! That¡¯s¡ªoh, there¡¯s this rushing coolness. . . .¡± He kept applying the mixture along the length of her wound, and her exhale was like finally letting go of a heavy weight. ¡°That is divine, Isaac. Thank you kindly.¡±


    ¡°You know,¡± he said, making sure the poultice was evenly spread, ¡°you could¡¯ve said something. You never gave any indication these were bothering you so much.¡±


    ¡°Would you have aided me if I¡¯d bent your ear about it?¡±


    He thought about it and didn¡¯t answer.


    ¡°Exactly,¡± she said. ¡°Not that I blame you. Just how it is. You show weakness to someone and they take advantage.¡± She gave another cooing breath as he moved on to different injuries. ¡°You hole up in the sick ward while under way, and someone will pilfer through your bunk, steal all your possessions. You do sloppy deck work ¡®cause you got burns and bruises, and the first hand¡¯ll just call you idle, deny your grog. Might be another crewman that¡¯s got your number decides it¡¯s their time to strike.¡±


    He began to scrub the early stages of blood sickness from a few cuts, packing the poultice tight in the wound.


    ¡°Never a good idea to show pain to anyone,¡± she said. ¡°Only ever gets you trouble. Always gotta look strong and fierce.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s a hard way to live.¡±


    ¡°I suppose. Don¡¯t know any better.¡±


    Isaac thought of his uncle and the cane. There had been several times where he had crumpled under the force of a blow, crying and begging for mercy, and the next strike had only come harder in response.


    ¡°Hey,¡± he said. ¡°Do you . . . regret what you did? On the Saber?¡±


    ¡°What¡¯s this?¡± she responded. ¡°Is my squire leading the conversation for a change?¡±


    ¡°It already feels like a horrible mistake.¡±


    She chuckled into the crook of her arm. ¡°You take yourself far too serious, love.¡± She laid in silence while he continued to dress her wounds, long enough that he began to think she wasn¡¯t going to answer. Then she heaved a sigh and said: ¡°No. I don¡¯t. Not for a second.¡±


    ¡°Even after all the pain and grief it¡¯s caused you?¡±


    ¡°Are you suggesting I should¡¯ve turned a blind eye?¡±


    ¡°Not suggesting anything. Just asking.¡±


    She opened her eyes, staring into brick and mortar. ¡°My one regret is that I didn¡¯t do more. Still lots of little faces in those crates.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m merely curious¡ª¡± He chose his words carefully. ¡°The way you told the story, it seemed you were exceptionally furious about the slaves being children.¡±


    ¡°As anyone should be.¡±


    ¡°You know what I¡¯m getting at.¡±


    ¡°Aye. I do.¡± She sighed again and Isaac became aware that she was just as beaten and exhausted as he was. ¡°When I saw them faces staring up at me, I thought of my father. Hadn¡¯t done that in years.¡±


    ¡°Your father?¡±


    ¡°He owned a tinker shop back in the home country, a squat little hovel on the edge of the docks that always smelled like blood and fish guts. General handyman type¡ªcould fix anything you put in his paws. Made a living patching carts, shoring up buildings, fixing toys. I was one of nine other siblings, one of the few that was his only real kin¡ªthe majority were urchins he¡¯d let in off the streets. He never could say no to teary eyes.¡± She seemed to drift away for a moment. ¡°Got the portrait? Real helpful sort?¡±


    ¡°Consider it painted.¡±


    ¡°Well, he was always pinching coppers ¡®cause of it. Refused to charge full price for his services. Said he¡¯d feel too bad taking half a farmer¡¯s livelihood just for patching his wagon. Course, he was a father himself¡ªhe needed bread on the table. So he dabbled in the fencing business. Middleman sort. Taking stolen goods, fixing them up proper, and sending them off. Us kids, we were his soldiers. His pinching army. We scoured the wealthy districts for any pocket swinging with coin. Never the merchant district, never the craftsmen. That was his one rule for us. Never steal from those who need it.¡±


    He saw the edges of her smile. ¡°I was always his best. Nimblest fingers in the crew. Ran the shop while he was out, kept the youngest siblings safe and managed. He¡¯d never say so, always go on about doing hard things for survival, but I could tell, one way or another, he had pride in his eyes.


    ¡°Well, times got tougher. I¡¯m sure you heard about the war. When the farmsteads were razed, the price of bread soared. After the naval blockades, the docks were empty and quiet. Everyone started tightening their belts. His repair business dried up ¡®cause no one could afford it, and even the fencing took a hit when the smugglers fled or disappeared. I¡¯d hear him crying at night, going mad from the stress, trying to figure out how he was going to feed nine hungry mouths. We starved. Not a single coin to share. Two of the youngest died of illness they might¡¯ve survived if they¡¯d had some morsels to suck on.¡±


    She paused for several moments.


    ¡°One day, I come home, same as always, and he¡¯s staring out the window, watching the sea and crying his eyes out. He looks at me like I¡¯m the most horrible thing that¡¯s ever graced his shop. I don¡¯t mention it, trying to be nice, but he stops me, and he looks me in the eye, and he gives me the tightest hug of my life, and tells me he loves me. I nod along, say something stupid about keeping strong, and he looks at me with pain in his face, and goes back to staring out the window. I don¡¯t think twice about it and head back out for another pinching run.


    ¡°That night, I¡¯m returning along my same route from the noble district, avoiding the patrols, and four men came out the shadows. Daggers and claws. I stand no chance. They¡¯d waited at exactly the right spot. Tied me up before I could even yell for the guard and dragged me off through the alleys. I¡¯m fighting hard as I can, but it¡¯s useless. I¡¯m weak and hungry. They¡¯re strong and vicious. I¡¯m led to a warehouse like cattle.


    ¡°I get tossed into a room full of other kids. We¡¯re all filthy and scared. There¡¯s shipping crates off in the corner, and I don¡¯t need to know what the label says to figure things out. We¡¯re being bought and sold. Shipped off to parts unknown for cheap labor, used as unbroken slaves. Crying and screaming, we¡¯re all loaded into the crates and sealed in tight. I thrash until I¡¯ve got splinters in every knuckle. Nothing works. My coming fate settles in my mind.¡±


    She took a deep breath.


    ¡°But, just as I hear the hands start loading us, there¡¯s a commotion. Yelling and shouting. Clashes of steel. It comes closer and closer until I hear the voice of my father screaming himself hoarse. I yell back, and he comes and breaks the lid off and he makes the most awful sound when he sees me. Scoops me in his arms and just starts apologizing. That¡¯s all he can do. Just says he¡¯s sorry over and over until it¡¯s not even a word anymore, just moans and tears.


    ¡°An arrow hits his back. I¡¯m ripped from his arms. The same thugs who grabbed me descend on him and he hardly as a chance to swing his sword before he¡¯s cut to pieces. As he¡¯s dying on the floor, the meanest thug spits on him, tells him all sales are final, and shoves me back in the crate. Last thing I hear is him calling my name while he¡¯s choking and drowning.¡±


    Isaac noticed that he¡¯d completely stopped healing her wounds.


    ¡°I don¡¯t get sent to a plantation,¡± Zaria said. ¡°I¡¯m unboxed on a pirate ship and told to get to work. Learn the ins and outs of sailing at the edge of a dagger. Life goes on. I apply myself to the task until they no longer keep a close watch on me. Before I know it, I¡¯m just like all the rest. Just another pirate.¡±


    She gave a small moan as he applied more poultice.


    ¡°For years, I hated him. Hated what he did to me. Cursed his name whenever I could. Then, after a while, I just decided to never think of him again. Never give him anymore consideration than he was worth. A while after that . . . I started to understand him. I started thinking how desperate he must¡¯ve been. It was simple arithmetic¡ªsacrifice one to save the many. I was strong and quick¡ªI fetched a fair price. It might¡¯ve meant survival for the rest. He definitely sounded like it was the worst mistake he¡¯d ever made. He¡¯d tried to fight through hopeless odds to make it right.


    ¡°So, when I saw those kids in the crates, I thought of my father again, and I just decided to follow his example. I don¡¯t regret that.¡±


    Isaac didn¡¯t want to ask his next question, but felt compelled to. ¡°Do you know what happened to your siblings?¡±


    ¡°I can guess.¡±


    He nodded, even though she wasn¡¯t looking at him. ¡°I, uh . . . I¡¯m done on this side. Could you roll over?¡±


    She flipped onto her back. Her straps of leather armor and cloth had deteriorated even further, now to the point where they were only barely preserving her modesty. He saw several lacerations starting to succumb to blood sickness and bent to examine them.


    ¡°Sorry,¡± she said. ¡°Didn¡¯t mean to talk your ear off about it. Didn¡¯t mean to sound like I¡¯m broken about the experience, neither. Won¡¯t say I¡¯m stronger for it, but it¡¯s not weighing me down anymore.¡± She sighed under the application of more poultice. ¡°Perhaps your massage is making me too relaxed for my own good.¡±


    Isaac paused his scrubbing. ¡°I could still kill you horribly, you know.¡±


    She broke into laughter, echoing it down the empty city.


    ¡°I¡¯m going to take that as confidence in my good nature.¡±


    ¡°Sure, love. Whatever you wish.¡±


    ¡°Could¡¯ve mixed poison into this poultice, for all you know.¡±


    ¡°Then you¡¯re a marvelous executioner, squire.¡±


    Isaac gave a small roll of his eyes and continued his treatments. ¡°Well, I¡¯m . . . sorry that happened to you.¡±


    ¡°So¡¯s everyone I tell the story to. Doesn¡¯t change nothing.¡±


    ¡°No, but still¡ªI¡¯m sorry.¡±


    She didn¡¯t respond. Instead, her tail rubbed against his leg for a moment. It felt nicer than he cared to admit.


    They spent the next few minutes in silence, broken only by her sighs of relief.


    ¡°Right,¡± he said, sitting back up. ¡°That¡¯s the best I can do. Don¡¯t fall on a sword and you¡¯ll probably avoid death.¡±


    He made to stand up, but she grabbed his arm. It wasn¡¯t a hard grip, like he¡¯d experienced earlier. It was gentle. ¡°Isaac,¡± she said. ¡°I¡¯m sorry for fucking you.¡±


    He blinked several times, completely caught off-guard. ¡°It¡¯s¡ªit¡¯s fine.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t you go being polite on me. It ain¡¯t fine. I took advantage, and I¡¯m sorry.¡± She cleared her throat. ¡°Your first time should¡¯ve been something nice, and I¡¯m sorry for taking that from you.¡±


    A warm blush spread across his face. ¡°You gave me a choice. I didn¡¯t say no. I¡¯m not bearing a grudge.¡±


    ¡°Then you¡¯re a nicer sort than I¡¯ve ever known. I was mean about it¡ªjust wanted to watch you squirm. Got that in spades, but¡ª¡±


    ¡°Zaria,¡± he said, more firmly. ¡°It wasn¡¯t bad. In fact, it was¡ª¡± He paused, searched his feelings, and, suddenly, the words came out before he could stop them. ¡°It was the best thing that¡¯s ever happened to me.¡±


    She looked at him in speechless silence.


    ¡°Not trying to be flattering,¡± he said, quickly. ¡°Just painfully honest.¡±


    She continued to watch him in shock.


    ¡°I mean, I¡¯ve¡ªI¡¯ve always known that I was horribly ignorant of basic life. Never had much common experiences at all. Never tasted an ale, never rode a horse, never even travelled outside my tower until now. Books have always been my only reference for much of anything that people take as fundamental. I thought I could be satisfied with my duty. Convinced myself of that, at least. Had to believe my father¡¯s life was worth the discipline and pain and restraint and seclusion, had to believe that the path laid out before me was the one I wanted. It was all I could do because it was all I¡¯d ever known. But I never¡ªit never occurred to me¡ª¡±


    He fumbled his words, feeling her gaze on him. ¡°I never truly understood the profundity of my ignorance until¡ªuntil what happened in the chapel. It changed my entire perspective. It was like gaining a new sense of reality. It was like becoming truly aware of myself for the first time in my entire life. Like every moment before then was just shadow, and that was my first time ever seeing rich, beautiful colors.


    ¡°I feel aware now. Truly aware. I want to experience more. More of everything. More life. I want to travel the world, I want to be moved to tears by sweeping vistas, I want to speak to as many people as possible, I want to hear their stories, I want to accomplish all the dreams I¡¯ve always had, I want to not feel punished for having dreams at all, I want to do what I want, I¡ªI¡ªI¡ª¡± He couldn¡¯t get the words out strong enough. ¡°I want everything. You know? I want.¡±


    ¡°Isaac,¡± she said, her grip soft on his arm.


    He flinched, realizing everything he¡¯d just said. ¡°Sorry, sorry, forget I¡ª¡±


    ¡°Isaac,¡± she said. ¡°Are you saying I fucked you so hard it made you rethink your entire life?¡±


    ¡°Yes, actually.¡±


    She blinked at him a few times, expression slowly changing.


    ¡°Sorry,¡± he said, feeling horribly seen and vulnerable. ¡°Sorry, I didn¡¯t mean¡ªforget I said anything, I don¡¯t¡ª¡±


    She tugged him a little closer. ¡°No one¡¯s ever been nice to you before, have they?¡±


    He tried to answer. The words did not come. He couldn¡¯t speak. It was never wise to speak.


    ¡°Not properly, I mean. No love or care.¡± She searched his face. ¡°Nothing but caning and shouting.¡±


    A knot was rising in his throat. He knew the pain was coming. That¡¯s all that ever happened. Any time he spoke of himself, any time he dared ask for anything, any time he ever hoped. . . .


    ¡°You ever had someone tell you you¡¯re good enough before?¡±


    He looked down. His face was burning. He could imagine no other outcome but pain and scorn.


    She leaned in close. ¡°Have you had a hard life, Isaac?¡±


    The tears came before he could stop them. He tried to pull away, tried to run and hide, but she came forward, and her arms wrapped around him, and she pressed him to herself, her fur warm and soft, her chin resting on his head, and she held him gently and completely.


    It was the first time anyone had hugged him before.


    ¡°Sorry,¡± he said, feeling small and afraid. ¡°I¡¯m sorry, I¡¯m sorry¡ªplease don¡¯t¡ªI¡¯m sorry¡ª¡±


    ¡°Quit being sorry,¡± she said. ¡°Let it out.¡±


    And he wept on her shoulder, hugging her back with all his strength, feeling her grip tighten in response, crying louder than he had ever dared before, crying with such a sense of freedom that it only caused him to cry all the harder, his face buried in her chest, her gentle voice at his ear, her presence of safety and warmth making him despair at all that he had never known, all that had been denied him, and his tears came in such a flood that it felt like he had saved them his entire life for this singular moment of release.


    Far below the earth, in a long list city of the dead, tired and wounded and surrounded by enemies, he hugged her, and she hugged him back, and, for the first time in his life, he did not worry of punishment.


    He was not sure when he stopped crying. Time did not seem to matter. The fool¡¯s gold light of the giant rib cage did not shift. Nothing moved in the city except for them. When he became aware of himself, he rested his head against the crook of her neck and let the tears dry on his face.


    ¡°I¡¯m so sorry, love,¡± she whispered in his ear. ¡°I was too wrapped in my own concerns. I lost my temper. I never meant to hurt you as such.¡±


    He pulled back enough to meet her gaze. ¡°It¡¯s fine. Really. Don¡¯t¡ª¡±


    ¡°Isaac, for the love of Xotra, stop apologizing. Stick up for yourself. Call me a cunt. Spit in my face. Stop feeling like you don¡¯t deserve no better.¡±


    He wiped his face, taking a deep breath through a raw throat. ¡°I meant what I said. What happened in the chapel¡ªit was the best thing that¡¯s ever happened to me. It made me aware of all that I never knew, and all that I want. My life feels divided between before and after the incident, now. You know, I¡ªI liked it. I liked it a lot. I¡¯m glad it happened.¡±


    She gazed into his eyes, unsure of what to say.


    ¡°I mean,¡± he said, ¡°you could¡¯ve been a little fucking nicer about it, but here we are.¡±


    She began to laugh.


    ¡°Have I ever heard a word of appreciation? ¡®Oh, Isaac, thanks for rescuing me from my cutthroat friends. Thanks for trying to give me all the treasure. Thanks for protecting me from a necromancer¡¯s thralls.¡¯ No, nothing. You fucking pirate.¡±


    She released her grip on him. ¡°Okay, love. Point taken.¡±


    ¡°No,¡± he said, ¡°you stupid bandit, I¡¯ve risked my life several times over for you, and I will hear some gods-damned thankfulness for it.¡±


    She gave a small bow. ¡°My brave squire. Couldn¡¯t ask for better.¡±


    He retreated back to his knees. ¡°What am I saying? I care nothing for the opinions of common thugs. I am beyond such concerns.¡±


    ¡°Oh, aye. Clearly, you are destined to achieve longer titles and fancier robes.¡±


    ¡°Yes. Better things. High Warlock at Arms. Chancellor of the Spheres. Grand Archon of the Guild.¡±


    ¡°Well,¡± she said, ¡°just don¡¯t forget about us little folk when your head¡¯s higher than a cloud up your arse.¡±


    He got back to his feet. ¡°Keep to your corner tonight, pirate. I expect no funny business.¡±


    She returned a mock salute. ¡°Aye, capt. You know me. Prim and proper, as always.¡±


    He met her gaze, and, for just a moment, he thought he would find something hidden under the surface. Some mockery held just behind her eyes. Some disgust at his weakness. The slightest bit of rejection at his expression of plights and fears and wants.


    But he saw nothing. Zaria was looking at him with her usual cocky expression. She flicked her head over to his blanket across the watchtower. He looked away, felt a small smile worm its way over his lips, and moved back over to his resting spot.


    He laid down on the blanket and looked up at the glowing rib cage. He felt the heavy silence of the dead city around him. He imagined the ancient sorceress further down the cavity of the corpse, raising more thralls and abominations in response to their intrusion. He thought of his father trapped somewhere in her lair. He wondered if he would still resemble all the portraits he had seen of him.


    ¡°We¡¯re not normal people, are we?¡± Isaac asked.


    Zaria snorted. ¡°Is that what you¡¯ve always wanted, love?¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± he said. ¡°Always.¡±


    ¡°Isaac, would you have been satisfied shoveling manure and tilling fields? Would you want to spend all your life on the same few acres of farm, hoping not to get blight on your crops?¡±


    He thought about it. ¡°Probably not, no.¡±


    ¡°You think other people like being normal? You don¡¯t think they imagine knights and royalty and magic, too?¡±


    ¡°What do knights and royalty imagine, then?¡±


    ¡°Probably the deeds of some better knight. Probably imagining how much more gold that king over yonder has in his palace. If they¡¯re real out of touch, they probably think that shoveling manure is some noble calling, much the same as you¡¯re doing. People just want what they don¡¯t have.¡±


    He scratched at his bandages. ¡°Is it ever possible to stop wanting?¡±


    ¡°Why would you want to?¡±


    ¡°Because wanting just leads to suffering.¡±


    ¡°If you don¡¯t want,¡± Zaria said, ¡°then you¡¯re not living, far as I¡¯m concerned. Life¡¯s got too much to offer for you to spend it feeling sorry about what¡¯s gone or what never was.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s not that easy to let things go.¡±


    ¡°Course not, love, but life wouldn¡¯t be worth living if that were so. Pleasure would mean nothing if you¡¯d never known pain.¡± There was a pause. ¡°Truth is, I like being alive. Suffering and all. Won¡¯t die with no regrets, but I¡¯m starting to think no one ever does.¡±


    They laid in silence for a while.


    ¡°Isaac,¡± she said. ¡°Thanks for mixing your herbs. Feel better now than I have in days. Weeks, really.¡±


    He had used many of his most important reagents. It was likely that he would be unable to craft any other potions, should the need arise.


    ¡°Sure,¡± he said. ¡°Happy to help.¡±


    They laid in silence again. Isaac tried to calculate the dimensions of each of the giant ribs. A single one could¡¯ve walled a village. He tried to imagine what was causing the cartilage to glow as it was. He wanted to climb up to the top of the body cavity and walk along the ribs and gaze down at the necropolis and see it as no one had seen it before.


    ¡°Hey,¡± he said. ¡°What¡¯re you going to do with your half of the treasure?¡±


    ¡°Glad to see you¡¯re not worried about me stabbing you for it.¡±


    ¡°I just assumed the stabbing would be for some other reason.¡±


    ¡°Wise of you, love.¡± There was a pause. ¡°I¡¯m gonna learn to read.¡±


    He glanced over at her. ¡°Really?¡±


    ¡°First thing I¡¯m doing once I¡¯m no longer being hunted.¡±


    ¡°Any reason why?¡±


    ¡°Oh, none at all. Proud of my ignorance, really. I love having to ask directions while standing next to a sign. Warms my heart when I¡¯m cheated for not reading a contract.¡± Her face was held in profile, staring up at the cartilage light. ¡°My father always promised me that¡¯s what he¡¯d do for me, the second he was able. Every time I handed him a bag of coin, he¡¯d go off about me attending some academy in the upper districts so I wouldn¡¯t have to pinch off the streets. Make something better of myself, he¡¯d say. Always wondered what might¡¯ve happened, if things had been different. Who I could¡¯ve been.¡±


    ¡°You doing it for him?¡±


    ¡°In some way, sure. Not all of it. It¡¯s like¡ª¡± She waved a hand in the air. ¡°It¡¯s like you said, actually. I don¡¯t know what I don¡¯t know. My ignorance is such that I don¡¯t even have a true notion of it. Right? That¡¯s what you said?¡±


    ¡°More or less.¡±


    ¡°How can I be better if I don¡¯t know better? How can I be something other than a pirate if I don¡¯t have no other talents? My lack of letters has restricted me my whole life. Even now, it¡¯s a struggle to fix my words to my feelings ¡®cause I don¡¯t have the words themselves.¡± She paused. ¡°You tell me, Isaac. There a word for something . . . not becoming? Something that never got the chance to exist?¡±


    ¡°Unrealized,¡± Isaac said.


    ¡°Could you . . . write that down for me?¡±


    He ripped off part of his bandages, grabbed a stencil from his pack, wrote the word as legibly as he could, and handed it to her. She looked down at the torn bandage, blinking at it.


    ¡°That¡¯s it, then,¡± she said. ¡°I want to learn my letters because I don¡¯t want to be ¡®unrealized¡¯. I want to have potential again. I want to steer the course of my life clear as I can. I want the tools to figure out what I want in the first place. You get my meaning?¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± he said. ¡°I know exactly what you mean. I feel the same way.¡±


    ¡°Never wanted to be a pirate, myself. Did you want to be a mage?¡±


    ¡°Wasn¡¯t really given the choice.¡±


    ¡°And you never truly understood what you were missing, did you?¡±


    ¡°Not really, no.¡±


    ¡°Do you know better now?¡±


    ¡°Maybe. I¡¯m starting to think I won¡¯t ever know enough.¡±


    ¡°Will that stop you from trying to change?¡±


    ¡°No,¡± Isaac said. ¡°It won¡¯t.¡±


    ¡°I think we¡¯re kindred souls, then.¡±


    He didn¡¯t answer. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw her stare at the bandage again, trying to mouth out the syllables to the word, connecting sound to letters. After a minute, she folded the bandage and tucked it into a pocket at her waist.


    ¡°Gonna turn in now. You certain that spell will keep the monsters out?¡±


    ¡°We¡¯ll be fine. We don¡¯t need to post watch.¡±


    ¡°As you say, then. I¡¯ll trust your judgement.¡± She wrapped the white blanket around her chest, closing her eyes. ¡°Goodnight.¡±


    ¡°Goodnight,¡± he replied.


    He laid there on the stone, staring up at the giant rib cage. After a while, Zaria began to snore. A little longer after that, he closed his eyes and fell asleep almost immediately.


    His dreams were vivid and wild.

 Fools Gold

    The city of the dead had well and truly died.


    Every street and building was bathed in an eternal twilight. Not even the shadows moved. The houses had been designed like the top half of a skull¡ªtwo circular doors at the front of a bulbous oval, a sharp line of a chimney bisecting the roof like a sagittal crest, and the twin bulges of bedrooms at the back looking for all the world like elongated parietal plates. Every architectural design in the city was an imitation of bone, in some way. There were market stalls shaped like shoulder sockets, signposts shaped like femurs, watchtowers shaped like columns of vertebrae, and dried up water mills that spun with the wings of a pelvis. It clearly wasn¡¯t enough that the undead people of this city had built their lives on the bodies of living people¡ªthey had to build their houses that way, too.


    Now, it all laid fallow and still. The air seemed just as lifeless as the masonry around it. They had been making their way through the city for at least an hour, and there had been no sign that anything had walked these streets for centuries. Everywhere Isaac looked, he received the impression of piles of bone, all covered in dust and specks of dirt from the body cavity ceiling. Like scattered skeletons bathed in the pale yellow light of fool¡¯s gold.


    He saw history everywhere. All the publicly owned building they passed had murals and reliefs carved into the walls¡ªdepictions of mythologies and gods, gesturing figures and supplicating worshippers. Walking along the streets of the necropolis seemed to be the perfect opportunity to learn about creation myths and ancient tales of conquest. He made an effort to study each of the murals as they continued on, trying to use his ciphers to decode the language.


    He was trying, anyway. He kept getting distracted.


    ¡°Sure wish I¡¯d known my cunt had magic properties,¡± Zaria said, her voice echoing loudly down the streets. ¡°Could¡¯ve been a bloody saint by now, if I¡¯d had a notion of its power.¡±


    Isaac had to cross out and rewrite some of his notes.


    ¡°Imagine, squire. It made you rethink your entire life, didn¡¯t it? Got you forsakin¡¯ all you¡¯ve ever known and loved?¡±


    He noted the presence of the stripes and stars symbol again¡ªhe was seeing it much more frequently now. It seemed to be some key component of this society¡¯s creation myth.


    ¡°Imagine me smashing my way to some king¡¯s bedchambers, aye? Some tyrant or other that¡¯s actin¡¯ like a spoiled brat, running his fiefdom like a personal toy collection. He gets his bishop bashed like I done to you, and, real sudden-like, there¡¯s no more persecution. Peace everlasting. I could save the world just by parting my legs.¡±


    ¡°I deeply regret sharing my feelings with you,¡± Isaac said.


    ¡°You¡¯re right, love. Gotta think smaller. Perhaps I could travel the land, aiding the poor folk on my path by charging for licks. Maybe bottle my juices as life-saving elixirs.¡±


    He stopped walking, pausing at a particularly large mural. There seemed to be some deity figure resurrecting different species from oddly-shaped coffins.


    ¡°Come one, come all!¡± she proclaimed to the empty street. ¡°Meet the nethers that makes you better! They¡¯ll cure your woes! Absolve your sins! They¡¯ll heal the sick! They¡¯ll feed the hungry! They¡¯ll save your soul!¡±


    Isaac brushed away some etchings with his sleeve, hefting his sketch pad to a one-handed position at his waist.


    Her voice came to his ear. ¡°Not going too far, am I?¡±


    He aligned his cipher with the mural. ¡°You never needed my permission before.¡±


    ¡°Just respectin¡¯ our new boundaries.¡±


    ¡°Are you? Are you sure that¡¯s what you¡¯re doing?¡±


    ¡°Giving you the option, at least. Wouldn¡¯t want my squire to blush too fiercely. Might be he burns his skin off.¡±


    ¡°Well,¡± Isaac said, ¡°maybe I find your crassness to be amusing, at times. The same way a king laughs at a jester.¡±


    ¡°Is that so?¡± She leaned in closer. ¡°Then what did you like about me fucking you? Which part blew your mind out through your cock? Was it my teeth on your throat? Was it me pounding you down to a moaning puddle of meat and fluid?¡± She blew some hot breath in his ear. ¡°Do you like knowing everyone¡¯s gonna smell my scent on you like you¡¯re my favored bouncing rod?¡±


    ¡°You realize,¡± Isaac said, ¡°that we¡¯re in a long lost city of necromancers?¡±


    ¡°Aye. Bone buildings give it away some.¡±


    ¡°No one¡¯s been down here for millennia.¡±


    ¡°Looks that way.¡±


    ¡°There¡¯s untold amounts of history here. Rich architecture. Magical technology lost to the ages.¡±


    ¡°Surely so.¡±


    ¡°And you just want to talk about your genitals.¡±


    Her laugh echoed down the empty street. ¡°¡®Genitals?¡¯ That the book term for a twat?¡±


    ¡°Have you really never heard the word¡ª¡±


    ¡°Squire, I¡¯m attempting to break you from your shell. Free your mind from study. Stop you from being so squeamish whenever someone mentions their leaky bits. Talk of my nethers is for your own good, really.¡±


    ¡°Oh. Of course. You¡¯re trying to help me. Why did I think otherwise?¡±


    ¡°Isaac, as the goddess who fucked you to enlightenment, I command you to start cussin¡¯ like a proper lad. None of this ¡®genitals¡¯ nonsense, you hear? It¡¯s a cunt. Say it.¡±


    ¡°Absolutely not.¡±


    She leaned down towards his ear. ¡°Cunt. Twat. Minge. Snatch. Cock trap. Tinder box. Axe wound. Winking¡ª¡±


    ¡°Listen to me,¡± he said. ¡°I¡¯m about to take notes that will likely spur millions of gold in expeditionary funds. Hundreds of people will be combing this city because of my scribblings. They¡¯ll write treatises about this discovery for centuries to come. So, if you¡¯d be so kind, would you please¡ªplease¡ªjust let me concentrate for a moment while I sketch this.¡±


    ¡°Fine, fine.¡±


    Isaac began to draw the mural on his pad. Zaria glanced around the desolate intersection they were standing in¡ªa neighborhood of skull-shaped houses, squatting behind courtyard fences that curved like ribs. The cartilage light was coloring her spotted fur the same shade of fool¡¯s gold as the rest of the stones.


    They hadn¡¯t seen a single sign of life in the city of the dead so far. Nothing stirred on the streets¡ªnot even a gust of wind to spur the dust. Even still, there was an unshakeable feeling of being watched. Even though the shadows never moved, they still seemed to retreat when he turned his head to look at them.


    ¡°Probably shouldn¡¯t stand in the open like this,¡± she said. ¡°Best stick to the alleys.¡±


    ¡°It really doesn¡¯t matter.¡±


    ¡°Isaac, I won¡¯t question you about your book learning so long as you don¡¯t question me on thievin¡¯ craft. Heed my advice.¡±


    He continued to stencil figures and notes. ¡°We¡¯re in the sorceress¡¯ domain now. She can sense our lifeforce the same way a shark smells blood. She¡¯ll always know where we are, no matter what.¡±


    ¡°Oh,¡± Zaria said. ¡°Well. Fuck me, then.¡±


    It was hard to draw. The cartilage light coming from above was dim and just the right color for his stencil markings to fade into the parchment. He kept trying. His uncle had insisted on this point.


    ¡°So, what¡¯s all these drawings supposed to mean, anyway?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s a creation myth,¡± Isaac said. ¡°How the society was founded, its origins and heritage, that sort of thing. This one¡¯s about livestock.¡±


    ¡°Livestock?¡±


    ¡°Sure. You know how there¡¯s two types of certain species? As in, two types of pigs, two types of cows, chickens, ox, all the rest? The only difference being the level of intelligence and walking on two legs?¡± He gestured with his stylus. ¡°If I¡¯m interpreting this right, their explanation for that is the intervention of their gods. As in, their deities made one version in the style of humans, built as equals, and the other version as a subservient race to sustain their society.¡±


    She scoffed. ¡°All about humans, is it? You¡¯re the mold for all of us?¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s what their gods are saying.¡±


    ¡°You telling me there used to be hyenas walking on four legs? Some primitive animal like that lion statue up in the skull?¡±


    ¡°Apparently so.¡± He placed his finger under the carved words, above a relief of quadruped animals limping into the oddly-shaped coffins, and began to read aloud the words of the unnamed god. ¡°¡®Let the beasts of burden become one, let the supplicating flesh be your bounty, let those without divinity be abandoned, and may your creations bare honor to those who created you.¡¯¡±


    She blew a raspberry. ¡°Sounds like their excuse for eating souls. Divine right to cannibalism.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not a linguist,¡± he said. ¡°Can¡¯t really translate the language too well in this dim lighting, either. Just my best guess.¡± He snapped his sketch pad shut, noting that the specific god in the mural had the stripes and stars symbol patched on his shoulder like a battle standard. ¡°Let¡¯s keep moving.¡±


    They continued on down the street. Above, the giant rib cage continued to spread out above a black ceiling of dirt¡ªthe position of the bones was their only real way of determining their progress through the body cavity. Building an entire city in the style of human bones was certainly an inspired architectural decision, and the stonework was admittedly impressive, but it made everything look the same. It felt like he was passing the same pelvis-shaped apothecary over and over.


    ¡°Squire,¡± Zaria said, poleaxe held loose in hand. ¡°Question for you.¡±


    ¡°If you must.¡±


    ¡°You thought more about what you¡¯ll do with your half of the treasure?¡±


    ¡°I have, actually.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t leave us in suspense, then.¡±


    ¡°I want to travel the world,¡± Isaac said. ¡°I¡¯ll use it to pay for passage on ships, charter caravans, hire local guides and interpreters. Just keep going until the coin runs out. I¡¯ll settle somewhere exotic, ply my trade as a journeyman, and move on again.¡±


    ¡°Somewhere specific catch your interest?¡±


    He almost spoke, but stopped, glancing away.


    ¡°Oh, I know that look. You¡¯re sharing this now.¡±


    ¡°I, uh¡ª¡± He scratched his neck. ¡°I don¡¯t have anywhere specific in mind. Plenty of places to scratch off a list, but the idea¡ªwell, my idea was that I just pack as much coin and supplies in my pack as I can, choose a random direction, and start walking towards the horizon. Go where the wind takes me, more or less.¡± He shrugged, still looking away. ¡°I don¡¯t know. Just a fantasy of mine. I¡¯ve probably read too many adventure novels.¡±


    ¡°It is rather like begging to be robbed,¡± she said. ¡°Nonetheless, it¡¯s got a charming whimsy to it. Almost romantic, even.¡±


    ¡°Well, I am a very romantic person.¡±


    She snorted. ¡°Are you, now? Forgive me if I hadn¡¯t noticed.¡±


    ¡°Never had the chance to be one before. I¡¯m probably not very good at it yet.¡± He managed to glance at her. ¡°And maybe you should¡¯ve asked.¡±


    She met his gaze. ¡°Maybe I will.¡±


    Slowly, the streets seemed to shift around them. They were entering the deeper reaches of the city, towards the midsection of the torso, and this seemed to be the district for craftsmen and life extending casters. He was beginning to see more mortuaries, higher class homes that could afford to look like mausoleums, smaller catacombs next to hospitals where citizens could go to replenish their stolen soul energy.


    ¡°Squire,¡± Zaria said. ¡°Another question for you.¡±


    ¡°I suppose we can¡¯t just silently contemplate the fall of civilization.¡±


    ¡°Got several questions, to tell the truth, and I¡¯m starting to suspect it¡¯s critical I ask them.¡±


    He gestured her to continue while studying a mural they were passing.


    ¡°¡®Fore we begin,¡± she said, ¡°I¡¯d like to state my satisfaction that you¡¯re no longer bristling when I call you squire.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m just picking my battles.¡±


    ¡°Check your war plan, then. It¡¯s starting to seem like surrender.¡±


    ¡°Maybe I don¡¯t need to prove anything to you.¡±


    She laughed. ¡°Sure, squire. As you say.¡±


    He made another gesture for her to continue while looking over his shoulder at the retreating mural.


    ¡°Firstly. When we met, you said some jumble about there being these fancy machines that can locate soul energy, right?¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± he said. ¡°They¡¯re prototypes, currently, but developing rapidly. That¡¯s how we know my father is still alive. His soul¡¯s been stationary at the bottom of this tomb for decades.¡±


    ¡°Right, well¡ª¡± She gestured vaguely, searching for the words. ¡°If they can locate souls real precise-like, can they do anything else? Tell you what state he¡¯s in?¡±


    ¡°It can¡¯t detect the body. We don¡¯t know the condition of his health. You can use them to talk to the person, though.¡±


    ¡°Talk¡ª¡± She glanced at him in surprise. ¡°Talk to them? Like they¡¯re not thousands of leagues away?¡±


    ¡°Sure. The soul¡¯s the essence of a person. It¡¯s instant communication, as well. They¡¯re experimenting with using them for diplomatic channels.¡±


    ¡°Slag my first question, then. Does that mean you¡¯ve actually spoken to your father?¡±


    ¡°No,¡± Isaac said. ¡°Of course not.¡±


    Zaria did a double take. ¡°What¡¯s that mean, course not? He¡¯s your bleeding sire, and you¡¯re risking life and limb to rescue him.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s not that simple. It¡¯s like¡ª¡± It was his turn to gesture vaguely. ¡°It¡¯s like telescopes. Something you use to study the heavens.¡±


    ¡°Like a sextant?¡±


    ¡°More like a strong spyglass. Imagine if you built this machine to study the stars that was one of the few of its kind in existence. Imagine if it was difficult to actually use this machine because the stars are so vast and the machine itself takes much technical work to operate properly. Now imagine that there¡¯s a lot of other people that want to use this machine, and the formal appointments made to operate it can take years to arrive. That¡¯s how it is with soul triangulation, more or less.¡±


    ¡°Still,¡± she said, ¡°he¡¯s your father. You never asked?¡±


    ¡°I asked plenty of times,¡± he replied. ¡°The answer was always no.¡±


    ¡°Should¡¯ve asked harder, then.¡±


    ¡°Zaria, if you were a child, and you got hit with a cane every time you said something that wasn¡¯t yes or no, how long would you keep asking questions?¡±


    ¡°Point taken.¡± She looked down at him for a long moment. ¡°Still, it raises another. Your uncle¡¯s high ranking in the mage world, isn¡¯t he? Has he spoken to your father?¡±


    He paused. ¡°Yes. Twice, actually. When I was first placed in his care, and not too long before I left on this journey.¡±


    ¡°And that seemed fair to you? You being denied words with your sole parent all your life?¡±


    ¡°Like I said, speaking to my uncle about fairness was never good for my health.¡±


    She nodded, glancing down a softly shadowed alley. ¡°Second question, then. Do all mages go through such strict training as you?¡±


    ¡°I was always told this journey was my sole purpose in life,¡± Isaac said. ¡°My training needed to be extremely strict to meet the task. Magic is difficult to learn normally, but I was being trained to face an ancient sorceress who could rival armies. At the risk of sounding arrogant, I am much more powerful than another transmutation student would be at my age.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll take that as no¡ªwhat you went through ain¡¯t normal.¡±


    He looked down at his feet as they walked. ¡°You have to understand that I had no reference for much of anything. I never once left my uncle¡¯s tower except to train in the yard. My only understanding of the world came from books. For example, I used to think some horses were blue because a single textbook I read had a translation error. When my flame instructor arrived on horseback for a lesson, I asked her if she wouldn¡¯t prefer a turquoise stallion instead.¡±


    She snickered. He glared at her. She cleared her throat, gesturing him on.


    ¡°I did eventually realize my experience wasn¡¯t normal because my bedroom was at the top of the tower, and I could see Khador¡¯s elemental college in the distance. Most days, there¡¯d be students coming back from classes together, talking and laughing. I¡¯d watch from the window, make up stories in my head about their lives, and I¡¯d always wonder why I couldn¡¯t be down there with them.¡±


    Zaria nodded like certain pieces were fitting together. ¡°Third question. Sorcerers have specialties, aye? Not everyone can throw a fireball, cast bone melting light, so on, so forth?¡±Love this novel? Read it on Royal Road to ensure the author gets credit.


    ¡°Yes. You have to specialize if you want to be respected in any one discipline. That¡¯s another reason why I had to train so fiercely¡ªI¡¯m proficient in both elements and anti-necrotics, which is very rare.¡±


    ¡°What¡¯s your uncle¡¯s discipline, then?¡±


    ¡°Necromancy.¡±


    It took her a moment to respond. ¡°Like the ancient bitch we¡¯re questing after? Same type of evil magic?¡±


    ¡°Not exactly,¡± Isaac said. ¡°Necromancy isn¡¯t all evil. It¡¯s controversial, definitely, but it has many practical applications, and it¡¯s allowed to be practiced in certain guilds as long there¡¯s strict Diet oversight.¡±


    ¡°Still¡ª¡±


    ¡°My uncle¡¯s specialty is anti-necromancy, to be precise. He¡¯s written treatises on expunging necrotic hexes from inanimate objects, subduing undead thralls without damaging their souls, things like that. He¡¯s also a little famous for tracking down and arresting rogue necromancers when they break Diet mandates and try to raise undead armies. His colleagues refer to him as ¡®the Bone Hunter¡¯. I mean, behind his back, of course.¡±


    ¡°¡®Bone Hunter¡¯, huh? That¡¯s an ominous moniker.¡±


    ¡°If you met him, you¡¯d agree with it.¡±


    ¡°So,¡± Zaria said, ¡°you¡¯re saying he has experience crawling through ruins and fighting horrible monsters?¡±


    ¡°Yes. He gave me much counsel about what I should expect down here.¡±


    ¡°Got a new question, then. Why the hell isn¡¯t he here with you? Sounds perfect for the task.¡±


    ¡°He¡¯s tenured now,¡± Isaac replied. ¡°He teaches at Khador¡¯s elemental college, assists Diet agents with their expeditions, performs alchemical research. He¡¯s a very busy sorcerer.¡±


    ¡°Too busy to rescue his brother from a tomb?¡±


    ¡°They, uh . . . they never liked each other. Listen to my uncle, and he¡¯d tell you my father was a glory hound with no respect for procedure. He¡¯d always say my father rather deserved to get trapped down here. Paid the price for his arrogance.¡± Isaac glanced at a shadowy library glowing faintly like gold. ¡°I¡¯ve always thought it¡¯s why he hated having to raise me.¡±


    There was no response. When Isaac glanced at her, she was watching him with a careful expression. Putting everything together.


    ¡°That satisfy your curiosity?¡±


    ¡°Not yet,¡± she said. ¡°That was all in service of my final question.¡±


    He gestured for her to continue while looking at another mural. This one seemed to depict a necrotic god giving magical powers to his worshippers. He was summoning swarms of very small flies, making them burrow into their skin.


    ¡°Why you?¡± Zaria asked. ¡°Why was the burden of rescuing your father placed only on your shoulders?¡±


    Isaac sighed, rubbing his face. ¡°It was politics, mostly. The Diet of Nine likes to appear as a monolithic force for magic practice, but there¡¯s an embarrassing amount of internal strife. Competing factions, blackmail, jockeying for influence. My uncle was right¡ªmy father made many enemies with his lack of patience. Every time a proposal was made to assemble a rescue party for him, it¡¯d be voted down in committee. Many times, the motion would be killed before even getting that far.¡± He shrugged. ¡°You also have to consider that this tomb is at the edge of the map, in the middle of an empty desert, and surrounded by pirates and sandwyrms. Risking that many lives just for my father was never seen as . . . as politically expedient enough.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s not what I asked, love,¡± Zaria said. ¡°I asked why you were made to do all this. Rather sounds like it got forced on you by someone else.¡±


    Isaac didn¡¯t respond. He gazed up at the giant rib cage.


    ¡°Forced on you by your uncle, actually.¡±


    ¡°I suppose¡ª¡±


    She grabbed him by the shoulder, not ungently, and forced him to stop walking. ¡°Isaac, I¡¯m gonna say my piece now, and I¡¯d appreciate it dearly if there were no interruptions until I¡¯m done.¡±


    He blinked up at her, not saying anything.


    ¡°Here¡¯s how I understand this,¡± Zaria said. ¡°Your father comes down to this dead city and gets captured. Fair enough¡ªevil sorceress and all¡ªbut you¡¯re still growing in your mother¡¯s belly when he does. After your mom passes, you¡¯re tossed off to your uncle, who by no means wants a sniveling reminder of his brother to care for. Except, he has a soul chat with your father himself, which somehow sways his opinion. You spend your entire life training in magic, treated like a caged bird and spit on whenever possible, thinking it¡¯s your sole responsibility to rescue your parent when your uncle is downright perfect for the task. Then, when you¡¯ve come of age, your uncle speaks to your father again just before you leave on this quest. As you¡¯re out the door, your uncle sabotages the mission¡ª¡±


    ¡°He did not sabotage¡ª¡±


    ¡°Silence, squire. He told you to walk through a spawning ground for sandwyrms, and, for good measure, gave you too little water to survive in the desert. That¡¯s fact, ain¡¯t it?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s not that¡ª¡±


    ¡°Isaac,¡± Zaria said. ¡°That¡¯s what happened, isn¡¯t it?¡±


    He gazed off into the mouth of a skull mausoleum, thinking.


    ¡°Now,¡± the hyena said, ¡°you told me that some other sorcerer arrived here before you did. Using spells to turn people into puppets. Wielding illegal magic, to be specific-like.¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡±


    ¡°Right. Now, you¡¯re a smart lad. Bet you¡¯re educated on the science of rotting bodies. These corpses we¡¯ve been seeing in the tomb¡ªhow old were they?¡±


    ¡°About a day or so.¡±


    She nodded her head slowly, like the final piece had slid together. ¡°Final question. Did your uncle send you off on your journey? Hug you tightly, wish you luck?¡±


    ¡°No. He¡ª¡± Isaac shook his head. ¡°He had some urgent business come up before I left. Something about taming loose thralls that were attacking a village.¡±


    ¡°Be specific, now. When was the last time you saw him?¡±


    He blinked. The air of the dead city seemed to rub against him.


    ¡°About a day before you left, wasn¡¯t it?¡±


    ¡°No,¡± Isaac said. ¡°No, no, he wouldn¡¯t¡ª¡±


    ¡°Isaac¡ª¡±


    ¡°No! Parasite magic was not his specialty! It¡¯s a different sorcerer! He¡ªhe left the tower frequently. It was not unusual for him to be called away like that. He¡ªhe wouldn¡¯t¡ª¡±


    ¡°Listen, love¡ª¡±


    ¡°No!¡± His shout echoed down the empty streets. ¡°My uncle would not do such things! He wouldn¡¯t try to kill me! He wouldn¡¯t¡ªthere¡¯s no way he could¡¯ve gone ahead of me. He wouldn¡¯t do that. He cared about me! I¡ªI¡ªI know he did! It wasn¡¯t constant whipping¡ªhe would chat with me, tell jokes, give me books, he tried very hard to play the stern instructor, but I could always tell he cared, he wouldn¡¯t have bothered with me if he hadn¡¯t, he wouldn¡¯t have spent hours every day giving me mnemonics training, he wouldn¡¯t¡ª¡±


    Her hand squeezed his shoulder. ¡°To be fair¡ªthis is all above me. I won¡¯t pretend to know the faintest twit about mage politics, and, obviously, you¡¯d know your mentor better than I. If you say he wouldn¡¯t do something nefarious, then I¡¯ll take you at your word.¡± She squeezed again. ¡°But I know my business. All my life, I¡¯ve had to watch for people trying to take advantage, cheating me out of coin, giving me a sweet smile so I don¡¯t see them robbing me blind. I¡¯ve had to look for treachery since I could walk. And, ¡®cause of that, I¡¯m now positive someone¡¯s being treacherous to you. How or why, I don¡¯t know, but that¡¯s my conclusion, all the same.¡±


    Isaac¡¯s mind raced in his head. Every thought made his heart flutter and twist.


    ¡°Whatever deal is being arranged here,¡± Zaria said, ¡°you¡¯re getting the raw end of it, love. That¡¯s the only way I can make sense of things.¡±


    He gazed out over the empty street, past murals of mythology and long vacant houses, losing himself in memory. The cane. The shouting. The books and gifts and lessons. The warm meals shared together, the promises of a future.


    ¡°Isaac,¡± she said. ¡°I trust you won¡¯t get offended by my saying so, but you don¡¯t know how the world works. If you want to live your fantasy of travel and wandering, then you need to be mindful of those who only wish you harm. There¡¯s bad sorts out there, and they won¡¯t always look that way on first glance. Everyone¡¯s got motives and meanness to them¡ªit¡¯s just a matter of whether they¡¯re showing it to you.¡± She took her hand off his shoulder. ¡°Consider what I¡¯ve said. That¡¯s all I¡¯m asking.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s not¡ª¡± Isaac took a deep breath, worried his voice would tremble. ¡°This isn¡¯t something I haven¡¯t thought of before. It¡¯s not as if I could ask about my fate, but . . . but it¡¯s never seemed right that¡ª¡±


    An explosion ripped through the street.


    The shockwave slapped him hard enough to reopen several of his punctures. Dust spurted in grid-like gusts from the knuckled pavement. They both stumbled back, ears ringing and organs quivering, barely hearing the sound echo and slam its way further down the dead city.


    ¡°Oh, shite,¡± Zaria said. ¡°Not again.¡±


    Another explosion came. He saw a brief sliver of fire and smoke over the roofs of several mausoleums before the shockwave ripped through him. It felt like half his guts had flipped over each other. Next to them, a library buttressed with ulnas and radii had several of its support beams snap, the ancient building crumbling down to shattered skeletons.


    Isaac rubbed his aching teeth, trying to breathe through pained lungs. He remembered his studies on air pressure tolerances as he began to feel nauseous. Zaria slapped him roughly on the back, forcing him back upright.


    ¡°That¡¯s blackpowder,¡± she said. ¡°Soren¡¯s down here.¡±


    Once the overlapping echoes stopped bouncing through the necropolis, he began to hear the sounds of fighting. Screams and shouts, mostly. Smaller explosions.


    ¡°Sounds like a full bloody war,¡± Zaria said, clutching her poleaxe. ¡°What in the name of peace and fuck does she think she¡¯s doing?¡±


    They both looked at each other. The sounds of battle grew louder in the dead air. They ran down the street.


    It did not take long to see the signs of conflict. There were broken crossbow bolts lying across stone tiles, deep gouges in the masonry that could¡¯ve only been inflicted with swords and maces. They saw the bodies soon after. Pirates lying in twisted heaps, splayed across streets paved with knuckles and toes, draped over rib shaped fences. Lions and hyenas and foxes, all of them wearing patchwork leather armor and filthy, unwashed fur. Many of them sported burns and frostbite from elemental magic.


    There were human bodies, too. Some of them lying in pieces from the strength of their pirate adversaries. Severed limbs, spilled organs. All of the empty faces had the sigil of parasite magic carved into their foreheads.


    Isaac felt a chill rush up his spine, despite the chill of the necropolis. The puppeteer sorcerer that had arrived ahead of them must have a very large legion of thralls at their command, much more than he had anticipated. This would make them extremely dangerous, and there would be two possibilities for how that danger could manifest. First, the sorcerer could simply drain all their thralls of their energy in order to power their own magic, becoming able to unleash blizzards of frost, hurricanes of wind, roaring suns of fire. Second¡ªif the thralls themselves were trained in magic, then the sorcerer could selectively imbue them with energy stolen from the others, becoming able to directly manipulate their bodies to shoot their spells upon command. They would have an entire army of magic-capable slaves.


    Judging by the burns and frostbite on the pirate bodies, the latter option seemed to be the case. And that was by far the worst scenario.


    They raced through streets of bone, their feet slapping past stone and twisted bodies alike. Rivers of blood flowed over a pavement bathed in the soft color of fool¡¯s gold. Ahead, the fighting only seemed to grow more intense.


    Finally, the rows of houses and shops ended in a wide open plaza, the ground paved and studded with knuckles, leading up to the high-walled courtyard of a palace. This must¡¯ve been where the city¡¯s government once presided. Like most of the public buildings before it, the courtyard walls were carved with murals and reliefs, figures of gods and warriors. Over the wall, the palace itself looked like an overflowing mound of giant skulls.


    Hasty fortifications had been built around the palace walls, makeshift ramparts slapped together with whatever odd bits of wood could be scavenged and nailed into place. The rib-shaped bars of the gates had been barricaded with furniture that had obviously been looted from the surrounding homes. And, in the center of the courtyard wall, someone had draped a black pirate standard across the pelvis-shaped parapets, something that was obviously meant to be displayed on a ship. It was far too big to be properly hoisted on the wall¡ªIsaac could barely make out the crumpled symbol of a canine skull and crossbones.


    The fighting was taking place just on the other side of the courtyard. It didn¡¯t sound like clashing steel and flying crossbow bolts. It sounded like crackling ice and fire, explosions and screams and shouts of pain.


    Zaria nudged him, gesturing to a nearby two-story building. ¡°This way. Vantage point.¡±


    They ran over to the building. He expected her to just kick in the eye socket door, but, instead, she hauled herself onto the zygomatic arch and began to climb up the edifice, using the various grooves and sockets for hand and footholds. Isaac followed at a much slower pace, tentatively identifying every plate and bone of the skull as he pulled himself up. When he¡¯d just managed to reach the start of the frontal plate, Zaria reached down, grabbed him by the arm, and yanked him bodily up onto the roof. They crawled on their hands and knees over to the sagittal crest, using the thin lip of bone as cover.


    Over the walls, the palace courtyard was a scene of carnage. It looked like the sorcerer¡¯s thralls had mounted a full assault. Robed human figures were slowly advancing across the open space of the interior plaza, shooting spears of ice and fire in coordinated salvos. At the palace itself, crouched behind the jaw bones of massive skulls, the pirates were returning fire with crossbows, flinging satchels of blackpowder that exploded like grenades. None of the human thralls tried to reach cover¡ªthey just kept marching forward, heedless of the bolts and explosives flying at them. The pirates themselves were receiving an overwhelming amount of fire, much of which was literally fire, and the thralls were steadily advancing despite their losses. The puppeteer sorcerer was winning.


    ¡°Fuck me,¡± Zaria said. ¡°It really is Soren. Knew she had a cactus up her cunt about me, but she¡¯s plain gone mad if she thinks she can hold up down here.¡±


    Isaac scanned the firing lines of the pirates. ¡°Where is she? I don¡¯t see her.¡±


    ¡°Check the side. She¡¯s doing a pincer.¡±


    Twin streams of pirates were crouch running behind the walls of furniture barricades, circling around the horizontal line of advancing thralls. He squinted through the dim yellow cartilage light, unable to identify the pirates by anything other than general species¡ªlions and hyenas and foxes, glints of steel and fur.


    ¡°Still don¡¯t see her.¡±


    ¡°Humans are just worthless in the dark. She¡¯s on the left, leading the charge.¡±


    On the left, the pirates were massing, readying their weapons. Waiting for the thralls to advance just a little further up the plaza so they could rush out and envelop them from all sides. Isaac studied the shadowy figures until one came out in front of the rest. It was not what he was expecting.


    Captain Black Eye Soren stood a full head and a half shorter than the brawny hyenas and lions around her. She had light grey fur, stubby whiskers, and pink, floppy ears. Her outfit was a patchy collection of tan leather and loose white fabric, leaving her digitigrade feet bare and her fuzzy mid-rift exposed. Knives and daggers covered her entire body, pointed sheaths lining her thighs and arms like most would wear plates of armor. There was a gnarled patch of bare skin around her left eye, but the distance was too great for him to see any more details about her face. Still, he felt he had seen enough.


    ¡°That¡¯s Soren?¡± Isaac asked. ¡°The Black Eye, captain of the Silent Saber?¡±


    ¡°One and only,¡± Zaria replied. ¡°Think I¡¯m spotting several of my mates decorating the floor, too. That¡¯s going on her conscience.¡±


    ¡°Zaria, she¡¯s a bunny.¡±


    ¡°Aye. Fiercest one of the desert.¡±


    He looked at Soren again, just to make sure his eyes were not deceiving him. ¡°She¡¯s a bunny. She¡¯s half your height! That¡¯s the woman you¡¯ve been terrified of?¡±


    ¡°Just watch. You¡¯ll see.¡±


    The thralls had arrived at the palace steps, still shooting ice and fire. Soren put two fingers through the side of her snout and gave a piercing whistle. All at once, the pirates struck.


    From the palace, a salvo of crossbow bolts erupted like a swarm of birds. Soren raced out from the furniture barricade with a horde of pirates behind her. Isaac could not believe that such a tiny creature could yell so loudly. She flung several throwing knives as fast as arrows, skewering multiple thralls through the neck. Moving with incredible speed, she impaled a human thrall with her cutlass at a sprinting pace, hard enough to send them flying across the pavement, and she used the body as a springboard to launch herself into the air, powerful bunny legs letting her reach a wide falling arc onto the next thrall, who was smashed into the ground with her curving sword stabbed all the way from shoulder to hip.


    The thralls did not panic. They began flinging elemental spells at their flankers, not even trying to run. Soren dodged around a crackling lance of ice and chopped off both arms of a thrall with a single strike, kicking him into another caster before impaling a third. Her grey fur was soaked a shining red, her floppy ears flying with every flail of her curved sword. She cut the last remaining thrall in half with two vicious strokes, and, suddenly, the palace courtyard was silent. The only sound left was the faint crackle of barricaded furniture that had been set alight by fireballs.


    ¡°Tend the wounded!¡± Soren yelled, her voice echoing down the necropolis, most of her fur covered in blood. ¡°Man the perimeter! I want double watches! Blackpowder bombs rigged at every entrance! Not a single human gets through those walls again, or you¡¯ll be sucking maggots for grub!¡±


    ¡°Okay,¡± Isaac said. ¡°That was pretty horrifying.¡±


    ¡°Told ya so.¡± Zaria watched the pirates begin to drag the dead humans away, leaving long red trails in the knuckled pavement. ¡°How the hell did she even get down here, anyway? She buried the only entrance.¡±


    ¡°Well,¡± he said, ¡°she probably dug through the rubble to make sure you were dead, saw that we left the door to the catacombs open, and just followed through the hole we punched in the sorceress¡¯ forces. Probably wasn¡¯t even that hard for her.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m holding you accountable for that, Isaac.¡±


    ¡°Oh, right, sorry. I¡¯ll try not to keep us alive next time.¡±


    ¡°Get your rest!¡± Soren yelled, strutting her bare feet over rivers of blood. ¡°Get your grog! Tomorrow, we hunt a traitor! I promise half the treasure to whoever brings her in alive!¡±


    The skull building shook beneath them¡ªover to the distant sides of the body cavity, Isaac could see boulders of dirt break off from the walls, big enough to smash through several houses. There were powerful tremors running beneath the city, almost like localized earthquakes.


    Zaria¡¯s ears flattened. ¡°You feel that?¡±


    ¡°Yeah. That¡¯s a sandwyrm.¡± Another tremor came, rumbling through his body. ¡°Probably heard those explosions from miles away.¡±


    He could imagine the creature circling below the body cavity, a massive limbless dragon bristling with teeth and scales, tearing its way through tons of earth like a shark circling below its prey. It definitely knew there were people above it. It could sense the tiniest vibration through leagues of rock and sand. The only question now was whether it was feeling territorial, or maybe just hungry enough to close in for a probing bite.


    ¡°She¡¯s gone mad.¡± Zaria gripped the sagittal crest. ¡°Throwin¡¯ away lives in pursuit of vengeance and treasure. Thought she was decent, before. Now, I¡¯m not so sure.¡±


    ¡°Well,¡± Isaac said, ¡°you did kill ten of her crew, and then blow up an entire ship.¡±


    ¡°That last bit¡¯s my doing now, is it?¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s what they think. So, yes, actually.¡±


    She huffed. ¡°What the hell¡¯s this necromancer waiting for? Soren¡¯s down there blowing up all her furniture, and she hasn¡¯t sent a single skeleton in response.¡±


    ¡°She¡¯s probably smart enough to let the intruders kill each other before stepping in. On the other hand, she¡¯s probably also terrified of your old captain summoning a horde of sandwyrms in her domain. If she attacks, it might destroy what¡¯s left of her home.¡± He watched the pirates begin to establish patrols. ¡°We¡¯ll have to deal with this ourselves.¡±


    She looked back at him. ¡°You¡¯re not seriously suggesting¡ª¡±


    ¡°I am,¡± Isaac replied. ¡°We should attack now, before they have a chance to reorganize. If Soren throws anymore blackpowder around, we¡¯re going to be swimming in angry sandwyrms. More importantly, she¡¯s going to start hunting us soon. We need to go on the offensive.¡±


    ¡°You giving me tactical advice now?¡±


    ¡°I do believe I¡¯ve read more books on the subject.¡±


    She scoffed, looking back at the fortified courtyard. ¡°They¡¯re dug in tight. They¡¯ve got ramparts, crossbows, a wide open killing ground, and nearly a dozen times our number. It¡¯s suicide.¡±


    ¡°Maybe for you. I¡¯ve got something better than a poleaxe.¡± He spun through some quick mnemonics, holding a small ball of fire in his hands. ¡°She won¡¯t stand a chance.¡±


    ¡°Isaac, I¡¯m rather liking this new boldness on you, but you need to temper it with prudence. Assaulting them head-on is madness. We should skirt around, let the sorceress do her own bloody house-cleaning.¡±


    He looked at her for a moment. ¡°Is that cowardice I¡¯m hearing?¡±


    ¡°Consider it wisdom beyond my years.¡± She went back to watching Soren, who was busy supervising the fortification repairs. ¡°It¡¯s the only reason you¡¯re not getting smacked upside the head for saying that.¡±


    ¡°Hey,¡± Isaac said. ¡°Pirates have the right of parley, don¡¯t they? If we ask for it, she has to hear us out. Let us get in close.¡±


    ¡°You truly have read too many adventure novels, squire. Try that on most pirates and they¡¯ll just use the chance to flank you.¡±


    ¡°Not Soren, though, right? You said it yourself. She likes to make a spectacle. She wanted to challenge you to a duel, back up in the chapel.¡± Isaac placed a hand on his chest. ¡°I believe you¡¯ve found your champion.¡±


    Zaria looked at him with something less than approval. ¡°You? My champion?¡±


    ¡°That is what I said. Thanks for listening.¡±


    ¡°Oh, I heard you well. Just giving you a chance to think better.¡±


    ¡°Who said I was going to fight fair?¡±


    She glanced down at the small ball of fire still spinning in his palm. She opened her mouth to speak, closed it, let the fire reflect in her eyes for a moment, then began to look contemplative.


    Down in the palace courtyard, Black Eye Soren decapitated a human corpse with a single stroke of her saber. She lifted the severed head by the hair and rubbed the carved sigil on its forehead like it was an etching on paper. She dipped a finger through the neck hole, tasted the blood, spat it out on the knuckled pavement, and tossed the head into the air, kicking it out past the palace walls. Over to the side, foxes and lions were adding the rest of the human corpses to their furniture barricades.


    More rumbling shook through the ground, punctuated with a far deeper, more melodic note. It was the warning call of a sandwyrm. Isaac had heard it many times on his trek across the desert. The creature had probably mistaken Soren¡¯s bombs as the approach of a rival on its territory. That was even worse than being considered prey. Hungry sandwyrms were usually only curious and nibbling¡ªa territorial sandwyrm was an unstoppable juggernaut of teeth and fury.


    Zaria turned her attention back to the palace. She wasn¡¯t looking at Soren anymore¡ªshe was tracking the crewmembers racing across the courtyard, the ones repairing the fortifications, treating the wounded, rationing out bricks of hardtack and rum. She likely knew most of them. She also knew the ones that were now lying dead on the pavement. They might¡¯ve worked as deckhands besides each other, shared meals together, shared the same bunks and battles.


    ¡°Hey,¡± Isaac said. ¡°You think Soren¡¯s crew wants to be stuck down here in this tomb?¡±


    The hyena snorted. ¡°Pirates are more superstitious than old crones. Most of them would be swimming in piss if she wasn¡¯t barking orders at them.¡±


    ¡°So, if we just kill Soren, they¡¯ll probably run away. Right?¡±


    Zaria looked back at him.


    ¡°You could probably even say we¡¯d be saving their lives. It¡¯d be the right thing to do, really. Kill the person who wants you dead while sparing her crew.¡± He shrugged. ¡°Everyone wins.¡±


    ¡°Isaac,¡± she said. ¡°I won¡¯t ask you to do this. This is my business. My concern. You got your mission to worry about¡ªdon¡¯t start feeling obligated for me.¡±


    ¡°I am worried about my mission. Soren¡¯s getting in the way of it. In terms of duty to my guild, and the general interest of archaeology, I¡¯d say I¡¯m compelled to end her life.¡± He shrugged. ¡°Might be I just want to take out a murderous pirate captain, too. Do a good deed for the rest of the world. You know, help a few people.¡±


    She gave him an expression somewhere between shock and laughter. ¡°You realize they outnumber us more than ten to one?¡±


    ¡°Sure.¡±


    ¡°She has crossbows. Blackpowder. Veteran thugs at her back. All of them risking blackness and evil to have a shot at killing me.¡±


    ¡°Looks that way, yeah.¡±


    ¡°And you¡¯re asking me to just stroll up to her fortress, ask for parley, and then anoint you as my champion, all so you can fight a duel with the best swordswoman this side of the continent?¡±


    ¡°Pretty much.¡±


    ¡°You know how foolhardy this whole plan is, aye?¡±


    ¡°Of course,¡± Isaac said. ¡°I think that¡¯s why I like it.¡±


    ¡°Squire, I¡¯m beginning to worry I¡¯ve been a bad influence on you.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t worry. I¡¯ve always been this way¡ªI just feel ready to follow through on it now.¡± He looked down at the palace courtyard, counting all the defenses and thugs, watching Soren bark orders at her crew while covered in blood and knives. He felt fear, though not the fear he always felt around his uncle. This fear made him feel alive. ¡°Are you with me?¡±


    She glanced down at her old captain and crew, probably remembering their names and voices, all the times they¡¯d spent together. She was probably also remembering all the tortures they¡¯d inflicted upon her. The crew were twitchy, most of them wounded and tired, constantly looking over their shoulders. Only Soren¡¯s yelling was keeping them in line.


    Off in the distance, through the earth and rock, a sandwyrm bellowed its warning call. If another blackpowder bomb exploded, it would almost definitely attack.


    ¡°Fuck it,¡± Zaria said. ¡°Let¡¯s slag the cunt.¡±

 Meat & Bone

    ¡°We¡¯re gonna die,¡± Zaria said.


    The ground continued to rumble. For the past few minutes, it had not stopped. The sandwyrm was agitated. Closing in. Isaac imagined a circular maelstrom of teeth erupting through the ground, a jagged maw large enough to swallow ten men whole. He remembered the roars. He remembered the scales that shrugged off all but his most powerful scrolls. Most of all, he remembered the quickening¡ªthe sudden increase in vibration that served as the only warning before the killing strike.


    Ahead, at the palace walls, the pirates had severed the heads of the sorcerer¡¯s thralls and erected them on their ramparts, capping off their hanging black standard of skulls and crossbones. There were armed patrols walking the makeshift scaffolding. They had rigged blackpowder bombs at all the gates. If they went off, the sandwyrm would certainly attack. He wasn¡¯t sure if they were unaware of this, or deliberately threatening to do it.


    Beyond the walls, a shouting voice echoed down the dead city streets. Captain Black Eye Soren.


    ¡°We got the element of surprise,¡± Zaria said, ¡°and fuck all else. If she decides not to accept the parley, we¡¯re dead. If she decides not to accept the duel, we¡¯re dead. If she thinks its exceptionally insulting that I¡¯d appoint a human as my champion, then we¡¯ll be wishing we¡¯re dead in short order.¡±


    Isaac began counting on his fingers. ¡°She wants to take you alive. She wants to make an example of you. She wanted to fight a duel with you earlier. She won¡¯t know I¡¯m a mage. And she¡¯ll take any chance to raise the morale of her crew, scared of this place as they are.¡±


    She pulled him back from their vantage point across the street, her mohawk faintly golden in the cartilage light. ¡°Don¡¯t get cocky. If she closes the distance, you¡¯re dead, and it won¡¯t be a pleasant departure, neither.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s risky,¡± Isaac admitted, ¡°but I think you¡¯ve spent too long seeing me tied and helpless. She¡¯s the one who needs to be afraid.¡±


    ¡°It needs to be fast,¡± Zaria said. ¡°Loud and horrible, especially. Break their spirits so quick they got no hope of stopping a rout. We want them running, Isaac. Don¡¯t kill them if you don¡¯t have to.¡±


    The rumbling intensified for a few moments, as if the sandwyrm had closed in for a pass just below the surface. Beyond the palace walls, the few shouts of laughter and merriment ceased immediately. The patrols on the ramparts clutched their crossbows a little tighter. They were scared. They had good reason to be. If the sandwyrm didn¡¯t kill them, the sorceress would, and she would not make it as quick as the dragon.


    ¡°Let me do the talking.¡± She squeezed his shoulder, ears bent flat. ¡°No matter what, follow my lead. Beck and call at all times. Got it?¡±


    He bowed. ¡°As you say, madam knight.¡±


    ¡°Well, now. Those are words I could get used to.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s only a special treat this time, I swear.¡±


    A grin almost emerged, but it died when she looked at the palace again. Her hackles were raised needle straight, and she was constantly wringing her hands, adjusting what remained of her leather armor. She took a deep breath and held it in, eyes closed, slowly breathing out.


    ¡°Hey,¡± Isaac said. ¡°I¡¯ve got your back.¡±


    She nodded as if she hadn¡¯t really heard him. At the palace, Soren¡¯s shouted orders echoed out through the dead city.


    ¡°We don¡¯t have to do this. It¡¯s your call.¡±


    ¡°No.¡± Her exhale came out as a growl. ¡°No. Fuck it. Before I lose my nerve.¡±


    Zaria emerged from their vantage point with a straight back and clenched fists, marching towards the palace. Isaac followed right behind her.


    The guards on the ramparts didn¡¯t notice them immediately. The dim glow of the hanging cartilage held the city streets in a soft twilight, and the sandwyrm¡¯s rumblings seemed to be traveling in a circle around the palace, growing tighter and tighter. Both the guards were following it with their ears. They were scared. They would rout easily.


    ¡°Parley!¡± Zaria shouted. ¡°Parley!¡±


    The two male hyenas nearly dropped their crossbows. They took up firing positions, one of them almost tumbling off the shoddily built rampart.


    ¡°Soren! Soren! I¡¯ve come to parley, you fuzzy cunt!¡±


    On the other side of the fortifications, all sound stopped. For a moment, only the dead silence of the necropolis remained. Then there was a rush of stomping feet on pavement, as if everyone was hastily running to position.


    ¡°H-hold right there!¡± one of the male hyenas yelled. ¡°Zaria, s-s-stop, don¡¯t come any¡ª¡±


    ¡°That you up there, Emmit?¡± She barked out a laugh. ¡°What bleeding moron trusted you with a weapon?¡±


    ¡°I mean it! Stop! D-don¡¯t come any¡ª¡±


    Emmit flinched as his crossbow fired. The bolt shot straight into the ground, and the shock of the recoil made him fumble the weapon, dropping it down the wrong side of the wall.


    Zaria scooped the broken bolt up off the pavement. ¡°Did you just fire at me, you sniveling cuntsucker? You open that gate right now, or I¡¯m making this bolt your new cock!¡±


    Emmit yipped loud enough to echo. ¡°Open¡ªo-open the¡ª¡±


    ¡°Open the gates!¡± Soren yelled. ¡°Let her through!¡±


    A mass of pirates had swarmed around the rib-shaped grills of the palace gates. Lions and foxes, all of them scarred and armed, all of them snarling like they did so for a living. Like Zaria, most of them had nearly a head of height on Isaac, and all of them seemed able to wrench him limb from limb if given the chance. As they worked to disarm the hefty blackpowder satchels currently rigged to the wall, he began to doubt the wisdom of their plan.


    Below, the sandwyrm¡¯s rumbling faded down to a faint hum. Distant. Listening.


    The gates opened. The crowd of pirates barely parted enough for them to pass, forcing them to walk through a tight tunnel of bodies. Isaac followed behind Zaria¡¯s downturned tail as they entered the palace courtyard, never more than spitting distance from at least five different sabers and maces, all of the pirates growling and breathing heavily in his face.


    ¡°Kaiser!¡± Zaria shouted. ¡°Still pissing blood, are we?¡±


    A male lion snarled at her.


    ¡°Told you not to shag that wench, ya daft cunt.¡±


    Isaac was very careful to avoid eye contact.


    Captain Black Eye Soren stood in the center of the courtyard. Human blood was still shining on her leather armor, glistening on nearly a dozen sheathes of throwing knives. This close, Isaac could see how the pirate captain had earned her name¡ªthe left side of her face had been scarred by some kind of fire, leaving the flesh mottled and furless. Her left eye was now made of glass, and there had been no attempt to make it look natural. It was completely black, reflecting everything it saw, like moonlight on dark water.


    Behind her, the palace of the dead city was a spilling pile of giant skulls, eyeless faces gazing in wonder towards the rib cage sky. It was hard to imagine that such a heap of bone had ever been used as a building.


    Soren pressed the flat of her cutlass against her leather pauldron, wiping the blood off in one long stroke. ¡°You truly are desperate, aren¡¯t you?¡±


    ¡°Nah,¡± Zaria said, marching forward. ¡°Tell the truth, I¡¯ve never been better.¡±


    Isaac could feel the pirates walking behind him, fanning themselves out. Flanking.


    ¡°That so?¡± Soren sheathed her sword. ¡°You killed all your worldly friends. You¡¯re hunted like a dog. Now, your only shelter is a tomb full of madness and evil. Only good thing I can say in your favor is you won¡¯t beg my mercy.¡±


    Zaria stopped two body lengths in front of the bunny. ¡°We¡¯ll just see who¡¯s begging who, by the end.¡±


    Isaac came out by her side, keeping his body language as calm and neutral as possible. He was ready to cast a spell at a moment¡¯s notice.


    Soren looked at him like he was a fish walking on land. ¡°Who the bloody cunt is this? He the one that left them second set of tracks? You find some human wandering the wasteland up above?¡±


    ¡°Sure did.¡± Zaria slapped an arm around his shoulders, pulling him to her side. ¡°Rather felt sorry for him, matter of fact. Now he¡¯s my squire.¡±


    The pirates around them snorted and laughed. Isaac¡¯s composure began to crack.


    ¡°Oi, human,¡± Soren said. ¡°What¡¯s your name, then? Who the fuck are ya?¡±


    ¡°You don¡¯t need to know,¡± Isaac replied.


    The bunny snorted. ¡°Good eye. Couldn¡¯t care less.¡± Her one remaining eye roamed over him. ¡°I¡¯ll make sure you¡¯re just called my cabin boy, and nothing more. Unless you wish to die with your shining knight.¡±


    Zaria still had her arm on his shoulder. She gave it a tiny squeeze.


    Soren grinned like an opening wound. ¡°Whatcha say, handsome? I¡¯d keep you nice and pampered.¡±


    Isaac scoffed. ¡°I wouldn¡¯t fuck you with someone else¡¯s cock.¡±


    Soren and her crew burst into laughter. Even Zaria gave him a sideways glance. He wasn¡¯t sure if they thought what he said was funny, or if they were laughing at the fact that someone like him had said it. Either way, he was satisfied, because, as a child, he had once read that line in a book, and he had waited half his life for the chance to use it.


    Below, the ground continued to gently rumble. The palace of skulls seemed to moan wordlessly up into the cartilage light.


    ¡°Just playing, love,¡± Soren said, still chuckling. ¡°I can smell her on you from here. Could probably count her teeth on your neck.¡± Her pink nose wrinkled. ¡°You enjoying your life as a fugitive, Zaria?¡±


    She tightened her grip on him. ¡°You know how it is. Have to claim what¡¯s yours.¡±


    ¡°Not so,¡± Soren replied. ¡°The rule is¡ªif you¡¯re dead on the ground, then he¡¯s mine, and whatever ransom you¡¯re hoping to collect will be mine as well.¡± Her black eye reflected the rows of pirates behind them. ¡°Got that ¡®nobleman¡¯s son¡¯ look to him. Think he¡¯ll be called Coin Purse, instead.¡±


    Zaria let him go, stepping forward. ¡°Them floppy ears gone deaf, Soren? I¡¯m offering parley, not tribute.¡±


    The bunny drew her cutlass so fast that it audibly sliced the air. ¡°Only thing you got to offer is your life, traitor. I¡¯d drag you back to Crookspur so I could break you proper on the wheel, but last time I tried that you sundered a whole fucking ship. You¡¯re dyin¡¯ down in this bony city, and I¡¯m damn sure gonna bleed you like you bled ten of my crew.¡±


    Zaria took another step forward, the point of her captain¡¯s sword inches from her chest. ¡°You¡¯re gonna lose the rest of them if you stay down here. This place is evil, Soren. Them stories of soul-sucking sorcerers are true. I¡¯ve seen it myself, and it¡¯s only thanks to this human behind me that I¡¯m living to tell the tale.¡±


    Soren growled out a laugh. ¡°You concerned for us, now? Where was that concern a week ago? Did you blow a bloody hole through my ship ¡®cause you just loved us so much?¡±


    ¡°How many men have you lost already?¡± Zaria turned to face the crowd of pirates. ¡°How many of your mates won¡¯t ever be leaving this place?¡±


    The pirates glanced between each other. Behind them, they had laid out the bodies of their crewmates in one long row, shoulder to shoulder.


    ¡°Go on,¡± Zaria said. ¡°Tell me so. You think some treasure and vengeance is worth your lives?¡±


    Soren¡¯s whiskers curled back. ¡°There ain¡¯t no crewman on the Saber that didn¡¯t lose someone to your rampage. Don¡¯t even have a proper roster for all the souls you left burned to cinders, neither. Someone has to end your carnage. Whatever pirate blood you think is on my hands ain¡¯t nothing compared to what¡¯s on yours.¡±


    More than a few voices rose up in agreement.


    ¡°I forced no man down into the black,¡± Soren said. ¡°All hands came of their own free will. Equal risk, equal shares. Aye, lads?¡±


    Even more voices shouted back.


    ¡°Oh, truly, then?¡± Zaria said. ¡°Does this brotherhood shite extend off to the transport of slaves? Children? You all singing merry ¡®round the rigging while some babes cry for their parents below deck? You all gonna spend your blood money on drink and wenches without a second thought?¡±


    ¡°Shut your mouth,¡± Soren said. ¡°Job specified no tampering with the cargo. I followed that directive. My disgust is the same as yours, and I¡¯m planning on carving that disgust into the cunts that offered the contract.¡± The bunny twirled her cutlass. ¡°The difference being that I¡¯m honorable enough to keep my word, and not nearly so low that I¡¯d slaughter my mates for righteousness.¡±


    ¡°There¡¯s honor in aiding evil now, is there? You still completed that contract, didn¡¯t you?¡±


    ¡°Much as I could,¡± Soren said. ¡°Accountin¡¯ for the cargo you tossed.¡±


    ¡°Cargo? That¡¯s your word for innocent lives?¡±


    ¡°Them¡¯s the terms of contract. Not my place to debate.¡± Her sword glinted as it spun. ¡°My word¡¯s gotta mean something. Have to show I¡¯m principled. No ship would ever surrender her hold if I were known for breaking promises. My reputation protects my crew, and I have to protect it in kind. Whether that be honoring evil contracts, or hunting down a traitor.¡±


    Zaria turned to the gathered crowd of pirates. ¡°I want to hear you all say it. Say you¡¯re fine dipping toes in the slaving business. Say you¡¯re fine earning wages off the blood of children. Just admit, right now, that you¡¯re no better than some bandits slitting throats on a highway.¡± She looked around, receiving only stares in reply. ¡°Tell me you¡¯re still feeling brave. Tell me that you aren¡¯t having second thoughts confronting all these curses and magic.¡±


    Most of the pirates were silent. Some of them were looking around the dead city, staring with wide eyes at the palace of skulls or the giant glowing rib cage above their heads. Some were glancing at the floor, the sandwyrm rumbling and circling beneath, close enough to rattle their barricades and ration crates. Others were looking at the bodies of their friends.


    ¡°Leave,¡± Zaria said. ¡°Call it a withdrawal, if you want some dignity about it. Everyone of you that stays down here for my sake is gonna die.¡±


    Captain Soren looked over the uneasy gathering of her crew, their faces reflected in her black eye. Her half-burned muzzle twisted into a snarl. ¡°I was fair to you, Zaria, wasn¡¯t I?¡±


    ¡°Aside from torturing me for several days, you mean?¡±


    ¡°Fair punishment for a gutless crime.¡±


    ¡°Well, then. Right you are, capt. No complaints from me. Good shares, good grog.¡±


    ¡°Damn good hand you were,¡± Soren said. ¡°Worked harder than half these sods combined. Absolutely fearsome with an axe.¡±


    ¡°Oh, none compare to the Black Eye. No one else could¡¯ve scared me into running down here.¡±


    ¡°Matter of fact¡ªVossler¡¯s stepping down as third mate. Planned on promotin¡¯ you to it.¡±


    ¡°Truly? Never thought I¡¯d hack it as an officer. Leading men, the whole bit.¡±


    ¡°You would have. Might¡¯ve made it to captain faster than I did, even.¡±


    ¡°Appreciate you saying so.¡±


    ¡°Call it a parting gift.¡±


    Zaria made a noise in her throat. ¡°Funny how that works.¡±


    ¡°No,¡± the Black Eye replied. ¡°It ain¡¯t.¡±


    ¡°Had to stick to my principles, Soren.¡±


    ¡°As do I, Zaria.¡±


    ¡°No chance I¡¯m talking you out of this, then?¡±


    The burned flesh around Soren¡¯s eye tightened. ¡°You know better.¡±


    ¡°Aye. Suppose I do.¡±


    Hyena and bunny stared at each other for a long moment. Below, the sandwyrm¡¯s angry patrols continued to rumble through the earth, and the palace of skulls glowed in the cartilage light, like a bulbous pile of gold.


    ¡°That¡¯s enough,¡± Soren said. ¡°We¡¯re dueling, here and now. Toss your polearm and grab a short blade.¡±


    ¡°Got a better idea, capt.¡± Zaria stepped back to Isaac¡¯s side. ¡°He¡¯s gonna be my champion.¡±


    The palace courtyard was silent for a moment. Even the sandwyrm seemed to pause. Then a few chuckles and snorts built themselves into a chorus of hoots and shouts. The air of the dead city filled with taunts. He could feel the pirates at their back jeering at him, rattling their weapons and barking out laughter.


    Only Soren stayed quiet. She watched Isaac with a silent fury. He met her one-eyed gaze, his arms ready to cast.


    ¡°Shut up!¡± Soren yelled. ¡°Shut up!¡±


    The laughter died. The bunny stared him down. He could see his face reflected in her black eye. His dirty blond hair had grown long and wild¡ªhe was filthy, unshaven, still sunburned, and just as gaunt and thin as a starving prisoner.


    ¡°It¡¯s your right to request a champion, unconventional they may be.¡± Slowly, she lifted her cutlass until the tip was pointed square at Isaac. ¡°You want to fight me, love? Is that bravery or ignorance?¡±


    ¡°Neither,¡± Isaac replied. ¡°You¡¯re barely even worth my time.¡±


    ¡°Tough words.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ve earned them.¡±


    Soren¡¯s black eye gleamed in the twilight. ¡°I see it now. I see that fire in your eyes. You got some venom in your blood, don¡¯t you, human?¡±


    Isaac didn¡¯t answer.


    She scraped the tip of her cutlass across the knuckled courtyard pavement. ¡°Knew there was something off about you. The way you look¡ªeither you¡¯re horribly lost, or you¡¯re the deadliest cunt standing here.¡±


    He still didn¡¯t answer.


    ¡°What is it then, Zaria? Is he some monk from a monastery, cracking stone with his bare hands? Got some magic tucked up his arse, does he?¡± She turned her gaze to the hyena. ¡°You willing to trust your life in his hands?¡±


    ¡°Wouldn¡¯t be standing here if I wasn¡¯t,¡± Zaria said.


    ¡°How about I just sic my crew on you both and save us all the trouble?¡±


    ¡°We¡¯ll take half your crew with us if you try.¡± Zaria turned back to the pirates. ¡°I¡¯m a fair sort. If my champion loses, then I¡¯ll submit. But the first lad who violates my dueling rights is gettin¡¯ his teeth carved out through his cock. That¡¯s a promise.¡±


    None of the pirates answered. Some were angry. Many were glancing nervously between each other. A few of them had already taken some tentative steps back.Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on the original website.


    ¡°Enough,¡± Soren said. ¡°Human. Do you pledge yourself in service of your knight here?¡±


    ¡°I do,¡± Isaac said.


    ¡°Do you understand that if you lose this duel, either by yield or death, then her life is forfeit?¡±


    Next to him, Zaria shifted slightly.


    ¡°I do,¡± Isaac said.


    ¡°Fine, then. You lot¡ªscatter.¡±


    The pirates stepped back, creating a circle around them. Zaria did so as well, pausing to give him one final squeeze of the shoulder. Soren never took her gaze off him.


    ¡°Jarrett,¡± she called. ¡°Search him. Make sure he¡¯s got nothing extra tucked away.¡±


    A male fox stepped forward. He approached Isaac like one might approach a bomb. He patted him down, running over his legs and arms, pulling off his pack and dumping the contents on the ground. All his alchemical equipment rolled across the knuckled pavement. Soren eyed the vials and ciphers, her black eye churning with reflections.


    ¡°He¡¯s clean, capt,¡± the fox said. ¡°Nothing on ¡®em.¡±


    The bunny¡¯s ears flicked. ¡°Give him your saber.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t need it,¡± Isaac said.


    ¡°You sure about that?¡±


    He flexed his fingers. ¡°Very.¡±


    Jarrett looked to his captain. She flicked her head. He scampered away.


    They stood around two body lengths from each other. Soren was only barely tall enough to come up to Isaac¡¯s shoulder, much like he came up to Zaria¡¯s. The blade of her cutlass caught the fool¡¯s gold light as she twirled it in her hand. The burnt scarring around her eye seemed to extend down to the muscle¡ªthe mottled skin could only twitch and pull.


    He had seen how fast she was. She could close the distance between them in a blink¡ªeven now, her bare feet were shifting on the knuckled pavement, tensing and rolling. He brought his arms out in front of him. He chose to use wind. It had the fastest casting time, and, at the beginning of the first mnemonic position, it didn¡¯t look too dissimilar from a martial arts stance. A strong enough gust would shred Soren¡¯s lungs from sheer air pressure, and the sight of their captain drowning in her own blood would scare the pirates quite well.


    ¡°Oi, floppy!¡± Zaria called. ¡°Toss your knives! We¡¯re fighting fair, aren¡¯t we?¡±


    Soren ran a hand over the sheaths of throwing knives on her chest. ¡°I¡¯m starting to doubt that¡¯s the case.¡±


    Suddenly, the sandwyrm made a close pass below, the ground almost bulging, and the melodic warning call reverberated out through the earth. It sounded angry. Territorial. Behind Soren, the palace seemed to shake exceptionally hard, like the skulls were shifting in place.


    The pirate captain hardly moved as the earth trembled beneath her. ¡°Claxton, Heywood. Notch your crossbows. Flank the human. Both shoulders.¡±


    ¡°Capt?¡± a lioness asked.


    ¡°Do it.¡± She pointed her cutlass at Isaac. ¡°If this sodding ape tries to cheat, kill him. Better yet, tag him in the belly. Make it slow. Gut him in front of his knight.¡±


    Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the lioness hesitate, look back to her fellows. None of the pirates moved.


    ¡°Do it!¡± Soren yelled. ¡°Have to ensure our honor, don¡¯t we? Have to make sure there¡¯s no craven intentions among us, aye?¡± Her pink nose wrinkled at him. ¡°I¡¯m still smelling the stench of a traitor on you, human. Best we set that straight, right now.¡±


    Slowly, Isaac shifted his arms to the second mnemonic position. Below them, the sandwyrm roared through tons of earth and rock, a colossal howl that seemed to shake the very foundations of the city.


    He heard the notching of two crossbows at his back. In the surrounding circle of pirates, many hands went to their scabbards, clutching the hafts of weapons.


    Soren twirled her cutlass. ¡°You¡¯re looking real out of place there, love. Tattered robes. Thin as a bilge rat. Carrying naught but parchment and vials. Now you¡¯re refusin¡¯ a weapon. And how¡¯d you get past all these bones and magic, anyway? Don¡¯t tell me Zaria¡¯s taking on the blackest of evils all by her lonesome. That was your doing.¡± Her burned flesh twisted. ¡°Who the fuck are you?¡±


    All at once, the palace of skulls began to move. The heads shook, flexing their jaws, rolling over and under each other like distended marbles, coalescing into some new ordered shape. As they slid into position, the skulls tilted their eyeless faces towards the rib cage sky. They began to sing.


    ¡°You¡¯re a mage, aren¡¯t you?¡± Soren fingered a throwing knife. ¡°You¡¯re the one that sundered the ship. Now you¡¯re gonna spit hellfire at me. That¡¯s your trick, you craven cunt. I¡¯ll fucking skewer you¡ª¡±


    ¡°Captain!¡± one of the pirates yelled.


    Soren turned around, looking at the palace. The skulls had arranged themselves in a flat-topped pyramid, each one of them larger than a house, and they were all bellowing towards the blackened sky, their skinless faces wrapped in horror and worship, like the summoning of an eldritch god. Together, their chorus of voices built into the melodic pitch of a sandwyrm¡¯s battle cry.


    The earth shuddered. The body cavity ceiling began to crumble. Around the city, entire streets and buildings fell through the earth as the ground collapsed beneath them, the recently carved tunnels below finally giving way as the sandwyrm lurched through rock and dirt, quickening for a strike. It thundered back a furious response to the skulls, shaking Isaac to the core.


    He realized, all at once, that the sorceress had not stayed her forces against Soren because she wanted him to kill the pirate for her. She had just been waiting to kill both of them at the same time. And she was willing to destroy her entire city to do so.


    The pyramid of skulls stretched their jaws open in an ecstasy of worship, their lungless voices singing so loud that it almost drowned out the coming strike.


    ¡°Run!¡± Isaac shouted. ¡°Run!¡±


    The skulls erupted into the air. A colossal form spewed from the earth, rows of sandy scales rushing and glittering in the cartilage light. The giant skulls continued to sing as they spun through the open space of the body cavity, reverent faces failing like meteors, crashing to the ground in showers of splintered bone. Soren sprinted out of the way of one falling skull, and Isaac just barely managed to stumble backwards in time, air pressure from the close impact slapping him off his feet.


    Just ahead, the sandwyrm extended half its body out through the earth, coiling in the hanging space beneath the glowing rib cage. Its bulging segments bristled with the starry glint of sand-woven scales, its vestigial wings wriggling outwards as if it meant to take flight like its ancestors. At the head of the dragon lay a circular mouth wrapped in a twitching line of mandibles, sensing and tasting the air. Its maw was wider than a castle moat, and its multiple sets of teeth could shred entire regiments of soldiers.


    Isaac got back to his feet, steeling himself. He knew what he had to do.


    ¡°Hey!¡± he shouted, sprinting around a shattered skull. ¡°Over here!¡±


    The dragon twisted, jerking its head towards him. They did not have eyes¡ªonly the remnants of orbital depressions. Instead, they saw with sound. Their vestigial wings acted as sensing devices, capable of picking up the slightest vibrations in the earth, and the fine hairs that grew between their scales functioned as a shell of transmitters across its carapace. To the sandwyrm, his shouting was like a blaze of light in the darkness, something it felt across its entire body. Isaac¡¯s voice almost drowned out the screams of the pirates as they ran and fled from the courtyard.


    ¡°Come on! I¡¯ve faced bigger than you!¡±


    The wyrm bent itself down, its ring of mandibles writhing and grasping, its bed of teeth undulating around its mouth. Noxious breath hit him like a burning hurricane. He stopped running, faced down the mouth of the giant creature, and performed his mnemonics as the beast tensed its body to strike.


    He pointed his finger at its open mouth and fired raw sound down its throat. A shower of blood and flesh erupted from the circular maw. The sandwyrm reeled back, spraying an arc of green viscera across the rib cage above. A perfect shot. It was staggered, deafened and blind. The ground trembled and broke as the dragon flailed, and the buildings of the necropolis quaked as it screamed.


    But it caught itself, more of the segmented body slithering from beneath the earth. It reared its mouth towards him again, its angry snarl dripping with blood and rows of bristling teeth. The sandwyrm tensed itself, unleashed a colossal roar, and shot its massive body forward.


    Every other time Isaac had fought a sandwyrm, he had managed to scare them away. All predators were naturally risk-averse. They wouldn¡¯t chance an injury if they didn¡¯t have to. But that had been different¡ªthose other sandwyrms had only seen him as a potential meal. This one thought it was defending its territory from a rival. It would not retreat so easily.


    The gigantic creature struck with incredible speed. He casted wind, shooting it out with both hands in a concentrated tunnel. The gusts caught the wyrm in its outstretched mouth, splitting the wounded flesh open even wider, but the beast was barely slowed¡ªin fact, it struck even harder, the pain only driving it further into rage. Its body slammed into the ground, its writhing mouth rushing towards him. He put all his energy into the wind, splitting the dragon¡¯s maw wide, the sharp screams of the gales almost louder than the furious bellowing. It kept coming, sundering all the pavement in its path, tongue and teeth closing in.


    As the sandwyrm reached him, Zaria leaped forward from behind, spearing the dragon¡¯s tongue with her poleaxe like a sailor hunting a whale. It flinched, jerked its head in pain, and Isaac was struck with a speeding wall of mandibles and scales, sending him tumbling head over heels across the pavement. He crashed into a stack of ration crates, gasping and reeling, struggling back to his feet as fresh blood leaked into his eyes.


    The sandwyrm had flattened its body across the remnants of the palace courtyard. Its mandibles flexed and jerked, its closed mouth snapping from side to side. Finally, its head shot back, its maw opened, and Zaria was flung into the air. She was coated in green blood and saliva, her poleaxe still speared onto a severed chunk of dragon tongue, turning the weapon into a giant, fleshy warhammer. The sandwyrm snarled, rising to catch her in its mouth. She completed her arc into the air, catching her balance just enough that, when the creature struck, it found her screaming and twisting and striking her poleaxe down with all her strength.


    When the sandwyrm swallowed her, it flinched again, snapping back and forth in pain. But its maw closed, its ring of mandibles tightened down, and the ends of its body began to slither back into its giant burrow in the earth. It was retreating, leaving nothing but a destroyed palace in its wake.


    ¡°Hey!¡±


    Isaac ran forward. The sandwyrm continued to snake its way into the shattered ground. Without slowing down, he shot multiple salvos of raw sound at the giant creature. Each impact on its body cracked its glittering scales, and the beast spasmed in agony, overwhelmed with noise and sensation. The assault only made it struggle faster, its segmented body squirming and disappearing into the earth. Isaac kept firing, kept running forward, but the wyrm¡¯s scaly hide was too tough¡ªits head vanished back into the tunnels, leaving nothing but a scarred hole in the earth, the vibrations from its passage slowly fading from beneath his feet. The last thing he heard was a falling bellow of pain.


    And, suddenly, he was alone. The palace grounds were destroyed. The pirates had fled. Soren was gone. Only the silence of the dead city remained.


    He stood at the edge of the giant crater, staring down into an empty tunnel. ¡°Zaria!¡±


    The earth was silent. Only his voice echoed back.


    Then, all at once, he heard new sounds. Coming from behind. Coming from every direction. The same dry scraping he¡¯d heard in the catacombs. A flood rushing across the ground, chittering and crackling.


    He turned, and an overwhelming ocean of bone surged towards him. The sea of sliding body parts was taller than him, easily thousands of corpses all mangled and blended together, gushing in streams and currents and waves. It closed in from all sides with the monstrous weight of a tsunami, smashing through what remained of the palace walls, leaping forward in raging showers of bodies.


    He¡¯d failed. He¡¯d walked right into the sorceress¡¯ trap. All along, she¡¯d just been waiting for the right time to strike, and now it was here. He was alone. He had no chance.


    He had failed his father.


    He turned his body towards the flood of bone. He kept his stance firm on the ground, just as he was taught. He performed the mnemonics for his anti-necrotic light, building it into a solid dome of whiteness around him.


    Isaac put all his energy into the spell and braced for death.


    But something odd happened. As the tide of bones rushed forward, it split around him, parting as neatly as a fork in a river. He found himself perfectly encased by two walls of surging body parts, streaming by with such weight and force that he was battered by the overwhelming sound of scrapes and clatters. Only a few bones grazed the edge of his light¡ªthe bulk of the flood rushed into the tunnel the sandwyrm had left behind, creating swirls of limbs and skulls and spines that drained down into the earth. The ocean of bodies disappeared through the ground as if sucked into it by some malevolent force, and then they were gone, too. Not a single bone had touched him.


    He blinked, once again alone in the shattered palace grounds. He should¡¯ve died there. That flood could¡¯ve easily pierced his light. Instead, it had deliberately moved around him¡ªin fact, it had gone very far out of its way to avoid hurting him. A great deal of focus and fine control would¡¯ve been required to accomplish such a thing. It was not something that had occurred by accident.


    The sorceress had just spared his life.


    He had little time to ponder this. Soon, the ground began to shake again. The buildings of the dead city crumbled and sunk as more chunks of earth gave way. Isaac wobbled on his feet, the vibrations turned into shuddering earthquakes, building rapidly into a flood of motion.


    In a distant part of the city, the sandwyrm erupted from the ground, impaling itself through an entire school district in the process. Instead of reaching high into the body cavity, it beached itself across the ancient streets, smashing through houses with an unstoppable momentum, squirming and writhing violently as it slid towards the palace. Isaac ran to the side, suddenly faced with an incoming creature that thrashed with the size and weight of a castle wall. He dove over a giant shattered skull, narrowly avoiding the impact of the sandwyrm¡¯s mouth as the body came to rest back inside the palace grounds.


    The dragon was completely covered in bone. They wriggled into its skin like maggots in a corpse, burrowing through the open cracks Isaac had carved into its scales. Green blood oozed from the beast in viscous waves. The wyrm flailed along the courtyard, rolling itself over and over on the shattered pavement in an effort to rub the bones off, but its mad efforts only stabbed the corpses deeper into itself. Its vestigial wings spasmed, its glittering scales flew off in showers, and it roared in a primal cry of pain and fear.


    Something flew from its mouth as it screamed¡ªa glob of blood and saliva that rolled across the pavement. Once it rested, the pile of fluids began to move, and it was only then that Isaac recognized the shape.


    ¡°Zaria!¡±


    He ran over to her, past fields of shattered skulls and falling showers of bone. It was hard to tell where the fluids ended, and the hyena began¡ªshe was wrapped in a shell of green, viscous liquid, something close to the smell and texture of a rotted egg yolk. But she was struggling back up, stabbing her poleaxe through the broken pavement and gripping the haft for support. He nearly ran straight into her, freely covering himself in the sandwyrm¡¯s bodily fluids as he helped her back to her feet.


    ¡°Are you alright?¡± Isaac said, trying to check her for wounds. ¡°Do you need aid?¡±


    Zaria wiped a thick sheet of dragon blood off her face. She bared her teeth, black snout curling into hard lines. With a vicious growl, she yanked her polearm from the ground, pointed it at the flailing wyrm, and shouted: ¡°You¡¯re fucking mine!¡±


    Then she charged at the massive beast, axe blade held high, completely covered in blood, screaming a war cry at the top of her lungs.


    ¡°Oh,¡± Isaac said.


    By now, the sandwyrm was thrashing its body as hard as it could, shaking off rainstorms of body parts with every thrust of its segments. The air was so thick with flying bones that it could¡¯ve been mistaken for a cloudy night sky. With these bones came globs of thick green blood, glittering shards of sandy scales, and Isaac could see the broken corpses digging through the hide and muscle, burrowing themselves in like tens of thousands of stinging insects.


    The dragon¡¯s mouth was wrenched open as it bellowed, and Zaria sprinted towards it again, holding her weapon down to her chest in a spearing thrust. She slammed into the roof of the maw with all her weight, the spear and axe disappearing into the flesh so deeply that half her polearm became buried inside. The beast gurgled, its tongue now just a jagged hunk of flesh, and it tried to crush her with its undulating rows of teeth.


    But Isaac had followed behind, and he casted a sharp gust of wind that physically pushed the circular mouth back open. He intensified the gale, flaying flesh and severing mandibles, catching the beast in a stalemate of force as it struggled to close its mouth. Meanwhile, Zaria had yanked her poleaxe back from the bleeding maw, bathing herself in a shower of blood, and she thrusted again with all her strength, stabbing over and over like the world¡¯s most horrible attempt at dental surgery.


    The sandwyrm rolled onto its back, its struggles weakening. The roof of its mouth was now pointing up towards the rib cage, and Zaria wasted no time in using the new leverage. She climbed up, standing straight and tall on the dragon¡¯s mouth, and impaled her polearm deep into its head, almost completely losing it inside the rolling flesh.


    The wyrm¡¯s roars ceased immediately. All the segments flexed for one long moment, then relaxed. Its jagged tongue flopped onto its teeth, and its breath came out in one final gust of steaming air. The only part of it that still moved was the rivers of green blood flowing from its body.


    Zaria ripped her poleaxe from the sandwyrm¡¯s mouth, chunks of its skull and brain still speared onto it. Then her legs buckled, and she collapsed onto the pavement.


    Isaac ran over and tried to help her stand. It was difficult¡ªshe weighed more than him, and he was winded from casting all his spells. The noxious shell of dragon blood and saliva coating her body was like digging through a swamp. Still, he leaned her weight against him, draping her arm over his shoulder, smearing all the horrible fluids across himself in the process, and, together, they struggled back to their feet.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know whether to thank you or smack you,¡± Isaac said.


    Zaria lifted her head, streams of green blood sloughing off. ¡°Isaac.¡±


    ¡°You charged at a sandwyrm. I was trying to distract it! What did you think¡ª¡±


    ¡°Isaac!¡±


    He turned and looked.


    The sea of bones was coalescing again. A flood of corpses tumbled over the shattered pavement, sockets and joints connecting together as the pieces slid and rolled and hopped. They grew in a semicircle around them, encasing the two against the sandwyrm¡¯s maw. The bones built themselves into nests and masses, mashing together into swarms and streams, layers upon layers compacting and growing taller, churning higher and higher until there was a solid, writhing wall of corpses encircling them, completely cutting off the view of the necropolis. There was only bone, like a thick blizzard of death and decay.


    With Zaria¡¯s arm still draped over him, Isaac casted his anti-necrotic light, burning it into a thick shell around them. The circling tide of bones flinched back as they singed themselves on the edges, the entire ocean shifting like an uncoiling snake. The bones retreated when they should¡¯ve attacked. With that kind of necrotic mass, the sorceress could easily overwhelm his spell and crush them both.


    They were at her mercy. But she was staying her hand again.


    In front of them, the swirling bones shifted. Something bulbous popped out of the stream, held at the top of an elongated pole of vertebrae and fingers that uncannily resembled the stem and thorns of a rose. Instead of petals on the rose, there was a skull. A human skull. It reached towards them, like the head of a lighthouse growing horizontally from a stormy sea, and stopped just at the edge of the white light. The dark, eyeless sockets on its face seemed to gaze at them, and its lower jaw rattled back and forth, like it didn¡¯t quite fit properly.


    ¡°Isaac,¡± the skull said.


    The voice was thin and hissing, struggling with the word. It sounded as if it had never attempted language before.


    ¡°Isssssaaaaaaaccc.¡±


    ¡°Squire,¡± Zaria said, gripping her weapon. ¡°What¡¯s happening?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t know.¡±


    ¡°Real good time to remember your fucking books now, love.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t know!¡±


    ¡°Isa¡ªIc¡ªaaaaa¡ªIsaaaaac.¡±


    The skull attempted to come closer, the squirming rose stem growing taller, but Isaac intensified his light, extending the dome outwards until it slapped against the skinless face. The entire stalk of bones flinched upwards out of the ocean, curling like a dandelion in the breeze. When it came back down, the skull face had melted, liquified bone oozing off like candle wax.


    ¡°What do you want, necromancer?¡± Isaac said. ¡°Why are you sparing us?¡±


    Around them, the bone wall slithered back, the streams inside boiling faster.


    ¡°Have you been listening to our conversations? Is that how you know my name?¡±


    A chorus of sighs bled out from the swirling wall.


    ¡°I offer no quarter!¡± Isaac yelled. ¡°You imprisoned my father! You have sustained your unnatural life upon thousands of bodies! The Diet of Nine commands your death!¡±


    Zaria gripped his shoulder, leaning more weight against him. ¡°Prudence, Isaac, for fuck¡¯s sake.¡±


    ¡°I¡ªI¡ªIssssaa¡ªaaaaaacccc¡ª¡±


    More stalks grew from the bones, budding outwards like fungi sprouts. All of them were capped with skulls. The faces chattered around them, growling and snarling, fighting their own anatomy. There were words coming from the hissing voices, somewhere just beyond the point of understanding. The sorceress was attempting to speak, but the language seemed fleshless and ancient.


    ¡°What game are you playing?¡± he asked. ¡°Just kill us already, if you¡¯re going to.¡±


    Zaria gripped him very tightly.


    The skull stalks bent back, like they had been taken by surprise.


    ¡°I will not be intimidated,¡± Isaac said. ¡°You¡¯ll have to do better than a sandwyrm if you wish to scare me. I¡¯ve fought many to get here. And I¡¯ll fight whatever you throw at me, too.¡±


    As if in response, the bone wall slithered away, like the eye of a tornado drifting apart.


    Isaac stepped forward into the gap, dragging Zaria with him. ¡°What do you want? There must be some reason you¡¯re sparing us.¡±


    ¡°Isaac,¡± the skull stalks replied, swaying like a meadow of flowers.


    ¡°Do you want my aid?¡± Isaac asked. ¡°Is that why you¡¯re not killing us? Did you summon the sandwyrm just so we could help you slay the beast?¡±


    The skull stalks twisted and bent around each other, tangling their vertebrae stems like a knot of hair.


    ¡°That¡¯s it, isn¡¯t it? You wanted our help.¡± He burned his light a little brighter. ¡°The sandwyrm was already going to attack. You just centered it on where we were. And, well, if it didn¡¯t kill us, then you¡¯d have our help killing it. Isn¡¯t that right?¡±


    The ocean of bones flexed around them, like the pull and expansion of a diaphragm.


    ¡°And, now, you¡¯re not killing us because you still want our help.¡± He glared at the skulls. ¡°Let me guess. It¡¯s the other sorcerer. The puppeteer.¡±


    The skulls gasped. Hissing breaths, rattling moans.


    ¡°You¡¯re scared of this sorcerer. Scared enough to ask us for aid. That must mean you¡¯re desperate. You are, aren¡¯t you?¡±


    All around him, the skulls began to nod, wobbling on their vertebrae stems.


    ¡°Who is this sorcerer, then? What do they want? How many thralls do they have under their command?¡±


    The melted skull gurgled, fighting to speak. All the other faces clattered around it, and he could see dozens of others inside the ocean, briefly visible as they spun and tumbled.


    ¡°Yes or no questions,¡± Zaria said, spitting dragon blood from her mouth. ¡°Don¡¯t think she can talk too well.¡±


    ¡°Are you going to kill us?¡± Isaac asked.


    The stalks of heads shook from side to side.


    ¡°If we find the other sorcerer, will they try to kill us?¡±


    The stalks nodded, their vertebrae almost splitting apart.


    ¡°Is this your way of asking for an alliance?¡±


    The stalks hesitated for a moment. Then they nodded again.


    Isaac clenched his jaw, staring into the rows of skulls. ¡°Is my father still alive? Have you tortured him all these years?¡±


    The head stalks flexed upwards towards the rib cage sky, as if begging it for strength.


    ¡°Answer me!¡±


    The skulls looked down, shifting their stalks along the ocean of bones until they were held in a tight circle above him. He received the distinct impression of a singular intelligence staring back with many faces.


    ¡°Fine!¡± Isaac ended the light from his hand, using the free arm to continue supporting Zaria. ¡°You¡¯ll have a truce! But it only lasts until the other sorcerer is dead! Once that happens, you¡¯re next! Do we understand each other?¡±


    For a moment, the stalks did not move. Then, slowly, almost barely enough to notice, they nodded.


    ¡°Good! Now get out of my way!¡±


    The sea of bones began to part, cleaving a path down into itself as all the tiny pieces scuttled away. By the end, there was a hallway extending through the corpses. Isaac reaffirmed his grip on Zaria and walked through the parted sea of bodies. He felt the stalks of skulls watch him intently as he passed, hearing them slither and crack as they melted back into the central mass.


    They held onto each other as they walked, breathing heavily. Beyond the shattered courtyard, vast swathes of the dead city laid in ruin from the sandwyrm¡¯s thrashing. He headed through the rubble, towards the lower end of the rib cage. Somewhere down past the edges of the city, the glowing rib cage ended, and the abdomen began. Somewhere by the feet of the giant creature, the necromancer waited for them. Somewhere closer, the rival sorcerer marshalled their thralls to strike.


    He could almost feel the presence of his father now, closer than ever. Behind him, he heard the sea of bones scattering into swarms and slugs, tumbling their way through the debris. In short order, they were gone. Only the silence of the city remained.


    ¡°Are you okay?¡± Isaac asked.


    Zaria hacked a fat wad of spit onto the ground. ¡°Nothing worse than what I had before.¡±


    ¡°The pirates?¡±


    ¡°Ran clear off. Even Soren. Could track ¡®em by their piss trails.¡±


    Isaac had to catch his breath for a moment, both out of exhaustion and surprise. ¡°The plan worked?¡±


    ¡°Are you having some doubts about being alive at the moment?¡±


    He looked behind them. The pirates were gone, their fortifications smashed. Nothing remained in the palace grounds but shattered skulls and a dead sandwyrm.


    ¡°We got lucky,¡± Isaac said. ¡°Very lucky.¡±


    She blew a raspberry. ¡°Not luck at all. Had my squire by my side.¡±


    ¡°I can¡¯t always save you from running into a dragon¡¯s mouth, you know.¡±


    ¡°Saved your life, didn¡¯t it?¡±


    ¡°Maybe.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s an odd way of saying thank you.¡±


    ¡°It was incredibly stupid of you, and I will happily let you die if you try it again.¡± He paused. ¡°And thank you.¡±


    ¡°You know what lesson I¡¯ve taken from this?¡±


    ¡°Enlighten me.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re cute when you yell.¡±


    He laughed, despite himself. ¡°Is that really what you¡¯re going to focus on?¡±


    ¡°Not just that. I rather think I¡¯ve killed more dragons than you.¡±


    ¡°We¡¯re not doing this right now.¡±


    ¡°No, no, no. Tell me so. What¡¯s the tallies say? Looking like a fat one and nothing, is it not?¡±


    ¡°If you¡¯re so great, why don¡¯t you try walking through a nest of them? I¡¯ll watch.¡±


    ¡°Am I hurting your dignity, Isaac?¡±


    ¡°We did it together. As a team.¡±


    ¡°Squire, henceforth, you shall refer to me as Wyrmslayer.¡±


    He swiped a thick stream of dragon blood off his shirt. ¡°You know, Zaria, I¡¯m starting to think you smell better now.¡±


    She scooped an oozing ball of blood from her chest and swiped it at his face. He attempted to dodge, but a strand of it struck his mouth like an octopus tentacle, and he nearly gagged from the taste. Zaria gave a snickering laugh, and, despite the circumstances, despite all the dangers he¡¯d just faced, and all the ones he knew were still to come, Isaac found himself laughing, too. He laughed because she was laughing. He laughed like he¡¯d never had the experience before, laughed until he was choking for breath and struggling to carry her weight. He had never felt more happy to be alive in his entire life.


    Their laughter echoed down the ruins. Isaac almost didn¡¯t notice the single skull perched on the last of the courtyard walls, watching them as they passed.

 Paper Wings

    The noble district had eroded down to caves, stalactites, and melted bone.


    Somewhere around the abdomen, the body cavity had ended, narrowing down into tunnels and corridors that snaked through the earth. Isaac could only guess that there had been an extensive series of aqueducts running along the district¡ªmany of the homes, most of them carved out of the natural granite, had completely flooded with groundwater, and there were entire rivers flowing through the streets, the natural process of erosion slowly dissolving all of the carefully sculpted architecture. Once, there had been public fountains, bathhouses, sewage systems. Now, it hardly seemed different than an ocean cove. Within a few more centuries, all traces of culture and art would be gone.


    They made their way through the tunnels and caves, leaping over the canyons carved by groundwater rivers, squeezing through the teeth of growing stalagmites. Neither of them found a good place to rest. If the carved out homes weren¡¯t flooded, many of them had simply caved in, and Zaria was very insistent that they shouldn¡¯t camp in the open streets¡ªthey needed a properly defensible structure. Despite their growing exhaustion, and the drying cakes of sandwyrm blood clinging to their clothes, they continued to travel deeper into the earth, guided by bulbous lampposts of cartilage light.


    After what seemed like hours of cave exploration, they came across a vast open chamber with a large, jagged lake in the center. Ground water dripped in streams down the thin remnants of ancient pillars. Some faded mosaics were barely clinging to legibility on the floor. On the walls, there were arched holes acting as ventilation shafts, somewhere steam could enter from the broiling rooms.


    This had been a public pool and sauna. Now, it didn¡¯t seem much different than any other cave. After thousands of years, there was more craggy rock than carved stone.


    ¡°Finally,¡± Zaria said, throwing her pack off her shoulders. ¡°Some bath water.¡±


    Isaac cracked open several layers of dried blood as he slipped off his own pack. ¡°Didn¡¯t think you were familiar with the concept.¡±


    ¡°Be a good squire and seal off the entrance, would you?¡±


    He casted an anti-necrotic warding spell into his hands, spreading the thin film of purple light around the mouth of the cave entrance. He doubted it would do much good. If the necromancer was determined enough, she could breach it fairly easily, and the other sorcerer would just command their thralls to blast it down. Still, it was better than nothing.


    By the lip of the public pool, Zaria was hastily shrugging off her armor and clothes. Her spotted fur was caked in green blood, and the few unsullied hairs appeared golden when they caught the cartilage lamplight. He could see the muscles of her back flexing as she unclasped the last of her garments, the shadow of her tail moving over the curve of her rear, the briefest glimpse of her breasts bouncing as she¡ª


    ¡°Isaac.¡±


    He nearly tripped on the roughly worn stone.


    She had turned to him, completely naked and smeared in blood. ¡°You got some purifying chemicals on you? The water¡¯s rather brackish.¡±


    He fought a very hard battle to keep his eyes on her face. ¡°Are you¡ªcan there be some modesty, please?¡±


    ¡°What for? We¡¯ve already fucked, haven¡¯t we?¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s, uh¡ª¡±


    ¡°Isaac,¡± she said. ¡°I have tits. Got a cunt betwixt my legs. I trust you were aware of this.¡±


    He cleared his throat. ¡°I do know some¡ªuh, some purifying. . . .¡± He moved quickly towards the pool. ¡°Evocations. One second.¡±


    He crouched down at the edge of the pool, trying very hard to force the blush from his face. True to her word, the ancient water had congealed into something brown and full of sediment, long-dead pond scum floating listlessly on the top layer. After a few mnemonic attempts, soft beams of light shined from his palms. They dissolved the dead plant life as easily as dripping groundwater had eroded the stone around them. Over the course of a minute, the light crawled across the entire length of the pool, leaving the water almost pristinely clear.


    Her hand slapped his back. ¡°No idea how I managed to get through life without a servant mage at my beck and call. Indispensable, you are.¡±


    ¡°Keep calling me your squire, and I¡¯ll start charging you for this.¡±


    ¡°Oh?¡± She crouched behind him. ¡°What¡¯s the price gonna be?¡±


    He didn¡¯t answer.


    After a long moment, she stood back up, positioned her feet at the edge of the pool, and dove headfirst into the water. Her body twisted nimbly underneath the surface¡ªhe could see her doing flips, the thicker tufts of her fur waving with the motion, and her hips seemed to curve in such a way¡ª


    He stood up, almost went to eat some rations, remembered he was covered in dragon blood, and made his way over to the opposite end of the pool. Gingerly, he removed his own clothes and waded into the shallows. The water was freezing cold. A thick film of green blood spread around him as he ventured up to his chest. He scrubbed his skin with his bare hands, scraping a heavy layer of grime, fluid and sweat from his body. It felt like he was rubbing off the collective weight of his entire journey.


    He had come very far. He had survived against seemingly impossible odds. But, instead of feeling hopeful at the closeness of his destination, instead of imagining the face of his father, he thought of the sorceress and her oceans of bone.


    She was manipulating them. That much was obvious. Summoning the sandwyrm when they were facing off with Soren had been a smart ploy¡ªthe dragon had already been agitated enough that its attack couldn¡¯t be avoided. She¡¯d merely focused its strike on the intruders in her tomb. Either the beast would kill them, or she¡¯d have their help killing it. Either way, she¡¯d gain some advantage.


    Now, she had spared their lives in the hopes that they¡¯d help her defeat the puppeteer sorcerer. Isaac could agree with the wisdom of such a truce¡ªparasite magic was incredibly powerful, and the puppeteer would certainly be hostile to a Diet member such as himself. Whoever this interloper was, they were just as much of a threat to his mission as his father¡¯s captor. Still, it didn¡¯t make the sorceress¡¯ obvious attempts at divide and conquer tactics any more palatable.


    They were safe in this bathhouse, for now. But their new alliance with the necromancer was little more than a reprieve for both sides. Once the puppeteer was dead, the conflict would resume, and he knew that she would be preparing her betrayal. He would have to do the same.


    ¡°Isaac!¡± Zaria called, head bobbing on the other end of the pool. ¡°Come on over! Water¡¯s lovely!¡±


    He blushed again. He was beginning to hate how easily he did so. ¡°I¡¯m fine.¡±


    ¡°That was not a request, squire! Get over here!¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t¡ª¡± He looked into the deep water. ¡°I don¡¯t know how to swim.¡±


    She stopped paddling. ¡°Truly? Didn¡¯t you say your tower was next to a river?¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± he said. ¡°I saw it every day. At night, I¡¯d fall asleep to the sounds it made. I¡¯d bathe in the water frequently. But I never¡ª¡± He rubbed some crusted dragon blood off his chest. ¡°No one would ever teach me, and I was always too scared to wade in deeper. Kept imagining the current dragging me under, and I¡¯d just . . . get discouraged.¡±


    She stroked closer to him. ¡°Could show you some lessons, if you wish.¡±


    ¡°No, I¡ª¡± He gestured over to a broken down section of the stone wall. ¡°I noticed some, uh, lichen growing on the rocks. It¡¯s a species with very fibrous shoots. We could make a fire out of it.¡±


    She looked at him over the water, mohawk trailing down past an eye.


    ¡°I¡¯ll go do that,¡± he said, wading back out of the pool. He was now acutely angry at the blush on his face.


    He exited the pool, shivering and naked. He collected her dagger, went over to the small cave-in, used the blade to scrape off as much lichen as he could, and brought the ball of leafy fungi over to their packs. After using some scattered rocks to build a campfire, he lit the lichen with a small torch of flame from his hand. It spread fast, and the flames gave off frequent cracks as the mycelia popped.


    Zaria continued to swim around the pool, performing lazy strokes. From the edge, he washed his filthy clothes as much as he could and laid them out by the fire to dry. He sat down on the craggy floor and stared into the flames, still cold from the water, trying to warm himself.


    Frustration built inside of him. He hated the fear he had felt when staring into the water. As a boy, after his training and studies, he had frequently walked to the edge of the river by his tower. Every time, he had promised himself that he would take the plunge. He would jump into the water, past the point where his feet touched the bottom, and he would teach himself to swim. But every time the water passed his chest, and every time he stared into the dark murky currents, the fear would overcome him¡ªnot just the fear of death, but the fear that his uncle would spot him shirking his duties. Every time, he had cowered away.


    He still couldn¡¯t do it. He was still afraid. He had faced dragons, pirates, and an army of necromancy, but this one basic task still eluded him. Others knew how to swim. They did not consider it something to fear. The sound of Zaria splashing behind him only made his fists clench tighter.


    Why couldn¡¯t he do this? Why was it so daunting in his mind? Would he feel this fear when doing any other basic task? Would he be afraid to order a drink in a tavern? Would he be afraid to ride a horse?


    Would he ever be able to live a normal life?


    A rush of water came behind him. Zaria had climbed out of the pool, water streaming down her spotted fur. She sauntered over to a stone bench next to the fire and squatted down on the edge, holding her hands to the flames. ¡°Toss me some rations, would you, love?¡±


    He reached over to his pack and flung a few cuts of salt meat her way. He began to pound his fist into a brick of hardtack. The only sounds in the bathhouse were the crackling flames and their labored chewing.


    They were both naked. Of course, they had to be. Their clothes were filthy and wet. Their state of undress shouldn¡¯t be noteworthy. And yet, he was afraid again. He felt vulnerable. Exposed. He was terrified to meet her gaze. She was right¡ªthey¡¯d had sex already. They had fucked. Why was he so nervous? What cause did he have to feel this way? Why was his heart pounding so¡ª


    ¡°You got a serious look about you,¡± Zaria said.


    He glanced at her briefly. Even that felt like too much. ¡°I¡¯m fine.¡±


    ¡°Thinking of your father?¡±


    He blinked, caught off-guard. ¡°No. Not at all, actually.¡±


    ¡°Why not?¡± She ripped off a hunk of meat. ¡°We¡¯re close now. Gotta be. Might be time to rehearse a speech.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ve . . . never actually thought about what I¡¯ll do when I reach him.¡± That wasn¡¯t quite true. He had thought of it¡ªoccasionally. Mostly, the thoughts had made him afraid, and he had never figured out why. ¡°The focus was always the journey. The dangers I¡¯d face. How much harder I had to train to face them.¡±


    ¡°Well,¡± she said, scooting forward on the bench, ¡°after being imprisoned for so long, I¡¯d say he¡¯s thought much about it, to say the least. Probably cry his eyes out at the sight of you.¡±


    He tossed another wad of lichen in the fire. ¡°He feels like a stranger to me. You know, he¡¯s just . . . an idea. I¡¯ve never seen his face. I¡¯ve never heard his voice. All I know about him is what others have told me.¡± Something occurred to him. ¡°I¡¯ve really just been thinking about all the things I¡¯ll do after I rescue him, all the places I want to travel, and he¡¯s not in any of them. I¡¯ve never included him in my fantasies. I . . . I don¡¯t want to. I don¡¯t really want him to be in my life.¡±


    The fire gave a sharp crack.


    ¡°That¡¯s understandable. Your experience with mentors wasn¡¯t the best.¡± She crossed her legs. ¡°You¡¯ll get to know each other. Maybe that¡¯ll change.¡±


    He broke off more chunks of hardtack, just to do something. ¡°We¡¯re close to the treasure, too. You happy about that?¡±


    ¡°Some, I suppose. Can¡¯t say the idea of being filthy rich doesn¡¯t tickle me a bit, but. . . .¡± She shrugged, chewing again. ¡°Not thinking about it neither, actually. More happy that my old crew aren¡¯t hounding me so fiercely. You should¡¯ve seen the way they fled from us.¡± She laughed. ¡°Never seen Soren turn craven like that. Think I¡¯d give all the gold in the world just to see the back of her ears flop away again.¡±


    ¡°Some of us probably should¡¯ve been running with her.¡±


    ¡°Oh, don¡¯t you start that shite again. I saved your life, sir mage. Nothing can change that now.¡± She paused. ¡°And thank you for me helping me.¡±


    ¡°Sure,¡± he said, still gazing into the fire.


    ¡°Isaac.¡±


    He looked over to her. She was sitting on the bench, hands on her knees, elbows gently pushing her breasts together, and her wet fur hung like blades of grass across her body.


    ¡°Thanks for helping me,¡± she said. ¡°I know you went out of your way to do so. Just want to say¡ªit¡¯s appreciated.¡±


    He shrugged with what he hoped was nonchalance. ¡°Just doing my duty. Someone had to stop her from tossing bombs. I mean, think of the archaeology. All the history we lost.¡±


    ¡°Absolutely nothing else motivating you, was there?¡±


    ¡°I would never aid the cutthroat who took me hostage.¡±


    ¡°Oh, aye. Course not. Just spill your want inside her.¡±


    He became aware of his nakedness again. He tucked his legs tighter against himself, staring into the fire.


    She stood up from the bench. ¡°Would you stop that sullenness already? We¡¯re close now. We fought our way through more shite than anyone could¡¯ve expected us to. We¡¯re alive. Stop acting like the world¡¯s gonna end.¡±


    ¡°We still have to kill the necromancer,¡± Isaac said. ¡°And the other sorcerer¡ªshe¡¯s scared of them. That means we should be scared of them, too.¡±


    ¡°Oh, fuck off. What do I got to do to cheer you up?¡±


    He looked over to her, ready to say something, but the words stopped in his throat.


    She was standing next to the fire, and the shadows of the flames danced across her body. The light illuminated the curve of her breasts, the shadows cast by her nipples jumping and leaping across their expanse. Orange flickers played across tawny fur, running down the trail of spots on her hips and thighs. And, between her legs, cast in deep shadow, he could faintly see the folds of her sex, a thin hint of pink that sent his mind racing.


    Heat. Wetness. Pressure. Sliding. Pounding, beating, exploding¡ª


    ¡°Has something of mine caught your attention, squire?¡±


    He almost looked away. He almost changed the subject. He almost let the shame win.


    But something stopped him. A sharp sense of certainty pierced through his fear.


    ¡°Yes,¡± Isaac said. ¡°It has.¡±


    She hummed from her throat. ¡°Truly, now? Feel free to be specific.¡±


    The way her fur had been soft and warm in his face. The way her flesh had bounced against him. The blend of hard muscle and soft fat. The tightness. The weight. The curves. The heat, the smell, the sounds.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know where to begin,¡± he said.


    She cocked her hip, and the shadows rolled across her chest. ¡°Am I making you lose your words, Isaac?¡±


    His breath seemed hotter than the fire. ¡°Yes.¡±


    ¡°Have you been thinking about me since the chapel?¡±


    He was on his feet without a single thought. ¡°Yes.¡±


    ¡°Do you want to fuck me?¡±


    He moved towards her like a runaway carriage.


    But she pushed him back, holding him at arm¡¯s length. He pressed his shoulder deeper into the pads of her hand, remembering the way they had gripped him in the chapel.


    ¡°Isaac,¡± she said. ¡°Are you sure you want this, now?¡±


    Fur. Heat. Pressure.


    ¡°More than anything else in my life,¡± he said.


    She blinked down at him. ¡°Well. Fuck me if that¡¯s not incredibly arousing, but¡ª¡± She gripped his other shoulder, holding him tight. ¡°There¡¯s no pressure on you. I¡¯m just teasing. Don¡¯t want you feeling obligated into this.¡±


    ¡°Zaria,¡± he said. ¡°I don¡¯t think you understood me before. I liked what happened. I liked it so much that it made me rethink everything I ever knew about life.¡± The words came rushing out of him. ¡°I want to fuck you.¡±


    For a moment, she looked at him very carefully. Peering into his eyes, looking for any sign of doubt. Then, slowly, her usual grin emerged, like she had stopped forcing it down.


    She paced backwards towards the stone bench, dragging him along. She sat down on the edge of the ancient furniture and rolled her shoulders back, baring her breasts. The parting of her thighs told him she had already grown wet and ready.


    ¡°Go on, then,¡± she said. ¡°Far be it for a knight to deny her squire the best medicine he¡¯s ever tasted.¡±


    His inexperience reared itself again. He didn¡¯t know what to do. He didn¡¯t know the proper pace of things. His life had always been strict routine, a listed delineation of steps and procedures. He looked at her, and the fear of failure twisted inside his guts.


    Then he caught a waft of her musk. Instinct took over. The last word she had said.


    Tasted.


    He dove between her legs like a bloodhound sprinting towards the scent of its target. His knees hit the craggy floor, and his hands gripped at her thighs, fingers sinking into meat and fur. The heat radiating from her loins wrapped around his face¡ªa long inhale burned her heady musk deep into his brain, and his sharp exhale brushed against her glistening sex. Shivers spread through the skin, bristling the fur.


    ¡°Hold a moment.¡±


    She wrapped a loose hand around his cheek, her thumb pushing his chin up to meet her gaze.Help support creative writers by finding and reading their stories on the original site.


    ¡°You realize the sorceress is probably watching us, aye?¡±


    ¡°Good,¡± he replied. ¡°I hope she can hear us, too.¡±


    A laugh tumbled out of the hyena. ¡°You got some real depravity tainting your soul, don¡¯t you?¡±


    He breathed onto her loins again, marveling at the way they glistened.


    ¡°Be honest,¡± she said, a hungry glint in her eyes. ¡°How often did you jerk your gherkin up in that tower?¡±


    ¡°I could¡¯ve been a carpenter if my only job was painting walls.¡±


    He pressed his lips to hers, and her laughter turned into a shuddering sigh. His tongue traced across her creases, dug through her folds, only barely keeping pace with his desire. The hand on his face shifted around to the back of his head, and her thighs closed around his ears, eclipsing the room from sight, hot and soft and burying him deeper.


    ¡°By the cunt of¡ª¡± She breathed out. ¡°I¡¯d heard humans had smooth tongues, but¡ª¡±


    Her emissions coated his face, soaking into his scraggly beard. She tasted almost sour, slightly metallic, the texture viscous and coating his tongue¡ªevery time he drew back for a breath, strands of it clung to his mouth, still connecting him to her, and the sight only made him dive in deeper, mouthing and kissing and licking. His arms roamed around her thighs, supporting them on his shoulders, and his hands wandered along the curve of her hips, looking for something to grab.


    ¡°Forget it,¡± she said, her hand resting on his head. ¡°Forget everything I said about you being my squire. I¡ªfuck, this is your new calling, love. We¡¯re gonna do this every fucking day from now on.¡±


    He pressed his face deeper, rubbing his nose through her lips as his tongue circled her opening.


    ¡°Oh, did you like me saying that?¡±


    His hands tightened on her thighs. One of her hands came down to grip his, and the claws of the other started stroking through his hair.


    ¡°I¡¯d have you on your knees whenever the feeling striked me.¡± Her thighs pressed around his head. ¡°I¡¯d have you drinking only my juices for sustenance.¡± Her hips slid forward along the bench, grinding against his face. ¡°I¡¯d do any favor you asked of me, so long as you kept that tongue between my legs.¡±


    The blush on his face was almost as hot as the feverish pulse coming from her loins. His sensations were all a blur of liquids¡ªher wetness, his saliva and sweat, the water from the pool. The fear of not knowing what to do fled from his mind. He drew shapes with his tongue, roaming in circles, side to side, squeezing his muscle down to a needle to dig through her folds and pushing it out flat to drag across her lips. She responded to every one of his touches. Her fingers massaged through his hair, her thighs shivered and flexed, her breath stopped and started. Every reaction confirmed the rightness of his efforts, sending him further into lust and frenzy.


    And he also found more than a little satisfaction in making her squirm the same way she had done to him.


    ¡°Higher,¡± she panted. ¡°Isaac. Higher¡ªthe fucking¡ªhigher¡ª¡±


    He moved upwards, his ears rubbing through the embrace of her thighs, and he began to mouth at the hood of her sex. She immediately bucked herself against him, her legs leaving the floor to drape across his back. He enclosed his mouth around his new target. Remembering anatomy diagrams, he began to suck in earnest, keeping the seal of his lips tight but soft.


    A gasp echoed across the ancient bathhouse. Her tail whacked against his chest, wrapping itself around his neck, and she bent one of her legs over the other, squeezing his face into her lips. He was now completely locked against her sex by the vice-like grip of her thighs, smothered in muscle, fur and fluids.


    ¡°Don¡¯t stop,¡± she growled.


    He had no intention to¡ªin fact, the forcefulness of her embrace only made him work harder. He dug his tongue in, gently licking the nub of flesh while his lips provided suction and pressure. Streams of her juices ran down his chin and neck. She was a burning hot furnace against him, and the texture of her loins grinding against his face almost made him forget to breathe. He was growing dizzy, her feminine musk flooding through his nostrils, every subtle note of the scent boiling his brain, and every single gasp of air was drenched in her taste.


    He could not have imagined a more delightful prison. He could not have imagined anything close to the reality. He could not have imagined how he had lived his life without this.


    ¡°Squire¡ªI¡¯m¡ª¡±


    Her legs locked him tighter, and she began to outright fuck his face, her pace erratic and needful, wringing him for all he was worth. Isaac held on by the meat of her thighs, continuing to lick as best he could while she bucked and shifted and grinded. He felt her growl vibrate down her body, felt her heartbeat thunder through her lips. In one final effort, timing it purely by her groans and gasps, he pressed his mouth to her sex and buried his face in her folds.


    Her climax announced itself with a flood of emissions, all her muscles flexing and shaking. With her hand and thighs gripping his head, and her fluffy tail wrapped around his neck, he remained locked tightly in place as she rode out a gushing high note of ecstasy. After he had seemingly swallowed more than a waterskin¡¯s worth of her juices, she began to relax, slowly releasing him from her hot and wet embrace.


    When he sat back onto his heels, finally able to get a good look at her, she was splayed across the bench, leaning back on her elbows and panting.


    ¡°You know,¡± he said, swallowing a bit more, ¡°you sure can make some cute moans.¡±


    She seemed to remember his existence. She sat up higher on the bench, her thighs parting around his head, and tried to say something. Nothing intelligible was heard. Finally, she grinned, all her teeth glinting orange in the firelight, and fell backwards onto the stone furniture, gazing up at the bathhouse ceiling and letting out a long sigh.


    Isaac¡¯s tongue felt numb and slimy. His short beard was dripping wet with her juices¡ªhe looked over to the pool, considered washing himself, but decided against it. The prospect of her fluids drying on his skin and hair made a roaring heat burn inside of him.


    All at once, Zaria began to sing.


    ¡°By the burning sands, by the spouting sinks


    He found his want, and he found his drinks.


    With a thirsting hand, all atop the sand


    He licked her cunt, and called her grand.¡±


    Isaac blushed so hard that he thought her emissions might evaporate from his face. Zaria laid on the bench, her loins still dripping wet, her voice bellowing the shanty with a flat pitch and a moaning rhythm.


    ¡°Hey, hey! Away!


    Gnashed her gash till she dripped and splashed.


    Hey, hey! Away!


    Sucked her muck till she tossed and bucked.


    Hey, hey! Away!¡±


    Isaac tossed more lichen into the fire and rummaged through her pack for a waterskin. He took out two, drinking greedily from the first.


    ¡°O, he noshed it once, and he noshed it twice


    He drank her straight like the sweetest spice


    He drank her fast, and he drank her slow


    And he damn near got her guts in tow


    Hey, hey! Away!¡±


    ¡°Catch!¡± Isaac shouted.


    She looked up in time to see the second waterskin flying at her face. She caught the pouch, still giggling to herself, her eyes reflecting the firelight back at him.


    ¡°Get your strength back,¡± he said. ¡°We¡¯re going again.¡±


    She snorted like she was waking from sleep. ¡°Are we, now?¡±


    Isaac angled his body close to the fire. Hanging in silhouette from the flames, his cock stood hard and painfully erect. Without taking his gaze off her, he wiped some of her emissions from his face, and used it as lubricant to wet his member, stroking up and down with a firm grip. He had never felt more rebellious in his entire life.


    Zaria¡¯s response alternated between laughter and attempts to catch her breath, guzzling down the waterskin like it was the last chance she would ever have. ¡°What happened to my innocent squire?¡±


    He approached her again, but she didn¡¯t rise to greet him. Instead, still lying on her back, she opened her legs and reached down a hand to spread her lips, her pink walls glistening with saliva.


    For a moment, practicality pierced through his lust, and Isaac began to worry of mechanics. Angles, depth, leverage. The bench she was lying on was about as tall as his knees, and his cock was perched at a rather strict angle. Half-crouching between her thighs, he tried to force himself into a proper position, pushing against his own anatomy in multiple ways. Panic rose up inside him. His body knew exactly what it had to do, but his conscious mind was betraying him, making him question every decision.


    ¡°Isaac.¡±


    He looked up at her like he was committing a heinous crime.


    She had risen onto her elbows, and her snout had curled into deep, gouging lines. ¡°Either you fuck me, or I¡¯m fucking you. Make a choice.¡±


    And, suddenly, that simplified things.


    It was like battle. Like fighting the necromancer. Either he killed her, or she killed him. Just like the life and death struggle of combat, there was no time to hesitate. Hesitation was defeat.


    He would not lose to the necromancer, and he would not lose to her.


    Without any words, he gripped her thighs for leverage, aligned his cock with her slit and speared himself into her.


    The sensations struck him in a blur. She was tight, slick, roaring hot. Her cunt gripped him like a fist. He burrowed himself through until his thighs slapped against the meat of her ass. A ragged breath escaped him¡ªthere were so many exotic sensations burning through his mind that he felt compelled to stop, remaining stationary and hilted into her, struggling to regain his focus.


    He heard a growl. Suddenly, Zaria ripped her thighs from his grip and wrapped them around his hips. She squeezed him deeper like she meant to break him in half, pushing him further than he thought his anatomy might¡¯ve allowed. Her face had the appearance of someone ready to fight to the death.


    Isaac growled back, surprising himself more than her, and he bucked his hips back against the grip of her legs. He only escaped because she seemed to let him¡ªeven still, he did not get far. He had no choice but to continue the attack. Leaning his hands against her abdominal muscles, he thrusted with a surging need, harder than he thought either of them could handle. She was hotter than a furnace, she was softer than silk, she was wet and tight and perfect, she was better than he could have ever dreamed, and he could not pound hard enough to sate his wants.


    They fell into a savage rhythm. Her flesh rippled with every thrust, his body making the most obscene sounds when it crashed into hers, and she kneaded at her breasts, panting as loud as he was, her legs finding the rhythm of his thrusts and propelling him deeper at the apex of his motions.


    ¡°Harder!¡± she yelled.


    Isaac increased his pace¡ªas much as he could through her leg-locking¡ªbut the mechanics were working against him. The bench was not at the right height. His positioning was awkward and straining his legs. He was already drenched in sweat, growing exhausted from the effort.


    Instead, when he hilted himself inside her, he rubbed his pelvis against her sex, remembering the way she had done so before. He continued this new tactic, his strikes losing some of their ruthless frequency, hoping for a reaction. She was gripping her breasts as if she meant to tear them off her chest. A snarl flared from between her teeth, and Isaac thought of an explorer approaching the den of some vicious beast, the warning growl of a predator that told the ignorant traveler that they would surely die if they proceeded any further.


    ¡°Deeper!¡±


    He gave it his all. He held no strength in reserve. He struck so hard and fast that he thought his testicles might succumb to sheer blunt force trauma.


    Finally, Zaria rose from her prone position, her arms reaching towards him. She hugged him tight enough to force the air from his lungs, and she flung him on top of her like the opening of a wrestling match, rolling her hips in time with the flip to still keep him embedded inside. He fell face-first into the valley of her breasts, the soft globes pooling over his shoulders, his entire body resting on top of her, his feet barely able to reach the floor.


    ¡°Deeper!¡±


    And, suddenly, he could thrust deeper. The angle had changed, the pressure had shifted, their anatomies had more properly aligned. His hips bucked like they had no other place or purpose, and he was amazed that his cock was not rearranging her intestines with every impalement. There was no part of his body that was not compressed against her form in some way¡ªher arms were like vices around his back, her wrapping legs accelerated every one of his thrusts, and his face was smothered in the thick fur of her chest. He rubbed his cheek against it, relishing the texture, burying his nose in the hairs and breathing deeply of her scent.


    ¡°Squire! Suck on my tits!¡±


    Isaac complied without the slightest hesitation. She relaxed the grip of her arms just enough for him to scoop one of her breasts towards his face, and he sucked on her areola in much the same way he¡¯d done to her nethers, sealing his lips around the nipple, gently tugging and licking as it tried to bounce back and forth. Her response was somewhere between a growl and a shudder, the claws of her hands digging at his back.


    On the craggy stone wall next to them, the shadows of their bodies were mashed into one giant form. It didn¡¯t look much different than the necromancer¡¯s mass of bones¡ªa seemingly horrible configuration of gyrating shapes and grasping limbs, all of it undulating upon itself.


    Isaac couldn¡¯t help it. He laughed at the mental image, the nipple freeing from his mouth.


    ¡°What¡¯s this?¡± Zaria shouted. ¡°You think this is fun and games, do you?¡±


    This only made him laugh harder.


    Suddenly, in the middle of one of his thrusts, her tail brushed against his ass. The sensation was so unexpected that he nearly fall off her body entirely. Her grin widened as she kept batting it against him like a wandering dust feather, forcing him to brush against the fluffy appendage with every buck of his hips. He discovered, rather forcefully, that he was ticklish.


    ¡°Stop it!¡±


    ¡°Make me!¡±


    Feeling that he was losing the tactical advantage, Isaac laid his body flat against hers to free up his hands. He casted a thin layer of ice across his palms, somewhat impressed that he had such fine control of the element despite his other ongoing efforts. He pressed his icy hands below her armpits, and her scream of shock was almost girlishly high-pitched.


    ¡°That¡¯s cheating, Isaac!¡±


    ¡°Fuck you! I¡¯m winning!¡±


    She pried his arms off her flanks, growling and panting. Her legs strangled down on his hips, all but sealing himself against her, and he dipped down to suck at her breasts again, almost as an angry response rather than a consensual exchange of pleasure. He wasn¡¯t exactly sure who was fucking who anymore¡ªhe was losing ground, running out of options.


    And now the pressure was building inside him again. From the sound of her breathing, the same was happening to her. Suddenly, he saw his chance at victory. He used the last of his strength to unleash a full-frontal assault¡ªhe pounded and sucked and gripped and grabbed and used all the leverage there was to offer. Their breaths grew more erratic, the echoes of striking flesh bubbling into a frantic pace, all their movements desperate and needful and wanting.


    She would cum first. He could feel it on every writhing inch of her body. He was going to win.


    But then she bent her head down towards him, rubbing her snout against his ear, and, in a quiet, cooing voice, she whispered only a single word.


    ¡°Squire.¡±


    Isaac¡¯s orgasm exploded through him, eclipsing all his senses. Zaria¡¯s came a distinctive second later. They tightened their grip on each other like they met get swept away otherwise, and he seemed to pump every single drop of cum he had into her, her walls contracting and trembling around him, her claws scratching across his back, her legs pressing him as deep as he could possibly go, sharpening every single note of ecstasy. When the waves of pleasure finally receded, it felt like waking from a dream¡ªhis mind reeling, his entire body tingling, all his muscles going limp.


    He buried his face in the fur of her chest, rubbing his cheeks through the fluffy hair. It seemed almost impossible that someone like her could be so soft and warm . . . and that he was starting to deeply enjoy the way she smelled. Lying on top of her as he was, he found that he no longer missed the comforts of his bed.


    But her hands were still on his back, and their presence caused worry to pierce his thoughts. Had he done well? Had he not gone hard enough for her? Had there been some technique he could¡¯ve employed to improve the experience? Had she ever had anything better than what he could¡ª


    Her fingers burrowed beneath his chin, lifting his head up towards hers. And just when Isaac was about to apologize, just when he thought he needed to explain his failures, she kissed him.


    He froze in surprise as her tongue moved past his lips. It slithered past his teeth and coiled around his own muscle, seeking and batting. On complete instinct, he followed her lead¡ªhe closed his eyes, pressed his lips against her muzzle, and pushed his tongue back against hers. They flexed together, curling and probing, wrapping and sliding, and she took great care not to hurt him with the slight barbs of her muscle.


    Then, just when he was starting to remember that he needed to breathe, she pulled back, still holding his chin, and her brown eyes opened slowly, meeting his own with a smoldering gaze. She must¡¯ve felt how violently his heart was thundering in his chest.


    Suddenly, she sat up off the bench, almost as if most of his body wasn¡¯t draped across her torso, and her hands moved to grip him for leverage. He felt himself flung over her shoulder like a limp rug.


    ¡°Hey! Let me go!¡±


    She stood up, shifting him to a more secure position on her shoulder, moving over to the fire and their supply packs.


    ¡°I will not be treated like this!¡±


    He felt a hum vibrate through her chest. His head was bouncing upside down against her back, barely avoiding the scythe of her wagging tail. She seemed to be digging through both of their packs, kicking things around with her feet.


    Isaac casted a small fireball in his palm, making sure the element swirled with much energy and flourish, and held it out backwards for her to see.


    ¡°I fucking dare you to,¡± she replied.


    He ended the cast, letting his limbs hang listlessly, feeling like a hunted animal that someone was dragging back to their hut.


    Without warning, the world flipped, and he landed hard on his back. She had laid out a bed of their sleeping rolls and white shawls, layering the fabrics so deeply that it was actually somewhat comfortable to lay on. The lichen fire was warm at his side, and the shadows danced across the calm surface of the pool. His head sank into their packs, grateful for the comfort.


    She pounced on him.


    The impact of her weight knocked the breath from his chest, and she used the opportunity to pin him against the pile of bedding, clutching and enveloping. She scoured his face and neck with licks, almost to the point where it felt like losing a duel to a pink sword. Wherever she licked, she also rubbed, kneading her furry cheeks against his skin, grinding her scent deep inside. At times, the cold tip of her nose pressed into his neck. She inhaled greedily, a pleased growl rumbling from her chest, and she continued to drink in his aroma as she licked and rubbed.


    Isaac laid still, letting her do as she pleased¡ªout of compliance or genuine desire, he wasn¡¯t sure. He imagined a wildebeest being eaten alive on a prairie, and decided that the lack of bite wounds on his neck was an improvement on things.


    Finally, she stopped, rose above him, let her tongue hang low, and dragged it along his features at a glacial pace, wide and heavy and hot. She was forced to pin him down halfway through. By the end, there was a gash of wet, hot skin running diagonally along his face, and he felt a hundred baths might not have cleansed him of the experience.


    She shifted her body down. Her head rested against his chest, and she wrapped her arms around his back, adjusting the grip like one might fluff a pillow. Warm fur enveloped his entire body, her breasts spilling across his abdomen as she relaxed herself on top of him. With the nearby fire, and the layers of bedding beneath, he felt surprisingly snug. Of course, the impressive weight of his new blanket made it clear that he would not be going anywhere without her permission.


    ¡°Are we not going to clean up first?¡±


    ¡°Nope.¡±


    ¡°. . . I¡¯m still hungry.¡±


    ¡°Rations¡¯ll be there when we wake.¡±


    Isaac gazed up into the eroded stone ceiling, listening to the lichen fire pop and sizzle. ¡°Zaria?¡±


    ¡°Hm?¡±


    ¡°I think you¡¯ve ruined my sexual tastes forever.¡±


    She melted into giggles. ¡°Oh, ¡®twas always my plan, squire.¡±


    Her cheek nuzzled into his chest. Her breathing slowed. Their heartbeats almost synced together.


    Sleep called to him. The day had been long, and he couldn¡¯t say that this was not the most comfortable he¡¯d felt since the start of his journey. But, through the haze of their coupling, he felt his uncertainties rise again. The necromancer. His father. What they had just done. What it meant. What he was doing. The future.


    Her ear twitched. ¡°What¡¯s the matter? Heart¡¯s beatin¡¯ crazy.¡±


    ¡°What do you like about me?¡±


    She shifted her head, as if opening her eyes. His heartbeat only went faster.


    ¡°Not gonna answer that.¡±


    ¡°Why not?¡±


    ¡°Isaac, my intentions towards you have never been subtle. Ain¡¯t much that needs interpreting.¡±


    ¡°I know that¡ª¡±


    ¡°Are you not enjoying this experience?¡±


    He was covered in saliva, sweat, half a carpet¡¯s worth of her rubbed off hair, and several drying smears of their intimacy. Her body was soft, warm, and almost crushing him.


    ¡°I am.¡±


    ¡°Then why are you trying to think your way out of it?¡±


    ¡°I¡ªI can¡¯t help it. I¡¯ve always had to. . . .¡±


    He¡¯d always been struck for wrong behavior.


    ¡°Fine,¡± she said. ¡°I¡¯ll indulge you just this once, and only ¡®cause I¡¯m getting an earful from your chest. I expect no more of this shite in the future. It¡¯s not healthy thinking, believe me.¡±


    ¡°Sorry.¡±


    ¡°Shut up. How¡¯re we gonna split the treasure?¡±


    ¡°What? Evenly, I thought.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m talking mechanics. Gonna count it by hand? Draw straws for the goblets and grimoires?¡±


    ¡°Oh. Uh, no. I¡¯ll do a survey. Bring it back with my main report to the Diet collegium. When they send an expedition team, they¡¯ll bring minting officials to appraise the horde, carry it back to civilization, convert it to modern currency, and hold it in trust for us, like a bank.¡±


    ¡°Your robed ledger keepers¡¯ll just give it to an outlaw like myself? Won¡¯t pull some wordy legal shite to steal it from me, will they?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s rightful discovery. Anyway, I¡¯ll make sure to¡ª¡±


    ¡°Supposin¡¯ I¡¯ll have to sign a bunch of contracts that I can¡¯t read to get the coin back, won¡¯t I?¡±


    ¡°Well, yes, but¡ª¡±


    ¡°No chance they just burn me to cinders on the spot, neither?¡±


    ¡°Hey, no¡ª¡±


    ¡°You realize, as well, that we still gotta get back to your wizarding world in the first place. Soren wasn¡¯t the end of my pursuit. Half the ships of the desert will be on the lookout. They¡¯ll never stop hunting me.¡±


    ¡°I have to walk back, too. We can go together. Couple fireballs will keep them away.¡±


    ¡°And you¡¯ll still honor our deal despite you already gettin¡¯ your father out of it?¡±


    ¡°Well, yes. It¡¯s¡ªit¡¯s only fair.¡±


    ¡°Isaac, I¡¯ve been cheated all my life. Had my siblings come home with half the purses they¡¯d really pinched ¡®cause they stashed some beforehand. Had my father sell me for coin. Had my pirate mates taking everything I couldn¡¯t steal myself. Had more cunts than I can count betray a deal just ¡®cause it was cheaper to do so.¡± Her cold nose rested on his pectoral. ¡°Suffice to say that I wouldn¡¯t trust an innkeep to toss me an ale that wasn¡¯t watered down, and, now, here you are, telling me that you¡¯re gonna go out your way to split an ancient treasure with me, barely a day after I was threatening your life for it.¡±


    ¡°. . . I¡¯m not sure how I can convince you otherwise.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t have to. Not a doubt in my mind that you don¡¯t mean what you¡¯re saying. The fact that you clearly hadn¡¯t even considered any of this just seals it further.¡±


    He didn¡¯t answer.


    ¡°Speaking of threatening your life¡ªfirst time I saw you, you were exhausted, dying of thirst, and climbing to your feet for a last stand. Had no chance against me at all, and still went down swinging. In the chapel, with my dagger at your neck, I saw naught but defiance in your eyes. Been on the receiving end of that treatment more than once, and I was never that strong with my throat bulging ¡®round a blade. I mean, fuck me, we just had a dragon come screaming out the earth in front of us, and your first instinct was to run forward and scream right back.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s what I was trained for.¡±


    ¡°Speaking of that, too¡ªyou¡¯ve got a rather cutting edge to your words, sir mage. Some half-decent wit, if I do say so.¡±


    ¡°I use it to hide my massive cock.¡±


    ¡°Fuck off,¡± she said. ¡°How¡¯s it work that someone who¡¯s been smacked like a dog all his life gets to be so quarrelsome? Thought your uncle would¡¯ve beaten that out of you.¡±


    ¡°He tried,¡± Isaac said. ¡°But he could only punish my words, not my thoughts. No matter what he did, I always had my mind. That was my refuge. My promise to him. He could strike till I was bedridden, but he¡¯d never take my thoughts from me. I promised myself that my mind would always be free and wild.¡± He paused. ¡°It¡¯s more pathetic than I¡¯m making it sound.¡±


    ¡°Not at all. Sounds like you kept your principles despite everything you¡¯d ever known trying to rob them from you. Like you bent every effort to make yourself be better than your environment.¡±


    ¡°Essentially.¡±


    ¡°Think we¡¯re very alike in that regard.¡±


    He listened to the fire crack and sizzle.


    ¡°Also, your tongue¡¯s just perfect for licking cunts.¡±


    ¡°Alright, that¡¯s enough.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m serious now. Feel free to do so at any time.¡±


    ¡°Uh-huh.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t even need to ask. Just the sight of you on your knees will send my heart aflutter.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m sure.¡±


    ¡°Think of how mad the sorceress¡¯ll get. Part of your duty, if we¡¯re being honest.¡±


    ¡°Well,¡± he said, ¡°I suppose I just have to, then.¡±


    ¡°Aye. Proper squire, you are. Couldn¡¯t ask for better.¡±


    He stared up into the craggy ceiling.


    ¡°That good enough for you?¡± she asked.


    ¡°Yes. I¡ªuh¡ªthank you.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t thank a lass after fucking her, Isaac. Gods above.¡±


    ¡°N-no, I mean¡ªthank you for¡ªI¡¯ve never had¡ªm-my uncle would always¡ª ¡±


    ¡°I know what you mean. Just teasing.¡±


    She settled her head against his chest. The thicker tufts of her fur brushed against his stomach, tickled down his legs. With his eyes, he traced the mohawk running down her neck and upper back. He wanted to stroke it. His fingers curled on the rough stone, daring to lift.


    He thought of her rejecting his touch. He thought of her shoving him off. He thought of her standing up, moving away, and never looking at him the same again.


    But he wanted to, and so he did. He settled his hands on her upper back¡ªwith one, he stroked through the long hairs, and the other he used to gently scratch around her fading wounds. Her response was a quiet noise in her throat, a slight shift of the muscles. He kept his efforts gentle enough that they might aid her in sleep, and she sighed like it was the first time she had relaxed in recent memory.


    ¡°Isaac?¡±


    ¡°Hm?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m glad it was you that blew up my ship.¡±


    ¡°. . . I''ve met worse pirates.¡±


    Her breathing slowed. He never stopped scratching. Eventually, she began to snore with a soft timber.


    He fell asleep with the smile still on his face.

 Harbinger

    Slowly, the murals and myths turned to laboratories.


    Cages were the first sign of experimentation. Many of the testing areas seemed indistinguishable from a dungeon. Centuries of rust had melted the metal like sugar in the rain, but Isaac could still faintly make out the foundations of manacles, claw marks in the bars where live prisoners had struggled and begged.


    He imagined what it must¡¯ve felt like for them. Offered as a sacrifice to a city of necromancers, shackled like a piece of livestock, transported down through the catacombs and across the bony pavements of the necropolis. If they were lucky, their fate would be met at a local life extension center, their souls sucked from their bodies and ground down into medicine. If they were unlucky, they would be transported all the way to the pelvis of the giant skeleton, subjected to batteries of necrotic experiments, killed and resurrected endlessly until there was nothing but wisps of their essence remaining.


    He was very glad this empire had died.


    The flooded ruins of the noble district had ended somewhere around the lower abdomen. Now, they were making their way through testing grounds and research stations. The rooms were dominated by ancient sets of alchemical equipment and apparatuses for transmutation energy transfer. Many of the areas had an obvious martial nature. Zaria was quick to point out the positions of rotten weapon stands, reinforced doors and carefully designed chokepoints¡ªhe also noticed long-dead emitters for magical traps, the faded sigils of necrotic hexes in the masonry.


    These testing chambers had likely been funded by the city¡¯s government. They seemed to have been designed both as a place to further the study of necromancy, and to serve as a last bastion for the ruling class, should some invasion or rebellion cripple the city. For an empire that sustained itself on the lives of its vassals, this was not an unreasonable concern.


    Of course, they saw no signs of conflict now. The laboratories were buried in dust rather than rubble. There was no indication of violence, civil unrest, famine, some type of plague, or any other calamity that had killed countless civilizations before. He had to wonder¡ªhow exactly had this city died?


    ¡°Squire. Observe.¡±


    Isaac stopped reading a rotten notebook full of lab reports¡ªhe turned to see Zaria juggling several glass flasks, the flared bases and thin heads spinning unpredictably through the air.


    ¡°Stop! By Oerin, what¡¯re you¡ª¡±


    ¡°No, no, trust me, I can do this.¡±


    With a flourish, she tossed one flask into the air while catching the rest in her palms. As the flask completed its arc, she craned her head forward, trying to angle the flat of her skull underneath. The flask landed right-side up on her head, staying perched for a moment . . . and quickly slid off due to the friction-treated bottom. She tried to catch it, ended up losing grip on two more flasks, and three pieces of glassware shattered loudly on the floor.


    ¡°Ah,¡± she said. ¡°Shite. That usually works with ale tankards.¡±


    ¡°Could you not destroy ancient relics of the past?¡±


    She brushed some of the shards with her foot. ¡°Were you impressed, though?¡±


    ¡°Incredibly. Now stop touching things.¡±


    He began to make notes of the chemical reagents lining the walls. Zaria retrieved her poleaxe from its resting position against a prisoner cell. She stopped suddenly, head swiveling back to the entrance. Her ears perked forward, hackles raised.


    Isaac paused. ¡°Heard something?¡±


    She didn¡¯t respond. The laboratory ceiling hung low, the tremendous weight of rock and earth seeming to bulge down just above their heads. Every sound felt ready to be crushed. Every scuff of their feet seemed to die when it hit the dust. And every noise they made seemed to be an affront to the very rooms themselves. These halls had laid in deathly silence for millennia, and thousands of souls had perished inside of them. Life itself would be offensive to such a place.


    ¡°Thought I heard movement,¡± she said. ¡°Might just be nerves. Unsettlin¡¯ ain¡¯t even close to describing all this.¡±


    Isaac grunted in agreement, continuing to write. Around them, the laboratory glassware was filled with skulls preserved in jars, cross-sectioned femurs still lying under primitive microscopes, and the walls were wrapped in the vine-like tangle of ossein, the matrix of fibers that made up all skeletal bones. He wasn¡¯t sure if the ossein had been carved there for decoration, or if it had grown by some unspeakable festering process. He decided to leave that detail to the next archaeologists.


    Zaria examined the scratch marks carved into the metal of one particularly large cell. ¡°Got a question for you, love.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯d be surprised if you didn¡¯t.¡±


    ¡°How did¡ª¡± She paused. ¡°You calling me stupid?¡±


    ¡°Not at all,¡± Isaac said. ¡°I¡¯d characterize it as a vast inexperience in the matters of academic pursuit.¡±


    ¡°Talking like a book is gonna get you pressed into the shape of one, squire.¡±


    ¡°Ask your question, please.¡±


    She gestured at the cages. ¡°So, these cannibal wizards¡ªthey sucked the souls from the prisoners and ate them, aye?¡±


    ¡°I wouldn¡¯t use those words, but yes. That was their practice.¡±


    ¡°Why didn¡¯t they do it the other way ¡®round?¡±


    ¡°What do you mean?¡±


    ¡°Why didn¡¯t they just put their own souls in the new bodies?¡±


    ¡°The goal was to replenish their own soul energy. Extend their lives. Putting a soul in a new body wouldn¡¯t fix that.¡± He continued to write. ¡°It wasn¡¯t just the souls, either. They¡¯d use the corpses to increase their armies. Make furniture out of them. That kind of thing.¡±


    ¡°You say that real casual-like.¡±


    ¡°They weren¡¯t the first, and they weren¡¯t the last.¡±


    She blew a raspberry. ¡°Well, you said they were warring constantly to get these bodies. War brings injuries. Soldiers would come back with missing limbs. They¡¯d have burns, embedded arrows, shattered teeth. They¡¯d be leaving a trail of shite behind them as they died of dysentery, and that¡¯s only if blood sickness didn¡¯t get ¡®em first. Must¡¯ve ended up with lots of cripples and invalids. So why did they never put their own souls into other bodies?¡±


    ¡°It doesn¡¯t work like that,¡± Isaac said. ¡°It¡¯s called core rejection. A soul can¡¯t be implanted into a body that doesn¡¯t fit, for lack of a better word. The effects are deleterious. Near-immediately fatal if it''s a different species, and, even if it''s not, most don¡¯t last a week. They can¡¯t bend their limbs. They can¡¯t draw breath. Their organs starve from lack of nourishment. And the brain of the body almost always drives the soul insane from the incompatibilities of personality. Most attempts at soul implantation have ended in screaming and blood.¡±


    ¡°If it¡¯s so dangerous, how were they eating the other souls?¡±


    ¡°How do people make bread? You take the wheat, husk the grain, grind it down to flour, add yeast and water, and cook it over a fire. Only then is it nourishing. They didn¡¯t just eat them like fruit on a tree.¡±


    Zaria looked down the line of cages. It stretched to the end of the room. ¡°Stuffing new souls into old bodies doesn¡¯t work at all, then?¡±


    ¡°It only works with family,¡± he said. ¡°Close blood relations. And, even then, it¡¯s tricky. The Diet of Nine hasn¡¯t developed the proper technology to do the procedure without great risk. To date, few have survived the operation.¡± He flipped a page on his sketchpad, continuing to jot down notes. ¡°That was one of the reasons my father was sent to this tomb, aside from slaying the sorceress. These necromancers excelled in manipulating soul energy, and the Diet hoped they might find some clues or machines that might improve the discipline.¡±


    ¡°This sorceress¡ªshe¡¯s the lone survivor of these cannibal mages, aye?¡±


    ¡°Only one.¡±


    ¡°That the kind of murderous cunt we¡¯re making alliances with now?¡±


    Isaac pursed his lips while he wrote. ¡°It¡¯s going to be very temporary.¡±


    ¡°I think so¡ªcheck ahead.¡±


    He looked over his journal. On the stone floor of the laboratory, stamped through the layers of dust, there were footprints. Many sets of them, all human, all of them neat and ordered like soldiers filed strictly in place for a march. One set of footprints, in particular, seemed to be leading the way.


    ¡°They¡¯re recent,¡± Zaria said. ¡°Dust¡¯s still settling.¡± She sniffed the air, black nose twitching. ¡°I can smell ¡®em through the rot. Lots of humans.¡±


    Thralls. Puppeteer magic. The necromancer wouldn¡¯t have asked for their aid against the rival sorcerer if the two of them weren¡¯t in a position to help¡ªnamely, if they weren¡¯t getting close to their mutual enemy. This interloper was standing between them, the necromancer, and his father. And, after following the bodies of thralls through most of the giant skeleton, they were finally closing in. A confrontation was coming.


    Slowly, Isaac stuffed his journal back into his pack. He flexed his arms, readying the muscles. ¡°Be on your guard.¡±


    She nodded, keeping the spear-tip of her polearm pointed at the laboratory exit. He paced around her, noting with some disquiet just how many sets of footprints were stamped through the dust, and poked his head out through the door. The corridor beyond was empty, ribbed with the bulbous lamps of cartilage light. Above, the giant vertebrae running through the vaulted ceiling had stopped taking the appearance of lumbar sockets¡ªnow, they were sacral, probably leading to the base of a tail. They had reached the end of the spine. The start of the pelvis and groin.


    From the pelvis, they would have to descend down the legs. At the feet of the giant corpse, the necromancer would be waiting. So would his father.


    ¡°The puppeteer¡¯s thralls are magically capable,¡± Isaac said. ¡°Each one of them is deadly. Ambushes and stealth are going to be our best chance here.¡±


    ¡°Hey. Take this.¡±


    She was holding out her dagger sheath to him. The hilt of the knife would be like that of a shortsword in his hands.


    ¡°Last resort,¡± she said. ¡°I¡¯ve seen how winded you get when the fighting¡¯s thick. Might be vital in a pinch.¡±


    ¡°Are you sure?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll manage. Any human who tries to attack me in close quarters is a foolhardy sort.¡± She paused. ¡°As you know.¡±


    He took the sheathed blade, stuffing it into a hip pocket. ¡°Thanks, Z.¡±


    ¡°What¡¯s that you said there?¡±


    He had been determined to appear confident and nonchalant. Instead, he blushed again. ¡°I, uh¡ªyou know¡ªyou keep, uh. . . .¡±


    Her waiting grin was surrounded by glassware and rotted bellow fans.


    ¡°Well,¡± Isaac said, more firmly than he felt, ¡°since you keep calling me squire, I thought I¡¯d give you a nickname too. You know¡ªZ. It¡¯s short. Simple. Not horribly offensive.¡±


    She gave an exaggerated gasp that echoed down the dusty laboratory. ¡°Is my squire attempting to give me a cutesy moniker like I¡¯m his special missus?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s just for convenience¡¯s sake.¡±


    ¡°Is it, now? Supposin¡¯ I take this as a warning sign for your uncontrolled infatuation?¡±


    ¡°By the gods,¡± Isaac said, ¡°just forget I said anything.¡±


    ¡°No, no, no. Look at me, squire. This is serious now. Ain¡¯t no way I¡¯ll be asking you to call me that in front of them grand wizards of yours. Not your father, especially.¡±


    Isaac took a deep breath.


    ¡°Certainly won¡¯t ask you to moan it lovingly while licking me from cunt to tail.¡±


    ¡°Ivtarr preserve me.¡±


    ¡°And I certainly¡ªcertainly¡ªwill not have you whisper it with tender affection while asking my hand in marriage. You hear me, squire? That is absolutely not the way to melt my heart to pieces. Woe be upon you if you attempt such a foolish endeavor.¡±


    He looked away. ¡°I don¡¯t know why I keep making this mistake with you.¡±


    She slapped her poleaxe to the floor like a guard standing watch. ¡°You¡¯re adorable, Isaac. Teasing you is just beyond my self-control. Can¡¯t help myself in the slightest.¡±


    ¡°I am not adorable. I am a journeyman of magical transmutation, trained to slay an ancient necromancer and her dark armies.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re adorable, squire, and that¡¯s final.¡±


    He cleared his throat, checking the corridor for threats.


    ¡°It¡¯s a fine moniker,¡± Zaria said. ¡°Might be I like it, though you clearly were not looking for my consent on the matter.¡±


    ¡°So,¡± he said, ¡°how about those evil sorcerers? By the gods, we should do something about them. Right?¡±


    ¡°Oh, aye. Heroes of ages, we are.¡±


    ¡°Songs and titles when we¡¯re finished?¡±


    ¡°Fucking castles from the feline queen herself, more like.¡±


    ¡°Good,¡± he said. ¡°Of course. Definitely.¡±


    ¡°Anytime you¡¯re ready, sir mage.¡±


    ¡°Yes, yes, onwards.¡± He rolled his shoulders, limbering his arms. ¡°Stay behind me, Z.¡±


    She nodded, not trying very hard to hide her smirk.


    They emerged into the vaulted corridor, crouched and hugging the wall, following the stampede of human footprints. It was impossible to tell how many thralls the sorcerer had under their command¡ªthe broken dust didn¡¯t look much different than the mud of a village street. Isaac did some mental math. They had seen two bodies before the necropolis, and then they¡¯d watched Soren defeat a full assault from the sorcerer. Whoever this person was, they had already lost at least a dozen thralls, and it very much did not appear that they were lacking for more slaves and energy reservoirs. How had they amassed such an army?


    More importantly, how did this sorcerer find thralls who were trained in magic? They must¡¯ve been guild members. The Diet of Nine held a monopolistic claim on elemental magic amongst the kingdoms and duchies of the region. With a vast desert restricting travel on one side, and a storm-addled ocean on the other, they effectively had total control of the discipline in this section of the world.


    Were these thralls apprentices and journeymen? Transmutation students like him who had been twisted and enslaved by a rogue sorcerer? Would he be forced to kill his own fellows?


    Isaac lead the way deeper into the government laboratories, tracking the footprints like a hunter, stalking past empty guard checkpoints and libraries of rotted books.


    Of course, he might not need to worry. Puppeteer sorcerers had a fatal vulnerability¡ªthemselves. They were incredibly powerful, as well as far more capable of withering the inherent attrition of magical combat, but they were still just a person. People can die very easily, and the parasite sigils would lose power once their caster was growing cold on the floor. A single spell might be all it took to end this unexpected threat. He might even save the thrall¡¯s lives in the process.


    Possibly.


    Hopefully.


    Since he was focusing on it, Isaac began to notice that the dust coating these research areas was strange. It was extremely fine, almost to the point of being invisible, and it seemed to glint in the cartilage light like a precious metal. Furthermore, it was clumping in places along the walls¡ªsome parts seemed to be filling the cracks in the stonework like mortar between bricks, and, if he squinted at it in just the right way, he could¡¯ve sworn it was moving, wriggling and breathing like moss in a¡ª


    ¡°Isaac,¡± Zaria whispered.


    He looked.


    The stampede of footprints curved off suddenly into an adjacent room in the hallway. It seemed to be a very abrupt detour. All the thralls had followed. Glinting dust curled in the air.


    The door was closed. He heard no sound. Isaac gestured, and they stacked up on opposite sides of the frame. Zaria pressed an ear into the wall, listened for a moment, and shook her head. Nonetheless, she raised her poleaxe up and out, ready to stop a charge with the length of the weapon. Isaac balled a tangle of flame into one hand and grabbed the finger-shaped door handle with the other.


    He looked to her. She nodded. He opened the door and rushed inside.


    A council chamber greeted him. That was the only guess he could make as to its function. In the middle of the stretching chamber, there was an open circle of knuckled stone, capped with a dust-covered husk of a podium and several fetid skeletons displayed like a college anatomy course. The corpses appeared to have been there for a research presentation. There were rotted papers on the podium, and faint resurrection residues on the bones. The open circle of the center stage was ringed on all sides with desks and chairs¡ªsome of the carved-stone furniture was decorated with faded adornments, illegible name tags suggesting titles and ranks.Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings.


    This was a meeting auditorium for the head cabal of the empire¡¯s government. Kings, judiciaries, nobles. Isaac drew this conclusion from the fact that the desks were made of bone. In the necropolis, all the skeletal buildings had merely been stone carved into suggestive shape. These desks were made of actual corpses, and he shuddered to think how many people it would take to craft each one. The room had many.


    ¡°Clear,¡± Zaria said.


    Towards the back of the council chamber laid an open square of darkness. It took Isaac a moment to recognize it as a hole in the floor. At each corner of the square, thin metal beams rose up into the ceiling and deep down into the blackness. If he had to guess, it looked like an elevator.


    The room was empty. No sign of the sorcerer or their thralls. Zaria took a few tentative sniffs of the dusty air, glancing behind.


    ¡°Smell something?¡± Isaac asked.


    For a long moment, she glared down the empty corridor, as if daring whatever lurked in the dust and shadows to attack. A few more sniffs didn¡¯t seem to acquire any challengers.


    ¡°Thought I did. Nothin¡¯ now.¡± She gestured him on. ¡°I¡¯ll keep watch. Do your thing.¡±


    ¡°My thing?¡±


    ¡°Pulling ancient wonders from the arse of evil. Hurry on, now.¡±


    ¡°Ah, yes,¡± Isaac said, heading in. ¡°I can see my dissertation title now. ¡®Archaeological sodomy¡¯. Defends itself, really.¡±


    He made his way through the rows of old desks, towards the elevator. From the square hole in the floor, cool air rose up to greet him. A faint breeze was blowing from the depths of the earth. He thought of weather dynamics¡ªtemperature and air pressure. The elevator must¡¯ve descended into a large cavern below. He couldn¡¯t see the carriage, and he wasn¡¯t entirely sure it hadn¡¯t long ago snapped off from the rusted support beams. There was nothing but darkness.


    He grabbed a chair from a nearby desk and tossed it down the elevator hole. It disappeared like a comet in the night sky. After listening for half a minute, he heard no sound.


    The cavern below them was deep. Very deep. It might go all the way to the bottom of the tomb. Close to his father.


    Only a single set of footprints had been carved into the dust around the elevator. The tracks came to the precipitous edge of the open shaft and, oddly enough, widened into a full body print on the floor¡ªall that was missing in the imprint was the head, like an executioner victim. It looked rather plainly like the sorcerer had dropped to their belly and stuck their head right through the floor. The rest of the footprints showed them returning to their army of thralls and leaving the room by a different door.


    It seemed that the puppeteer had entered the room solely to gaze into the black cavern below. Isaac felt compelled to do the same. He dropped down to his stomach, inched his shoulders out past the edge of the elevator hole, and bent his head down into the chilly air.


    There was only darkness¡ªan enveloping void. Yet, somehow, he could feel the vast space around him. It was the gentle breeze on his face, the way his breath did not echo back. He felt as if he was about to fall into a black sky. The cavern must¡¯ve been miles in diameter.


    Somewhere far off in the distance, he saw a crackling pillar of purple light. That was the only way to describe it. There were faint lines of purple peeking through the darkness like the scratch marks in the prisoner cells¡ªsome were long, some short, others were straight, many were jagged and wide, and they all combined together to give the faint impression of an obelisk. Something much larger than the tower he had lived in with his uncle. Something colossal enough to run down the full length of the giant skeleton¡¯s legs, right to the bottom of the tomb.


    That was it. That was where his father was. Down there, at the bottom of the obelisk. He strained his eyes against the darkness, hoping to see more details, but there were none. The distance between him and the tower was vast, like gazing at the moon. Still, his mind raced with scenarios. His father, jailed in the sorceress¡¯ lair. The necromancer herself, waiting for his arrival, surrounded by oceans of bone and equally large seas of treasure. The horded wealth and army of a long dead empire.


    He was close now. His life¡¯s purpose was almost at hand.


    Slowly, he saw more details. It appeared that the lines he could see in the pillar were holes in the structure, the ancient walls having crumbled from millennia of disrepair. The purple color was coming from a very large light source shining inside. If he squinted just right, he almost thought that he could see the purple glow moving and churning, like blood through arteries. And, all at once, he noticed a faint sound in the chilly air. Some noise coming from the obelisk. Considering the distances involved, it must¡¯ve been exceptionally loud to carry this far.


    It almost sounded like screaming.


    ¡°Squire!¡± Zaria shouted. ¡°Hope you¡¯re not trying to fly over there!¡±


    ¡°I can see the bottom of the tomb!¡± The cavernous air seemed to absorb his voice. It didn¡¯t even echo back. ¡°It¡¯s an obelisk!¡±


    ¡°A what?¡±


    ¡°A tower! Big pillar! Very massive!¡±


    There was no response for a moment. ¡°We¡¯re near the legs, aren¡¯t we?¡±


    ¡°Yes. It shouldn¡¯t be much further now. If we can navigate over towards¡ª¡±


    ¡°Does that mean you can see its cock?¡±


    It took Isaac a moment to pull his head out of the elevator hole.


    She had wandered over to the open presentation circle, grinning besides the skeletons. ¡°Ain¡¯t got my anatomy mixed up, have I?¡±


    ¡°My father is down there,¡± Isaac said. ¡°That is his prison. The evil lair of a necromancer.¡±


    ¡°Big tower, you said. Long. Tall. Hard.¡±


    ¡°Stop. Right now.¡±


    ¡°Massive length. Piercing through the earth. Fucking it, you could say.¡±


    ¡°It is an obelisk. I could see some kind of light inside. It¡¯s purple, like soul energy.¡±


    ¡°This cock¡¯s filled with souls, is it? Aren¡¯t all the others?¡±


    ¡°Zaria!¡±


    She snorted. ¡°Just playing, love. How much further do you think we¡¯d need to¡ª¡±


    The door to the council chamber opened. Something was thrown inside.


    Isaac couldn¡¯t see what the object was through the circular rows of desks. But Zaria was standing in the central stage, close to the podium, and she saw it clearly. Her immediate reaction was to sprint away. Underneath her footsteps, he heard a fuse hissing as it burned down to the nub.


    An explosion ripped through the room. If some of the sound had not escaped through the open elevator, it would¡¯ve deafened them. The blast upended several desks, splitting them apart in a shower of spraying ossein. Isaac was scrambling for the cover of a desk when he glimpsed the door opening again, the blurred shift of bodily movement. Zaria practically threw herself on top of him as another blackpowder bomb exploded, the shockwave slapping through his soft tissues. He had to gasp for air, his vision swimming.


    He tried to peak out from the corner of the desk, get a glimpse of their attacker, but Zaria pulled him back, and just barely in time. A throwing knife sliced through the spot where his face had been a second earlier. Several more embedded themselves through the weaved bone of the judiciary desk, the blades splintering through the skeletal remains, emerging like thorns in a bush.


    Through the ringing in his ears, a frenzied voice was shouting.


    ¡°Zaria!¡±


    Isaac risked another peak out from cover.


    Captain Black Eye Soren stood in the center of the council chamber. The burnt flesh on the left side of her face was twisted into a snarl, and the other half was covered in lacerations and drying blood. Her patchy outfit of leather and cloth was now tattered and filthy, her cutlass visibly dented and dulled, and she had wrapped the exposed grey fur of her body with pilfered segments of bone, splinters and chunks draped across her wounds like the dry and cracked dirt of a desert gulch. She rather looked like a soldier lost behind enemy lines, alone and desperate, camouflaging herself in the blood of her enemies.


    ¡°Gettin¡¯ real sick of this shite,¡± Zaria said.


    ¡°Zaria!¡±


    Isaac pulled his head back. Another throwing knife speared through the bone-weaved desk, spraying the two of them with splinters.


    ¡°You bilge rat!¡± Soren shouted. ¡°You sodding codpiece!¡±


    Isaac balled a hurricane into his palm, lifted his hand above the desk, and blind-fired it as a lance. The snarl that came in response told him he had missed, if only barely.


    ¡°Sic your magic fucktoy on me, traitor! I fucking dare him to spit hellfire my way!¡±


    He began to perform more mnemonics, but Zaria clamped a hand to his shoulder, shaking her head. When he stopped, she shouted back: ¡°Should¡¯ve turned tail, Soren! I gave you that chance!¡±


    ¡°You think I didn¡¯t try?¡± Soren¡¯s voice was rasping and wild, like she¡¯d been fighting for her life for hours on end. ¡°I¡¯m not foolish! Fuck this tomb! Fuck the bony cunt runnin¡¯ it!¡± Another knife stabbed through the desk. ¡°She sicced her beasts on me! A bloody streamin¡¯ ocean! Oh, but not my crew! Not a soul was harmed other than me! Only I¡¯m condemned to death!¡±


    Zaria paused. ¡°All the rest made it out? You sure?¡±


    ¡°That better not be relief in your voice, traitor!¡±


    Isaac ran a finger along an embedded throwing knife, thinking. It was obvious by now that the sorceress was listening to their conversations. She might¡¯ve heard their intentions to only kill Soren, and spare the rest of the pirates. But why had she done so herself? Their alliance was a matter of convenience, at best. It was not going to survive past the death rattle of the puppeteer. She had no good reason to show mercy towards any of the people invading her domain . . . unless it was part of her plan, somehow.


    Why had the sorceress spared the pirates?


    ¡°My crew¡¯s abandoned me!¡± Soren yelled. ¡°All I got is sword and powder to fight a sea of corpses! I¡¯m not stupid! I ain¡¯t never seeing daylight again!¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s your own fault, capt! No one forced you down here!¡±


    ¡°Shut your mouth! If my fate is sealed, then I¡¯m taking you with me! You¡¯ll never see that treasure so long as I¡¯m drawing breath!¡± One more knife slashed through the bones around them. ¡°Face me, you craven cunt!¡±


    ¡°Zaria,¡± Isaac said.


    She turned to him.


    ¡°Say what you want to your captain.¡±


    She blinked, splintered bone falling from her mohawk.


    ¡°Say what you want to your captain,¡± Isaac said, ¡°before I kill her.¡±


    Zaria gripped her poleaxe tighter. ¡°Soren! Captain! Listen clear, now!¡±


    A guttural snarl traveled across the council chamber.


    ¡°Join us!¡± Zaria silenced Isaac before he could respond. ¡°That¡¯s your only chance! If you want to live, stop being such a principled cunt and help us!¡±


    ¡°You gonna cut me in on the treasure shares, are you?¡± Soren laughed like a prisoner facing the gallows. ¡°You think a hoard of gold¡¯s gonna buy your life from me?¡±


    ¡°Fuck that! You¡¯re lucky I won¡¯t shove a fat goblet up your arse for all the pain and woe you caused me! You¡¯re getting your life, and nothing more!¡±


    Another knife slammed into the desk, skittering out through the bone and falling down the open elevator. Isaac really had to wonder how many she had.


    ¡°I won¡¯t be insulted by your mercy!¡± Soren shouted. ¡°Not after what you¡¯ve done! My last earthly pleasure will be watching the light fade from your eyes!¡±


    Zaria shook her head, taking a deep breath.


    The bunny¡¯s voice was hoarse and wild. ¡°You¡¯ll never last! Even if I¡¯m gone, the others will know! Every ship of the fleet will be braying for your blood! That gold down there won¡¯t protect you! You¡¯ll be hunted to the end of your days! You¡¯ll never earn a spot on any crew ever again! The stains of your sins will blacken your soul to the last putrid breath, you gutless traitor!¡±


    ¡°Isaac,¡± Zaria said. ¡°Would you kindly kill this cunt for me?¡±


    ¡°Cover your ears,¡± he replied.


    She did so. He casted a spike of ice into his palm, the frozen point sticking out of his hand like the tip of a spear. He angled his hand up towards the ceiling, aimed carefully, and fired. A widening stream of ice erupted from his arm, fanning out into a flat, thin triangle whose base grew into crystal stalactites on the ceiling. He made sure those crystals were large and sharp. When he was done, the entire length of ice hung like a diagonal curtain from desk to roof, the dust in the air glinting off the shining surface.


    ¡°What¡¯s this?¡± Soren said, almost laughing. ¡°You trying to scare me, human? Come on, love. Aim a little better. Poke that head out from cover. See how well it works for you.¡±


    Isaac pressed one of his ears to his shoulder, pointed his finger at the ice stalactites, and fired a salvo of raw sound.


    The ice exploded in a shower of glinting shrapnel. A good portion of the ceiling came with it. Human and hyena braced together as a spherical arc of ice and stone sliced through the room. Underneath the blast of sound, Isaac heard a scream of pain. Ears ringing, he leaped out from cover, pointing his finger like a cannon.


    He found Soren reeling, clutching her face in agony. She flung a throwing knife while stumbling back, blind and deafened, and the blade sailed wide. Isaac pointed his finger at the pirate captain, ready to reduce her down to pulp and mist.


    She ducked behind a desk right before he fired. The shot of raw sound blew open a wall of the council chamber, scattering rubble into the adjacent hallway. He could see glimpses of her scrambling along the floor, snaking her way between the desks, trying to close the distance. He changed the cast, balling wind into his hands, and slammed it into the floor. A surging wall pounded across the room, flipping every desk and chair in its path. Soren tried to leap out of the way, but did not quite make it¡ªthe edge of the wind caught her legs, and she was tossed head over heels across the floor. Another burst of wind slammed her into a wall, bouncing her off the fa?ade hard enough to crack the ossein veins. When she tried to stand, gasping and struggling, Isaac shot a third lance of wind against the wall itself, sending her spinning across the floor like a corner shot in a game of billiards.


    Captain Soren came to rest at the edge of the elevator. Zaria stood up from the cover of the desk, and, instead of advancing, stepped back. In her place, Isaac came forward, a small tornado of wind cocked in his hand.


    The bunny groaned on the floor, gripping the edge of the black hole. She had a graveyard of ice and stone splinters embedded in her burned flesh. Blood leaked down her armor of pilfered bone. As Isaac approached, her shaking hand reached across her chest for another throwing knife.


    She met his gaze. Her black eye reflected his face, the dark glass surrounded by fury. ¡°Least I wasn¡¯t gonna cheat.¡±


    ¡°You should have,¡± Isaac replied.


    He shot the wind from his hand, almost as gentle as the hot breeze of the desert dunes, and Soren tumbled off the edge, disappearing down into the massive cavern below. He heard nothing. No screams, no sound of her bouncing off an elevator support beam, and, most of all, no sound of her body hitting the bottom. She vanished like a sailor sinking through the blackened depths of a stormy sea.


    Isaac sat down hard on the floor, panting. He kept his hand lightly aimed at the dark hole of the elevator, just in case. After a few moments of silence, a pair of hands wriggled under his arms, pulling him back to his feet.


    ¡°You alright?¡± Zaria asked.


    ¡°Sure. Catch my breath.¡±


    She nodded, walking over to the edge. After a moment, she spat into the darkness. ¡°Goodbye, captain. ¡®Twas a pleasure, for the most part.¡±


    She stayed over the hole a moment longer. Isaac noticed that his poultice had healed most of the torture wounds on her body. All that remained were a few scars, here and there.


    ¡°Let¡¯s keep going,¡± Zaria said. ¡°Your father¡¯s waiting.¡±


    He glanced around the council chamber. Most of it was now lying in pieces. A great number of the bone desks had shattered into their constituent body parts, and all the untranslated titles and ornamentation had been lost with it. It may now be impossible to discover the names of the last rulers and scientists that had lived in this empire.


    Isaac didn¡¯t feel too sorry about that. He patted the dagger Zaria had given him, just to make sure it was still there, and lead the way out of the room.


    The hallways through the lower abdomen continued on. They passed by military barracks, the dust-covered offices of long-dead magistrates, chemical storage closets and vast prisoner complexes. More than once, they lost sight of the sacral vertebrae, and he was forced to translate some of the signs for directions. Many of them had rather sinister sounding names. Office to the Hegemon of Sacrifice. Department of Levies and Souls. The Maggot Prince. Her Holy Radiance of Exalted Death.


    Once he had oriented himself, the area they needed to travel seemed to be labeled rather plainly. Extraction Chamber. Isaac found that less than appealing.


    As they moved forward, he began thinking. He couldn¡¯t get over the fact that the necromancer had spared the lives of the pirates. She had even gone out of her way to only attack the Silent Saber¡¯s captain, apparently. It was another confirmation that she was listening to their conversations, but, more than that, it was a very poor tactical choice on the sorceress¡¯ part. All the souls of the pirates could¡¯ve been great fuel for her necromancy. They might¡¯ve sustained her life for many centuries to come, as well as given her more power and bones with which to fight the intruders in her tomb. At this point, for her, sparing or killing the pirates might well have been the choice between life and death.


    Of course, there could be reasonable explanations. The necromancer did not have unlimited bones. She might¡¯ve only sent a harassment force against the pirates while she consolidated her main necrotic mass deeper in the tomb. That might explain why Soren was able to escape the attack. The pirates were not her main threat¡ªthe puppeteer was. She did not need to place special care in making sure she killed all of them, even if doing so might benefit her.


    Still, it was rubbing Isaac the wrong way. This necromancer had not survived for millennia just through the strength of her armies. She was crafty. She would¡¯ve faced similar threats before¡ªmany of them, in fact. And, over the course of her enormously long reign over this barren place, she had managed to prevail against every single intruder that had come knocking, including his father.


    He would have to be careful.


    The dust in the air interrupted his thoughts. It did so by moving, as if on its own. The glinting motes curled into a pointed stream, shifting like sand sinking through the hills of dunes, and this stream of dust pointed down an adjacent corridor. The air was sparkling like metal as Isaac peeked his head around the corner.


    Down the hall, there were more bodies. It was difficult to qualify them as human. They had been perforated with more holes than an ancient battle standard, the gaping punctures leaving jagged marks in the flesh, as if the process had been long, slow and excruciating. And, as he watched, bones began to wriggle their way out of the holes, white stalks squirming through flesh like maggots, tumbling to the floor, rolling and collecting.


    Ahead, the corridor widened, and he could finally see the sacrum, the central plating of the pelvis. It spread out like a porous cliffside, the beginning of the wings curving like mountain slopes¡ªhe could see the slight ridges and twin rows of holes in the bone, the places where the vertebrae had fused together. Each circular vent had been walled with granite and gold, carved intricately with religious iconography. In the middle of the triangular sacrum, a relatively small set of bronze doors stood closed, surrounded by stalks of glowing cartilage.


    That was the Extraction Chamber. The start of the pelvic cavity.


    Masses of bones had congregated around the bronze doors. They shuffled and undulated around it, agitated and restless, almost absently being absorbed into each other and sloughing off into new shapes. Human blood dripped down the preceding stairs like gentle red curtains.


    ¡°Follow my lead, Z.¡±


    He pressed forward, and she fell into step at his back.


    Once they noticed him, the bones shifted their movements. At first, they wriggled faster from the fallen corpses, smearing blood across the knuckled pavement as they slid in his direction. He kicked them away without slowing. Next, the more locomotive of the masses throbbed into his path, the skulls embedded in their frames attempting to grind out words. Isaac cast the anti-necrotic light, eliciting shrieks of pain and fear as the bodies slithered back, burning a path through their ranks likes flames through a garden.


    The bones had smeared themselves across the door to the sacrum, creating a pulsing membrane of body parts that sealed the entrance shut. When Isaac stepped forward into a pool of blood, attempting to melt a hole into the writhing layer, the bones did not run¡ªin fact, they remained defiant against him, bursting into blue flame, screaming softly as they died, and entire legions  crawled into place to reform the seal. The actions seemed rather desperate.


    ¡°Out of my way, necromancer,¡± Isaac said.


    Skull stalks grew from the wall like dandelions. The skinless faces chittered at him, swirling into a collection of eyeless stares.


    ¡°I¡ªI¡ªIssssa¡ªIsssaaaaaaac.¡±


    He stepped back just enough that his light was no longer burning the bones, but still an active threat. ¡°Couldn¡¯t kill Soren, could you? Or did you just let her ambush us?¡±


    Behind them, the squirming masses congregated together, sealing off any hope of retreat.


    ¡°Well,¡± Isaac said, ¡°thanks for sparing the pirates. Glad to see you¡¯re upholding our alliance. Or, rather, glad to see you¡¯re taking your delayed death with such good grace. It¡¯s appreciated.¡±


    ¡°Isaac,¡± the head stalks replied.


    He glanced at the dead humans behind him. ¡°Is the sorcerer beyond these doors?¡±


    The head stalks nodded.


    ¡°Do you want me to kill them?¡±


    On the wall, the crawling bones quickened like blood in an artery, and the skulls shook violently from side to side.


    ¡°Why not? Isn¡¯t that why you spared my life?¡±


    The skulls did not move. They only stared at him.


    ¡°Is there something in this chamber that you don¡¯t want me to see?¡±


    After a few long moments, the skulls nodded.


    ¡°Are you planning some attack on the puppeteer that you don¡¯t want me to interfere with?¡±


    The bones crawling along the door shuddered like a bird unfurling its feathers.


    ¡°Ah,¡± Isaac said. ¡°Well, I¡¯m sure this is all very inconvenient for you, but I¡¯ll be entering your torture chamber now, if you don¡¯t mind.¡±


    ¡°Isaac,¡± the skulls replied, shaking themselves from side to side.


    ¡°What game are you playing, necromancer? Don¡¯t you want my aid? This puppeteer is too strong for you to handle alone, aren¡¯t they?¡± He glared at the skinless faces. ¡°They¡¯ll kill you if I don¡¯t interfere.¡±


    Nearly a dozen faces stared back at him. They nodded, once, with a certain finality.


    ¡°Then what do you want from me?¡± Isaac asked. ¡°Do you wish me to simply leave and never return?¡±


    For a long moment, the skulls did not respond. The only sound was the dry scraping of bone across bronze. Then, the stalks extended, shunting more vertebrae into their lengths. He thickened his spell, creating a radiant shell of white, and he felt Zaria tense beside him, her poleaxe held firm and ready.


    The skulls stood at the edge of the lighted dome, peering into the brightness. Their gaze was silent and still. No facial expressions could be read from the ancient bone. Shadows danced through the empty sockets.


    Then, all together, the skulls nodded with the same heavy finality.


    ¡°I am not leaving,¡± he said. ¡°I will see my journey through. I¡¯ll rescue my father, and I¡¯ll cleanse your defilement from this place while I¡¯m at it. However. . . .¡±


    Something made him speak. The way the skulls were looking at him, how the bones scurried to block the doors. It reeked of desperation.


    ¡°If you surrender,¡± Isaac said, ¡°then I will show mercy. I will take you back to my guild to face fair judgement. Your crimes are many, but . . . maybe some good can come from the knowledge you possess.¡±


    Her reaction surprised him. The skulls flailed along their stalks, some of the faces snapping from the vertebrae columns entirely, and the bones on the wall boiled like insects. Every skull he could see, either on the stalks or the wall, rattled their jaws as they careened from side to side. It was the most furious head shake he¡¯d ever seen.


    ¡°That is your only choice, necromancer. Death or imprisonment. You can try to stop me, but you will not dissuade me.¡±


    The skulls gathered around each other, chittering and gasping. ¡°Isaac. Isaac. Isaac. Isaac.¡±


    ¡°Get out of my way,¡± Isaac said.


    For a long moment, the head stalks swayed like flowers in a breeze. Flowing masses of bones congregated behind them, their body parts crackling with constant motion. Zaria¡¯s hackles rose, and her snout curled back in a snarl.


    Then, the bones shifted away. Crawling ant lines of vertebrae moved back into the substrate layer as the head stalks retreated, and the glinting bronze of the double doors slowly emerged. A crowd of squirming masses grew behind them, silent and watching.


    The doors were clear. All that remained was a lone skull sitting on the knuckled floor, staring up at him. Its eye sockets shined empty in the cartilage light.


    ¡°Isaac,¡± the skull said.


    Isaac pushed open the bronze doors and walked inside.

 Fates that Bind

    Amidst the dust and ruin, there laid a factory of death.


    The extraction chamber was vast enough to encompass the pelvic cavity¡ªin the hanging dust, it almost went beyond his vision. The ceiling was lined with coffins, stretching down the massive room like fields of hanging insect pods. These coffins had glass doors, and he could see the remnants of skeletons trapped inside, most of their forms broken beyond recognition. The entire room seemed to be designed as an automated apparatus¡ªthe coffins had rusted tracks to slide along, and there were strange devices perched along these tracks like pincers and scythes. There were tools for injection, threshing, emulsifying. Collection, filtration. All of it connected to a complex lattice of pipework that crawled along the ceiling, twisting down the chamber walls in a snarl of valves, junctions, and ventilation grills, feeding deeper into the earth.


    Despite its age, the air reeked of mortality. Blood and viscera still stained the metal extractors like a grisly layer of sedimentary rock. At the floor, there were metal drainage gates that had turned as craggy as barnacles, stained black with rot and pulp. Bones littered the sluice gates like the straw matting of a barn.


    In the center of the extraction chamber, a large standard of the stripes and stars symbol hung limply in the cartilage light. Below the standard was the sorcerer and his army of thralls.


    He was human, and he wore flowing black robes that almost seemed to absorb the cartilage light, like someone had cloaked themselves in the void between the stars. The color of his garb was fuligin¡ªmagically treated cloth that blended the wearer into the darkness. This was expensive and specialized gear, worn by master level hunters of necromancers. The man stood on a raised platform, working at a bank of metallic devices with his back turned to them, and wisps of purple light coiled around his body like a grasping fog. His form was obscured by the haze. Isaac almost thought he could hear the souls crying in pain.


    At the sorcerer¡¯s back, a ring of thralls stood unnaturally still, surrounding him in such a way that they seemed more akin to physical shields than bodyguards. Vacant eyes watched the corners of the room, as if they expected their enemy to enter through the pipes rather than the door. In the distance, through the dust and metal, he could see more of the robed thralls moving along the drainage shafts and retention tanks. The glowing sigils on their faces reminded Isaac of the dots that came from staring into a candle, like sunspots burned into his eyes. He could see a constellation of them moving through the chamber.


    The puppeteer had many thralls under his control. Thirty or more, at the least, all spread out like an army. Patrolling a perimeter, defending the leader.


    If he spotted them now, they were dead.


    Zaria¡¯s hand came to his shoulder, pushing him down. The entrance to the chamber had a tiny foyer that was shielded from the cartilage light. None of the thralls seemed to notice them. It was plain that their attention was focused on the pipes and drains, places where bones might slither through. The actual door to the room seemed to have been forgotten.


    ¡°Isaac,¡± she whispered, grabbing the flat of her axeblade so it would not glint in the light. ¡°Do it. Now.¡±


    ¡°What?¡±


    She flailed one arm like a wet noodle and shot it towards the sorcerer.


    The puppeteer had not noticed their entrance. Whatever he was doing on the row of devices, it was absorbing his attention. His back remained turned, crawling with purple fog.


    ¡°I can¡¯t,¡± Isaac said. ¡°The thralls are in the way.¡±


    Zaria looked at the ring of humans surrounding the black-robed man. ¡°They¡¯re already dead, aren¡¯t they?¡±


    ¡°No. If I kill the sorcerer, they can be saved.¡±


    Her eyes moved to the patrols roaming through the dust and machinery. ¡°Prudence might suggest we kill some to save the many.¡±


    ¡°Not if I can help it.¡±


    She gave him a stern look. He shook his head. A sharp breath came through her teeth.


    Zaria examined the room, checking angles and sight lines. Isaac glanced behind them. The bronze double doors had closed, but he could still hear the necromancer just behind them. There was a tide of scraping bone, growing louder as it condensed. All of it came like the hissing of beasts, dividing and multiplying. She would be listening. Waiting. Looking for chances to strike.


    ¡°Right,¡± Zaria said. ¡°Here¡¯s the plan. I¡¯ll scamper through the pipes, get as close as possible. On my signal, hit the coffins above their head. Area of effect, loud and hard. I¡¯ll rush in towards the robed cunt there, and¡ª¡±


    The sorcerer turned. He looked silently at a knot of thralls. The parasite sigils on their foreheads burned a little brighter, and they fanned out to opposite ends of the chamber, heading out on patrol with small flames held in their palms.


    For a moment, Isaac saw the sorcerer¡¯s face. His heart skipped in his chest. The glinting dust in the air seemed to shudder to a halt. The man¡¯s features were highlighted clearly, erasing all doubt as to who they were, and it was the most horrible thing he had ever seen in his life.


    It couldn¡¯t be. It was not possible. He didn¡¯t have the specialty¡ªhow had he managed¡ªwhere had he found¡ª


    No.


    No.


    Zaria squeezed his shoulder. ¡°Hurry now, love, before he gets any smarter with patrolling. You¡¯re gonna¡ª¡±


    Isaac stood up. He didn¡¯t feel able to breathe. He didn¡¯t feel in control of his body.


    ¡°Isaac! Get down! What¡¯re you¡ª¡±


    ¡°Uncle!¡± Isaac shouted.


    Ahead, below the tattered stripes and stars standard, the sorcerer froze in place. The purple clouds shimmered to nothingness with a dying gasp. The thralls surrounding him seemed to become animate, thawing back to life.


    Isaac marched forward. ¡°Uncle Berith!¡±


    Slowly, as if it was the last thing he wanted to do, the sorcerer turned to face him.


    Berith the Bone Hunter was a tall, imposing man. Even in his stark black robes, he casted a long figure, like a stretching shadow. His shaved head reflected the golden cartilage light, the bare skin still pink and peeling from sunburn, and his square, scar-lined jaw was dropped in horror. He had the same eyes as Isaac¡ªpale blue, like the edges of the sky. They looked at his nephew with shock, blinking and wide.


    ¡°What¡¯re you doing here?¡± Isaac yelled, still heading forward. ¡°Did you come to aid me?¡±


    Berith pressed himself back into the powered device. All at once, the hanging coffins on the ceiling began to shake. Their glass lids shattered, and bones flew through the air in fits and swarms. They wrapped around his fuligin robes, lying flat against his limbs and torso like bars of armor.


    Isaac stopped. He became aware of the thralls around his uncle. Thirty pairs of hands glinted with ice and fire. ¡°What is this? How are you practicing parasitism? Why are you doing this? There¡¯s dozens of people¡ª¡±


    ¡°Silence!¡± Berith shouted.


    He flinched. In an instant, he had resumed the standard posture¡ªhead bowed, shoulders hunched, casting hands open. Like he had never left.


    Berith walked to the edge of the raised platform. Around him, dozens of thralls returned from their patrols, marching into rigid columns. Their puppeteer casted a shadow over their faces. ¡°Isaac. How did you¡ª¡± He breathed out, staring down at his nephew. ¡°How did you get here?¡±


    Isaac dared to make eye contact. ¡°What¡ªwhat do you mean? You taught me¡ª¡±


    ¡°Isaac!¡± Berith¡¯s roar echoed down the extraction chamber. ¡°Answer me! How did you get here?¡±


    ¡°I¡ªI¡ª¡± He swallowed. ¡°I¡¯m sorry. You said¡ªI just followed¡ªth-the map, the seal on the letter, the¡ªthe¡ª¡±


    ¡°Did you not follow my instructions?¡± He looked down at his nephew like everything he had ever known was shattering before his eyes. ¡°Did you disobey me again?¡±


    ¡°Sorry,¡± Isaac said. ¡°I¡¯m sorry. I-I don¡¯t understand. Why are you asking¡ª¡±


    A presence came to his shoulder. Zaria stood with her poleaxe held out towards the thralls, glaring up at Berith with a curled lip. ¡°He¡¯s asking why you¡¯re still alive.¡±


    His uncle turned his attention to the hyena, as if only noticing her now. ¡°Who is this, Isaac?¡±


    ¡°Oi, cockwipe,¡± Zaria said. ¡°I¡¯m standin¡¯ right here.¡±


    Berith made a noise in his throat. ¡°A pirate, then. Should¡¯ve expected as much from one of the savage races. That explains why there was an entire regiment of them blowing up the necropolis.¡± He turned to his nephew. ¡°Are you making alliances with brigands and murderers?¡±


    Isaac wasn¡¯t sure where to look. His uncle, the empty faces of the thralls, the floor. ¡°I¡ªI had to¡ªshe¡ªI¡¯m sorry¡ª¡±


    ¡°Stop apologizing,¡± Zaria said. ¡°Your bilge rat of a mentor is trying to find an answer for his failed attempt at kinslaying.¡±


    The layers of bone armor on Berith¡¯s robes began to twist. ¡°You will not speak to me like that, pirate.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll bloody well talk to cunts like you how I wish.¡± She stepped closer to Isaac. Her presence made him stand a little taller. ¡°If you must know, your nephew¡¯s still alive ¡®cause I was there to give him water before he perished of thirst. Can¡¯t take credit for him surviving the sandwyrms, though¡ªthat was all his doing.¡±


    Something compelled Isaac to look up. He saw a changing mixture of expressions in his uncle¡¯s face. Surprise, confusion, apprehension. But the strongest emotion made his blood run cold.


    Fear. His uncle was afraid of him. He had the face of someone caught in the middle of a crime. The armor of bones crawled over his fuligin robes, protecting his vital organs, and the parasite sigils on the faces of his thralls were all glowing bright. Berith the Bone Hunter was watching him like violence had become inevitable.


    Isaac felt there was a knife piercing through his heart.


    ¡°Say it aloud, then,¡± Zaria said. ¡°You tried to kill your kin. Told him to walk through a pit of dragons with barely any water.¡± She spat on the floor. ¡°You may have caned him into thinking better of you, but I had you pegged from the fucking start, you gutless coward.¡±


    Berith clenched his fists. His pale blue eyes glowed. Below him, in ranks and files, his thralls raised their arms. Thirty spears of ice and fire aimed themselves at Zaria. Above, more of the glass coffins shattered, entire starfields of bone flitting through the air until they were posed motionlessly above him, held in wait like bolts in a crossbow.


    ¡°I am talking to my nephew, pirate. Not you. Speak another word, and it will be your last.¡±


    Isaac stepped in front of Zaria, shielding her with his body.


    Berith¡¯s eyes continued to glow. ¡°Get out of the way, Isaac.¡±


    He did not move.


    ¡°Get out of the way!¡±


    He remained in place. His heart was pounding, his palms were slick with sweat, and he could already feel the memory of the cane burning across his back. At the same time, he felt the strongest storm in the world could not have budged him a single inch.


    Berith¡¯s sneer was lighted from below by the flaming hands of his thralls. ¡°Why are you defending this cutthroat? She¡¯s a murderer! A common thief!¡±


    Isaac did not answer. He knew his voice would crack. It always did, whenever he spoke in defiance. A weak reply was worse than none. It would bring punishment. Most of all, he did not want Zaria to see it happen.


    ¡°What have you been doing behind my back, Isaac? Are you throwing your allegiance in with these savages?¡±


    His hands were shaking. After all he had done, they still shook. He was still weak.


    He thought he had changed.


    ¡°Let me guess,¡± Berith said. ¡°She ambushed you, out in the dunes. Never mind how some illiterate beastwoman managed to get the better of you, but she did, and she stuck a knife in your neck, and she made you spill the Diet¡¯s secrets. You told her what you were doing, and she probably stabbed half her friends to death just for the chance to steal the treasure. Am I right?¡±


    ¡°No,¡± Isaac said. ¡°There was not¡ªit was my fault¡ª¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m right, aren¡¯t I? You betrayed your mission! You let some pirates plunder the tomb!¡±


    ¡°No. No! That¡¯s not¡ª¡±


    ¡°How many Diet contacts are in danger because of you, Isaac? Did you betray the trust of the guild just to save your own neck?¡± The bald necromancer snorted in disbelief. ¡°You had my letter. They would¡¯ve just taken you hostage. Sold you for ransom. You should¡¯ve kept your mouth shut!¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s not how it happened!¡± Isaac shouted. ¡°She¡ªshe¡ªshe saved my life! I would¡¯ve been dead without her! She¡¯s¡ª¡± He turned his head, just enough to glimpse her from the corner of his vision. It was enough to steady his voice. ¡°She¡¯s helping me. I trust her.¡±


    ¡°Oh, truly?¡± Berith said. ¡°Have you grown fond of her? Is that it? Forgiven her for sticking a dagger to your throat?¡± His laugh was angry and hollow. ¡°You were always like this. Always fawning over every visitor I brought to the tower. Practically begging all your instructors for attention, like some sniveling dog. It was embarrassing.¡± The bones above his head shook in the air. ¡°Of course you¡¯ve grown attached to the first mongrel that showed you the slightest kindness. I suppose you¡¯re just too weak to help yourself.¡±


    ¡°Is it true?¡± Isaac asked. ¡°Did you trick me into walking through a nest of sandwyrms?¡±


    Berith¡¯s glowing eyes pierced into him. Below, his thralls held their elemental spells in wait like a field of statues.


    Slowly, making the movements deliberate and obvious, Isaac adopted the first mnemonic position for a fireball.


    ¡°Watch your hands, boy.¡±


    He did not drop his stance. Without noticing, his posture had grown straight again.


    His uncle¡¯s eyes never left his face. ¡°Yes. It¡¯s true. I knew your knowledge of geography was lacking. That was by design. You were supposed to die in the desert. You were never meant to make it this far.¡±


    He wanted the word to come out loud and angry. Instead, it was almost a whisper. ¡°Why?¡±


    Berith stayed silent, the red stripes of the standard billowing behind him.


    Isaac adopted the second mnemonic position. Flames began to trickle from his palms. ¡°Why?¡±


    ¡°I didn¡¯t think I could bear seeing your corpse,¡± Berith said.


    Isaac almost lost his casting stance.


    ¡°I could¡¯ve done it a number of ways,¡± his uncle continued. ¡°I could¡¯ve sabotaged the wax symbol on the letter, allowed the sphinx to kill you. I could¡¯ve poisoned your food. I could¡¯ve weakened the ropes you¡¯d need to clear obstacles, altered your phylacteries with explosive reagents, or even just ruined the sigils on your scrolls, causing the catalyst to backfire. I had many options.¡±


    Isaac felt like he was living a nightmare. Like the words pouring from his mentor¡¯s mouth could not possibly be real.


    ¡°But I couldn¡¯t. . . .¡± Berith clenched his fists, and the bones above his head shook in the air. ¡°But I could not stop myself from imagining what your body would look like, when I entered the tomb. Seeing your form twisted and crumpled, riddled with maggots and decay. Every time I thought of it, the image would¡ª¡± His breath came through gritted teeth. ¡°I was certain the experience would break my resolve.¡±


    Behind him, Zaria placed a hand on his shoulder.Stolen content warning: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.


    ¡°So,¡± the Bone Hunter said, ¡°I arranged your death to occur outside of the tomb. I hoped the sandwyrms would swallow you whole. I hoped the dunes would cover your remains. I hoped that I would never have to see your body. I had to hide the evidence of your murder, anyway, but . . . the truth is, I just wanted to spare myself the anguish.¡± The bones on his robes twisted like snarling skin. ¡°I was a coward. I was weak. I tried for decades to avoid these feelings, and I . . . I still could not help myself. With you.¡±


    ¡°How long were you planning this?¡± Isaac asked.


    Berith glanced down at the neatly rowed heads of his thralls. ¡°I¡¯ve known I would have to kill you since the day you were placed in my care.¡±


    There was silence in the extraction chamber. The glinting dust seemed to shiver. Somewhere below, further beneath the earth, there seemed to be some rumbling. A deep thrum of power. A massive chorus of screams.


    ¡°Pirate,¡± Berith said.


    Isaac felt the hand on his shoulder tense.


    ¡°Thank you for saving my nephew¡¯s life.¡±


    Zaria scoffed. ¡°Clearly wasn¡¯t to your benefit.¡±


    ¡°No,¡± he said, looking down at Isaac. ¡°It was. Thank you.¡±


    ¡°Get fucked, cocknobbler.¡±


    ¡°Isaac,¡± Berith said. ¡°Leave the tomb.¡±


    Isaac didn¡¯t feel capable of responding. He was afraid he might faint on the spot.


    ¡°You¡¯ll have to travel far outside the Diet¡¯s jurisdiction. An ocean or two, at least. If the Archons discover you¡¯re still alive, they will send assassins after you.¡± Berith gestured towards the bronze doors, the bones on his fuligin robes sliding over each other. ¡°Go on. Head out past the hinterlands. Live the life I could not give you.¡±


    ¡°The Diet of Nine ordered my death?¡± Isaac asked.


    ¡°I gave you an order, boy. For your own sake, follow it.¡± The glow in his eyes shined brighter. ¡°I cannot allow you to interfere with my mission.¡±


    ¡°Your mission?¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± Berith said. ¡°My mission. Not yours.¡±


    The trickles of flame at Isaac¡¯s hands grew into spouts of fire. ¡°Why are you here? Why did the Diet send you in secret? Does the necromancer possess some arcane knowledge? Does she have some ancient technology that the Diet wants for themselves?¡±


    Berith paused. ¡°The necromancer?¡±


    ¡°Yes! That¡¯s why you¡¯re here, isn¡¯t it? You¡¯re here to kill her in my stead!¡±


    His uncle took a deep breath. ¡°Isaac. Leave. Now. I would spare you from this.¡±


    ¡°No! I have spent my entire life preparing for this moment! I will hear the truth from you!¡± The fire in his palms licked towards his face. ¡°What does the Diet want from the necromancer?¡±


    ¡°There is no necromancer!¡± Berith shouted. ¡°The sorceress is dead! Your father killed her decades ago!¡±


    The flames began to die in his hands. ¡°What? What do you mean¡ª¡±


    ¡°Isaac!¡± His uncle¡¯s roar echoed through the extraction chamber, just like it did in the tower. ¡°Are you sure want to know this? Do you truly wish to learn the fates your father inflicted upon us?¡±


    He blinked, his feet rooted to the ground.


    ¡°Answer me!¡±


    ¡°Y-yes!¡±


    ¡°Fine!¡± In the dusty air above Berith¡¯s head, the constellation of bones shifted and swirled. ¡°Then tell me! What is the definition of mnemonics?¡±


    ¡°I¡ªuh¡ªthey are¡ª¡±


    A salvo of bone shot themselves into the ground at his feet, showering him in splinters. ¡°Answer me, boy!¡±


    ¡°Mnemonics!¡± Isaac said, his posture rigid, his voice shaking. ¡°A device¡ªa learning technique designed to aid the memory!¡±


    ¡°Adequate! And why are casting incantations called mnemonics?¡±


    ¡°Because¡ªbecause the energy dynamics require altered pathways in the body! The¡ªthe¡ªthe brain and the body!¡±


    A screaming arrow of bone flew past his shoulder. The piercing crack it made on the pipework sent shivers down his spine.


    The cane. The cane. The cane¡ª


    ¡°Magic changes the body,¡± Berith said, pacing back and forth on the raised platform. ¡°That is why we practice! That is why we train! The simplest spell requires years of effort! Not because the incantations are hard, but because the body and mind must alter themselves! You are different from the common peasants. Your brain and body are forever changed with your powers. It is a physical stamp on your very form.¡±


    Zaria gripped his shoulder a little tighter. He could see the steel of her axe in the corner of his vision, ready to rise.


    ¡°But the soul is distinct from the body, is it not? One is the essence, the other is a vessel. They are entwined, but separate. And, with effort, they can be separated from each other.¡±


    He had to hide. He knew this tone of voice. The punishment was coming. The lecture was a prelude to pain.


    He was a boy again. He was small. He was afraid. He had to protect himself. There was only pain.


    Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain¡ª


    ¡°Take your father, for example,¡± Berith said, his bone-armored robes flowing over the heads of his thralls. ¡°When he travelled to this tomb before your birth, he slayed the sorceress, as was his command. But he was arrogant. Foolish. He thought he could excavate this ancient empire without the aid of specialists.¡± His laugh came with a sneer. ¡°I know my brother well¡ªhe just wanted the sole claim on all its discoveries. These long lost necromancers were experts at soul extraction. Far beyond our current capabilities. This city burnt legions of prisoners like oil in a lantern.¡±


    Zaria came out to his side, shoulder to shoulder. She glanced at him, full of concern. Right then, he feared her gaze as much as his uncle¡¯s.


    ¡°He blundered into a trap,¡± the Bone Hunter said. ¡°Had his soul sucked from his body like the tens of thousands before him. But he was lucky. The device that captured him was specially designed by the sorceress as an emergency reservoir, in case her life was ever threatened by intruders. It gave him control of her forces. He became the new necromancer, in her stead. Now it was his turn to reign over the city of the dead, buried beneath an empty desert.¡±


    Isaac stepped forward. ¡°What does this¡ª¡±


    ¡°Do not interrupt me, boy!¡±


    He flinched. He couldn¡¯t help himself. The reflex was as natural as drawing breath.


    ¡°His body was destroyed,¡± his uncle said. ¡°He told me so, himself, when the Diet managed to triangulate his soul energy. He needed a new body to escape, and he would not allow us to enter this tomb without assurances that we would provide him with one. His stolen oceans of bone would kill us if we tried.¡± He shook his head, curling his lip. ¡°He wanted his freedom again. He wanted safety from those who would kill him to steal the bounty for themselves. And, of course, we could not sacrifice just any person for his livelihood.¡±


    His glowing eyes centered on Isaac.


    ¡°Why is that, Isaac? Why can a soul not be implanted into any body we choose?¡±


    He swallowed. ¡°Core rejection.¡±


    ¡°Core rejection,¡± Berith said. ¡°The soul and vessel must be related. Close family members.¡±


    The dust seemed to swirl around him. The air reeked of blood.


    ¡°Your father was trained in dual disciplines, wasn¡¯t he? Elements and anti-necrotics. He was famous for it, in fact.¡± Berith worked his jaw, his adventure scars glinting in the light. ¡°Of course, it was only natural that his son should be trained the same way. No one would bat an eye.¡±


    Isaac¡¯s mind raced and raced.


    ¡°Did you never think it odd that the Diet would send only you to rescue your father?¡± Berith gestured at him, his hand barely visible from the cuffs of his robes. ¡°You. A single journeyman pitted against the might of an ancient necromancer. It¡¯s ridiculous, isn¡¯t it? They could¡¯ve sent dozens of guild members. Wizened masters, armies of students. The kingdoms of the Diet could¡¯ve drowned this tomb in bodies. But, instead, they only sent you. One little boy against the last survivor of a fearsome empire.¡±


    His uncle stopped. His shadow spread across the hanging standard.


    ¡°It¡¯s almost as if you were never meant to succeed. As if, all along, we were only delivering a body, not a savior.¡±


    Isaac¡¯s breath stopped in his lungs.


    ¡°I did not raise a child,¡± Berith said. ¡°I raised a vessel. A vessel for your father.¡±


    Somewhere deep below them, by the feet of the giant corpse, the earth rumbled and shook. Thousands of voices screamed in agony.


    ¡°That was the deal we struck.¡± His uncle casted a black shadow as he paced. ¡°He would allow us access to this ancient tomb once his son had been trained in the ways of sorcery. This could not be faked. The transmutation training is a physical mark on your form. The knowledge of your studies has changed the structure of your brain. Only a body similar to the original would allow his soul to survive.¡±


    His uncle glanced downwards, the direction where the obelisk would lie beneath the floor. Where his father was.


    ¡°You should¡¯ve seen his desperation. He begged me to save him. Wouldn¡¯t hear of allowing the Diet access to the tomb. He didn¡¯t trust the Archons¡ªfor good reason¡ªand, besides, what little he¡¯d gleaned from these necromancers had told him this was the only solution. It was your life or his, and he was sorry¡ªblubberingly sorry¡ªbut he had chosen himself.¡± Berith snorted. ¡°In the same breath that he condemned your life, he became very adamant that I must not provide him with a weak vessel, in case his enemies in the Diet thought of betrayal. He did have to wait until you were fully grown, anyway. Why not train his son to be a worthy sacrifice?¡±


    The thralls kept their hands cocked with ice and fire. Their eyes were empty, their forehead sigils glowing underneath ancient machinery.


    Parasitism. Stealing someone¡¯s body.


    ¡°Needless to say,¡± the Bone Hunter said, ¡°this was unprecedented. Catastrophic would be a better word. The guild almost fractured. Your sacrifice would¡¯ve violated every ethical principle that the Diet was founded to protect. All the dukes and regents that provide our autonomy would¡¯ve demanded censure, imprisonment, execution. Not even the prize of this tomb would save us¡ªin fact, if what lies in this dead city was ever made public, it would destroy the peace that our forebears strived so hard to achieve. Every kingdom in the region would wage war to attain it. It is not exaggeration to say that, if the prize of this tomb ever fell into modern hands, it would change the world forever.¡±


    His gaze roamed over the metal extractors. Glass coffins. Retention tanks.


    ¡°Debate raged for days. Stunningly little of it was about you. The Archons were solely concerned with the reports of what your father discovered. The consequences of making it public knowledge.¡± He glared down at Isaac. ¡°It¡¯s amazing how quickly people murder their fellows, if they stand to gain from it. It happened to your father. It happened to the Archons. And I suppose it happened to me, too.


    ¡°Thus, in the end, they agreed. They would meet your father¡¯s demands. Half those old codgers could barely supinate their arms to sign a document, let alone a casting, but they agreed.¡± He folded his hands behind his back, still pacing. ¡°Of course, they kept it all a secret. Couldn¡¯t let anyone else claim the prize. Couldn¡¯t let the royal regulators know that they planned to violate the most basic statutes of our assembly. Couldn¡¯t let the petty fiefdoms develop their own ambitions to power.¡±


    The coffins above his head rattled on their tracks.


    ¡°And, of course, I was assigned to the task of training you. They needed to maintain the lie. The story was spun¡ªan ancient and powerful necromancer, holding your father hostage. A tragic orphan, taken in by his uncle, raised in the ways of his sire. Dedicating his life to rescue his father from the clutches of evil.¡± Berith gritted his teeth. ¡°I wanted to vomit every time one of your father¡¯s friends told me how much you resembled him. How excellently you were taking to the incantations. What a good man you were growing to be. If only they knew.¡±


    Isaac remembered all the lessons he had received from his teachers. His father¡¯s friends, looking at him with pity. The sadness in their eyes.


    ¡°Of course,¡± Berith said, ¡°that was not enough. It would¡¯ve never been enough. Before you had even dried from the blood of your mother, some of the Archons approached me with an offer. A conspiracy within a conspiracy. They wanted to claim the prize of this tomb for themselves. They wanted to kill your father to get it. And, again, I was the perfect choice.¡±


    The bones on his robes twisted and crawled.


    ¡°I had the most experience in scouring ancient tombs of necromancy. As little as I care for it, the moniker of ¡®Bone Hunter¡¯ was not ill-earned. Your father¡¯s stolen army was formidable. Something only a master could handle. But, in the end, it was not a question of skill. The issue was mass. Energy. My body alone could not store enough power to face a horde of his size. That¡¯s why he needed more bodies. Much more.¡±


    The Bone Hunter¡¯s eyes glowed, and the thirty pairs of eyes below his feet responded in turn.


    ¡°Parasite magic. That was the agreed solution to your father¡¯s forces. The Archons wanted to explore the discipline further, anyway. Outside the guild regulations. The conspirators signed the lesson grants with smiles and cheer, as if the ink on the military contracts was already dry.¡±


    He waved over the heads of his thralls, like he was displaying them for inspection. ¡°Once again, I was the only reasonable choice. I had tenure at an elemental college. Taught there for years¡ªhad many students begging for research positions. All I had to do was offer a dangerous expedition into the desert, something that no one would bat an eye at if the entire roster was slaughtered, and, suddenly, I had my pick of the litter.¡±


    The thralls were dressed in short robes. They were young. And they were all capable of elemental spells.


    ¡°And that¡¯s how our routine came to be, Isaac. That was the reality of our little family. In the mornings, I would supervise your training, all to ensure that your father¡¯s vessel was progressing as planned. In the afternoons, I would indulge in my own training, learning to spin the lives of others like a spider in a web. For the past few decades, I¡¯ve had to dedicate all my time to ruining lives¡ªwhether that be yours, the students under my tutelage, or the man I am disgusted to call my brother.¡±


    Berith stopped pacing. He glared down at Isaac, his shaved head shining in the light, his scarred jaw clenched. Isaac knew the expression well. It always signaled punishment.


    ¡°The entire thing disgusted me beyond expression. The injustice of it all was staggering. They ordered me to kill my own brother. They ordered me to raise his child, and then let him die. I would be forced to sacrifice dozens of lives in the pursuit of naked betrayal. The conspirators threatened me with censure, exile, even death. I¡¯ve had assassins shadowing my every step, ever since your bundled form was placed in my arms. That was the only way they could ensure my compliance.¡±


    His uncle continued to watch him. Isaac struggled to return the gaze.


    ¡°It was not enough,¡± Berith said. ¡°When you were born, I demanded your death. I used ever favor I had to try and escape this fate. If necessary, I would¡¯ve walked to the river behind my tower, tossed you in the wakes, and never thought of it again. I spent many nights over your crib, watching you slumber as a babe, daring myself to bring the knife down.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re fucking scum,¡± Zaria said.


    A trio of femurs screamed past her face.


    ¡°It would¡¯ve been a kindness,¡± Berith said. ¡°It would¡¯ve saved you from a life of imprisonment. A life spent in service of greed and malice. Many times, I was close to doing it. Not once in all your years did I stop considering the option.¡±


    The necromancer¡¯s gaze peeled off his nephew. He looked around the room. Glowing eyes roamed over coffins, ancient bloodstains, and the curving walls of a colossal pelvis.


    ¡°But I knew what was in this tomb. I knew the rewards that would be bestowed upon me. And I knew history would never be the same again. My own petty morals were nothing in comparison. This would be the plunder of legends.¡±


    The bones on his black robes settled together, wreathing across his heart.


    ¡°It happens all the time. Family members will kill each other for inheritance. Companies will wage war for profit. And kings will slaughter entire bloodlines to fulfill their ambitions. The world is a cruel and ruthless place. Why should I be any different?¡±


    Berith¡¯s vision continued to travel around the room . . . before slowly settling on Isaac.


    ¡°And then they told me I would have to kill you. It was not enough that I must raise you. It was not enough that I must spend hours, every day, teaching you magic that I knew you would never use. It was not enough that I must lie about the purpose of your training. It was not enough that I should keep you caged in my tower, lest you obtain friends and lovers who would miss you when you were gone.¡± Berith clenched his fists. ¡°No. I had to kill you myself. All to shield the conspirators from blame, in case their plot was ever discovered. All to make sure your father never received his vessel. After everything I would have to do for you, after everything. . . .¡±


    The bones in the air shuddered through the dust.


    ¡°How could anyone raise a child and not grow fond of them? How could I spend decades molding you into a man and still remain so heartless? How could. . . .¡±


    His uncle gazed down at him from the platform, and, for just a moment, his face softened, just like it always did in the yard, whenever he did not strike with the cane.


    ¡°How could I ever stand the sight of your body?¡±


    The smell of blood. The glint of metal. Thirty pairs of magic sigils.


    ¡°If what lies in this tomb would not change the world,¡± Berith said, ¡°then I would¡¯ve forsaken the guild for you.¡±


    The ground rumbled beneath them. Dust flitted through the air, as if with a mind of its own.


    ¡°What were you thinking?¡± Isaac asked, his voice trembling. ¡°All those times you¡ª¡±


    Berith¡¯s face was highlighted beneath the hanging glass coffins.


    ¡°You brought me books,¡± Isaac said. ¡°I knew you went out of your way to find them. It¡ª¡± He had to swallow. ¡°I would be so happy every time you bought a new one for me. I looked forward to it. It was the only thing I looked forward to. Every time you ate a meal with me, every time you¡¯d joke, every time you¡¯d smile, I thought¡ªI thought I¡¯d made you proud. I wanted to impress you. I wanted to earn all the time and effort you spent on me. Even when I hated you, I thought there would be some¡ªsome purpose to your cruelty. I thought if I tried hard enough. . . .¡±


    Berith looked down at his bone-armored robes.


    ¡°The letter. The¡ª¡± He almost reached for his pack. ¡°The letter you wrote me, before I left. I carried it with me the entire way. I read all the words until the parchment was in tatters. You said¡ª¡± He swallowed the sharp knot in his throat. ¡°You said ¡®your father will be proud of you.¡¯ Was that just a joke to you?¡±


    Berith glanced backwards, into the floor. Towards the sound of screams.


    ¡°What were you thinking?¡± Isaac asked. ¡°Every time you looked at me, every time you deigned to be nice¡ªwhat was crossing your mind? Did you feel sorry for me? Was it pity? Remorse?¡±


    His uncle took a deep breath.


    ¡°I had nothing.¡± Isaac¡¯s vision blurred with tears. ¡°Only you. Nothing else. No friends, no travels, no experiences. Nothing! You denied me everything! You took my potential away from me! You robbed me of my life!¡±


    Berith¡¯s glowing eyes met his gaze.


    ¡°Did my mother really die giving birth to me?¡±


    His uncle remained silent.


    For the first time in his life, something snapped inside of him.


    ¡°The Archons ordered it,¡± Berith said. ¡°She would¡¯ve interfered¡ª¡±


    Isaac shot the raw sound directly at his uncle. In the second or two of casting time, as if he¡¯d been expecting it since the start, Berith piled all the bones in the air into a solid wall in front of him. When the sound struck, it shattered dozens of corpses in a sphere of shrapnel. His uncle stumbled back, clutching his ears, and the thralls directly in front of him were shredded into pulp and blood.


    Zaria charged forward. Isaac casted a hurricane of wind, strong enough that it roared across the ground like a tsunami. The Khador students were battered and flung to the side, streams of ice and fire flailing through the air. She dashed through the gap in their ranks, the tip of her poleaxe held down in a spearing thrust, leaping onto the raised platform.


    Berith shot his arm forward. Above, the coffins hanging on the ceiling rattled and shook. They wrenched themselves from their ancient tracks, the bones inside providing all the thrust, and the coffins began to shoot through the air like the heavy stones of a trebuchet. Zaria flung herself to the floor, narrowly avoiding the sepulchral missiles. Dodging, weaving, she closed the distance to his uncle, her axe blade glinting in the cartilage light as it struck hard and fast.


    A swirling cloud of bone erupted from Berith¡¯s armored robes. The sheer force of the strike knocked him to the platform floor. Zaria took a direct hit from a flying coffin, stumbling back as the ancient casket shattered across her body. She regained her balance, snarling at the pain, raising her axe blade high over Berith¡¯s scrambling form.


    A sea of bone encased her, flying from all directions, rushing and frenzied. She flailed, bashing off showers of body parts, but the bones buried her form entirely, and she began to collapse to the ground, screaming in pain.


    Isaac casted the anti-necrotic light, burning it into a brilliant lance in his hand.


    ¡°Stop!¡± Berith yelled.


    His uncle struggled back to his feet. His face was studded with white shards of bone, his arm limp at his side. On the floor of the platform, the bones slithered back just enough that Zaria¡¯s head emerged. She gasped for air, blood leaking down her face.


    ¡°Cast again,¡± Berith said, ¡°and she dies.¡±


    Isaac held the shining white lance in his palm. If he loosed it now, the sheer energy would slice Berith in half, the wound burned shut before it could bleed. But anything less than a headshot would give the latter time to react.


    Zaria was forced down flat, a crown of sharpened bone poised at her neck. Her struggles could barely be seen through the writhing carpet of bodies.


    Around him, the Khador students picked themselves up off the ground like mindless automatons. Their hands churned with elemental magic. Above the rows of young heads, their puppeteer braced himself against the device he had been working on and bashed his shoulder into the metal. The bones covering Zaria frenzied as the socket popped back into place.


    ¡°This is your last warning,¡± his uncle said, rubbing his shoulder. Blood leaked from the shards of bone in his face. ¡°Leave, and I will not pursue.¡±


    The bones constricted around Zaria, sharp and swirling.


    ¡°If you continue forward, then I will not fail to kill you again.¡±


    The lance in his hand grew into a shining star.


    ¡°Start a new life, Isaac. This is the only chance you¡¯ll ever have.¡±


    Slowly, without turning away, Berith paced over to the edge of the platform. His blue eyes grew brighter, the sigils on the Khador students responded, and they helped him climb down to the floor like servants dressing a king. They gathered around him, shielding him with their bodies. Berith¡¯s face became lost in a sea of many.


    The bones continued to swirl around Zaria, sharpened limbs sliding past her throat. His uncle moved further back into the chamber, watching for the slightest sign of casting motion. Isaac never lowered his hands. After a minute, Berith had traveled far enough down the pelvic cavity that he and his thralls had almost disappeared into the tangle of coffins, pipework, and dust.


    For just a moment, all Isaac could see of his uncle were his eyes. Glowing bright with parasite magic, peeking out from behind the faces of his thralls. Still locked tightly onto him.


    ¡°I consider you my son,¡± Berith said, voice echoing down the chamber. ¡°He¡¯s not your father anymore. I am. And . . . I¡¯m proud of you.¡±


    His black robes vanished into the dust and gloom. The sound of marching footsteps slowly drifted away. The bones around Zaria died, falling to the floor like dry reeds. She gasped, clutching at her neck. In the air above her, the stripes and stars standard barely fluttered, displayed over a factory of death, like it bared the approval of the gods.


    All that remained was the smell of blood.

 Flesh & Blood

    He remembered when he was a boy.


    After finishing his chores, he had been reading by his bedroom window, the twilight of the day casting deep hues across the stone. From below, he had heard laughter. Shouting. A mob of village children had been playing in the streets¡ªhe could track them by the dust clouds they kicked into the air, the ripples they left in the crowds as they rushed between the huts and shops.


    Something had overcome him, and he had snuck down the tower, climbed through a window, and gone out to join them. And they had accepted him without a single word, as if he really did belong, and the games had been wonderous, the laughter insatiable, and he had marveled at the instinctiveness of it all, how easily they cheered and smiled, as if they did not need to worry of punishment, and, for a time, he had not done so, either.


    But night had fallen, faster than he realized, and a boar from the constabulary had grabbed him, and when he had been dragged back to the tower, the captain of the guard was standing there with his uncle. Berith had barely waited for the door to close before bearing the cane. No apology was accepted¡ªin fact, the crying had made it worse. He had curled into a ball long before the lashes ceased, and Berith had made him walk up the stairs back to his room, and the open welts had left him crawling and weeping with every step. When he had woken the next morning, blood soaked his sheets and a heavy padlock rested on the outside of his bedroom door.


    He had never left again.


    Now, he was firing wind across the extraction chamber, knocking the coffins from the ceiling. All the broken glass became blizzards in the air. He intensified the gales, concentrated the strikes, blasting the coffins down into chunks and splinters. The only thing louder than the wind was his screaming.


    And he remembered chatting with one of his instructors out in the yard. Janos¡ªa frost expert¡ªhad been telling him stories of his father. All the expeditions they had performed together. The wild nights at the taverns. How sorry he was to hear of his capture, and his condolences for his mother¡¯s death, as well. In a moment of curiosity, Isaac had asked Janos if he could aid him when it was finally time for him to leave on his journey. A look of surprise and guilt had crossed the man¡¯s face. Nothing more was said, but Berith had rounded on him the second Janos had left, accusing him of insolence.


    Next, he targeted the metal. The extractors, the pipes, the drainage shafts. Spears of ice were loosed from his palms, impaling through the emulsifiers, slicing across fittings and filtration nets and sodden retention tanks. Many were still filled with bones, spilling like entrails.


    And he remembered the days when Berith would cut the mnemonic sessions short, assigning him to some busy work in the library while he left the tower. He would often be gone for days at a time. The excuses were many¡ªsome excavation sponsored by the college, a research symposium at the capital, a rogue necromancer threatening a nearby village. For some reason, he always came back in a fouler mood than when he had left. Isaac would put more effort into avoiding him then, because this foul mood would always be worsened by his presence.


    When most of the room had been sundered with ice, he began to fire raw sound, blasting through the rows of machinery, sending great clouds of shrapnel screaming through the chamber. Entire sections of the factory fell from the ceiling, all of them split open and torn apart until the pieces of metal resembled the fallen leaves of a tree. Each eruption of sound stabbed at his ears, and the pain only drove him further, only made him strike harder and faster, every blast of splintered metal only sharpening his need to destroy. He would¡¯ve ripped the entire world apart with his bare hands, if given the chance.


    And he remembered all the questions he had asked. Why can I not use the soul-triangulator to speak with my father? Why did the sorceress capture him at all? What was she doing to him? Was he going to come back and live with us once he was rescued?


    The responses were always the same. Very quickly, he learned to stop asking.


    His legs gave out before his arms. He collapsed along a carpet of broken glass and shattered pipes, perched above a drainage tunnel that teemed with piles of bone. He gasped for air, the blood and metal spinning around him. A giant pelvis curving like the rise of a mountain.


    Heart pounding. Sweat dripping. Body screaming.


    And what he remembered most, what he had always remembered most, were the smiles. The first time he had knocked a cup off the fence with a tiny gust of wind, he had turned around and seen pride in his eyes. A nod of his head. A pat on the back.


    ¡°Isaac.¡±


    The extraction chamber was destroyed. The pelvic cavity was littered with shards of metal, split open tanks, powdered hills of bone. It looked worse than the bodies that had left it.


    The meals shared in the dining hall. Cooked chicken, fresh olives, hot bread. Stews of barley and lamb, boiled eggs, apples and pears and grapes. A cider, here and there. Our little secret.


    ¡°Hey. Hey.¡±


    He couldn¡¯t breathe. His lungs did not have the energy to flex. He gasped, his vision fading, his mind desperate for air.


    A hand rested on his back. He flinched, falling to the floor. He tried to curl into a ball, lie on his side, protect his back and organs. His panting and moans brought visions of the yard. Training. Mnemonics.


    The cane. The cane. The cane¡ª


    ¡°Isaac. Hey. It¡¯s me.¡±


    His limbs were limp. His muscles hurt. He was shriveled, emptied, drained of energy.


    The hand came again, and another followed, and he was lifted back to a sitting position. Furry fingers, tipped with claws. Breath on his neck, a voice in his ear.


    The alchemy lab. Rows of reagents, glowing potions. Grinding the herbs, reciting the chemicals, distilling the liquids. Berith¡¯s smile lighted by the fire of the bellows.


    ¡°Easy. Easy, now. Come on.¡±


    The hands on his shoulders became arms that wrapped around his chest, gently holding him in place. Breasts pushed into his back. Straps of leather and cloth, tufts of fur. Warmth.


    Her smell. Her smell.


    His face. The apprentice tests. The gathered crowd, the spreading news of a dual-discipline journeyman. The judges approving the promotion. Pride. Joking. Smiles. Even an Archon had come to witness the event. He had shook his hand, the fingers wrinkled and cold, his white beard lined with intricate braids, and this wizened wizard had told him that no one had been a more promising mage since his father.


    ¡°Breathe. Breathe.¡± Her arms pressed against his chest in slow, rhythmic motions. ¡°In, out. In, out. Come on. Breathe.¡±


    He drew breath as best he could, struggling against a diaphragm that could hardly flex. Her hands wrapped around his arms, stroking up and down. On the floor in front of him, their legs pressed together, pushing through broken glass and shards of metal. Ancient fossils, stains of blood.


    ¡°I¡¯m here. I¡¯m right here.¡±


    He gripped her arm. He listened to her voice.


    He had travelled alone. He had always been told this would be so. The Archons kept voting down any formal attempts to rescue his father. Too dangerous. Too many sandwyrms and pirates. There were other matters, there was not enough tax revenue, there were rogue puppeteers at this kingdom here, there were ancient ruins uncovered there, the Diet of Nine managed magical affairs for the nine kingdoms and all their vassals, and they could not spare special attention for just one of their agents. The task would fall solely to him. Always to him. Always.


    ¡°Isaac. Stop. Just breathe.¡±


    His head tilted back. The stripes and stars banner hung above their heads, tattered and ancient. He still didn¡¯t know what it meant. No one did. The necromancers seemed to use it as a symbol of their gods. It allowed access to their tomb. It was on every mural and relief he had passed in the city.


    Red stripes. Navy blue. Dozens of stars.


    Did the stars represent their gods? Were the red stripes a symbol of blood?


    He saw now that her hands were bloody. Long lacerations through the fur, some of it reopening the other wounds that had not yet healed. He turned his head, much as he could, and his nose was tickled with thick tufts of fur, finding it wet and red.


    ¡°Sorry,¡± he said. ¡°I¡¯m sorry.¡±


    ¡°Isaac¡ª¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry. I¡ª¡±


    He would¡¯ve killed her. He would¡¯ve killed all of Berith¡¯s thralls. He had killed a number of them¡ªsome were lying pulped from sound and shrapnel, others were broken from blasts of wind. Khador students. People from his village. Not much older than he was. Used the same way.


    Their bodies. His fault.


    ¡°Sorry. I didn¡¯t mean¡ª¡±


    ¡°For fuck¡¯s sake.¡± She hugged him tighter, pressing him to her chest. ¡°Listen to me.¡±


    How many people had died? How many students had Berith used as practice before now?


    ¡°It¡¯s not your fault.¡±


    How had he gone so long without noticing?


    ¡°It¡¯s not your fault.¡±


    The training. The imprisonment. The absences.


    ¡°You were a child.¡±


    The shouting. The curses. The resentment.


    ¡°You didn¡¯t know better.¡±


    Berith telling him that he should¡¯ve never been placed in his care.


    ¡°You couldn¡¯t have known better.¡±


    Berith, in the yard, holding the cane, saying that he wished his brother had died.


    ¡°You were never given the chance.¡±


    Berith screaming that he was only a burden.


    ¡°That was fucking horrible,¡± Zaria said. ¡°I can¡¯t even begin to imagine¡ª¡± He felt her growl. ¡°I¡¯d call your uncle a cunt, but cunts have a noble purpose. He¡¯s lower than shite. The craven sod even had the nerve to seem sorry about it.¡±


    With her embrace, her smell and warmth, the tears began to well in his eyes again.


    ¡°How could someone do all that to you?¡±


    The books. The smiles. The meals. The look in his eyes whenever he mastered a mnemonic position. The feeling of pride.


    His entire life had been a lie.


    ¡°What should we do?¡± Zaria said. ¡°I mean, I can¡¯t rightly ask¡ªhe¡¯s still your kin. He¡¯ll be watching for us. We can¡¯t beat him head-on.¡±


    Out of all the chaotic sensations, out of all the memories surging through his mind, one single feeling rose up inside of him. It dominated the rest, eclipsing all his thoughts.


    Anger. Fury. Hatred.


    Betrayal.


    Conspiracy.


    Justice.


    Vengeance.


    ¡°Look.¡± Her hands moved to his armpits, coaxing him to stand. ¡°Let¡¯s just go. Right now.¡±


    ¡°No,¡± Isaac said.


    ¡°Come on. Fuck the lot of ¡®em. Fuck the treasure.¡±


    He wriggled out of her grasp, kicking aside some shattered pipes as he stood. ¡°I¡¯m not leaving.¡±


    ¡°Your mission wasn¡¯t¡ª¡±


    ¡°I am not leaving!¡± He clenched his fists, broken glass falling from his robes. ¡°He¡¯s not going to scare me away. Not anymore. I¡¯m not going to listen to a single one of his fucking orders.¡±


    Ahead, the extraction chamber lied in ruins. Shattered coffins, sundered metal, broken bones. Below, through the metal grating and leagues of rock, he could still feel the rumbling. The obelisk. All the pipework must¡¯ve been feeding into it. The extracted souls of an entire city.


    ¡°He wants to be proud of me? He wants to call me his son?¡±


    A massive tower, buried deep in the earth, glowing bright with what must¡¯ve been thousands of souls. A black cavern stretching for miles.


    ¡°He won¡¯t be proud of me much longer,¡± Isaac said. ¡°Not when I show him exactly what his training lessons have earned him. Not when I¡ª¡±


    He stopped. While talking, he had turned to face her, and now he could see that something moved at the entrance.


    A wriggling pile of bone was spilling into the extraction chamber. Its streams flowed upon themselves, spilling and compressing in a horribly gelatinous form of locomotion. Churning strands reached out, thick as hay bales, wrapping themselves around the pipework like octopus tentacles, as if the central mass meant to support itself upon them. Almost like it was struggling against its own shape. Almost like a man trying to rise to his feet.


    Isaac pulled away from Zaria, his boots crunching on the glass. He watched the formless ocean of corpses. They seemed to shy from his gaze. Falling, easing back. Waiting.


    ¡°Oi!¡± Zaria shouted. ¡°Fuck off!¡±


    Isaac had never seen a pile of bodies flinch before, but it was impossible to see it as anything else.


    She stepped in front of Isaac, brandishing her axe. ¡°Clear out! Make tracks! Beat your bones ¡®fore I do it for you!¡±


    The mass quivered, slowly leaking its grip off the pipes. Dozens of skulls could be seen in the nest, swirling inside. All of them seemed to be watching him.


    He remembered the necropolis. The ocean of bones rushing past, going out of its way to avoid hurting him. Helping them kill the sandwyrm, saving Zaria from digestion. The necromancer trying to communicate. Asking for an alliance. Asking for help. Letting them pass without harm.


    ¡°You come near him again, and you¡¯ll be naught but twigs and powder!¡±


    At the doors of the extraction chamber, the necromancer had been desperate to prevent his entrance. She had known who was on the other side. She had reacted violently when he had suggested surrender to the Diet. And, when he had asked if she wanted him to leave, she had looked deeply into his eyes, and said yes.


    ¡°Why didn¡¯t you end your own life?¡± She waved the axe. ¡°Too craven, were you? Gone mad with dreams of power?¡± Her hackles rose, ears bent flat. ¡°Tell me! Which was stronger? Greed or cowardice?¡±


    The mass seemed to deflate, coming down like a leaking waterskin. Most of the skulls dove back inside, as if they were avoiding sight.


    ¡°Fuck off, kinslayer!¡±


    For a moment, all the bones stopped moving, and the pile might¡¯ve just been a morbid trophy left by a conqueror. Then, slowly, the mass churned itself back towards the bronze doors, the same way a slug might crawl through a hole in a wall. It sounded like dry scraping, a flood of brittle rattling. There was no attempt to speak. None of the skulls looked back at him.


    The only thing she had been able to say was his name.


    ¡°Wait!¡± Isaac shouted.


    The mass froze. Bones churned within.


    He began to walk forward. Zaria reached for him, but he stepped around her, moving through piles of broken glass and shattered machinery.


    The bones spilled back into the chamber. As he approached, they spread out into a high-walled semicircle, engulfing the pipes that ran up the pelvis, as if using them for support. When he stopped in front of the wall of bodies, it flexed like a diaphragm. Slowly, a single head stalk emerged from the churning wall. It extended itself towards him, shunting more vertebrae into its length like a crawling line of ants.


    Both times they had talked, the skull stalks had tried to reach for him. Both times, he had casted the anti-necrotic light, burning them away. This time, he did not. As the skull came forward, he raised his own hand in response.


    ¡°Father?¡± Isaac asked.


    The skull at the head of the stalk pushed its cheek into his palm. The bone was cold, dry, and brittle. It shuddered like a bug in his grasp. But the touch was gentle, and the skinless face spoke in a soft whisper.


    ¡°Isaac.¡±


    The wall of bone closed in around him, arms reaching out from its depths like a dozen corpses digging their way from a grave. Bony hands grabbed at his shoulders, rubbed through his hair, felt at his face through the deadened appendages, like the sensation was not nearly enough. He felt swallowed by a grasping forest of limbs, tangled deep in their embrace. Around him, the sea of bones seemed to shudder and sigh.


    He closed his eyes, and he almost imagined it was a hug.


    ¡°Isaac. Isaac. Isaac. Isaac. Isaac.¡±


    The bones were dry and old. They had no warmth. They were clumsy. They were smothering and clutching and desperate.


    ¡°I-I-Issaa¡ªcccc¡ªIssaaaaa¡ª¡±


    There were many gasps. A choir of voices, hissing like death.


    ¡°Isaac. Isaac. Isaac. Isaac¡ª¡±


    ¡°Was that all true?¡± Isaac asked.


    Around him, the grasping hands froze. The head stalk bent away, dragging the skull from his hand.


    ¡°Did you really mean to kill me? Take my body? Use it to save yourself?¡±


    The ocean of bones rustled and cracked, like a gust of wind slicing through a bush. The skull looked away, shifting its eyeless sockets down to the floor.


    ¡°This was all your fault,¡± Isaac said. ¡°Everything. All of this¡ªit¡¯s because of you.¡±


    The human skull looked up, staring deeply into his face. Its jaw snapped, biting and snarling, fighting hard to speak.


    He took a step back, brushing his way through the thick nest of hugging arms, and the ocean of bones nearly shrieked in response. Dozens of arms reached for him, stretching their skeletal fingers, growing new arm bones at the base to stretch even further. A spilling cloud of corpses rushed for him.This book is hosted on another platform. Read the official version and support the author''s work.


    An axe blade came smashing down. Half a dozen arms were smashed in half, spraying fingers and ossein. As Isaac took another step back, Zaria swung her polearm up, cleaving through a reaching tentacle of legs and spines. The entire mass shuddered back, reforming itself into softer shapes. All the arms retreated away like worms digging through dirt, rejoining the rest.


    Zaria snarled at the tide of bones. She stepped forward, teeth bared, and the mass squirmed against the pipes, fleeing up the wall like a swarm of bugs. Isaac held out a hand. She glanced at him, gave one last growl, and stepped back to his side. Her weapon remained ready and waiting.


    ¡°Is that still your plan?¡± Isaac asked. ¡°Are you still going to sacrifice me?¡±


    The head stalk had receded down to a few stubs of vertebrae. Slowly, it lengthened itself out of the central mass, just enough for the head to shake from side to side.


    ¡°Am I supposed to believe you?¡±


    ¡°Isaac,¡± the skull said. The voice was choking, and the tremble did not seem to be coming from the bone itself.


    He looked away, back towards the extraction chamber, the red stripes of the hanging standard. The point where his uncle had vanished off into the gloom.


    All his life, he had heard stories of his father. All his instructors had known him. They¡¯d all been his friends. He had been told stories of his father¡¯s bravery, his many expeditions into foreign lands. The many favors that his friends owed to him. His humor and cheer. His love for his wife. His excitement at her pregnancy. The plans and dreams he had for his son.


    And, of course, that had been part of the lie. A way to convince him of his mission. Maybe Berith had asked them to tell those stories. Maybe they had even been true. But it didn¡¯t matter.


    He heard the crack and shuffle of bone. When he looked, his father had shifted the head stalk up through the substrate layer¡ªthe length of vertebrae coiled like a snake, far larger than a human spine should be. Below it, three arms grew from the bones. They flexed their skeletal fingers, as if testing the connections.


    Two of the arms moved close together. Slowly, with their fingers, they formed two halves of a semicircle, and then they pressed the halves together. The resulting shape was a heart. The third arm pointed its bony finger at the heart, then at Isaac. Above them all, the skull watched him with empty sockets.


    When Isaac didn¡¯t react, the third arm pointed again at the heart, and then back at him.


    ¡°Do you?¡± Isaac asked. ¡°Do you really love me?¡±


    The skull nodded so hard that it broke free of the vertebrae, bouncing and rolling along the metal floor. A new skull stalk grew from the central mass, and the previous spine shattered into its base pieces, all the little vertebrae squirming back along the ground like a swarm of beetles.


    One of the arms pointed towards the end of the chamber, where his uncle had gone. Then, it pointed back at the central mass. Finally, all three of the arms shook back and forth, along with the skull stalk.


    ¡°You¡¯re not like Berith,¡± Isaac said, flatly.


    The skull nodded. The three arms stretched outwards¡ªtwo of them drew a large circle in the air, and the third drew a triangle that pointed out of the circle.


    ¡°Gettin¡¯ real sick of this shite,¡± Zaria said. ¡°Not sure how a pile of bones can go fuck itself, but I suggest you get trying.¡±


    The skull shook hard. It repeated the gesture. A large circle drawn in the air, and a triangle pointing out of it.


    ¡°A sundial,¡± Isaac said. ¡°Time.¡± He paused. ¡°You¡¯ve spent a lot of time down here.¡±


    The skull nodded vigorously, as if growing excited. It bent down, and one of the skeletal arms  tapped a bony finger against the skull. Towards the brain.


    ¡°You¡¯ve spent that time thinking.¡±


    More nodding. The three arms began to move, but, after a moment, they stopped. The skull peered down at them, as if growing dissatisfied. Its jaw bone shook, letting out an angry hiss. After some hesitation, the skull looked at Isaac. The ancient bone only had empty orbitals, cracked from untold millennia, but the gaze was quite piercing despite its lack of eyes. Isaac received the distinct impression that it was trying to absorb as many details about him as possible.


    One of the arms pointed a finger at him. The other two arms moved back to the central mass and folded their forearms together, rocking back and forth, the same way one might cradle something to their chest. Then, the arms moved close to the floor¡ªone arm used its hand to flap its thumb and fingers together, as if imitating someone talking, while the other arm used two of its fingers to imitate unsteady steps across the ground. Above, the third arm continued to point at him. The arms rose to around chest-height. With a surprising amount of dexterity, they began to mimic casting motions¡ªelements, anti-necrotics. The movements were clumsy and out of practice, but unmistakable. All the same ones that he knew very well.


    Finally, the two arms rose to the same height that he stood now. Aligning themselves vertically, the two hands pressed together and shot themselves apart, spreading far away with a grand flourish, as if demonstrating a fearsome length. The two arms held themselves straight, then bent their elbows until their forearms were pointed up towards the ceiling, hands clenching into fists. They seemed to be trying to flex muscles they did not have¡ªbiceps, deltoids. The third arm had never stopped pointing at him.


    ¡°Isaac,¡± the skull said. One of the arms tapped a finger against the brain case, then pointed a finger at him. ¡°Isaac,¡± it said again, tapping a finger to itself and pointing at him.


    Isaac had to turn away and wipe his eyes.


    ¡°That¡¯s enough,¡± Zaria said. ¡°Tell us so, right now¡ªdid you try to sacrifice your son?¡±


    For a long moment, the skull did not move. Then, slowly, it nodded.


    ¡°Did you hold whatever horrors are buried here hostage in order to get that sacrifice?¡±


    Another nod came. It was as slight as a tremble.


    ¡°Did you have your wife killed to sell the lie?¡±


    Immediately, the skull shook from side to side, the vertebrae almost snapping.


    ¡°Sure. And we¡¯re just supposed to believe that you¡¯re feeling a little sad about the whole endeavor?¡±


    The skull looked between them. Below, two of the arms pressed their hands together, holding the fingers straight and the palms flat. It was the same gesture one might use to pray . . . or ask for forgiveness.


    ¡°Oh, fuck off. Isaac, we¡¯re done here. Let¡¯s go.¡± She stepped over towards the door. ¡°Get your shite out of my face!¡±


    The central mass squirmed away from the doors, all the limbs and pelvises moving like a spilling pile of tinder. Pipes groaned and clattered as the main body thickened and condensed along the wall of the chamber. The bronze doors were clear and open.


    Isaac didn¡¯t move. The skull stalk bent itself into a C shape, gazing at him. The three arms all pointed a finger towards the door. They did not make any other gestures.


    ¡°You¡¯ll just let me leave?¡± Isaac asked.


    The skull looked away. It nodded.


    ¡°You won¡¯t try to stop me?¡±


    It shook from side to side, still avoiding his gaze.


    ¡°Squire,¡± Zaria said, gesturing to the exit with her poleaxe. ¡°Don¡¯t make me drag you off.¡±


    He didn¡¯t move. He stared at the skull until it finally met his gaze again. The bone was hollow, its open nasal cavity full of shadows. The teeth were alive in its jaws, wriggling like maggots.


    ¡°Why did you attack us in the catacombs?¡± Isaac asked.


    The skull glanced at Zaria, then back at him. One of the arms raised two of its fingers. The skull clacked its jaws together, making a dry, hollow sound.


    ¡°What is that supposed to mean?¡±


    The skull hesitated, looking down at its arms. After a moment of thought, two of the arms held themselves upwards, pointing out and straight, only meeting by the tips of their bony fingers. It looked like someone trying to dive into a lake. The third arm made various gestures below, mimicking the turning of knobs and the pressing of buttons.


    Over to the side, Zaria was giving him a very impatient look.


    ¡°Wait,¡± Isaac said. ¡°Is that . . . the soul-triangulator? The receiver, the dials?¡±


    The skull nodded vigorously. It repeated its earlier gesture¡ªholding up two fingers while its jaws clacked together.


    ¡°You¡¯ve only spoken to Berith and the Diet twice.¡±


    Another nod. Two pinched fingers came to the mouth of the skull, sliding across the space where lips should be, as if sealing them shut.


    ¡°You haven¡¯t spoken to them otherwise.¡±


    A third nod.


    ¡°So,¡± Isaac said, ¡°you couldn¡¯t stop this deal after it was made. They had to contact you first, and they didn¡¯t. There was no way to take it back.¡±


    The skull didn¡¯t move. It only looked at him.


    ¡°What did Berith say to you the second time?¡±


    One of the arms pointed at him. It jerked and stiffened, holding its palm out, then slowly lowered itself down until it was hanging limp against the central mass.


    Isaac took a moment to answer. ¡°Berith told you I was dead?¡±


    The skull stared at him for a long, silent moment. It gave a weak nod.


    ¡°Guess he told you that he was coming, too. That was very honorable of him.¡±


    The skull shook hard. Behind it, the bone wall bristled and churned.


    Isaac wasn¡¯t surprised by this. In fact, he could guess exactly how the conversation had gone. Berith would¡¯ve berated his brother for everything he had done. Placing his son in his care, extorting ancient treasure to save his life. Telling him exactly what kind of betrayal was coming his way.


    He could hear the voice, clear as day. This is what you deserve.


    ¡°So you weren¡¯t expecting me to come anymore? You just didn¡¯t recognize me?¡±


    A nod. One of the arms pointed at Zaria.


    ¡°And you were expecting me to be alone.¡±


    Another nod. A hand cupped itself to the side of the skull, where the ear should¡¯ve been.


    ¡°You only recognized me afterward. Listening to our conversations.¡±


    Nodding again. The skull was growing closer, the vertebrae stalk shifting back and forth. Excited.


    ¡°Then what about the sandwyrm? Was that you trying to protect me?¡±


    The skull nodded firmly. Two of the arms began to whack their forearms against each other, like swords clashing together.


    ¡°Soren,¡± Isaac said. ¡°The duel. That was your way of stopping it.¡±


    The pirate captain had been catching on to their ruse. She had flanked him with crossbowmen, and the rest of her crew had been ready to draw their weapons. If the dragon hadn¡¯t been summoned, they likely wouldn¡¯t have survived the encounter. His father had saved his life.


    ¡°Alright. Final question.¡± He glanced behind him, through the ruined metal of the extraction chamber. Where Berith had disappeared in the dust and gloom. ¡°What does the Diet want? Is it the treasure? The technology? The souls?¡±


    The skull shook its head.


    ¡°Then what? Berith¡ªUncle¡ªyour brother said he refused the task until he was offered some reward buried in the tomb. What is it?¡±


    One of the arms shifted up the flattened bone wall, sliding along the nest of connections until it was perched at the top. It pointed a bony finger towards the wall of the chamber. Not at the pipes. The finger pointed at the colossal pelvis that the room was built inside of.


    ¡°The giant skeleton?¡±


    The skull nodded. One of the other arms pointed toward the center of the chamber, at the device Berith had been working on. He remembered souls leaking from the metal. The third arm pointed diagonally into the floor. Towards the obelisk. He could still feel the rumbling in the floor. The distant sound of screams.


    His father looked at him with an eyeless gaze, as if that was all that needed to be said.


    And it was. The realization hit him like a blackpowder bomb.


    ¡°He¡¯s going to resurrect the skeleton,¡± Isaac said. ¡°The Diet doesn¡¯t care about the treasure. It¡¯s the corpse. The one the tomb is built out of. This is the largest repository of soul energy in the world, and it¡¯s enough to bring the corpse back to life.¡±


    He couldn¡¯t imagine the scale of such a beast. He had spent the better part of three days journeying through its fleshless form, and he had only barely gone more than halfway through its length. It held a city in its bowels. It had once been the cradle of an entire empire. And now, if his uncle succeeded in his mission, it would walk once more.


    Nothing would be able to stop it. He who controlled such a colossal mountain of bone would be the terror of every army and kingdom in the world. The mere shadow of the creature emerging over the horizon would cause entire cities to flee in fear. They could smash any fiefdom or duchy that dared oppose them. They could hold every government hostage with just the threat of its deployment. And, with enough planning, resources, and ambition, they might even conquer the world.


    That would be worth killing for. That would certainly pay the price for fratricide.


    ¡°We need to stop him,¡± Isaac said. ¡°Him and the Archons. No one should have that kind of power.¡±


    The skull gave a firm nod.


    ¡°Hold on,¡± Zaria said, moving back to his side. ¡°You sayin¡¯ that if your brother wins, then this titan¡¯s gonna walk again?¡±


    Another nod from the skull.


    ¡°I¡ª¡± Her eyes roamed over the vast curve of the pelvis, as if it was the first time she had truly appreciated its size. ¡°Fuck me. That¡¯s world-ending shite, isn¡¯t it?¡±


    Both him and his father nodded.


    She blew a raspberry, for lack of a better expression. ¡°Well, my greed¡¯s looking rather paltry now. Gods above.¡±


    Isaac stared into the eye holes of the skull. Behind it, the wall-covering mass expanded outwards, coming forward out of the pipes. The movement was slow and cautious, like the approach of a stray dog. The skull remained still. Waiting.


    The decision came easier than he expected. ¡°I trust him.¡±


    ¡°What?¡± Zaria took a step towards him, never shifting her weapon away from the bone wall. ¡°How the fuck you swinging that?¡±


    ¡°Watch.¡± He stepped forward. The skull stalk coiled back. ¡°If I don¡¯t interfere, Berith¡¯s going to kill you. He will win. Right?¡±


    The skull took a moment to nod.


    ¡°Then why did you to tell me to leave? You¡¯re going to die without me.¡±


    Below the skull, two of the other arms formed a heart with their fingers. The third arm pointed at the heart, then at him.


    ¡°You¡¯d seal your own fate¡ªlet the Diet get their giant monster¡ªjust so I¡¯d have the chance to escape?¡±


    The skull gave a single, firm nod. Again, the third arm pointed at the heart, then at him.


    ¡°There you go,¡± Isaac said. ¡°That¡¯s why.¡±


    ¡°Have you gone mad in the head? All I¡¯ve been hearing from this puppet show is the ways he¡¯s been trying to kill you. Is attempted murder gonna be your basis for friendship?¡±


    ¡°I trust him.¡±


    ¡°Well, I¡¯d sooner suck a sandwyrm through my cunt than do the same. You¡¯re the only noble exception in the whole bloodline, far as I¡¯m concerned.¡±


    He took a deep breath, then turned to face her. ¡°Z. The deal¡¯s off.¡±


    She blinked down at him.


    ¡°Neither of us are going to get the treasure,¡± Isaac said. ¡°The only way we were ever hauling it out of here was through the help of the Diet, and they¡¯re not going to let us have it. They¡¯re going to send assassins after me. I¡¯m going to be a fugitive for the rest of my life. You will be, too, if you stay here.¡±


    She glanced back at the shattered machinery. ¡°Aye. Was thinking that way, as well.¡±


    ¡°You should leave. Go somewhere else. Somewhere far away.¡±


    ¡°Still being hunted, aren¡¯t I? Where am I supposed to go? Nowhere to hide out in them dunes. It¡¯s a death sentence up there as much as here.¡± She tilted her axe at him. ¡°What are you doing, even? You understand this mission was a fraud, don¡¯t you? You got no obligations to it.¡± She glared at his father. ¡°It was wrong, what happened to you.¡±


    The skull slithered back, the central mass deflating towards the floor.


    ¡°I know,¡± Isaac said. ¡°This is my decision. I¡¯m not leaving. I¡¯m going to make sure no one ever claims what¡¯s in this tomb. I¡¯ll make sure this skeleton never walks again. And I¡¯ll kill my uncle to do so, if need be.¡± He glanced at the mass of bones behind him. ¡°No idea what I¡¯ll do after that, but I¡¯ll figure it out later.¡±


    She tried to laugh, but it didn¡¯t quite work. Her ears were twitching, folding back.


    ¡°You should leave,¡± he said. ¡°You already have a target on your back. There¡¯s no reason to paint a second one.¡±


    ¡°Does that mean you don¡¯t want to be my squire no more?¡±


    ¡°I never was.¡±


    ¡°Oh, aye? What¡¯s next? Gonna tell me rain ain¡¯t wet? That flowers ain¡¯t pretty, and mead ain¡¯t sweet? Next you¡¯ll say the sun won¡¯t rise.¡±


    ¡°Zaria¡ª¡±


    ¡°You and I. Squire and knight. Most natural thing in the world. Fitting beyond words. Ain¡¯t been a better pairing since cock and cunt.¡±


    ¡°By the gods,¡± Isaac said, ¡°you are the most exhausting person I¡¯ve ever met in my life.¡±


    She managed to laugh this time.


    ¡°Let me be clear. I have not enjoyed your presence. I have been subjected to it.¡±


    Her laugh grew louder.


    ¡°It never ends with you. ¡®Oh, squire, tell me of your childhood. Squire, fetch my rations. Squire, heal my wounds. Squire! Squire! Squire!¡¯¡± He let out a growling breath. ¡°Never once have I missed peace and quiet more than when I hear you speak.¡±


    She slapped the pommel of her poleaxe to the floor, grinning wide.


    ¡°Look,¡± Isaac said. ¡°I¡ª¡± He stopped, meeting her gaze. ¡°I¡¯m very glad I met you. And not just because I would¡¯ve died, otherwise. It was, without a doubt, the best thing that¡¯s ever happened to me. Daggers, rope, and all.¡± He paused. ¡°But I. . . .¡±


    She watched him, silent.


    ¡°I want you to stay,¡± he said. ¡°But I won¡¯t ask you to. Leaving is your best choice.¡± He gave a weak shrug. ¡°Like you said out in the desert¡ªa little bit of coin isn¡¯t worth anyone¡¯s life.¡±


    She looked at him for a moment. She glanced behind her, eyes roaming over the ruins of the extraction chamber, coasting her vision up and across the massive wings of the pelvis. She looked forward again, watching the squirming wall of corpses that was his father. Finally, she looked at the open bronze doors. Her axe glinted in the light.


    ¡°Squire,¡± Zaria said, ¡°can I be honest with you?¡±


    ¡°You can call me a different name, first.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯ve always reminded me of my little brother. Littlest one, to be specific. We called him Lem. Little Lem.¡±


    Isaac looked down at his tattered robes. He had lost a lot of weight since the start of his journey.


    ¡°Not my real brother, mind, just another urchin my father let in off the street. Looked like he¡¯d never been off it before. He was human¡ªlike you¡ªsame sorta hair and skin. Had little dartin¡¯ eyes. Flinched at every sudden move. Must¡¯ve been sick as a babe ¡®cause half his face was yellow and sunken, like bruised fruit. Never spoke a word. None of us were sure if whatever sickness he¡¯d had prevented him from doing so, and or if it was just choice on his part. Either way, we never got a proper name out of him. Thus, he was Lemon, on account of his face, or just Lem, for short.¡±


    She scratched her chin, gazing into the floor.


    ¡°Course, I was the oldest, and that meant I was in charge of keeping all the young beasts in line. Making sure they were feed, clothed, not pinched by the guards. I¡¯d make rounds, roaming around the usual haunts, tracking ¡®em through alleys and shops. Has to be that way with pickpockets. Out of all of them, Lem was the hardest to find. You would not see a hair of him if he didn¡¯t want you to. Sometimes, I¡¯d catch him hiding out in the rafters above the shop, and he¡¯d hardly look different than the rats.


    ¡°Anyway, the rounds were always the same. Bringing them food, asking them what¡¯s good, telling them if father or I was getting a windfall of coin and we could maybe buy some clothes, medicine, what have you. With Lem, you know, it was like feeding a stray dog. He¡¯d look at you real suspicious, approach very cautious-like, nab it from your hands, and scamper back off to the shadows. Always acted like I was seconds away from slitting his throat, like he¡¯d never once experienced kindness before, and he¡¯d long since stopped looking for it from anyone. The yellow on his face went to his eye, and the mismatched pair would always look real sharp at me, no matter what. Never seemed to believe I wasn¡¯t playing some trick on him.


    ¡°Still, that was my duty, and I took it serious. Rain or shine, I¡¯d track that little shite down and hand him some bread. I¡¯d ask him if he needed something, and he¡¯d look back all fierce, like he was daring me to spot some weakness. I¡¯d drag him off to get his clothes patched if I saw any holes. I¡¯d often have to haul him over to a sawbones to fix some scrapes from a fight. Once, I had to pin him down and shave his head for the lice, and I¡¯ve never once had such a vicious struggle from another creature. Nothing would ever change with him, is what I¡¯m saying. This went on for months. Every day. Neither of us were droppin¡¯ our stubbornness toward each other, and I never once got a word of thanks out of him. But, hey, that was alright. He stayed alive. That¡¯s what counts.


    ¡°Except, one day, no different than the others, I¡¯m walking through a back alley, and I see Lem waitin¡¯ for me. This was my own secret route¡ªcase of emergencies sorta thing¡ªand so I knew right away he must¡¯ve followed me some days before. Second I lay eyes on him, he rushes forward, thrusts something in my hand, hugs me tight ¡®round the waist, and disappears down the alley. Fast as a blink. I open my hand, and there was this little flower sitting inside. It was glowing. Real pretty. Some magic plant, probably nicked from a greenhouse in the mage district. Not something he¡¯d come by on accident.¡±


    She opened her hand, staring into the palm.


    ¡°After that¡ªfuck me, it was like a switch had thrown. I¡¯d catch him playing games with the other siblings, and I guess they liked him well enough to stop mocking his face. He started contributing to the family fund, and, by Xotra, that little cunt could earn better than the rest of us. Never seen so much coin on such a little brat. I¡¯d still do my rounds with him, but most of the time he¡¯d come to me himself, make it easier¡ªeven helped deliver the loaves, couple times. I¡¯d chat with him, no different than normal.¡± She laughed. ¡°Oh, he hated me teasing him. Got real prickly about it. Course, that just meant I had to keep doing it. He never spoke a word, never hugged me again, but I could earn a smile, here and there.¡±


    She looked his way for a moment, and he could tell she wasn¡¯t really seeing him. Her gaze was far away.


    ¡°When you live a life like I do, you make a lot of excuses for it. It¡¯s the way the world is. It¡¯s self-defense. You got no choice. Better you than them. And, tell the truth, it is survival most of the time. Can¡¯t negotiate with a hungry belly. Still, none of them words ever helped me sleep at night. I¡¯d get to thinking about¡ªwell, what was I doing being alive? What kind of value was I adding to the world? If I was to die, then and there, could anyone really say it was such a bad thing? Was I just a burden on others, always taking and never giving?¡±


    Her fingers tapped against the haft of her weapon.


    ¡°I dunno,¡± Zaria said. ¡°I lost that flower, of course¡ªdidn¡¯t have no chance to take it when I was sold for coin. Still, when I had it, I¡¯d look at it some nights, watching it glow, and I¡¯d get this feeling in my chest. I knew that if someone got in my face and called me a thief and asked what good I¡¯d ever done for anybody, then I could just point right at that flower. I could tell them that there was this human boy named Lem, and he¡¯d known naught but a life of suffering, and I¡¯d managed to turn him into something like a happy kid again, all ¡®cause I¡¯d refused to give up on him.¡±


    She glanced at his father. The bones had all rested still, like a mass grave hung up on a wall.


    ¡°Still don¡¯t know what I want to do with my life, now that I¡¯m no longer a pirate. But, after thinkin¡¯ on it for a while, I do know one thing. I want that feeling back again. I want to have something that I can point to and be proud of. I want some evidence that my life has actually made a good difference in the world.¡±


    Isaac waited for a moment. ¡°So . . . ?¡±


    ¡°So,¡± Zaria said, hefting her axe, ¡°let¡¯s get going already. Your uncle¡¯s gaining a lead on us as we speak.¡±


    Something odd happened to him. He blushed again, as he always did, but this blush was different. He felt it inside his chest and stomach, and it was both a burning and cooling sensation, a spreading warmth that sent chills across his skin. His knees began to feel weak, and his heart pounded in his chest. It was the first time in his life that he had ever felt this way, and it only got worse as he looked at her.


    Outwardly, he merely nodded, doing his best to clamp down on his smile, and turned back to the mound of bones. ¡°Father?¡±


    The skull stalk reared back, as if surprised that attention had returned to it. Below it, all three of the arms pointed to the side, towards the open bronze doors. They bent out and repointed themselves, as if to emphasize the direction.


    ¡°I¡¯m not leaving,¡± Isaac said.


    The skull bent down close to him, enough that he could see the cracks in its empty orbitals, the ossification of the frontal plate. ¡°Isaac.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not leaving.¡±


    His mind was still a chaos of emotion. Anger, shock, grief, and betrayal. He doubted that he would ever lose the emotions entirely. They were the kind that would follow him for the rest of his life.


    But, now, he felt ready to face those emotions, the same way he had faced every single threat that had crossed his path on the long march of his journey. He glanced back at Zaria, and her only response was a single nod, and he knew, in his heart, that he needed to see nothing else. He was ready.


    ¡°We¡¯re going to stop him,¡± Isaac said.


    The jaw of the skull lowered, as if it would try to speak. But, after a moment of staring into his face, it closed its skinless mouth, and it gave only a single nod.


    There was a rage burning inside of him. It was not an inferno anymore. It felt like a sword that had just been pulled from the maw of a blacksmith¡¯s forge¡ªglowing hot, deadly to touch, but molded into shape. Pointed and sharp. Ready to hammer down until it was as strong as steel.


    ¡°Right,¡± he said. ¡°It won¡¯t be easy. Berith¡¯s a necromancer, and he has dozens of thralls. If we can¡ª¡±


    ¡°Hold on. Need to clear something.¡±


    Zaria stepped toward the mound of bodies. She reached out a hand, cupped it to Isaac¡¯s chest, and pushed him backwards in a curving arc. She did not start speaking until she was standing squarely between him and his father.


    ¡°Listen here, you sack of shite.¡±


    The ocean of bones flinched.


    ¡°Your son may be trusting you, but I¡¯m not. I¡¯ll need to see a lot of evidence to the contrary before I start believing you¡¯re not pretending to be remorseful. If I smell a single hint of treachery, if you so much as part a single hair on my squire¡¯s head, then I¡¯ll be sucking the marrow from every last one of your bones. Are we clear?¡±


    The skull nodded very fast. Below it, the three arms held their palms up, as if being robbed at knifepoint.


    ¡°Good. With that being said. . . .¡± She cleared her throat. ¡°I, uh¡ªI¡¯m sorry for fucking your son. In front of you, I mean.¡±


    ¡°Zaria!¡±


    ¡°What? He¡¯s been watching us since we got here. He¡¯s seen everything we¡¯ve done. Might need to clear our union with your sire, don¡¯t you think?¡±


    The skull stalk reared back like a sandwyrm. It nodded up and down in wide, firm oscillations.


    ¡°That¡¯s your approval, then?¡±


    A graveyard worth of arms squirmed out of the central mass. They held themselves out straight, closed their bony fingers into a fist, and raised their thumbs. Dozens of arms lining a mashed wall of corpses, all giving a thumbs up.


    Isaac thought he might die of embarrassment.


    ¡°Well,¡± Zaria said, grinning wide, ¡°best permission to fuck I¡¯ve ever seen. Think he¡¯ll give me some bone thralls as a dowry?¡±


    ¡°Ivtarr, gods above, strike me down, please.¡±


    She slapped him on the back. ¡°Three merry band of men, we are. On our way, then. World-ending cunts to kill and all that. Come on, you¡ª¡± She paused, looking at his father. ¡°Hold on. Never got your name, actually.¡±


    The skull looked to Isaac.


    ¡°Cain,¡± Isaac said. ¡°His name is Cain.¡±


    Zaria bowed. ¡°Pleased to make your acquaintance, then. Fine son you got here.¡±


    Cain, through the skull, gave a firm nod. Somewhere below the earth, in the device that trapped his soul, he imagined his father was smiling.


    Isaac marched through the extraction chamber, towards the sound of screams and rumbling. To his left walked a hyena pirate who had taken him hostage not three days prior, and, to his right, there crawled a legion of bone that clattered and hissed like an army of death.


    He felt like nothing could stop him.

 Lamentations

    The screams of the dead rose from the blackened earth.


    Over the course of his journey, Isaac had heard many cries of pain. Pirates burning alive, bone thralls hissing and melting, a sandwyrm dying from mass impalement. He had become very familiar with the sounds of agony uttered by man and monster alike.


    Nothing could¡¯ve prepared him for the ghostly wails coming from the obelisk. The naked souls, severed from their bodies millennia before, screamed into the stone and rock around them. It sounded like nothing he had ever heard before. It was a massive chorus of pure energy. It was ethereal, it was piercing, it was hallowed and ringing and crawling up his spine, it sounded as if all the natural elements of the world were collectively begging him for death, and it only worsened his rage. He wasn¡¯t sure if they were screaming in pain, or if millennia of imprisonment had driven them mad, but, in the end, it would make no difference. It was all going to burn.


    The screams were desperate. Endless and infinite. He had to make them stop.


    He passed through the stone archway that lead into the top of the obelisk. Zaria and his father followed behind. The former clutched her poleaxe tight, while the other crawled along the walls in a spreading film of bone.


    There was a hollow glass conduit inside the center of the tower, shaped like a cylinder and reaching all the way to the bottom of the structure, like marrow would run down the center of a bone. This was the soul repository, shining a brilliant purple as thousands of beings swirled inside. A vast network of pipes and machinery wrapped around the glass, twisting like blood vessels. There were intake valves, transmission lines, energy threshers, engines that mulched and spun. At points, the glass and pipework had cracked from millennia of disrepair, and wisps of souls reached through the gaps, like prisoners begging through the bars of a dungeon.


    It made Isaac think of when he was a boy. He had been attempting to craft an alchemical elixir in his uncle¡¯s laboratory. Somewhere along the way, the solution had turned acidic, and the steam had eaten through the fume hood above his head. Purple smoke had drifted from the melted steel like the souls were doing now.


    His uncle had found him. The cane had rose. But, after a moment, Berith¡¯s face had softened. There had been laughter. A pat on the back. He had looked at the acrid smoke eating through his lab equipment and told Isaac that he had made the same mistake before. Instead of a beating, there had been slow guidance and patient lessons. In fact, Berith had spent the rest of the day showing him different alchemical mixtures, even to the point of letting him skip his chores, creating wonderous potions that glowed and sparkled with magic. That night, Isaac had sat on the windowsill of his bedroom, dangling his feet along the exterior stone of the tower, and promised himself that he would earn such a day again. He would earn this kindness from his uncle. It was what he wanted more than anything in all the world.


    Now, staring down the length of the obelisk, Isaac listened to the screaming of the souls. He thought that, very soon, he would not sound much different than them.


    Through the pipework and blinding purple light, he caught glimpses of movement. The flowing of robes, shards of ice and fire. An army moved down below. More than once, he thought he glimpsed its leader through the distance and light. A shaved head over fuligin robes, a cloud of bone drifting through the air.


    His fists clenched. The rage boiled inside.


    ¡°Right,¡± Zaria said, peering down next to him. ¡°This looks proper fucked and all, but we¡¯re storming this cock like a gods-damned castle. Aye, lads?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s an obelisk. There are carvings¡ª¡±


    ¡°Silence, squire. It¡¯s long, hard, between the legs, and exactly where we¡¯re gonna kick your cunt of a relative.¡± She turned back to them, the soul light illuminating her scars. ¡°I appreciate that you lot have got more magic than I do, but I¡¯ve fought more battles. Mud and guts sorta thing. Anyone got objections to me taking command?¡±


    Isaac shook his head. Cain pushed out a tentacle of legs and shook it like a tongue.


    ¡°We¡¯re treating this like proper soldiers. Ranks and divisions.¡± She pointed at Cain, or the thickest part of him. ¡°You¡¯re gonna be light infantry. The engagement force. Keeping his slaves occupied and soaking up fire. That something you can do?¡±


    Cain twisted his skulls towards Isaac, gasping.


    ¡°Berith¡¯s a necromancer,¡± Isaac said. ¡°He¡¯s got anti-necrotics, and he can take control of the bones themselves. My father won¡¯t be much help against him.¡±


    Cain nodded all his faces.


    ¡°Aye,¡± Zaria said, ¡°not your uncle directly. I¡¯m speaking of his thralls. They only got ice and fire. You¡¯re a spilling pile of corpses¡ªcleave yourself apart, attack from all sides, rush at them like you did in the catacombs. The goal is to skirmish. Keep them off-balance and distracted. Make sure all them magics are pointed away from us. Clear?¡±


    In response, two heaps of bone sloughed from the central mass, twisting into the general shape of beasts. Their barks were hissing and loud.


    ¡°Squire, you¡¯re the heavy artillery. Main attack force. While your father¡¯s drawing their attention, you¡¯ll be picking ¡®em off at a distance. Looks tight down there¡ªarea of effect will do wonders. Snipe your uncle if you can, but focus on the thralls. If they¡¯re his energy, then they¡¯re his ammunition. Take away his ammo, and he¡¯s got naught to fire with.¡±


    Isaac nodded. ¡°What¡¯re you going to do?¡±


    ¡°Me?¡± She hefted her poleaxe into both hands. ¡°I¡¯m your bloody bodyguard. Anyone tries to come after you directly, I¡¯ll chop them into bits. My job¡¯s to keep you safe and doing your squirely duties. Sound good?¡±


    He managed to smile. ¡°No other way I¡¯d like it, Z.¡±


    ¡°Right, then.¡± She raised her axe overhead. ¡°Let¡¯s conquer this cock!¡±


    Cain took the lead¡ªthe creatures leaped and spilled over the pipework, and his central mass crawled down the curving wall like a raindrop on glass. At the side, there was a spiral staircase winding into the earth, shrouded in the mists of leaking souls. Isaac took the stairs at a marching pace, the feel of Zaria¡¯s heavy footfalls behind giving him strength and courage.


    He patted the dagger in his pocket, the one she had given him. Somehow, he knew he was going to need it.


    Despite the swirling light of the souls, Isaac was able to make out some reliefs carved into the walls. It was difficult to interpret them. Much of the stone had collapsed over the millennia, and what remained had largely faded into craggy brick, but he was still able to catch glimpses of figures and words. It seemed to be the same sort of creation myths he had seen in the necropolis. Underneath the rusted fan of a thresher, he saw a celestial figure descending from the heavens, stripes and stars symbol on their shoulder. Below, a starving crowd waved bones in plea and worship.


    The two of them continued to descend. As they did, the screams grew louder. The souls reacted to their presence. Purple fog seemed to condense in their wake, grasping for them, and the shifting haze had the residual shape of arms and hands, the hints of moans and begs. In the central glass conduit, thick clouds of souls collected around their vertical position, following their downward progress.


    The timber of the screams shifted. Isaac had never heard the language of the necromancers¡ªonly seen it written¡ªbut he imagined he could hear it now. The words of an ancient people. He could imagine the souls begging to be freed.


    Before long, the sounds of combat began to pierce the screams. Shattering ice, crackling fire. Through the pipework, he glimpsed movement and light, the darting shadows of falling bodies. Entire swarms of bones seemed to flit through the air like dueling clouds of insects.


    Isaac leaned over the edge of the winding staircase, staring down the length of the obelisk. The mnemonics came easily. Second nature. Berith had drilled the motions deep into him. He remembered grass. A cane. Sweat and fire and blood.


    He pointed his finger down towards the fighting, waiting for a thrall to expose themselves through the pipework. Raw sound would turn the Khador students into paste, and the shockwave might shatter¡ª


    ¡°Get down!¡±


    He felt himself shoved forward. Barely a second later, a blizzard of ice crackled against the wall behind him. After nearly smashing his head on the stone steps, he saw two thralls nestled against the glass conduit, crouching on the edges of the pipework and casting elemental spells. Isaac blasted one with raw sound, and the red mist that resulted was almost brighter than the souls. Bloody shrapnel hit the other thrall, but she did not fall from the pipes. She did not feel pain anymore. She kept casting with shards of bone embedded along her body, pointing a spout of fire in his direction.


    The flames came in a rushing cone. Just as he felt the heat on his face, a leaping mass of bone intercepted the spout. Femurs and ribs stabbed down from above, skewering the thrall like a storm of arrows. Even with an extra skeleton¡¯s worth of bones inside her, she still attempted to cast, but her foot slipped on the pipes, and her body was too weak to keep from tumbling off the edge. She slammed against every nest of metal on the way down.


    Several masses of bones crawled along the wall above them, rushing to join the rest.


    ¡°Thanks, father,¡± Isaac said.


    One of the slugs grew a porcupine shell of arms, all of them giving a thumbs up as it threw itself off the stairway.


    ¡°Fuck me, then,¡± Zaria said, helping him stand. ¡°He¡¯s leaving rearguards. Watch for ambushes.¡±


    They continued down the winding stairs. Isaac prepared hurricanes in the palms of his hands, ready to push off any thrall that waited to attack them on the pipes.


    There were more myths on the walls. Quadruped animals, crowded in the thousands, all shuffling towards a massive ship that was unlike any he had ever seen before. The rest of the carvings had been smashed apart, but it appeared that, when the animals left the ship, they were walking on two legs. Emerging from glass coffins. Surrounded by flies.


    The only thing Isaac could think about was trust. Before his journey, trust had been something that only ever brought him pain. His uncle would beat him bloody. His instructors would look at him with pity and obvious discomfort. Not once in his life had he ever asked for help from anyone without fearing retribution or shame, and, in the end, he had merely stopped asking at all. Before his journey, he had thought he could only find peace within himself.


    Now, he felt confident. He had Zaria at his back, and his father surrounding them at all sides. He trusted them completely. The knowledge was as warm and certain as the desert sun rising over the dunes, and it brought his determination to heights he had never thought possible. He promised himself that every day of his life, from now until death, would be lived in defiance of the fearful instincts that had been beaten into him by his uncle.


    Every breath he took was seared with rage.


    Below, the battle grew closer. Khador students had been placed in straight lines along the winding staircase. Cain¡¯s corpse-hewn monsters rushed at them through the bricks and leaking souls.


    Then, the glowing sigil on one of the thralls began to brighten, and Cain¡¯s beasts were flung off the stairway, pulled by some invisible force. The masses of bone were held in the air above the pipework, crushing and shattering like wheat in a mill. The thrall collapsed, her body so thin and drained of energy that she barely stirred the dust when she fell. She tumbled off the stairway, falling down the length of the obelisk as Cain¡¯s forces were shredded with necromancy.


    Isaac unleashed the hurricanes in his hands. He bounced them off the curving wall, and the line of thralls were flung out into the pipework, raggedly smashing into metal. Even above the screams of the dead, he heard a symphony of breaking bones. The necrotic force holding his father¡¯s thralls in the air started to weaken, and the slack in power was just enough for some of the limbs and skulls to break free, scuttling along the pipes in retreat.


    A pair of glowing eyes met his from below. The distance was great, and they were tinged with parasite magic, but he couldn¡¯t fail to recognize them. They were the same pale blue as his own. He had seen them every day of his life.


    Suddenly, a femur screamed past his face, shattering against the masonry. It had been a deliberate miss. A warning shot.


    Isaac returned the favor. He pointed his finger at an exposed portion of brick and fired raw sound at the masonry. It exploded in a shower of chunks and dust, raining down heavy slabs of stone. For a moment, the glowing eyes disappeared, and the rumble of brick covered the screams.


    But the eyes reappeared again, piercing through the clouds of dust, and a growing whiteness began to appear from below. It was bone. An entire rushing wall of it, swallowing the pipes and glass. It was so thick in the air that it might as well have been a flood coming at them through a tunnel.


    Isaac changed his casts to wind. He smashed holes into the wave of corpses. There was an overwhelming sound of bones clattering against metal, ringing so loudly through the obelisk that it began to eclipse the screams. With a final burst, Isaac widened the wind into an opposing wall, smashing the geyser down until there were only a few limbs and skulls still dancing through the air.


    From below, he heard shouting.


    ¡°I gave you a chance, boy!¡±


    One of the Khador students stopped his casting. In barely a few seconds, his body shriveled down to rags of skin. As he collapsed, the obelisk itself began to rumble. Another whiteness appeared below. The first flood of bone had come like water filling a glass¡ªthis one leaped and festered with alarming speed, like an avalanche spilling through a mountain valley. It must¡¯ve been the collected might of half of Cain¡¯s forces. Isaac received the distinct impression of standing in the middle of an active volcano.


    He would¡¯ve still been staring if Zaria hadn¡¯t grabbed him. She forced him down flat against the stairs. Barely a second later, an overwhelming geyser of bone erupted from below. Hundreds of corpses splintered and ricocheted across the pipework. Even with the stairway shielding him from the worst of the blast, chips and shards still slashed across his skin, no different than the metal shrapnel of a bomb. He covered his organs against the ricochets and braced through it all, as he always did.


    When he looked again, the metal pipework had been punctured more thoroughly than a pin cushion. Purple specters leaked from the energy grid, grasping and screaming. Cain scrambled back up the obelisk wall in legions of body parts.


    Somewhere below the metal, bricks, and souls, a voice rose from the depths.


    ¡°You always were disobedient!¡±


    Another rumbling shook the obelisk. Instead of below, this one came from above. A legion of limbs dug through the mortar inside the walls, breaking the bricks apart. Massive chunks of stone rained from the ceiling, covered in a moss of bone. The pipework was smashed apart. The glass conduit splintered and cracked. The stairs crumbled from the repeated blasts, adding to the masonry still raining down into the depths of the earth.


    By the end, the path in front of them had been destroyed. There was a gap in the winding stairway, almost half a revolution around the width of the obelisk. Far larger than they could leap. No way down.


    ¡°Isaac!¡±


    His fists clenched around the hurricanes.


    ¡°This was never your mission!¡±


    He would¡¯ve leaped after his uncle if Zaria hadn¡¯t still been shielding him.


    Even still, reason held him back. The obelisk extended down further than he could see. Stone continued to tumble and drip from the broken stairway¡ªwhatever was left of their path only continued on from the other side of the glass conduit. Trying to drop onto the next revolution of the stairs would likely break their legs, and Berith had sundered all the pipework they might¡¯ve clambered on to continue forward.Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on Royal Road.


    Not all of it, actually. There was still some. . . .


    For the first time, Isaac noticed the dust in the air. It seemed to glint and swirl, as if attempting to catch his attention. When his focus was found, the dust shot itself down through the air, pointing towards a thick bed of pipework further below. Around him, the leaking souls actually seemed to be spreading along through the dust, mingling and separating, as if they were made of similar substance. Glinting dust amongst a swirl of purple light, begging them in an ancient language.


    What was this dust made of? Had the necromancers bound their souls to solid objects? Had the process of time eroded it down to specks in the air?


    There was a relief on the walls behind him. Something similar to what he had seen in the necropolis. One of the necromancer gods commanding a swarm of flies, ordering them to burrow beneath the skin of a kneeling worshipper.


    Above them, Cain crawled down the walls. His film of corpses was thinner now¡ªhe had lost much of his mass during the assault.


    ¡°Shivering tits,¡± Zaria said. ¡°That¡¯s our stairway gone. Bony fuckin¡¯ whoreson.¡± She paused. ¡°No offense.¡±


    Cain nodded one of his skulls.


    The dust was still swirling in the air, pointing like an ocean current. Pointing towards the pipework below. It was not too far of a leap.


    She turned to Cain. ¡°Can you make a bridge of sorts? Something sturdy enough to carry us?¡±


    Cain extended a head stalk out past the stairway, gazed eyelessly down the length of the obelisk, and shook it hard.


    He felt her twist and turn behind him, searching. ¡°Isaac. Pull your ropes. The wall¡¯s cracked open here. Don¡¯t know how sturdy it¡¯ll be, but I can tie some knots¡ª¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m going to jump,¡± Isaac said.


    ¡°Don¡¯t be daft. Ain¡¯t no way you¡¯re surviving that.¡±


    The dust swirled faster, as if to urge him on. The souls begged and screamed.


    ¡°I¡¯ll be fine,¡± he said, and leaped into the air.


    As a boy, he had often wondered how long the fall would be if he leaped from the top of his tower. There had been many nights where he had sat on the windowsill, dangling his legs over the drop, imagining the sensation. More than once, he had been tempted to leap only so that his training would finally end.


    His answer came fast¡ªnot long at all. He slammed into the pipework after barely a second of flight. The ancient metal heaved with the impact, wrenching itself down with a violent lurch. By the end, he was nestled into the apex of an elongated V shape, staring down the length of the obelisk as the metal screamed at his weight. He scrambled over to a thick nest of pipe junctions, feeling like a bug in a spiderweb.


    When he looked back, Zaria and Cain were watching from the stairs. He gave them a thumbs up while gasping for breath.


    After a few seconds, Zaria sheathed her poleaxe and leaped after him.


    Her impact was much more violent. Even the glass conduit seemed to shake. Metal screamed in snapping protest, and the pipes did not stop her fall so much as slow it down. He grabbed her flailing arm as the last of the metal snapped from the frame, leaving her body dangling over naked air.


    She was too heavy. He couldn¡¯t pull her up. Zaria grabbed at his tattered clothes, desperate for a grip, but the pipework was still shuddering, still lurching down with their combined weight. They were going to fall.


    But the souls reached for him, grasping through the rended metal. They wrapped around his arm, and he felt a sudden surge of strength infuse itself into his muscles. He pulled her up, and she came with a rising swirl of souls. As she cleared the edge, and they collapsed back onto the pipes, the souls were grasping at the opened wounds in the power grid, holding them together with a moaning grip. The metal stopped shaking. It held with great firmness.


    A single cloud of light rose to his face. He saw the vague suggestion of human features, a gash in the fog like a swirling mouth. Underneath the sounds of battle, two words were spoken, and they came from a voice that Isaac imagined was like the noise of the stars, the grand motion of the planets in their orbit.


    He recognized the words. The necromancer language.


    End this.


    He nodded. The soul dissipated, spreading into dust. He felt imbued with a noble purpose.


    Zaria slapped him across the face.


    ¡°You fucking codpiece! You stupid scabber!¡± Her teeth glinted purple as she snarled. ¡°Are all humans mad for testing death, or is that just your affliction?¡±


    He gestured at the dust in the air. ¡°They told me to. The necromancers. The souls¡ª¡±


    ¡°Some fucking dead people beckoned a leap into a chasm, is that it?¡±


    ¡°It, uh¡ªit just felt right, I guess.¡±


    She slapped him again.


    Cain rolled a film of bones down the masonry. He paused at their level and shook his skulls incredibly hard.


    ¡°Sorry, father,¡± Isaac said.


    The field of skulls gave him an eyeless, but very pointed look. Then, they bent themselves downward, gazing along the remaining length of the obelisk.


    ¡°We¡¯re alright,¡± he said, gesturing over to the spiral staircase across from them. ¡°Keep harassing Berith. We¡¯ll follow.¡±


    The skulls nodded, and the bones split into crawling formations, descending down the circular walls like drops of oil skimming across water.


    Slowly, the two of them rose to their feet, making sure their stance was steady on the nest of pipes. The souls were still holding the rended metal in place, and they seemed to coil towards the spiral staircase across from them. Guiding them on.


    ¡°You know,¡± Zaria said, ¡°it¡¯d be real nice if your uncle showed his front ¡®stead of his back. Lot of men are dyin¡¯ in his place.¡±


    ¡°My uncle¡¯s going for the base of the obelisk,¡± Isaac said, carefully stepping over a jagged valve. ¡°There¡¯s a massive cavern out there. The necromancers would¡¯ve constructed it in such a way that they would have some¡ªI don¡¯t know, some apparatus to feed the soul energy into the skeleton. There¡¯ll be some mechanical device that he can use to attempt the resurrection.¡±


    ¡°What happens if he does?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯ll crush us like ants, and he¡¯ll conquer the world.¡±


    ¡°Lovely,¡± Zaria said. ¡°And there was me thinking that not all sorcerers were twats.¡±


    ¡°It works both ways. He can¡¯t bring this colossus to life with his bare hands. If we smash that device, then the Diet has nothing. They wouldn¡¯t have bothered with this whole conspiracy, otherwise. The nine kingdoms will come together to make sure no one can ever try this again.¡±


    She looked down through the pipes. The obelisk continued deep into the earth. ¡°Gotta get there first.¡±


    ¡°And we have to kill my uncle, too.¡±


    She glanced at him.


    ¡°It¡¯s the only way,¡± Isaac said.


    ¡°Is that your rage speaking for you?¡±


    He didn¡¯t respond.


    They were almost at the staircase. Zaria looked at the gap they would have to leap, then returned her gaze to him. ¡°If you think slaggin¡¯ him is the best course, then I¡¯m all in. Just don¡¯t want you doin¡¯ it blindly. Get me?¡±


    ¡°I know exactly what I¡¯m doing.¡±


    ¡°Keep your focus. You¡¯re better than he is, aren¡¯t you?¡±


    ¡°Yes. I am.¡±


    ¡°Isaac,¡± she said. ¡°You¡¯re better than him, aren¡¯t you?¡±


    He looked at her, realizing how hard his fists were clenched. ¡°Yes. I am. We¡¯re smashing this tomb to pieces. Whatever the Archons think they can¡ª¡±


    Something caught his eye. Movement above, where they had been. Something glinted and rushed.


    The only thing that saved his life was the reflexive flinch of his arm. He cocked it to his chest, and two out of the three knives stabbed through his arm instead of his chest. He didn¡¯t even feel them at first¡ªit was only when he looked down at the blades that the pain started, and it was sufficient enough to make him lose his footing on the pipes, falling hard on his back as blood began to pour.


    A figure jumped down onto the pipework. She was small, fuzzy, wrapped in bone armor, covered in dry blood, and already brandishing her cutlass in a screaming charge.


    Zaria barely managed to unsheathe her poleaxe. ¡°How the fuck¡ª¡±


    Captain Black Eye Soren leaped from the pipes, powerful bunny legs carrying her into a rushing arc through the air. Zaria blocked the plunging sword with the haft of her axe, but the sheer weight of her captain slamming into her was enough to send them both tumbling off the pipework. They crashed into the winding staircase, spilling down the ancient architecture in a ball of grunts, steel and bashing flesh.


    Isaac was still lying on the power grid, staring in shock at the three knives inside him. One had skewered through his forearm, the second had seemingly chipped off part of his elbow, and the third was jutting out from a spot just beneath his clavicle. He tried to bend the arm, and the searing pain forced him to stop.


    His casting ability had just been ruined.


    At the stairs, Zaria was pacing backwards, holding out the length of her poleaxe. Soren followed her down without leaving a single gap, twirling her cutlass beneath a snarl of burnt flesh.


    ¡°Your magic fucktoy can¡¯t help you now, traitor.¡±


    Zaria thrusted her spear, but Soren sidestepped it easily, slashing down at the haft. If the hyena hadn¡¯t jerked back, the blow would¡¯ve taken several fingers.


    ¡°That¡¯s fine,¡± Zaria said. ¡°I¡¯ll follow your lead, capt.¡±


    Another slash. Steel met steel in a bone ringing clang. They kissed and parted and kissed again.


    Soren barked out a laugh. ¡°Sandy graves for all?¡±


    Upswing. Backslash. Parry, thrust, snarl.


    ¡°Fuckin¡¯ right.¡±


    Zaria slashed with the axe, but the blade only smashed through masonry. Soren drew another throwing knife. She threw the blade with a vicious grace. Zaria¡¯s head jerked back. As she clutched her face, Soren jumped over the polearm, bounding a bare foot off the wall, and plunged her sword down. A cloud of souls prevented Isaac from seeing anything but a scream of pain. Then, he saw the two of them tumble off the staircase again, hitting so many pipes on the way down that they were bouncing more than falling.


    He stumbled to his feet. He leaped off the pipes, falling face first into the stairs. He crawled and tumbled after the sounds of battle as his shirt soaked with blood.


    Further below, there was a raging storm of ice and fire. Cain was unleashing the full brunt of his masses, and, from the sight of elemental spells twisting and dying, he was doing considerable damage. But it was a suicide charge, at best. From the look of things, Berith wasn¡¯t even using his necromancy. He was letting his thralls works autonomously. By now, he must¡¯ve been close to the bottom of the obelisk.


    He was supposed to be aiding his father. Cain would perish without him. Now, his legs were growing weak, and his lungs had to breathe against the knife in his chest.


    But he pictured Berith¡¯s face again, eyes alight with parasite magic, and his wounds were dulled with rage.


    Through the haze of souls, he saw the two pirates. They had fallen onto a gnarled tangle of pipes, something that now looked like a forest of jagged metal hanging over a lethal drop. Soren clutched her shoulder, squeezing her body out of the rent-open hole of a cooling fan, and Zaria was dangling by a tenuous grip on a pipe. It was bending like a broken limb, and every desperate grab she made only stained the metal a bright scarlet. The hilt of her captain¡¯s knife jutted from her left eye.


    Isaac raced down the stairs, willing his arm to bend. When it didn¡¯t, he drew the dagger.


    While Zaria tried to pull herself up, Soren sauntered forward. She kicked the hyena¡¯s poleaxe off the pipework, sending the weapon clattering away. Zaria slipped back down the pipe, dangling on bloody fingers. Soren turned her dislocated shoulder towards a hard junction of valves, bashed it against the metal, and snarled as the bone returned to its socket. Finally, she pointed her cutlass down at Zaria¡¯s struggling face, the tip of the sword almost reaching the knife sticking from her eye.


    ¡°Take it with honor,¡± Soren said.


    ¡°Fuck that,¡± Zaria replied, grasping the bunny¡¯s leg. ¡°You¡¯re coming with me.¡±


    Zaria pulled her towards the edge. Soren raised her cutlass, preparing to strike.


    ¡°Hey!¡±


    The two pirates stopped as Isaac leaped onto the pipework. He had to lean against a blast gate for support, smearing it with blood, but he managed to rise. He pointed his dagger right at Soren.


    ¡°I¡¯m still her champion,¡± he said.


    Soren¡¯s laugh cut through the screaming souls. She kicked Zaria¡¯s hand off her leg, stepping over the pipes to escape her reach. Her whiskers bent and twitched as she twirled her sword. ¡°You ever held one of those before?¡±


    Isaac panted around the knife in his chest. The one in his hand remained steady. Below, the battle of elements and bone had silenced. He did not need to look to know his father had lost.


    ¡°All yours, love,¡± Soren said. ¡°Let¡¯s dance.¡±


    But the screaming of the souls erupted around them. Thick plumes of energy rose from the broken pipes. Soren stepped back, avoiding the grasping fog, but Isaac let them wrap around his form, and he felt his pain fade away as the purple light suffused through his skin. He felt new energy surge inside him. He felt his arms regain their strength. He almost felt as if there weren¡¯t several knives jutting from his flesh.


    The souls whispered again. End this.


    He put the dagger back in its sheath and adopted the first position for a fireball.


    The souls reflected off Soren¡¯s black eye. Her fingers raced across the sheaths of throwing knives, but they found them all empty.


    Isaac forced his arms to the second position.


    Soren dashed forward, bare feet pounding across pipes and fittings.


    Isaac reached the third position. Blood gushed down his arm.


    Soren stumbled and slowed, the souls pushing her back. She dodged around, weaving and sprinting, her sword glinting bright.


    Isaac achieved the fourth and final position just as she closed the distance.


    The flames that came from his hand were no more than a weak sputter. His casting had been slow and choppy. But it was still enough for the unburnt half of Soren¡¯s face to catch alight, and his flames surged through her fur like it was perfect kindling. She reeled back, losing her footing on the pipes, almost decapitating him with a wild swing of her cutlass. The Black Eye flailed along the broken tangle of metal, screaming louder than the souls.


    And the souls themselves descended upon her, and when they touched the flames eating through her skin and fur, they turned Isaac¡¯s weak spell into great spouts of fire, their essences fueling the conflagration until the pirate captain¡¯s body was completely subsumed in the blaze. The formless mass of flame tried to stand, howling in agony. Beneath it, the souls ripped the pipes away with dozens of spectral limbs.


    Soren screamed the entire way down the obelisk. When the screaming stopped, Isaac could still see a small speck of orange through the surrounding purple light, shining like a star in the sky. It did not move.


    The souls receded from his skin. As they left, the pain returned, and Isaac gasped with its arrival, barely managing to keep his own stance on the pipes.


    ¡°Isaac.¡±


    Zaria was dragging herself up the edge of the pipework. Only one hand could firmly grasp¡ªfor the first time, he saw that the other had nearly been cleaved apart, and the flesh seemed to flex in different directions like a rip in a flag. He stumbled her way as she managed to fling herself back to safety. When they met, she pushed him down to a sitting position.


    ¡°Hold still.¡±


    ¡°Z, are you¡ª¡±


    ¡°Shut up. Hold still.¡± She looked over his injuries. She still had a knife sticking from her left eye, leaking a thick jelly down her cheek. Vitreous fluid, Isaac remembered. ¡°You coughing blood?¡±


    ¡°Are you okay?¡±


    ¡°Isaac! Are you coughing blood?¡±


    ¡°No!¡± He coughed, just to make sure. ¡°No, I¡¯m not.¡±


    ¡°Good. Didn¡¯t hit your lungs, then.¡± She dug through her pack, ripping apart a white shawl with her teeth. ¡°Gotta put a tourniquet on. My hand¡¯s fucked, so you need to hold some parts for me. You¡¯ll need a sling, as well, so you don¡¯t open it any wider.¡±


    ¡°I need to cast¡ª¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re bleedin¡¯ half to death, you stupid cunt!¡±


    His shirt was heavy with blood. It flowed in thick streams down his hand. As the rush of combat faded further, the pain rose to new heights, smothering all his thoughts.


    Zaria retrieved a torch and smashed it down to splinters on her knee. She stuck the largest piece between her teeth, beginning to wrap the cloth around his upper arm. ¡°Help me tie the knot.¡±


    He did his best to aid her in applying the tourniquet. She slipped the splinter of torch into the cloth, tied the improvised windlass down, and twisted the wood in circles. He yelled louder than the souls. When the tourniquet was viciously tight around his arm, she fashioned a sling from another ripped section of fabric, cradling his arm close to his chest.


    ¡°Don¡¯t move it,¡± she said, ¡°and don¡¯t take the blades out, neither. You¡¯ll be dead in minutes if you do.¡±


    ¡°Are you okay?¡± Isaac asked.


    She raised her hand. He could see the tendons, and had to stop himself from naming them. ¡°Better than most who¡¯ve crossed the Black Eye. You got more of that magic poultice, by any chance?¡±


    ¡°I used most of my reagents the last time I healed you. I can¡¯t make anymore.¡±


    She let out a sharp breath. ¡°Should¡¯ve said so. Would¡¯ve told you to save it for real trouble.¡±


    ¡°I just . . . wanted to help.¡±


    Zaria took a deep breath, growled around the pain, and looked down through the pipes. A small fire was still burning at the bottom of the obelisk. ¡°Saving my life was rather nice, I suppose.¡±


    ¡°I can¡¯t cast like this,¡± Isaac said. ¡°You¡¯ll need to lead the way. I think your poleaxe fell to the bottom. If you can¡ª¡±


    ¡°You think I can swing a polearm with my hand looking like a butcher¡¯s shop?¡±


    He could almost see the bones of her palm through the jagged valley of flesh. He lightly swung his arm, testing the motion, and received a sharp stab of pain in response. ¡°What can we do, then?¡±


    She didn¡¯t answer. The knife in her eye glinted with soul light and vitreous fluid.


    Behind them, in the glass conduit, the souls began to quiver. Their screaming rose in pitch, as if gaining desperation. The ancient pipes bent and flexed. All at once, the souls were sucked downwards through the hollow glass, rushing by in streams of light and spectral limbs. Their screams changed pitch with the violent motion, getting louder as they came and fading as they went. The entire power grid shook on its frames as it was brought back to life, struggling against its age and disrepair to perform the function for which it was built.


    Berith had reached the bottom of the tomb. He was resurrecting the skeleton.


    The purple soul light had been the only source of illumination. Now, above their heads, a wall of darkness rushed downwards as the clouds of souls were sucked through stone and machinery. In an instant, blackness washed over them. A few purple wisps remained above their heads, like stars in a night sky. Otherwise, the glass conduit had emptied.


    The screaming had finally stopped.


    ¡°Father!¡± Isaac shouted. ¡°Father!¡±


    Only his voice returned. The one sign of movement below them was the faint spot of fire where Soren had fallen. It wasn¡¯t very far away. Everything else was lost in darkness.


    Cain might¡¯ve still been pursuing Berith, out into the cavern beyond. There might still be a fight. All the same, there was no sign of it now. The weight of the earth laid down a heavy silence.


    Sparks came out of the darkness next to him. They caught the torch, and Zaria raised the flame above her head. The light was pitifully small.


    ¡°Isaac,¡± she said. ¡°We¡¯re fucked now, aren¡¯t we?¡±


    A rumble began to be felt through the stone and metal. It came from beneath their feet and far above their heads. It was much stronger from above.


    ¡°We got no chance of winning, do we?¡±


    Outside, through the cracks in the obelisk, the darkness seemed to churn. There was an unimaginably large cavern out there, the one he had glimpsed from the start of the pelvis. Out there, through miles of blackened air, colossal legs might be twitching. Getting ready to stand. If they did, they would be large enough to pierce the clouds.


    ¡°I¡¯ll bandage your hand,¡± he said, and dug some vials from his pack. He didn¡¯t have many left¡ªjust chamomile and boiled elderberry. They would not do much. Even still, he poured them into his palm, ready to apply.


    ¡°Hey,¡± she said.


    He looked at her.


    She pointed at the powdered plants. ¡°Is that your way of giving me flowers?¡±


    After a long moment, he made a sound that might¡¯ve been a laugh.


    ¡°There¡¯s a smile,¡± Zaria said. ¡°I¡¯ll take it.¡±


    ¡°Be honest,¡± Isaac said, pulling her hand towards him. ¡°Has someone trained you to be this irritating?¡±


    ¡°Sheer natural talent, I suppose.¡±


    He packed the herbs, made a splint, and bound the cloth. She hissed and grunted through it all. She packed the rest of the herbs around his knives, wrapping the splints down tight. He nearly bit his tongue in half.


    They made their way over to the edge of the pipes. The winding staircase just barely caught the edge of the torchlight.


    ¡°Can you make the jump?¡± she asked.


    ¡°Probably not.¡±


    The rumbling intensified. Loose masonry broke from the walls. Metal groaned and ripped.


    She bent down, lifted him over her shoulder, and leaped into the darkness. They crashed into the stairs. She gave a sharp cry when her head hit the wall, and a fresh stream of blood leaked down her face.


    Slowly, he was let back down to his feet. She handed him the torch. He was forced to take it in his off-hand¡ªif he held it in his slinged arm, the flames licked at his face. Her arm wrapped around him, keeping him from stumbling over the edge of the stairs, and she pressed her uninjured hand to his chest, fingers wrapping around the knife below his clavicle.


    ¡°Pressure,¡± she said.


    He nodded. She applied it. It hurt enough to make him gasp. He could not tell if the bleeding had slowed. His shirt was wet and warm. He hoped it would be enough.


    Carefully, never letting go of each other, they descended down the stairs of the obelisk, heading into the darkness below.


    Around them, the earth began to roar.

 Boneyard

    There was only blood, bones and fire.


    The blood came from the dozens of Khador students that had fallen down the obelisk. There were empty faces, shattered limbs, apprentice robes bathed in scarlet. The bones came from Cain¡¯s ancient corpses, the limbs and skulls littering the circular room like reeds in a marsh. The fire came from Soren¡¯s body¡ªshe had fallen face first into the stone floor, and her black eye shined like a diamond next to her split open skull. Her back was still burning, the bones she had used as armor appearing like branches in a bonfire. Her hand remained tight around her cutlass.


    Isaac¡¯s boots filled with blood as he reached the bottom of the obelisk. He tried not to notice how warm it was. Swinging the torch around the blackened room only revealed more of the carnage¡ªmore bones, more empty eyes, more parasite sigils. He wondered if he had seen any of these students before. Some of them must¡¯ve lived outside the college dormitories. Some of them might¡¯ve been visible as they walked back to their homes after a day of classes. His tower window had always been too high to make out their faces, but he was usually able to remember some features. General height, robe length, hair color. Some of these corpses held a vague sense of familiarity.


    Outside the obelisk, somewhere in the dark, a colossal tremor ripped through the earth. The blood quivered at his feet. Much of what came was the sound of collapsing rock. All of it was brimming back and forth in intensity, coming from different directions. Like thrashing.


    Zaria loosened her grip on him and trudged her way over to Soren¡¯s body. She bent down, unwrapping the bunny¡¯s fingers from the hilt of her sword. ¡°Sorry, capt. You know the rules.¡±


    Isaac gazed over the blood and bones. ¡°Father?¡±


    ¡°Isaac.¡±


    A human skull laid against the broken arm of a Khador student, its eye hole caught on the exposed bone. Isaac stumbled over, nearly losing his balance as he crouched, and had to grasp the skull in his slinged arm, lest he lose the torch.


    ¡°Is Berith . . . ?¡±


    The skull squirmed in his hand, managing to tilt forward and back.


    A roar surged through the masonry around them. Outside, there was an overwhelming sensation of falling rock, rumbling like the stampede of a million horses¡ªthrough it all, he heard the roar, and it was the worse sound of them all. The skull had been above the surface. By now, they were very deep in the earth. If he could hear its cry, it must¡¯ve been incredibly loud. A roar of that magnitude could flatten buildings. It could level villages. It could pulverize people like rotten fruit.


    On the walls, ancient reliefs depicted a colossal beast of bone, smashing cities and mountains and all that stood in its wake. The necromancer flag was draped over the dead and conquered. There was worship mixed with fear.


    ¡°We got some plan worth sharing?¡± Zaria asked, wielding her captain¡¯s bloody cutlass.


    ¡°Isaac,¡± the skull said.


    Isaac gently lowered the skull back into the blood. When he stood back up, his slinged arm shook inside the cloth. He gasped, struggling to keep his balance.


    ¡°Isaac,¡± the skull said. Around it, all the other bones began to swim through the blood. Limbs tumbled, pelvises rolled, and all the skulls twisted until their scarlet red faces pointed up towards the ceiling. They all began to hiss his name.


    ¡°Isaac.¡±


    ¡°Isaac.¡±


    ¡°Isaac.¡±


    ¡°Isaac.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll see you soon, father,¡± Isaac said, and made his way towards the exit.


    The door to the obelisk stood open. It was made of arms, and the doorway itself was as black as his uncle¡¯s robes. Of course, Berith¡¯s robes had been designed to blend the wearer into darkness. He had worn them many times in his long career of slaying evil necromancers. His colleagues did not refer to him as the Bone Hunter with little reason.


    Another roar seemed to rupture the earth. It felt like the planet was being split in twain.


    Zaria stopped him as he made his way through the door. ¡°Squire, hate to break it to you, but I don¡¯t think this,¡± she raised the cutlass, ¡°is gonna do much against a giant.¡±


    ¡°We don¡¯t need to kill the giant,¡± he said. ¡°Just the person controlling it.¡±


    ¡°And how you proposin¡¯ we do that?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t know.¡±


    ¡°A lack of good ideas is no cause for pursuing bad ones, love.¡±


    ¡°Z,¡± Isaac said.


    She looked at him, the knife in her eye glinting with the torchlight. ¡°Aye. Right. One of us had to say it aloud, I suppose.¡± She flicked her head towards the darkness. ¡°Ready when you are.¡±


    In the darkness, he saw his face. The shaved head, the square jaw, the well-worn lines where a scowl often rested. Somewhere out in the cavern, through the rumble and roars, he almost heard the shouts again.


    Isaac thought of all the people that been sacrificed. The Khador students, the citizens of the necropolis. Himself.


    He stepped through the doorway, and Zaria followed behind.


    The air of the cavern was cool, dusty and stale, like it had never tasted a breeze. His torch barely managed to illuminate the ground in front of him. It was concrete, gray and craggy, and there were no markings to form a path. Sound was his only source of information, and the sound that reached him now spoke of unimaginable weight and purpose. Colossal bones ripped through the earth like one might emerge from a bath.


    In the distance, through the darkness, he caught a flicker of purple. It was the only thing he could see through the miles of black around him.  There was a figure standing in the purple soul light, almost lost in the radiance. Isaac clenched his fists. He almost forgot his pain.


    The purple light shifted, growing in intensity, and a massive tremor shuddered from every direction at once. There came a shockwave of rushing air, full of dirt and sand. The darkness seemed to churn.


    When he looked again, he saw sunlight.


    The golden rays pierced through the cavern ceiling in soft, slanting lines. They hurt his eyes. He had not seen the sun in over two days, and his vision had grown used to the darkness. As the rumbling continued, the sunlight only grew brighter. The ceiling of the cavern was being torn apart like a piece of cloth, and all the golden rays were studded with the steady tumble of boulders, gushing showers of dirt, entire waterfalls of sand falling from high above their heads.


    The sunlight illuminated structures in the dark. At first, still squinting through the sudden light, Isaac thought he was staring out at a bed of white moss that ran over the bumps and hills of massive tree roots. It seemed to go on for miles.


    When he looked again, he realized it was bone. A sea of bone.


    It was ossein, specifically¡ªthe tangle of fibers that made up all skeletal tissue. Instead of being arranged in a solid matrix, the bone had grown for miles in all directions, in much the same way that spindles of mold would grow on a piece of bread. As far as he could see, there were thick fibers of ossein that wrapped and slithered like vines, collecting into knolls and mounds and hillocks. It was so thick and layered that it might¡¯ve appeared like the head of a forest canopy. At the very least, it was almost the size of one.


    Isaac remembered the pipes. There had been retention tanks. Filtration screens. The extraction chamber had also harvested the meat of its victims¡ªmuscles, skin, and blood. Only the bones had been left behind.


    All of the pipes had fed down into the earth. Staring out over the festering ocean of bone, Isaac thought of fertilizers and systems of irrigation. Farming techniques.


    He felt sick to his stomach, and it wasn¡¯t solely from the pain.


    Above their heads, great wounds of sunlight continued to be smashed through the cavern ceiling, illuminating more of the vast, empty space around them. Aside from the overgrown blanket of ossein, and the thin crest of purple soul light on the other side, the cavern was devoid of anything but miles of concrete. Its walls were carved from bedrock. They were taller than mountains.


    Suddenly, a colossal leg rushed from the darkness, the femur slicing through the rock above them like a giant meteor scouring the sky. An enormous foot steadied itself on the concrete, surrounded by a shower of spilling earth. Every bone of its digitigrade toes would¡¯ve filled a castle moat. The shockwave blew off forests of ossein. The sheer magnitude of the footstep sent a quake heaving through the earth, splitting the cement open in a rushing line. Dust and dirt assaulted his face. The world spun around him.


    ¡°Isaac,¡± Zaria said. ¡°I¡¯m starting to regret meetin¡¯ you.¡±


    He took his eyes off the colossus. Instead, he focused on the soul light. The figure standing within.


    Out there, past the sea of ossein, there was a pyramid. An open-air temple, surrounded by pillars of granite and gold. It had all the appearance of a ceremonial stage. There was a bank of metal devices, crudely connected with pipes and copper and the merging clouds of souls. Even from this distance, he could see the power. Collecting. Surging.


    ¡°I¡¯ve got a plan,¡± Isaac said.


    ¡°Wisest of them all, I¡¯m sure.¡±


    He pointed over towards the pyramid. ¡°I¡¯m going to¡ª¡±


    The rumbling intensified. The ground heaved and roared. Above them, past the giant shape of the obelisk, an avalanche of earth was falling from hundreds of feet in the air, boulders the size of palaces tumbling in sprays of dirt and stone. Isaac could see the remnants of the necropolis¡ªsplit open skulls, broken pelvis wings, the streets that had been paved with fingers coming down like a deluge of snow.


    While it had rested, the corpse of the giant creature had cleaved a diagonal path through the earth. The obelisk had been built below the pelvis, and, by now, that same pelvis was rising like a cloud, letting in shafts of light through the holes of the sacrum. The necropolis, however, was still directly above their heads. Its ruin had become a storm of earth in the sky.


    ¡°Run!¡± Zaria shouted.


    They ran. They ran through the growing canyons of rubble, they ducked through the exploding chunks of skulls, they stumbled over a ground of ancient concrete that split and heaved beneath them. Isaac ran until it didn¡¯t even feel like it his feet were hitting the ground. He ran until all he could see in front of him was a tide of boulders and a sea of spindling ossein.


    Most of all, he ran after Zaria. She was faster than him, and her outline of fur and leather was the only beacon he could see through the blizzard of earth and stone.


    She went right for the sea of ossein. Without slowing down, she sprinted towards a large mound of bony vines, braced her shoulder, and smashed her way into the tangle. She disappeared beneath the canopy of fibers, leaving only a black hole behind. Isaac dashed as fast as he could, the ground seeming to flip beneath him, and dove headfirst through the open curtain of bone.


    He landed on metal. With the sling on, he wasn¡¯t able to move his arm in time, and the knives carved new wounds into his flesh as he bashed them across the floor. The world became pain, blood, and gasps. He rolled on the floor, his tattered robes sliding along a thin, corrugated sheet of metal. It felt like ages before he was able to breathe again.


    ¡°On your feet, squire!¡±


    He was yanked back to standing. For the most part, he managed to stay there. A thick flail of copper strands was dangling in front of him, dancing with the repeated shockwaves. He grabbed a fistful of the thin metal lines, leaning his weight and gazing around.


    They had entered what could only be described as a metal tunnel. It was both tight and small¡ªZaria almost had to crawl on her hands and knees¡ªand it extended out a short ways before ending in a small, bulging room, like the entire structure had the shape of a mushroom. Most of the tunnel walls had clearly been disassembled. There was only a thin metal frame with a few patchwork sheets of metal still remaining on the ceiling and walls, and it was all veined with copper strands that were wrapped in some kind of thick spongy substance. Ossein had overtaken much of the structure, growing through the cracks and gaps.


    Despite the shade, Isaac could see a single word painted on the wall of the bulging room. It was written in the old necromancer language, but he had translated enough of their signs to guess what it said.


    AIRLOCK


    He had no idea what that was supposed to mean. What could possibly¡ª


    Outside, there was a roar. If they had not been protected by the layers of metal and bone, it would¡¯ve deafened them. The metal tunnel groaned. Sunlight began to leak through the canopy as layers of ossein snapped and shattered.


    Zaria grabbed his wrist and yanked him deeper into the tunnel, bashing her way through metal sheets and entire bushes of ossein. The tunnel began to pitch and yaw, threatening to tip over. She jumped into the bulging room, finally able to stand straight, and kicked the wheel on the circular door. It groaned against its frames, barely coming out through the dense layers of ossein outside. They might as well have tried to open the door through a garden hedge. The material was off-white, the fibers so thick that it could only be described as craggy and porous, like it had almost formed a solid bone.


    And, yet, as he watched, it started to move. The vines quivered and cracked. The matrix began to recede, pulling back into the larger canopy. After a moment, the thicket of bone had become a thin membrane of fibers. Zaria kicked the door again. The metal swung outwards, and the sounds of the ossein cracking reminded Isaac of the thralls breaking their limbs.


    ¡°Squire,¡± Zaria said. ¡°Explain.¡±


    ¡°My father?¡±


    ¡°You sure about that?¡±


    Around them, the bristles continued to squirm. A path was clearing itself ahead, seeming to beckon them forward. Isaac remembered the souls aiding him in the obelisk. He thought of how many bodies had fed this overgrowth.


    Perhaps it was¡ª


    He was yanked again. Sunlight returned.


    Underneath a canopy of bone, there was a graveyard of metal. Much of it had been buried inside nests of the white, spindly fibers. He caught glimpses of other metal tunnels. There were hollow cylinders, thick entrail piles of copper. Occasionally, there was a hint of red stripes through the vines of ossein¡ªthe symbol of the necromancer¡¯s gods.


    Isaac had read about dry docks. Places where old and damaged ships would go to be disassembled. There would be entire fleets lying in piles of wood, iron and canvas, waiting to be butchered. This all looked similar, if in a strange way.


    Why was there ossein growing all over the metal? Why was it growing like a fungus at all? Furthermore, why would anyone make ships out of metal? They couldn¡¯t possibly float. The water displacement¡ª


    The sunlight vanished. There was only shadow.


    ¡°Isaac!¡±


    He looked up.


    The sky was gone. In its place, a skull was leering down at them. Its empty eyes loosed avalanches of dirt as they tilted forward. Waterfalls of sand spilled from its jaws. Its skinless face was bleached white, smoothed with wind and time. Barely two days ago, Soren had blasted that skull with cannonballs and entire barrels of black powder, and it did not appear to have done any damage whatsoever.


    There was a snout that could¡¯ve swallowed rivers. There was a cracked nasal cavity that ran deeper than a mineshaft. At the sides, there were two holes in the skull. The colossus was a diapsid. A reptile. Some ancient beast from beyond recorded time.Support the author by searching for the original publication of this novel.


    For a long moment, Isaac made eye contact with a creature that an empire of necromancers had worshipped like a god.


    Then, it shifted its head, and the sun returned. The beast was scanning the ground, every sweep of its jaws shaking the colonies of vines that grew from its sockets. Isaac realized that it hadn¡¯t seen them. They were shaded underneath the canopy of ossein, and the two of them were less than ants in comparison to such a titanic creature. The odds of it actually spotting them underneath all the bones and metal were slim. For a moment, he felt relieved.


    Then a gust of wind slammed into the canopy. Ossein rained down upon them like a storm of arrows. The wind had been a delayed squall from the beast turning its head¡ªthe creature was so spectacularly massive that shifting its snout to the side had redirected the weather around it. A roar from its jaws would¡¯ve been able to scatter the clouds. A careless sweep of its leg would upend a fleet of the metal ships around them. He could only imagine the destruction it would sow if it actually wanted to strike.


    Being hidden would not save them. Their only chance was to kill its master.


    Zaria was already running. The ossein continued to recede in front of her, pulling back like the white foam of a wave, and she used the cutlass to cleave a path whenever it did not retreat fast enough. Isaac followed behind at a stumbling pace, keeping pressure on the knife in his chest. Blood leaked in streams.


    They made their way through the cemetery of ancient ships. Zaria slammed her weight through the curtains of ossein wherever they were thinnest¡ªwhen they grew too thick, like an actual bone, she guided him through the remnants of the boats. They varied wildly in size, and many were obviously the detached compartments of even larger vessels that had been butchered into pieces. He passed by dead instrumentation, narrow hallways that seemed impossible to navigate except by crawling, crew decks that were still dotted with welded bunks and privies. Most of the dry dock was lost beneath the colonies of festering bone. It spilled and wrapped and crawled.


    Eventually, the receding ossein lead them towards another vessel¡ªthe entrance was overflowing with bone, but the fibers on the wall were crawling back, and they managed to squeeze through the gaps. Inside, they found a command deck. There was a row of devices and instruments along one wall, and a few metal chairs in the center of the room. Isaac wasn¡¯t sure how a captain could possibly command a ship from inside the deck, as this module appeared to have been, but he was in no mood to speculate.


    Outside, the titan was still searching. Its growls were the size of thunderclaps. Despite the constant cover of bone and metal, Isaac was always keenly aware of where the beast was looking, solely by the massive shadows it cast and the gusts of wind that were left in its path. At the moment, the quakes in the ground were telling him that the beast had moved its search far to the right. The colossus was shifting its weight. Bending down. Hunting.


    ¡°You doin¡¯ alright, love?¡±


    Isaac collapsed into one of the metal chairs. He was finding it more and more difficult to breathe, and it wasn¡¯t solely from the knife jutting above his lung. He had casted dozens of spells in the last few hours alone. His body was beginning to fail.


    Zaria threw the cutlass to the floor. She pulled out the last of their shawls and wrapped a section of the fabric around the blade. Finally, she drew her flint and began to strike them together, creating rapid bursts of sparks.


    ¡°What¡¯re you doing?¡±


    ¡°Cauterizing.¡±


    The sparks caught. The flames grew tall on the sword. She came over, kneeled in front of him, and gripped the hilt of the knife in his chest. The slight touch made him gasp. ¡°Gotta come out. You¡¯re bleedin¡¯ too much.¡±


    The ground shook beneath them. He had no time to argue.


    She began to pull. He would¡¯ve screamed if he had not lost his breath. He might as well have been impaled on a javelin, for how long the blade seemed to be. When it was out, she retrieved their rations, wiped a thick crust of salt off the meat, and stuffed it in the wound. This time, he did scream. His scream grew even louder when she pressed the searing hot cutlass to his skin.


    He must¡¯ve fallen unconscious. The next thing he knew, he was on the floor, and Zaria was groaning as she pulled the knife out of her eye. It came in two ragged jerks. She threw it into a cluster of ossein, pressed a hand to her face, and made a noise just barely above a sob.


    A shockwave ripped through the room. Metal sheets detached from their rusted frames, flying and tumbling across the floor. For a horrible moment, the room itself seemed to lift off the ground, as if it would pitch over and begin to roll, but the thick jungle of bone kept it secure.


    Still clutching her face, Zaria sunk to the floor and began to shakily tear the last of their shawls into bandages. She whimpered every time she had to move her hand. After a moment, despite every breath feeling like the knife was entering his chest again, Isaac crawled over to help. He wrapped the cloth around her eye, and she managed to loop the rest around his shoulder and armpit. Both times, the white fabric was immediately stained red.


    ¡°Isaac,¡± she said. ¡°Your uncle¡¯s a cunt. Have I said that before?¡±


    He tried to speak, but his voice did not come. Instead, he pointed at her face.


    ¡°Sure, love, I¡¯m feelin¡¯ grand. All set to join a tourney, as it happens.¡±


    He nodded, beginning to push himself off the floor.


    ¡°We can¡¯t keep this up much longer,¡± she said.


    He gripped the seat in front of him, trying to stand. He did not get far. ¡°I have a plan.¡±


    ¡°Aye. You said that. Not sure I want to hear it.¡±


    ¡°If we can get close¡ª¡±


    ¡°Isaac!¡±


    The voice came from far away. It echoed across the cavern. Even now, after all he had done, it still made him flinch.


    ¡°Come out!¡± Berith shouted. ¡°I know you¡¯re in there!¡±


    Around them, the earth quivered. Metal groaned. Bone shattered.


    ¡°The resurrection is complete! The titan is mine!¡±


    He could hear the wind shrieking outside. It did not sound natural. He imagined a fist the size of a small city, screaming like a meteor.


    ¡°There is no need for this! Only the Archons wanted you dead! And they will listen to me now!¡±


    A silence came through the air. It was the kind of silence that begged for a reply. Isaac took several breaths, gathering his strength.


    ¡°Come out!¡± Berith shouted. ¡°Join me!¡±


    Isaac gripped the armrest of a chair.


    ¡°I offer mercy! Protection! This offer will not be made again!¡±


    His knuckles went bone white on the metal.


    ¡°You can still come home, Isaac! Take revenge with me! Help me teach those old codgers exactly what their conspiracies have earned them!¡±


    Another silence came. Again, it waited for a reply. Zaria was looking at him with something close to apprehension. He shook his head. She nodded, squeezing his shoulder.


    ¡°If you don¡¯t show your face, then you will be crushed! I¡¯ll sweep this boneyard apart like a field of chaff! There won¡¯t be enough left of you and your pirate to fill a petri dish!¡±


    The earth rumbled. The wind shrieked. Around them, the shade thickened, like a blanket falling across the sun.


    ¡°You have five minutes! Five minutes to emerge from wherever you¡¯re hiding! I will not hesitate a second longer, boy!¡±


    His words echoed out through the cavern. Isaac could imagine the scene. His uncle standing before an ancient altar, surrounded by thralls and a cloud of bone. Waiting in the shadow of his titan with a sneer on his face. His patience was always thin when punishment was due.


    ¡°Help me up,¡± Isaac said.


    Zaria pulled him to his feet. She leaned over, checking the knives still in his arm. Instead of removing them, she tightened the splints and bandages. ¡°Likes to talk, does he? Seems like the sort that¡¯d piss in some wine and expect praise for the vintage.¡±


    ¡°You get used to the taste, I suppose.¡±


    She snorted. ¡°Something about a plan, you were saying?¡±


    He thought about distances. How far away Berith¡¯s voice had sounded. The ground they would have to cover through the dry dock.


    ¡°I don¡¯t think you¡¯re gonna like it,¡± he said.


    ¡°Was I supposed to be liking all this in the first place?¡±


    ¡°We need to get close. If I can¡ª¡±


    Ossein snapped. Someone entered the room.


    It was a blur, at first. In the shadow of the colossus, the room was dark, leaving only a vague impression of bone and steel. After a moment, Isaac saw blood. There was a glistening red curtain dripping down a torso, clinging to a motley collection of leather and fur. There was a jaw that had disconnected at one end, dangling like a broken horseshoe. And, finally, there was a satchel of black powder clutched tight to a chest. The fuse was small, and the bag was packed to the edge of bursting. It was enough to vaporize all three of them.


    Zaria dashed forward, nearly knocking him over. ¡°You got some fucking allergy to death, captain?¡±


    Soren gurgled, spilling something wet across the floor.


    ¡°Try it. Bet I¡¯ll be flossing your guts ¡®fore you spark the flint.¡±


    Soren took a lurching step forward. Her leg was limp and painting the concrete. Her grip on the bomb was tight.


    Zaria snarled and charged.


    ¡°Stop!¡± Isaac shouted.


    The hyena stopped, if only because Soren took another step forward, and her face entered the light. Her skull was split wide-open. There was only a ruin where her snout had been, and pinkish brain was spilling over the empty socket of her eye. Beyond a doubt, she was dead.


    With a gurgle, she waved the bomb back and forth, stumbling on unsteady legs. She walked like she had forgotten how to do so.


    ¡°I know that¡¯s you, father,¡± Isaac said.


    Soren nodded frantically, her jawbone snapping like a broken door jamb. Zaria released a growling huff and let her pass. After a drunken limp into the room, the bunny pointed outside, in the direction that Berith¡¯s voice had come from, and shook her head.


    Isaac leaned on a chair. ¡°I¡¯m not going out there.¡±


    Soren nodded, raising the bomb in her hand.


    ¡°Well,¡± Isaac said, ¡°not yet, anyway. We have to get closer first.¡±


    Zaria stepped to her captain¡¯s side. ¡°Come again?¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s my plan. I go out there and distract him. You run around the side and stab him in the back.¡±


    Both pirates stared at him. There was only the distant sound of falling rock.


    ¡°Thoughts?¡±


    Soren stepped forward, shaking her head so hard that her jawbone snapped back and forth. She raised the bomb again, gurgling.


    ¡°Shut up,¡± Zaria said, stepping forward. ¡°Squire, do you see this?¡±


    She gestured at the standing, half-headless body of her captain.


    ¡°It had caught my attention,¡± Isaac replied.


    ¡°Good. Do you see this, as well?¡±


    She pointed at the wet bandages covering her eye.


    ¡°Is that the fashion amongst noblewomen these days?¡±


    ¡°Aye, sure, got it while sucking on tarts and honey. Do you see the rest of this?¡±


    She waved at the ancient command room. She waved at the spilling mounds of ossein. She waved in the general direction of the earthquakes and squalls, where the colossus was roaming.


    ¡°Isaac,¡± Zaria said. ¡°A week ago, I was nicking purses off a frigate crew, and my only concern was whether my top bunkmate was shedding lice again. Now, I¡¯ve just ran through a black ruin of evil, places where bones are growing out the fucking walls, and there¡¯s this giant cunt the size of a mountain sniffing around for me, and I¡¯ve just lost a fucking eye, and it¡¯s all real fucking frightening, is it not?¡±


    ¡°A little, sure.¡±


    ¡°And, now, after all the shite I¡¯ve gone through on your behalf, after doing all this with the understanding that your arse-wiping wizards are gonna hunt me for it, you¡¯re telling me that your plan is to offer yourself to the graveyard harlot you call an uncle?¡±


    ¡°. . . yes.¡±


    ¡°No,¡± Zaria said, towering over him. ¡°You¡¯re not doin¡¯ it. Quit being daft.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s the only way.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t care if it¡¯d cure cock rot and famine¡ªyou¡¯re not bloody doin¡¯ it.¡±


    ¡°Do you have a better solution?¡±


    ¡°No! And I don¡¯t need one to call yours stupid!¡±


    ¡°We need to do something!¡±


    ¡°Something smart! Not what you¡¯re proposin¡¯!¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m doing it, with or without your help!¡±


    ¡°No! I forbid it, squire!¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not your fucking squire!¡±


    Soren stepped between them, waving frantically. After a moment of gurgling, she dropped the bomb to the floor. She formed a heart with her fingers, waving it back and forth between the two of them.


    ¡°Fuck off!¡± they shouted together.


    Soren made the heart again, nodding insistently.


    ¡°Look,¡± Isaac said. ¡°He¡¯ll hesitate. I know he will. He could¡¯ve just killed me himself, before I¡¯d even entered the desert, but he didn¡¯t¡ªhe tricked me into getting swallowed by dragons. He said that he didn¡¯t want to see my body. That it would break his resolve.¡±


    A earthquake ripped through the command room. There had been a footstep outside. The rumbling was enough to crack the concrete.


    ¡°He spared me in the extraction chamber. He refused to stand and fight when I was chasing him. Now, he¡¯s offering me a chance to live when his titan could just sweep us away like dust.¡±


    One of Soren¡¯s teeth clattered to the floor.


    ¡°He doesn¡¯t want to kill me,¡± Isaac said. ¡°At least, he¡¯s too much of a coward to do it himself. He¡¯ll hesitate. I know he will.¡±


    Zaria did not seem convinced. ¡°And what happens if he spots me skirting the sides? What¡¯re you gonna do then?¡±


    Isaac pulled out the dagger she had given him earlier. Below the sheath, there was a glint of steel.


    Soren shook her head.


    ¡°I¡¯ve always been prepared to die for my mission. That hasn¡¯t changed.¡±


    Zaria flexed her hand, hissing through the pain.


    ¡°If you¡¯ve got a better plan, now¡¯s the time.¡±


    Soren crouched down with a heavy wobble, picked up the bomb, and gestured at it.


    ¡°I¡¯ll need your help, as well,¡± Isaac said. ¡°We need to get as close as possible beforehand. That bomb will be the perfect distraction to hide our approach.¡±


    Soren hesitated. After a moment, she pointed at a mound of ossein that was spilling into the room. It receded like a pile of soap bubbles being drained in a bathtub.


    ¡°That was you?¡± Isaac asked. ¡°Controlling the bones?¡±


    Soren nodded. She pointed at the two of them, then towards Berith. After that, she pointed at herself, and a direction perpendicular to the one they would take. Where she pointed, the ossein fibers started to move.


    ¡°You can use the ossein to distract the colossus,¡± Isaac said. ¡°That¡¯s good. The bomb will be an even better diversion.¡±


    Soren shook her head, spraying some of her brain.


    ¡°Something else?¡±


    She nodded. Pointed at the satchel.


    ¡°Are you trying to say something with that bomb?¡±


    Another nod.


    ¡°Bomb,¡± he said, like reciting a thesaurus. ¡°Powder. Explosive. Heat. Energy¡ª¡±


    Soren nodded at the last word.


    ¡°Energy.¡± He paused. ¡°You don¡¯t have much energy left.¡±


    Another nod. With a jerk, she pointed at the way they had come.


    ¡°The obelisk. All those souls were your power source.¡±


    The bunny peered at him. Blood leaked down her dangling jaw, already coagulating.


    ¡°I need your help, father,¡± Isaac said. ¡°Can you do this?¡±


    Soren straightened her posture. She looked down at the bomb. She looked back where the obelisk had been. Then, she stumbled forward and pulled Isaac into a hug. Her leather armor was bloody, her skin burned, her flesh cooling. All the same, Isaac returned the hug with his good arm. They stood together for a moment, surrounded by tremors, bone and metal.


    Soren pulled back. Clumsily, she wrapped a hand around his cheek, used her one eye to look into his, and nodded. Then, she lurched over to the side of the command deck. The pirate slammed her body into a half-soldered bulwark, fell through a pile of ossein, and vanished.


    ¡°Let¡¯s go,¡± Isaac said.


    Zaria smashed an opening into the opposite doorway. They squeezed through the bone, heading back into sunlight.


    A tunnel of ossein had already been dug ahead of them, and the fibers were still squirming, crackling backwards at the front and amassing at the walls. Zaria lead the way, keeping him close. He kept stumbling. His legs were beginning to stiffen. He left a trail of red droplets on the fallen white splinters.


    The ceiling of the cavern seemed to have finished collapsing. The day was bright and hot. While the canopy above them never moved, he could imagine it twisting at several places along the bony sea. Titanic shadows often raced overhead, buffeted with screaming winds. He could imagine the colossus craning its head back and forth, confused at the sudden movement. Concrete trembled with every shift of its weight, and these shifts were coming frequently. Whether that meant the colossus was merely leaning over to investigate, or getting ready to strike, he could not say. He just kept moving.


    There was an endless tide of butchered ships¡ªhull casings, tempered glass, concave dishes. Alloys of unknown metallurgy. He saw the flag of the necromancer¡¯s gods emblazoned on many of them, shining on metal that curved more finely than steel.


    He barely noticed any of it. He didn¡¯t care.


    ¡°Isaac!¡±


    Berith¡¯s voice echoed across the dry dock. It was closer now. He could hear the practice with which it shouted his name.


    ¡°Your father¡¯s tricks won¡¯t help you! Show yourself!¡±


    He continued through the shade of bone and metal.


    ¡°Don¡¯t test me, boy! I¡¯ve spent decades preparing for this!¡±


    He gritted his teeth, breathing around the cauterized skin.


    ¡°Do you think you¡¯re being brave?¡± Berith shouted. ¡°Do you think your father is worth your life?¡±


    Zaria held up a hand, slowing him to a stop. There was a gap in the canopy overhead, and no other way forward. Walking through it would expose them to the titan above, but the ossein fibers were not moving anymore. He wondered if Cain had finally run out of energy.


    ¡°Why didn¡¯t you leave, Isaac?¡± He imagined his uncle pacing back and forth, ready to lecture. ¡°I thought you might, before you entered the desert. I hoped you would. There was nothing stopping you from abandoning your mission. You could¡¯ve walked into the hinterlands with all your supplies and disappeared. I would¡¯ve been powerless to stop you. But you never did. Even after you survived the dragons, you refused. You kept marching through the desert. No water, no scrolls. No hope at all.¡±


    He remembered the terror. The gnashing maws of the wyrms. The sand and thirst.


    ¡°Why?¡± Berith yelled. ¡°To rescue a man you¡¯ve never met? To fight a necromancer you had no chance of defeating? I know you, boy. I know what you wanted. I could see it on every bout of idleness. Every training session, every book, every chore. There was sullenness. Disobedience! You didn¡¯t want this! You wanted your freedom!¡±


    The sights he had seen. Rivers, hills, towns. Boundless skies.


    ¡°What is driving you? What could you possibly want from all of this?¡±


    Father. Uncle.


    A dead mother.


    Family.


    ¡°I had assassins shadowing my every move! Do you understand that? I had no choice! There was nothing I could do!¡±


    His voice echoed down the cavern. Only silence remained in its wake.


    ¡°Isaac,¡± Berith said. His tone had softened. ¡°You can still come home. I promise you. I will make the Archons pay for what they¡¯ve done. You will be safe.¡±


    He had memorized every creak of the stairs. He had learned to listen for every footstep. He feared the swing of every door. He never felt safe.


    ¡°Come home, Isaac.¡±


    An explosion came to his right. The shockwave ripped through the ossein canopy, snapping off splinters of bone. Immediately, a colossal shadow passed overhead. Zaria pulled him forward, and, for just a moment, he looked back through the gaps in the canopy, and he saw a skull that was as white and bulbous as the clouds behind it, opening its jaws.


    They moved deeper into the dry dock. The closer they came to Berith, the thicker the ossein became. It had formed solid bone in several spots, and, in other places, it was cracking open the hulls of the butchered ships like roots and vines would grow through stone. Zaria didn¡¯t dare cut through the ossein when they were so close¡ªthe snaps it made were loud, like dry tree branches. Instead, they were forced to crouch and crawl, weaving through the thin tangles and scattered hull sections.


    Another shadow rushed overhead, going from sky to ground. When it landed, the earth seemed to heave. There was a shockwave of air pressure, nearly slapping the metal ships into a tumble. Sunlight hit his back. Ossein rained down on them like a broken granary.


    ¡°I¡¯m through playing games!¡± Berith shouted. ¡°If you do not show yourself right now, then I will flatten this entire cavern!¡±


    Zaria slapped some splinters from her mohawk. ¡°Here¡¯s as good as any.¡±


    They were in a burrow of bone. To their left, there was a long, thick cylinder that ended in an open pathway of concrete. To their right, the ossein narrowed down into a flat tunnel that could only be traversed by crawling.


    ¡°So,¡± she said, ¡°we feelin¡¯ good about this?¡±


    Isaac didn¡¯t answer. He was watching the hole at the end of the metal cylinder. There was nothing but concrete and open air. He would be exposed.


    ¡°I¡¯ll be quick, love.¡±


    ¡°I hope so.¡±


    ¡°Still the dashing rogue you¡¯ve fallen madly in love with, aren¡¯t I?¡±


    ¡°Unfortunately.¡±


    ¡°Not denying it, then?¡±


    ¡°Z,¡± Isaac said. ¡°I. . . .¡± He swallowed. His throat was dry. ¡°I¡¯m trusting you.¡± He looked into her eye. ¡°I¡¯m really trusting you.¡±


    Her grin was smeared with blood and vitreous fluid. ¡°Have I ever given you cause for concern before?¡±


    He kept looking at her.


    ¡°Right,¡± Zaria said. ¡°Don¡¯t answer that. Just . . . you sure about this?¡±


    He could imagine his uncle. There were bones on his black robes. There was sunlight on his shaved head. There was a pale tinge of parasite magic in his eyes. There was a ring of thralls surrounding him, a cloud of bone in the air, and a bank of metal devices at his hands, controlling a titan that rivaled the size of gods.


    ¡°I¡¯m not sure of anything anymore,¡± Isaac said.


    His arm remained useless in the sling. His legs were weak. Every breath was short and wanting.


    ¡°Go,¡± he said.


    Zaria nodded, gave him a light slap on the back, and began to crawl through the tunnel of ossein, holding Soren¡¯s cutlass tight in her hand.


    He stooped to a low crouch and slowly walked through the metal cylinder. His boots scraped over the residue of rotten liquid. There was carbon scoring on the walls. The metal smelled faintly of chemicals. He could not say what it might¡¯ve been.


    At the end, the sunlight grew painfully bright. He stood on the edge of it, trying to adjust his vision.


    ¡°Isaac!¡±


    He straightened his back. He adjusted his robes. He wiped his hair from his eyes. Every morning, he would follow the same routine before presenting himself.


    There was a quiet in the metal here, broken only by the squalls of air overhead. He remembered camping in the shadow of a slot canyon on his first night in the desert. He had rested in the shade, listening to the wind and imagining all the perils he would face in the tomb. He had imagined facing an ancient necromancer. A being of pure evil.


    He had been alone, then. Same as he was now. He always known that he would embark on his journey alone. Now, it seemed that he might end it that way, as well.


    He stepped into the light.

 The Cost of Silence, Part One

    ¡°Uncle!¡±


    Ahead, through an ocean of bone, there was an altar raised on a pyramid of stone. Pipes and wires crawled along the masonry. Granite columns wreathed the apex of the structure like the ornaments of a crown. In the center of the altar, there was a bank of metal devices, thrumming with an energy that gasped and moaned and begged.


    ¡°Uncle!¡±


    A strip of shattered concrete led right to the pyramid. On both sides, there were rows of skeletons. They had been crucified against rusted hunks of the metal ships. The flag of the necromancers was draped around their bodies¡ªwith the desert sun shining down on them, the ancient fabric still had hints of red, white and blue.


    ¡°Uncle!¡±


    There was movement at the altar. A cloud of bone flitted through the air. A trio of thralls spread out into firing positions along the edge of the pyramid. Between the stone and machinery, souls were leaking from the pyramid, like the mortar between the bricks was evaporating. They were no more than wisps. There were not many left.


    At the helm of the devices, Berith stood black and tall. His eyes pierced through the souls. His shaved head gleamed in the sunlight. Bones crawled along his body like a swarm of maggots.


    Even with his back turned, Isaac could see the colossus everywhere he looked. Its ribcage casted a field of shadows across the ossein. Its skull was a gruesome sigil on the cavern wall. There were the contours of a shoulder blade, the slope of a pelvis, fingers and teeth and the bristles of a bony tail. Every one of its bones left a mark on the earth that was large enough to be listed on a map.


    But, for now, the beast was still. The only sound was the gentle hiss of falling sand.


    ¡°I told you to leave.¡±


    Isaac¡¯s legs were weak. Every breath took conscious effort.


    Berith walked to the side, trailing a hand along the metal instruments. ¡°What happened to you? How did you manage to fall on some knives?¡±


    A loose shower of dirt fell from the sky. In the distance, boulders smashed holes through the ossein canopy.


    Berith walked to the edge of the pyramid. ¡°Let me guess. That was your pirate accomplice. Stabbed you in the back at the first sign of trouble.¡± He made a noise in his throat. ¡°You should¡¯ve expected as much.¡±


    Isaac was judging the distance between them. He counted the steps of the pyramid, watched the readied spells of the thralls.


    ¡°Your father is dead,¡± Berith said. ¡°If he isn¡¯t now, then he will be soon. There¡¯s no more souls to keep him alive.¡± His scowl deepened. ¡°I only wish I could¡¯ve done it sooner.¡±


    A gentle breeze blew through the flags of the crucified skeletons.


    Berith watched him for a moment, waiting for a reaction. When none was given, he wiped some blood from his face. ¡°I have medical supplies. If your injuries are serious, then I can aid you.¡±


    Isaac began to walk forward. His heart was pounding. He wasn¡¯t sure if it was fear or loss of blood.


    ¡°I didn¡¯t tell you to approach.¡±


    He stepped over a cracked geyser of concrete, kicking through loose clods of dirt.


    ¡°This was never your mission. Let it go.¡±


    Isaac growled, stretching the burn on his chest.


    ¡°Isn¡¯t this what you wanted?¡± Berith asked. ¡°A chance to be free from your father? I always read through your journal, whenever you were studying. It was my duty. I had to gauge your development, assess the risks.¡± He looked at him through the falling sand. ¡°So full of dreams.¡±


    He was now in range of the thralls. Ice and fire tracked his position.


    ¡°So full of resentment.¡±


    His arm clenched at his side.


    ¡°You¡¯ve always hated this,¡± Berith said. ¡°As you should have. I hated it just as much.¡±


    A gasp escaped his throat. Blood leaked down his arm.


    ¡°Stop.¡±


    He kept walking.


    ¡°Stop!¡±


    A salvo of bone shot into the ground at his feet. The splinters tore through clothes and skin.


    ¡°What do you think you¡¯re doing? Your arm is useless! You can¡¯t cast! What is your plan, Isaac? Tell me!¡±


    Isaac stopped. Slowly, using his good arm, he pulled Zaria¡¯s dagger from his hip pocket. He put the sheath in his mouth, drew the blade, and spat the leather scabbard onto the floor. The dagger glinted bright in the sun.


    Berith gave a humorless snort. ¡°Did your pirate give that to you?¡±


    There were only a few things standing between them. A set of stairs leading up the pyramid. A trio of thralls at the top. A cloud of bone above his head. And the shadow of a colossus, standing as still as the landscape around it.


    ¡°Do not force my hand,¡± Berith said. ¡°I will not spare you a second time. Put it down.¡±


    Isaac began to walk. His legs were wobbling.


    ¡°Put it down! That¡¯s an order!¡±


    His knuckles were bone-white on the hilt.


    The sigils on the students grew brighter. Fire blazed, ice bristled.


    ¡°Isaac!¡±


    He never took his eyes off his uncle.


    One of the students shot a lick of flame. It was no more than a thin spout, but it hit Isaac square in the thigh. He collapsed to the floor, slapping desperately at the leg of his robes. The flesh crackled and split. He could hear it hiss. Sand fell into the wound, driving him close to screaming.


    ¡°You always were disobedient,¡± Berith said. ¡°I was convinced you just enjoyed testing me.¡±


    When he tried to stand, the pain became blinding. He crumbled back down to his belly, breathing desperately.


    ¡°This was all your father¡¯s doing. You understand that, don¡¯t you? If he hadn¡¯t come to this tomb, if he hadn¡¯t blundered his way into a trap, if he hadn¡¯t. . . .¡± Berith snarled around his breath. ¡°If he had just died when he should have. If he hadn¡¯t been so desperate to save himself. If him and the Diet hadn¡¯t extorted me into raising you.¡±


    With the dagger still in hand, he pressed his knuckles to the stone, pushing himself up.


    ¡°If I hadn¡¯t been forced to kill your mother.¡±


    Isaac got back to his feet, slouching heavily on one leg. He started to walk again, limping and slow.


    ¡°This was all his fault!¡± Berith yelled. ¡°Do you think you¡¯re defending him? Do you feel some need to save the man who tried to sacrifice you without a moment¡¯s hesitation?¡±


    He had reached the stairs. There were not many of them. Even still, he was forced to crawl.


    ¡°Answer me, boy!¡±


    Every step sent agony up his leg. He crawled up the stairs with the dagger in his fist, digging through rifts of fallen sand.


    ¡°Stop!¡±


    It was no different than the yard. There was shouting, and there was exhaustion, and there was pain beyond what he thought he could endure.


    ¡°There is no need for this! We can go home together!¡±


    Elemental spells churned around him. Bones boiled in the air.


    He reached the top of the pyramid. All the students watched him like a row of statues. He felt the heat of their flames, watched the ice crackle and glimmer. Not a single one made a move to stop him.


    As he struggled back to his feet, the colossus moved behind him. The earth trembled, and shadows raced across the pyramid¡ªpelvis, ribs, and shoulders. A squall of wind ripped through the air. The world around them seemed to tense for a strike.


    It never came. The beast was too massive. He was too close.


    Berith retreated backwards, pressing himself into the bank of metal devices. The bones on his robes slithered into links and chains, racing to protect his vital organs. ¡°Isaac.¡±


    The haft of the dagger was slick with sweat.


    ¡°Isaac!¡±


    Bones rained down around him. It was only a single humerus, at first, but when he did not stop, it turned into a grapeshot of fingers. Soon, there were skulls screaming past his face, a blizzard of vertebrae shattering at his feet. The air became thick with motion and bodies. He limped through it all, never dropping his gaze. Nothing touched him but the splinters.


    It was all a show. It was all an empty threat.


    ¡°Listen to me.¡±


    A human femur came down from above. It held itself straight, like an arrow caught in flight. A spherical head aimed at his chest.


    ¡°You can still have a life,¡± Berith said. ¡°A real one. Somewhere far away.¡±


    Isaac kept walking. The femur did not retreat.


    ¡°I can help you escape. The Diet will never know the truth.¡±


    Only a few paces remained between him and his uncle.


    ¡°You¡¯ll never have to see me again.¡±


    Isaac raised the dagger. The femur shot forward, pressing into his neck. It split his breath in half. With the slightest bit of force, it would severe his arteries.


    ¡°Look at me, Isaac.¡±


    His blue eyes glowed with magic. There were wrinkles in the flesh where his scowl often rested. Isaac was sure he would never forget the face in all his life.


    ¡°You¡¯re my son,¡± Berith said.


    His vision began to blur.


    ¡°He¡¯s not your father anymore. I am. You¡¯re my son, and I¡ª¡±


    ¡°No!¡±


    His scream echoed across dust, stone and sand.


    ¡°No! I am not your son! I will never be your son!¡±


    The femur trembled at his neck.


    ¡°I was your prisoner! I was your burden! I was nothing more than a sacrifice!¡±


    Berith swallowed. His hands rested on the metal controls. Souls leaked and moaned.


    ¡°Was I still your son when you sent me off to die?¡±


    His fingers roamed towards tiny levers.


    ¡°You lied! You lied to me about everything! Every spell, every book, every potion! Every day, there was nothing but lies! You knew it was all pointless! You knew you were going to kill me! You could¡¯ve told me the truth, but you didn¡¯t! You said nothing! Nothing!¡±


    He slapped the femur away, taking a step forward. The bone shot back into place. Barely an arm¡¯s length remained between them.


    ¡°I would rather die than be your son,¡± Isaac said.


    Behind him, the thralls stepped closer. They formed a semicircle, faces burning with magic.


    ¡°Do it.¡±


    Berith blinked. The bone quivered.


    ¡°Do it!¡±


    ¡°Isaac.¡±


    He leaned his neck into the bone. ¡°No more tricks. No more lies.¡±


    ¡°Isaac,¡± Berith said. ¡°Please.¡±


    Isaac felt tears come down his face, mixing with dirt and blood.


    ¡°This doesn¡¯t have to happen.¡±


    His hand ached from gripping the dagger.


    ¡°I can just¡ªwe¡ªyou and I¡ª¡±


    ¡°Uncle,¡± Isaac said. ¡°It¡¯s me. Or you.¡±


    Berith looked him up and down, as if seeing him for the first time. Barely more than an arm¡¯s length remained between them.


    The air was hot. The wind was dry. Only their breathing pierced the silence.


    ¡°You¡¯ve always looked like him,¡± Berith said. ¡°Your father. You¡¯ve been told that your entire life, but . . . you do.¡± He pointed. ¡°Except for the eyes. Your father¡¯s were brown. Yours are blue. Like mine.¡±


    Over his uncle¡¯s shoulder, something glinted in the sunlight.


    ¡°You must¡¯ve only been a year old,¡± Berith said. ¡°I had finally worked up the nerve to kill you. Not for the Diet. Not for your father. For your sake. To spare you the life I knew would be waiting for you.¡±


    He could feel the thralls standing at his back. Bones skittered across the floor.


    ¡°I went to your crib with a knife in my hands. I had a plan to dispose of your remains. The Archons would never know the truth.¡±


    The femur was tight on his neck. He could barely breathe.


    ¡°You were asleep. It was the first time you had stopped crying in hours. For the entire day, it was all I could hear in the tower. All I could focus on.¡±


    Souls leaked from metal and stone.


    ¡°I placed the tip of the knife to your chest. At an angle. It would¡¯ve gone right past the sternum. Straight to the heart.¡±


    The femur drifted down to his chest. It pressed against him, as if to demonstrate.


    Something moved among the boulders and ossein. Something grew closer.


    ¡°I was going to do it this time,¡± Berith said. ¡°I would not falter again. It had to be done. For your sake. I knew you would only suffer if I didn¡¯t.¡±


    The tip of the femur pressed towards his heart, almost breaking the skin.


    ¡°But you woke up. You saw me hovering above you. And when you looked at me. . . .¡± Berith looked at him now, as if his memory was as clear as the present. ¡°Your eyes were blue. Just like mine.¡±


    The femur quivered at his chest.


    ¡°You looked at me, and you smiled, and your little. . . .¡± His voice cracked. Isaac had never seen it happen before. ¡°Your little fingers wrapped around mine, like I was going to play with you again, and you looked up at me, and you said ¡®father¡¯.¡±


    Berith¡¯s eyes stopped glowing. The students slumped to the floor.


    ¡°That was your first word. You called me your father.¡±


    His eyes were normal again. Pale blue, like the edge of the sky.


    ¡°How could I kill my own son?¡±


    At his chest, the femur fell away, clattering on the ancient stone.


    Berith looked Isaac up and down, as if taking in all the details. The injuries, the tattered robes. The dagger in his hand. He lifted his head, gazing over the colossus.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry, Isaac. What I did to you. . . .¡±


    Berith¡¯s form began to be eclipsed by a larger one, sprinting from behind.


    ¡°I was angry. I was bitter.¡± He blinked, and his cheeks glistened with tears. ¡°I should¡¯ve been better. I should¡¯ve. . . .¡±


    He stopped. Isaac didn¡¯t know if he heard the footsteps, or saw the expression on his face. Either way, his eyes widened. He began to turn. Bone and thrall began to rise.


    Zaria gored Berith with her captain¡¯s sword. The impact was violent enough to lift him off his feet. With a snarl, she stopped her charge, lifted him by the blade, and slammed him to the ground. He did not come all the way off. She stomped a foot to his chest, Berith¡¯s arm desperately grabbing at her leg, and the cutlass wrenched itself free, shining a bright red in the sunlight.


    Berith remained on the floor, choking and reaching. Zaria raised the sword, preparing to plunge.


    ¡°Stop!¡± Isaac shouted. ¡°Stop!¡±


    She paused, mostly by surprise. Isaac attempted to run over, but he put too much weight on his burned leg, and he collapsed into the sand. She came over, tried to help him stand, but he shrugged her off, crawling on his hands and knees.Love what you''re reading? Discover and support the author on the platform they originally published on.


    Berith clutched at his chest, giving wet and rattling gasps. Bones tumbled from the air. The thralls slumped like discarded dolls.


    Isaac fell to his uncle¡¯s side. Berith reached out, gripping his arm. There were desperate, whistling breaths and fountains of blood.


    Anatomy diagrams. Lungs. Heart. Trauma.


    Intubation.


    Isaac put pressure on his uncle¡¯s chest. His robes were sopping wet. ¡°The sword!¡±


    Zaria looked at the blade like she had forgotten she was holding it.


    ¡°Give me the sword!¡±


    One of his lungs was punctured. Filling with fluid. He had to drain the blood. If he tore a hole in the pleural cavity, flipped him onto his side, the blood would drain¡ª


    It was sloshing from his throat. His mouth gaped and flapped. Every breath was weak and sucking.


    He was drowning. His uncle was drowning.


    The blood. Bright red. It must¡¯ve come from an artery. Aorta. Carotid. Subclavian.


    Diagrams. Diagrams. Diagrams¡ª


    Berith¡¯s grip tightened on his arm.


    Isaac tried to flip him onto his side. His arm was weak, and the cauterized skin was a screaming pain, and he might¡¯ve been screaming himself. Nothing worked. The gurgles¡ª


    ¡°Give me the sword, Zaria!¡±


    Berith¡¯s grip tightened again. His face was as pale as the bones. He was trying to speak.


    ¡°You . . . you. . . .¡±


    He gurgled. Blood raced over lips.


    ¡°You deserved. . . .¡±


    Two pairs of blue eyes gazed into each other. After a moment, one of them went glassy and still. The hand took longer to fall.


    The world seemed to fade away. Suddenly, Isaac felt as if he had never left. All that he had seen and learned on his journey vanished from his mind. All at once, there was only his routine again.


    ¡°Isaac.¡±


    Training. The morning sun. Grass and sweat and pain. Books lit by candlelight. Warm meals, political discussion. Treatises, questions, tests. The preparation of lab equipment. The night sky glimpsed only through a window.


    A hand on his shoulder. ¡°Isaac.¡±


    The sneer. The shouts echoing through the tower. The lack of satisfaction. The constant demands, the gaze that always seemed to guess his thoughts.


    The books. The jokes. The mercy, rare as it was. The small nod whenever mastery was achieved. The smile. He could remember every single smile.


    ¡°Isaac!¡±


    He looked up at Zaria, but she was not looking at him. She was craning her head back towards the sky.


    The colossus was moving again. Now that he was free from the dry dock, he received his first proper look at the creature.


    It was bipedal, but leaning forward heavily, and the spiky protrusions from its tail and vertebrae formed a caltrop line down its body. Its pelvis was wide and pointing backwards. Its arms were small and folded against its chest. Its ribs were so long that they almost curved around to meet each other, like the curling limbs of a spider.


    Isaac saw now, more than ever, that the titan was a horrible amalgamation of body parts. Its skull and pelvis was reptilian, but its vertebrae were so specialized that they could only be mammalian. Its neck was almost too long to properly support its head, its chest was grotesquely wide, and its arms were so tiny that they might as well have been vestigial. It looked like a failed experiment. Like the creature had never actually been killed, but merely succumbed to the inadequacies of its own anatomy.


    It reared itself back until it was almost standing straight. A thunderous growl pierced the air. Its body heaved and stretched until there were visible gaps between the bones, held together only by the energy of thousands of souls. The titan moved like it had never had its own freedom of movement before¡ªor it had been so many millennia since then that the memory was less than dust. There was almost pleasure in the bones. The pleasure of life.


    Berith had taught Isaac this lesson very well. Killing the master of a thrall did not kill the thrall itself. It would retain its energy. The only thing that would be lost was control.


    ¡°Isaac! Do something!¡±


    The reptile steadied its head. Its empty eyes roamed over the rubble of the cavern. Searching.


    The metal devices still remained active. Souls leaked from the metal.


    Isaac stumbled into a run. The movement was just enough to catch the titan¡¯s attention. They had moved far into the cavern in order to confront his uncle, but that distance was inconsequential to such a giant. It would be less than a single step.


    He grasped the bank of machines, fingers gripping through the hanging souls. He had no idea how to work such a device. There were calibration knobs, measuring dials, rusted buttons, levers whose function was only written in an ancient language. His hand roamed over the different control mechanisms, lessons on necrotic resurrection racing through his mind.


    He looked up towards the sky, and the sky was gone. There was only the skull peering down at him. The bones grinded together, all the teeth pressing into bleached white lines.


    Isaac made eye contact with the colossus. It felt like staring into the face of a god.


    The beast pointed its snout and sniffed at him.


    The suction of air was monstrous. Walking past a tornado would¡¯ve been a more calming experience. Isaac had to grip the metal device to stay where he was, and Zaria was outright lifted into the air, flung forward from the force of the gust.


    When Isaac regained his balance, he began to slap as many of the strange buttons as he could.


    The titan lurched back, letting the sun return. Its body seemed to spasm. Entire forests of ossein were swept away as it took a stumbling step backwards, and Isaac was forced to brace through the squalls of shrieking wind. The beast caught its balance, shredding acres of earth and concrete with its toes. It snarled with a voice that boomed like a thousand storms, opened its jaws, and rushed for them.


    In pure desperation, Isaac grabbed a rusted lever and wrenched it down.


    There was an apocalypse in the sky. It looked like all the clouds of the desert had been shot from a cannon. Ossein flew like the spray of ocean waves, the earth shuddered as if it had suffered a mortal injury, and Isaac fell to the floor of the pyramid, barely noticing the scraping of the knives against the cataclysm at his feet.


    But, when he looked again, the beast was leaning against the opposite wall of the cavern. One of its legs had cleanly detached from the pelvis. Bones laid scattered across the leagues of concrete, in much the same way that a city might be scattered across a field. Toes studded the ossein canopy. A femur rolled and spun like the felling of an ancient tree.


    Isaac did not have the necromancy training to directly control the colossus, but the device at his hands could still control the flow of energy. And the souls were the only thing giving it life.


    The beast roared, trying to hobble towards them. Isaac scrambled to his feet and pulled every lever he could see. As the reptile came, entire sections of its body began to twist and fall. There were lances of ribs and meteors of vertebrae. An elbow joint popped loose and cleaved the arm with it. Teeth and fingers rained down like the missiles of a trebuchet.


    Before the colossus had taken another step, much of its torso was scattered upon the earth. Before Isaac had finished depressing every lever, it had already collapsed to its side. And, when he snapped the last rod down, its skull popped from the top of the vertebrae, rolling forward like the sun would roll across the sky. Its face rested against the growing dunes of sand. It gave one last wrenching gasp, burying its mouth in dirt and sand and bone, and went still.


    For a long moment, Isaac only felt the sun on his back and the falling sand on his face. The death of the colossus seemed to have stilled the world.


    Then, the device at his hands began to rumble. Souls erupted from the metal. He stepped back just as the welding began to sunder and break, shaking violently on its frame. He took another step, and his burned leg screamed in pain, and he collapsed to the floor. Just when he was about to start crawling, a pair of fuzzy arms wrapped around him, lifting him off the ground and running backwards.


    The metal device exploded. Isaac and Zaria hit the floor, barely dodging a cloud of shrapnel. When he looked again, the device was gone, leaving only a deep, ruptured hole in the stone, like the caldera of a volcano.


    And a spew of souls erupted from the pyramid. The entire structure seemed to rumble. Thousands of beings gushed from the earth, churning like the stampede of a crowd, wreathed with spectral limbs and stretching faces. Sunlight enveloped their forms, roiling the souls into a radiant mixture of whiffs and tufts and streams. As they rose higher, and spread further apart, the souls became thin and translucent, the limbs and faces drifting apart into wisps and vapor, until there was only a faint sheen of dust left behind, sparkling in the light.


    He could hear their voices again. Instead of screaming, the citizens of the necropolis seemed to sigh, as if finally being given a chance to rest.


    It felt like the geyser of souls erupted for hours. It might¡¯ve been less than a minute. Eventually, the flow began to lessen. The radiant plume relaxed into a minor spout, and soon divided itself down into leaks and dribbles. As the voices disappeared, and the sky glittered with souls and dust, the jagged hole in the earth became still and empty. Only a few tendrils remained, like the last morning mists fading before the dawn.


    For a moment, Isaac thought he saw one of the souls turn its face towards him. It was no more than a suggestion, the vaguest shape of a face and its smile, and before Isaac had truly seen the soul at all, it was gone. All that remained in the air was loose sand and golden light.


    The air grew quiet. Thin motes of dust fell from the air. They glinted like a metal.


    Zaria had him nestled against her chest. She roamed her hands over his body. ¡°Good?¡±


    He tried to answer. All he could give was a grunt.


    ¡°Yes or no, love.¡±


    He tried to breathe, and his lungs wouldn¡¯t move.


    Zaria released one of her hands. It was dripping with blood. ¡°Oh, fuck me.¡±


    He was dizzy. The world seemed to swim.


    ¡°Isaac!¡±


    The knives. The splints had broken. They were jagged, ripping through the flesh. All the tumbling and wind. He couldn¡¯t. . . .


    Everything shifted. He was staring at the sun. There was warmth on his face. There was a feeling of ice crawling through his chest.


    ¡°Hey, hey.¡± Her face. Bloody. One eye wide. ¡°Stay awake.¡± His body shook. ¡°Stay with me!¡±


    His throat was dry. Cracked and torn. He tried to speak, ask for water, but nothing came.


    The sky was blue. There were veins. Rocky strands. There was tugging somewhere below. Distant pain.


    There was sand and broken metal. He saw a pile of black. There was blood. Limbs. A face.


    Uncle.


    ¡°Isaac!¡±


    Berith.


    Wait.


    No.


    Pounding.


    Uncle.


    Pain.


    Had he?


    No.


    ¡°Isaac!¡±


    Wait.


    No.


    Wait.


    Wait.


    Uncle. . . .


    ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------


    He woke to the gentle flapping of cloth, straining against the wind.


    For a moment, he thought he was back in the desert. The air was hot, and there was sand on his skin, and sunlight was beating down on the roof of his tent. His muscles ached. His lips were cracked and split. His skin felt like a garment that was slightly too small for his size.


    That day in the desert, his eyes had opened to the slanting fabric of his tent, and he had known that he was about to die. His thoughts had been muddy and scattered. Everything he did required great concentration. He had crawled out into the belly of a dry river gulch, fingers scrabbling through the cracked dirt, and he had realized that his only hope was to head into the dunes and search for the oasis detailed on his map. Instead, he had met Zaria, and she had given him water.


    Zaria. The tomb. His father. . . .


    He blinked. He was in his tent again, lying on top of a bedroll. There was stone beneath him, and sand blowing through the holes of the fabric, and, with the wind, he began to hear voices.


    ¡°. . . can¡¯t go together. Too big a target. It¡¯s like that they¡¯ll be rousing the constabulary of every town worth mention.¡±


    ¡°My sister¡¯s still home,¡± a male voice said. Isaac didn¡¯t recognize it. ¡°My aunt. My grandfather. I have to warn them.¡±


    ¡°Wouldn¡¯t try it, personally,¡± Zaria said. ¡°Might be you get there before the news spreads. Might just get stopped in the road. Next thing you know, you¡¯re hauling irons for murder and treason. Your kin are like to catch the same charge if they¡¯re seen with you.¡±


    Somewhere nearby, a woman was sobbing. She sounded like she had been doing so for a while.


    There was a tingling sensation running down his arm. Isaac recognized it immediately. It was the same poultice he had always used whenever the cane lashes had left him too debilitated to study. The pain would be smothered, the wounds would not fester, and the flesh would grow back faster than a weed. He had made the very same concoction for Zaria in the necropolis.


    Looking down, he could no longer see the two knife hilts jutting from his arm¡ªinstead, there were only sutures and bandages. There was a deep purple band of bruises where the tourniquet had been. His leg had been swabbed, wrapped and packed with poultice, but the burn was too wide to fully cover. He could still feel the edges of the wound. He would have to clean it frequently.


    ¡°We need to go,¡± a second male voice said. ¡°Now. It won¡¯t be long before they send a search party.¡±


    ¡°Not holding you hostage,¡± Zaria said. ¡°Run along, then, if you¡¯ve got some urgency.¡±


    The woman continued to sob.


    ¡°You should come,¡± the first male voice said. ¡°Help us finish the climb, at least. And . . . well, even if the coma¡ª¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not hearing this again.¡±


    ¡°The blood loss¡ª¡±


    ¡°He¡¯s a tough little cunt. I¡¯m sure he could fuck a dragon and just be wiping his cock afterward.¡±


    There was a pause.


    ¡°Right,¡± said the first voice. ¡°Well, if you¡¯re sure. . . .¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re the only one looking doubtful.¡± There were footsteps, coming closer. ¡°Do as you wish. I¡¯m not leaving ¡®til he¡¯s up.¡±


    The tent shifted. He managed to lift his head. Through the glare of the sun, he could her face poking inside. The ripped cloth she had wrapped around her eye had been replaced with proper bandaging.


    ¡°Well, now,¡± she said, breaking into a grin. ¡°Speak of him, and he shall rise.¡±


    Isaac tried to sit up. He managed to climb only a few inches before his strength waned. His body felt like it had been filled with lead.


    Zaria crawled inside the tent, her considerable frame nearly uprooting the poles. ¡°How¡¯re we feeling, then?¡±


    ¡°Alive.¡±


    ¡°Right you are.¡± She almost said something else, but seemed to lose the words as she looked down at him. ¡°Wasn¡¯t looking that way for a good while.¡±


    His throat was painfully dry. ¡°Water.¡±


    She reached over to the side and handed him the same mortar he used to prepare his potions. Inside the stone bowl, there was a limpid broth, spotted with shreds of salt meat. It looked about as appetizing as old bath water, but Isaac drank it greedily, and, right then, it tasted better than any stew he¡¯d ever had. He drained the cup, barely chewing the leathery meat.


    The tent rustled again. He saw movement at the glare of the entrance.


    Three of the Khador students were staring inside. The sigils on their faces were jagged and scarred, and the flesh had blackened along the deep grooves and winding circles. It was two boys and one girl. They must¡¯ve been close to Isaac¡¯s age, but it was hard to tell from their appearance¡ªtheir faces were gaunt and worn, and their robes hung like curtains on their bodies. Berith must¡¯ve drained much of their energy during the battle. He didn¡¯t appear as if he had been feeding them well, either.


    Berith. The blood. Rattling gasps.


    Isaac tried to sit up again, managing to get to his elbows before Zaria pushed a firm hand to his chest.


    ¡°You¡¯re takin¡¯ a rest,¡± she said. ¡°Don¡¯t make me tie you up again.¡±


    ¡°How are you feeling?¡± one of the male apprentices asked him.


    ¡°Weak. Cold.¡± Isaac swallowed. He was still thirsty, and ravenously hungry on top of it. ¡°Did you make the poultice?¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± said the other boy. ¡°Professor Berith showed us how.¡±


    The girl¡¯s cheeks were red and streaked with tears. Her eyes were painfully green, staring deeply into him.


    Zaria was already preparing another stew. She was using her bandaged hand like it wasn¡¯t paining her anymore. ¡°I told them how it happened. Wasn¡¯t a fun telling, but things stayed civil.¡±


    ¡°Thank you,¡± said the first boy. ¡°Thank you for saving us.¡±


    ¡°There were many others,¡± Isaac said.


    The girl began to sob again. The second boy wrapped an arm around her shoulder.


    ¡°Do you¡ª¡± The first apprentice hesitated. ¡°Do you need further aid? We were hoping to save what vials we have.¡±


    ¡°Aye,¡± Zaria said. ¡°Funny how quick there¡¯s a bedside manner when you were itching to leave him for dead.¡±


    ¡°T-that wasn¡¯t¡ªwe need to preserve¡ª¡±


    ¡°There¡¯s no blame. It weren¡¯t unfair.¡±


    Isaac flexed the fingers on his arm. Blood loss had made them stiff, and it was obvious that his wounds were only numb rather than healed. Still, there was little pain. ¡°I¡¯m fine.¡±


    ¡°Good. Good.¡± The apprentice looked to Zaria.


    ¡°Remember the route I marked?¡± She kept stirring the lukewarm broth. ¡°Which contacts are like to give shelter?¡±


    ¡°Yes. Uh, yes. It¡¯s here.¡±


    ¡°Got some rope practice? Remember all the knots?¡±


    ¡°Y-yes. I¡¯m sure.¡±


    ¡°Hey,¡± Zaria said. ¡°Trust me. Send a courier. Tell your kin to meet you somewhere and don¡¯t have them go all together. Got it?¡±


    The boy gave a weak nod, his face pale and drawn. The girl was cradling her head in her hands. The second boy was staring off into the distance, gazing over the cavern walls.


    ¡°Right, then.¡± She reached out and clapped the first boy on the shoulder. ¡°Farewell. Best of luck all around.¡±


    The first male apprentice looked quickly between Isaac and Zaria, opened his mouth, didn¡¯t seem to find any words that would fit the situation, and left the tent entrance. The second boy tried to pull the girl away, but she was staring at Isaac again, and refused to move.


    ¡°I know you,¡± she said.


    Isaac blinked back at her.


    She pointed a finger. ¡°The tower. Berith¡¯s tower. You¡¯re the boy that always stared out the window. You¡¯d watch us every day.¡±


    Isaac didn¡¯t answer.


    ¡°You¡¯re Berith¡¯s son.¡±


    ¡°No,¡± he said. ¡°I¡¯m not.¡±


    She stared back, just on the edge of speaking. Her eyes were green and tinged with red.


    ¡°I know you, too,¡± Isaac said. ¡°You lived four houses down from the apothecary. Your chimney was broken. You had two siblings, one still a babe, a father with a patched frock who worked as a tanner, a grandfather missing an arm, and probably an aunt, if not a hired seamstress. You always played with two boys at the herbarium. You¡¯d put flowers in your hair to hide the smell of leather.¡±


    The girl¡¯s mouth became a tight line. Her empty sigil was black and already scabbing over.


    ¡°Did you ever keep the dog?¡± Isaac asked. ¡°I saw you feeding a stray.¡±


    ¡°No,¡± she said. ¡°I found it dead one morning. Neighbors butchered it for supper.¡±


    ¡°Oh.¡±


    Sand blew in from beneath the tent. The air was hot and swirling.


    ¡°Come on,¡± said the second boy, tugging her back.


    ¡°What were you doing in his tower if you weren¡¯t his son?¡±


    Isaac didn¡¯t answer. He laid back down on the bedroll, feeling dizzy and lightheaded.


    ¡°That¡¯s enough,¡± Zaria said. She leaned over, nearly dragging the tent with her. ¡°On you go. If you get stuck on the climb, just sit tight, and we¡¯ll be like to cross paths.¡±


    The second boy nodded, dragging the girl away. She was beginning to weep again. Slowly, her cries faded into distance.


    Isaac concentrated on breathing. Despite the heat rubbing against his skin, he felt chilled and feverish. His skin was glossy with sweat.


    ¡°Drink up. Meat and fluid until you¡¯re feeling better.¡±


    ¡°Can you cook it, at least?¡±


    ¡°Drink the fucking stew, squire.¡±


    He did. He made an effort to swallow three more batches of the thin, salty broth, and every round seemed to help his mind pierce the dizziness.


    Berith. The blood. Blue eyes.


    ¡°Right,¡± Zaria said, feeling his forehead. ¡°Still looking pale. You¡¯re staying on your back until the morrow, and I will not hear any stubbornness on the matter.¡±


    ¡°Z. Where¡¯s my father?¡±


    She looked down at him. There were still traces of blood on her fur.


    ¡°He said¡ª¡± Isaac tried to sit up, felt the world spin around him, and fell back to the bedroll. ¡°He said he was running out of energy. Has he . . . ?¡±


    ¡°There¡¯s been no sign.¡±


    ¡°How long have I been out?¡±


    ¡°Couple hours, at least.¡±


    He tried to sit up again. Her hand pushed him down.


    ¡°I need to find him.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re in no condition.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t care.¡±


    ¡°Well, I fucking do, and I¡¯ll give you worse than Soren if you keep acting fierce about it.¡±


    There was nothing else he could think to say. ¡°Please.¡±


    ¡°By Oerin¡¯s cock, you¡¯re just itching to kill yourself at any given chance, aren¡¯t you?¡±


    He kept looking at her.


    She sighed, stifling a growl. ¡°Fine. But you¡¯re commitin¡¯ no heroics, and so help your furless arse if I see a single hint of a spell.¡±


    With gentle effort, she helped him crawl out from the shade of his tent. The stone of the pyramid burnt his fingers as he steadied himself. The sunlight felt like a physical weight on his skin, if not a couple knives stabbing through his eyes. He stood as straight as he could, leaning against her side and blinking through the glare.


    To their right laid the colossus, the bones digging through equal measures of fallen sand and broken ossein, and its scattered form was so massive that Isaac found it difficult to see it as anything other than a collection of bony foothills. To the side of the corpse, the obelisk was still standing, if only barely¡ªone of the giant¡¯s thrashings had cleaved through the top of the structure, leaving only a stump of a tower. Above it, an avalanche of rock had spilled into the cavern. There was now a deep valley wrenched through a segment of the cavern walls, almost perfectly curved in the shape of a rib cage. There were flecks of white beneath the sand and rocks, little segments of the necropolis visible amidst the rubble. It must¡¯ve been the first time the buildings had ever seen sunlight.


    Much of the cavern still laid in shade and darkness. The titan had only sundered a path through the middle of the ceiling. It was like a half opened pair of eyelids¡ªa great furrow of light across the center, and, to the sides, two hanging curtains of rock, leaving the great distances in shadow.


    As he looked, he could see the Khador students making their way towards the ruins of the necropolis, their robes almost lost between the concrete, boulders and sand. The crucified skeletons had been scattered amongst the mounds of ossein, the stars of the necromancer flags flapping in the breeze. He continued his gaze in a sweep, searching through the shade . . . until his eyes fell on a body lying not too far away.


    In the bright sun, his skin was turning ashen. Bones still littered the floor around him, but the blood had already long evaporated, leaving only a faint residue. He could see lividity marks, sand collecting in the open eyes, and he knew the heat of the sun would accelerate the decomposition. It would start smelling before long.


    The world spun again. Only Zaria¡¯s grip kept him from fainting.


    ¡°Isaac,¡± she said. ¡°I¡¯m sorry. I know that¡ª¡±


    ¡°No. It had to be done.¡±


    He had sent him off into to die, either by dragon or thirst. He had sacrificed dozens of students. He had been ready to kill his own brother, resurrect a titan, and send it on a warpath that might¡¯ve consumed the entire world with it.


    Zaria loosened her hold on him. ¡°Just . . . seemed like he was trying to say something, at the end.¡±


    Every day of his life, Berith had lied. He had known all along.


    ¡°Whatever he was going to say,¡± Isaac said, ¡°it wouldn¡¯t have made a difference.¡±


    The sun was hot and merciless. The wind was soft and full of sand.


    But, as he gazed over the corpse, watching the robes bend and flutter, he felt a pressure building on his lungs. He tried to breathe, but the wind carried the smell, or he might¡¯ve imagined it did, and he nearly vomited on the spot. His knees began to buckle.


    She turned him away. He was too weak to resist. ¡°Right, then. There¡¯s nothing over there. Nothing you need to see any longer. Let¡¯s keep thinking that way.¡±


    His body was chilled and heavy. Even the effort of standing was leaving him breathless. He would¡¯ve gladly crawled back into his tent and slept for days.


    But, then, he saw it. In the distance, through the shade and bone, there was a building. It was fairly small, not much larger than the home of a judiciary or some other member of the gentry, and the walls were nestled into the bedrock of the cavern wall, such that it almost blended into the dirt and sand. No more detail could be seen through the gloom. But there it was, all the same. Unmistakable.


    He had imagined that building his whole life. He had been holding it in his mind¡¯s eye as he died of thirst in the desert. He had kept it in his thoughts all the way through the giant skeleton, from mouth, to neck, to chest, abdomen, pelvis, and legs. After all the leagues he had travelled, all the tribulations he had suffered, he had come to the end of his journey. There was nowhere else to go. The cavern at the bottom of the tomb was empty, save for a colossal skeleton, a field of festering bone . . . and that one lone building.


    Zaria seemed to follow his gaze. ¡°That¡¯s it? Over there?¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡±


    ¡°Sure about that?¡±


    ¡°What else is left?¡±


    She glanced back at his tent. ¡°Aye, well, we got two good hands between us, and not much light in the day. Best we get packing.¡±


    He looked up at her. She casted a sharp figure in the sunlight. He looked at the scars on her eye, the ones wrapping around her black muzzle, and the tawny fur lining her cheeks and ears. He felt both a warm and chilly sensation again, spreading through his stomach like it had back in the extraction chamber, when she had refused to abandon him.


    ¡°Thanks, Z.¡±


    ¡°Sure. Glad to aid my squire. He¡¯s certainly done enough for me.¡±


    They set to packing up his supplies, aiding each other whenever their injuries hampered their progress. The sun burned into his skin. He was glad for it. It helped keep his mind off what laid behind.


    They made their way down from the pyramid, through the canyons of ossein and metal ships, over the growing hills of sand still falling from the land above. He had to lean against her as they walked, and she kept him tucked to her side, clutching her captain¡¯s cutlass in her hand. From the way she moved, he knew she was just as beaten and exhausted as he was, but she made no mention of it, and Isaac never doubted that she would help him stand if he fell.


    They entered the shade of the cavern, leaving only a few things left to shine in the sun¡ªa giant skeleton, a field of bone, and one lone body, wrapped in black robes.

 The Cost of Silence, Part Two

    It was a squat, ugly thing.


    Isaac had always imagined something grander. In all the millennia that the necromancer had reigned inside the ruins of this tomb, she must¡¯ve built some extravagant nest for herself. A throne room deep in the earth, buttressed by the feet of a giant corpse. Marble columns adorned with cornices, fine carpets, furs and paintings, braziers alight with necrotic fire. The necromancer herself, splayed on a throne of bones, all the gold of her empire¡¯s conquests spilling from wall to wall, such was their magnitude. Glittering jewels, hordes of beasts, evil magic still burning through the eons.


    What Isaac saw now was just a flat, rectangular building. It was nestled against the bedrock of the cavern wall in such a way that he could¡¯ve easily missed it in the shade. The walls were made of the same grey concrete that paved the floor, like the building had merely been an air bubble carved into shape. There were some signs of wealth¡ªthe windows had glass in their panes, which had been coated in a thick layer of dirt and dust, and there were metal objects on the roof, molded into strange shapes. Concave dishes, long poles, a few bits of scaffolding capped with spheres. It couldn¡¯t have been decoration, but he was in no mood to speculate on their function.


    He panted for breath. The walk towards the building had covered more than two miles, winding through the destruction of concrete, ossein and sandwyrm blood, and it had left him gasping to the point of desperation. His limbs were weak. His mind was dizzy. He felt that, if he stopped to rest now, he would never rise again.


    But it was right there. After all this time, after all he had suffered, his destination was finally at hand.


    He was about to meet his father.


    ¡°Hold,¡± Zaria said. She stopped walking, and the world seemed to lurch with her. ¡°Park your arse.¡±


    ¡°What¡ª¡±


    Before he knew it, he was sitting on the floor. It took all his concentration to keep himself upright and breathing at the same time. She squatted over him, reaching for his leg. ¡°You¡¯re wheezin¡¯ like a sow, and your burn needs cleaning again.¡±


    Isaac didn¡¯t have the strength to argue. Using her hand as little as possible, she slung off her pack and tossed Soren¡¯s cutlass to the floor. Gingerly, she peeled back the bandages on his thigh. Some of his skin came off with it. If it wasn¡¯t for the poultice packed between the mottled grooves of flesh, he would¡¯ve been screaming.


    She retrieved some new bandaging and wet it with a waterskin. ¡°Isaac, you sure about this?¡±


    He was listening for sound in the small building. He heard none. The cavern was silent, save for the occasional tumble of rock at the ruins of the necropolis.


    ¡°Look,¡± she said. ¡°Let¡¯s just go.¡±


    ¡°Go?¡±


    ¡°Beat sticks. Haul arse. Fuck on off. Something you should¡¯ve been doin¡¯ from the start.¡±


    ¡°Z, I can¡¯t¡ª¡±


    He hissed. She had started rubbing the cloth through the outer edges of the burn, digging out the sand and grit.


    ¡°Gonna hurt,¡± she said.


    He nodded, gripping one of her leather pauldrons. She kneaded his scabbing flesh. He barely had enough strength to groan.


    ¡°He started all this,¡± Zaria said. ¡°All your wizards were just reacting to what he done to you.¡±


    He stared up at the rocky ceiling of the cavern. He wasn¡¯t sure what was worse¡ªthe screaming pain in his leg, or the breathless feeling in his lungs. He felt as if all the blood left in his body would¡¯ve barely filled a cup.


    ¡°Can you honestly tell me he¡¯s changed for the better?¡±


    She poked through the patches of green poultice, checking the wound beneath.


    ¡°You certain, beyond doubt, that he¡¯s not got some trap in there, waiting for you?¡±


    There was a single rusted door leading into the building. He saw only darkness through the holes. Around the sides, the glass windows were thick with dust. It was impossible to see what was inside.


    ¡°What¡¯s to say he hasn¡¯t been actin¡¯ nice just to make you drop your guard? Would you really put it past him?¡±


    She retrieved more bandaging. After gently easing him into bending his knee, she began to wrap the white fabric around his thigh. The burn was wide and long. Keeping it from festering was going to take most of the supplies the students had given them.


    ¡°Fuck the treasure,¡± Zaria said. ¡°Was always a long shot, for me, and there¡¯s no way we¡¯re pinching more than some handfuls.¡±


    The bandaging was tied off with a knot. She stood up, offered a hand, and lifted him with ease. The effort of standing left him breathless again.


    ¡°Let¡¯s go. It¡¯s the least bit of justice to leave him here, I think.¡±


    He watched the rusted door. He hadn¡¯t heard a sound. Not the slightest movement through the glass windows. There was not a single sign of life.


    He stepped forward, but she blocked his path, holding out a hand.


    ¡°Isaac. You¡¯re not thinking of giving him your body, are you?¡±


    ¡°No.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s the only way he¡¯s gettin¡¯ out of here.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m well aware of that.¡±


    ¡°Then what are you hoping for, exactly?¡±


    He looked back. In the distance, he could see the scattered bones of the colossus. The ruins of the necropolis. Sunlight and rock and a sea of ossein.


    ¡°I just want to hear his voice,¡± Isaac said. ¡°I want to see him from outside a story.¡± He took as deep of a breath as he could. ¡°I want to say goodbye.¡±


    He took another step forward, and, again, Zaria blocked his path.


    ¡°You don¡¯t want that,¡± she said. ¡°Trust me.¡±


    He looked up at her.


    ¡°I wish my father hadn¡¯t tried to save me,¡± Zaria said. ¡°When I was in the crates, being loaded up, I had no idea of what he¡¯d done. Just thought it was wrong place, wrong time. Could¡¯ve gone my whole life thinking that way. Still holding him dear in my heart, thinking he¡¯d be out there and I¡¯d find him some day.


    ¡°But he did show up, and, even then, I wish he¡¯d been mean. Spat in my face, told me he was glad for the coin. I could¡¯ve hated him, then. Could¡¯ve cursed his name and not thought twice. Even then, that¡¯d have been nicer.¡±


    Her eye drifted down to the concrete.


    ¡°But he tried to save me, and he was crying his eyes out, and it was plain to see it was the worst thing he¡¯d ever done, and he would¡¯ve given anything to take it back. ¡®Cause of that, it wasn¡¯t simple. It¡¯s something I¡¯ll always be able to recall, clear as day. Every last detail cutting like a knife. There¡¯s no way to settle it. Not anymore.¡±


    Isaac stared at the building. It was small, plain and ugly. It was nothing like he had imagined.


    None of this had been like he¡¯d imagined.


    ¡°It wasn¡¯t what happened to me that hurt the worst,¡± Zaria said. ¡°It was who did it, and why. Even now, wise as I am, I still wish he hadn¡¯t come around. I wish I didn¡¯t know better. It¡¯s not the kind of knowledge that makes me stronger. It just. . . .¡± She fell silent. ¡°It just hurts. It¡¯s always gonna hurt.¡±


    He was tired. His wounds were aching, his future was lost, and he was tired.


    ¡°Let¡¯s go.¡± She gestured with the cutlass. ¡°There¡¯s nothing here worth turning over. Never was. It¡¯s best you go on thinking that way.¡±


    He swallowed what little saliva he had, took a deep breath, and looked up at her. ¡°Zaria?¡±


    She perked her ears.


    ¡°Fuck off.¡±


    She watched him for a moment, then snorted. ¡°Right, then. Perfectly said. ¡®Scuse me.¡± She stepped to the side, beckoning him on. ¡°Still gonna start chopping at the first sign of treachery.¡±


    Isaac stepped towards the rusty door, straightening his posture as much as he could. His robes were bloody and tattered. His hair was long and wild, his beard resembled something pulled from a bathtub drain, and he was so gaunt and thin that he did not look much different than the thralls Berith had left behind. He doubted anyone from his old life would recognize him now.


    Zaria gave him one last look. He returned it with something like appreciation. Then, he pushed open the rusty door and walked inside.


    His first impression of the room was dust. It was so thick in the air that he might¡¯ve chewed it after a breath¡ªwhen a stream of wind came rushing out from the doorway, he had to wipe his eyes and brush his cheeks. There was such a dense matting of dust on the windows that he might¡¯ve confused them for hanging carpets. The next impression of the room was fire. Small torches of green flame were ringing the walls, the same kind they had seen far above in the chapel. The green firelight was only barely sufficient enough for someone to navigate around the furniture, as if the person who had needed it was sensitive to bright lights.


    The building had obviously been modified from its original purpose. What that original purpose had been, Isaac could not say, but its new purpose was a laboratory. One of the walls was lined with lab benches that had clearly been dragged here from the research stations around the pelvis. There were scattered bones on the benches, dissected and placed in cross-section, and petri dishes full of ossein that had seemingly grown like a cultured fungus. There were shelves of chemical reagents, skeletons on display that bared the residue marks of resurrection, a bellows with old coals and a rotted fan, manual tools for centrifuging and distillation. Aside from the bones, the laboratory in Berith¡¯s tower had not looked much different.


    At one of the research benches, a skeleton laid slumped across a chair. It was human, and it had clearly died from a concentrated lance of fire¡ªthe bottom ribs and thoracic vertebrae were charred black, and the skull was twisted open in a cry of pain. Judging from the shape of the pelvis, it had been a woman.


    Isaac realized that this was the necromancer. The sorceress. The last survivor of an ancient empire, so old that her name, title and bloodline had long since disappeared in the endless tides of history. She was so old that she had watched the capital of her empire slowly fill with dust, watched the region around her change from a dry scrubland to miles and miles of dunes. He struggled to imagine the perspective of someone who had lived on the same timescale as the landscape around her.


    This room was her abode. Her final tomb. It did not look ostentatious in the slightest. Aside from the lab equipment, there was no other furniture. No decoration, no teeming hordes of wealth. There were side rooms here and there, but it was obvious that the function of this building had only been practical for her. It had been a work station, through and through.


    Isaac stared down at the half-charred skeleton, still wearing a white lab coat that bared the stripes and stars symbol on the lapel, and he wondered what had driven her to survive for millennia. What purpose had she been trying to achieve in this room? How had she come to be the last of her empire? What difference had it made, in the end? He saw no signs of a breakthrough, no signs of some miracle that would save her civilization. There was only a small, improvised laboratory, buried beneath tons of rock and sand. He could imagine her toiling away the centuries here, alone in the dark, repeating the same endless experiments. For the first time in his life, he became truly aware that, someday, he would die, and, no matter how famous or loved he had been, there would come a time where no one remembered his name.


    He looked down at the remains of the enemy he had prepared to face for all his life, and, despite himself, he felt some odd measure of kinship with her.


    ¡°Isaac?¡±


    The voice was quiet, thin, and ethereal. The same sort of energetic tone he had heard from the souls in the obelisk. It took him a moment to find the source.


    On a small dais over in a dusty corner, there sat a metal device. It was no larger than a cuirass would be if sitting unworn in an armory. Some of the same pipework he had seen in the obelisk had been crudely soldered up through the floor and shunted into the device. There were loose wires and what looked like advanced transmission receivers. At the top of the device, a small purple cloud shined through the dust and gloom, seeming to shimmer inside an invisible barrier.


    Isaac stumbled his way over. The dais was at such a height that he needed to kneel in order to bring himself face to face with the soul. When he did, he felt his skin glowing with the purple light. He could almost make out a face, if he looked hard enough.


    ¡°Father?¡± he asked.


    ¡°In the flesh,¡± said the purple cloud.


    Isaac could only stare back.


    ¡°Sorry,¡± Cain said, his wisps shaking as he chuckled. ¡°I¡¯ve been saving that one.¡±


    He looked down at the device. There were knobs and dials, some mechanical gauges that were showing barometric pressure and containment integrity. His voice appeared to be coming from a tiny rectangular hole at the top, as if the device was filtering and amplifying his voice. Many of the displays seemed to be indicating a drop in energy¡ªthe little needles were slowly moving down to a flat position, like the shadow on a sundial.


    In the center of the device, there was one large button. Its function was unmarked, but its placement and size could only suggest that it held some great importance.


    Above the device, Cain shifted himself over like a cloud being blown in a thermal. ¡°Zaria, right?¡±


    She was leaning against one of the research stations on the other side of the room. The cutlass was on the bench at her side, at a point where it would still be in easy reach. ¡°Just keeping the peace. Don¡¯t mind me.¡±


    ¡°How can I not?¡± Cain replied. ¡°You¡¯re the reason my son¡¯s not feeding the wyrms.¡±


    Zaria shrugged. ¡°That goes both ways, to be fair.¡±


    ¡°Of course, of course. But, hey¡ªthank you. Truly.¡±


    She nodded, glanced at Isaac, and looked away.If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.


    Cain drifted back over to the center. ¡°So, Isaac, how¡¯d you and the lovely lady meet?¡±


    He blinked, shifting back on his knees. ¡°Uh¡ª¡±


    ¡°Like ¡®em large and in charge, do you? I mean, a pirate, of all things?¡±


    After a few moments of stammering, Isaac held his palm out and shrugged, as if he didn¡¯t know, either.


    ¡°Can¡¯t say I haven¡¯t done the same.¡± A face was almost visible in the cloud. It was more of a suggestion than anything. ¡°You get sent off an expedition, you find an inn for the night, you meet some sellsword taking up space at the bar. If they got fur, I mean, so what? It¡¯s a Diet rite of passage. Back before all this, a lot more of my scars came from a bed than the dead, let me tell you.¡±


    Isaac made a sound that might¡¯ve been a laugh.


    ¡°Hey,¡± Cain said, glowing a bit brighter. ¡°She seems nice.¡±


    ¡°Sure. I mean. . . .¡± He glanced back at her. ¡°Sometimes.¡±


    The cloud drifted closer to his face. If Isaac looked closely, he could see some of the dust glinting inside, absorbing and detaching.


    ¡°Gods,¡± Cain said, ¡°I still cannot believe how big you are. You¡¯re so tall! The terror of every doorway! How old are you, anyway?¡±


    ¡°I . . . do you not . . . ?¡±


    ¡°No, sorry. Hard to keep track of time in the dark. The range of this little box is just around the catacombs. Couldn¡¯t even see the sun, you know?¡±


    He cleared his throat. ¡°I¡¯m twenty two.¡±


    ¡°Twenty two! By Oerin, you¡¯re still just a babe. Is that beard fake? Are you putting me on?¡±


    He held up his uninjured hand. ¡°You got me. Never even learned the casts. I¡¯ve just been waving my arms and tossing firecrackers.¡±


    The purple cloud coiled and puffed with laughter. ¡°Sarah and I met that way, as a point of fact. Did Berith ever tell you that? I¡¯d do this trick in taverns, right, where I¡¯d shoot a flame lance with those little poppers in my hand. Add a scroll up the sleeve, and it was a meteor shower on demand. I¡¯d get free drinks all night¡ªand arson charges, occasionally.¡± The cloud rolled and tumbled over itself. ¡°She was a scribe on one of the expeditions. Saw my little trick and called me out in front of the crowd. I challenged her to do better, knowing she only had evocations, and, would you believe it, she enchanted her ale to talk! It was practically dancing out of the¡ª¡±


    Cain stopped, condensing back together. Isaac had the feeling that something was showing on his face.


    ¡°You never met her, did you?¡±


    Isaac shook his head.


    ¡°Sarah was. . . .¡± The wispy mouth twisted. It could¡¯ve been a smile. ¡°She was fiery. Diligent. Smart as a crow. Heading right for a director post in the collegium. Sometimes, every once in a while, she¡¯d let me have fun with her.¡± He drifted along the edge of the device, rubbing against the barrier. ¡°She was so excited to have you. Reminding her that I was the father just seemed to make her happier, for some reason. She picked your name, she picked the village where we¡¯d build the tower¡ªlast time I saw her, she was drafting your study lessons while rubbing her belly.¡± The face inside the cloud seemed to stare at him. ¡°You don¡¯t look much like her. I¡¯d hoped you would. Might help me remember her face.¡±


    Isaac watched the green fire burn above the dais, hoping his voice would sound steady.


    ¡°Sorry,¡± Cain said. ¡°I don¡¯t mean to go on like this. I had these¡ªI had hundreds of speeches planned. Every possible apology, every answer planned down to the syllable. Then, of course, the second you actually walk in, I just. . . .¡±


    For a moment, the cloud grew brighter.


    ¡°It¡¯s good to see you, Isaac. You don¡¯t know. It¡¯s been. . . .¡± The face inside began to solidify, as if trying its hardest to do so. ¡°You¡¯re so big! A man grown, already. You couldn¡¯t have saved some of that height for me to see, could you?¡±


    Isaac looked everywhere but the device in front of him¡ªthe torches, the dusty windows, the lab equipment. There were words fighting to come out of him, but none of them felt right. He wanted things to feel right. After all this time, after all his training, things needed to be perfect.


    But none of this had been like he¡¯d imagined.


    ¡°Right,¡± Cain said. ¡°Let¡¯s get the important stuff, first. That rumbling got a lot worse before it stopped.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s over,¡± Isaac said. ¡°The power grid is destroyed, and all the souls are gone. There¡¯s still the skeleton, but it¡¯s in pieces.¡±


    ¡°Berith?¡±


    ¡°He¡¯s dead.¡±


    The cloud shifted to the side, as if trying to peer through the dusty windows. For all his time in here, they must¡¯ve been pitch black. Now, with a good portion of the cavern ceiling smashed open, the glass was a dull grey, letting in small specks of light.


    ¡°I almost didn¡¯t recognize his voice when he called. Like a bitter old man.¡± The cloud drifted back. ¡°Told me exactly what had happened to you, and what he would do to me. The way he talked about your training. . . .¡±


    Isaac didn¡¯t answer.


    ¡°Well,¡± Cain said, ¡°I¡¯d still like you to break those bones, but smashing that old metal is good enough. The Diet can¡¯t resurrect it otherwise¡ªeven if they try, the kingdom regulators will catch on, and they¡¯ll demand the research halted. Hopefully. That¡¯s what should happen, but I get the feeling that much has changed while I¡¯ve been gone.¡±


    His knees were aching from kneeling at the dais. The pain from his wounds was still clawing his thoughts, scattering all the words.


    ¡°Isaac.¡±


    He looked at the soul.


    It drifted to the front of the device, condensing into a ball. ¡°See that button down there? The big one? It¡¯s a release catch. It¡¯ll drop the barrier. That¡¯s the only thing keeping me together. I¡¯ll just . . . drift away. Nothing else.¡±


    The button was a large, chipped circle on the front of the cylinder. Around it, all the gauges were still slowly drifting down. Some of the labels translated to words like pressure, integrity, and reserve. The loss of power seemed to be accelerating.


    ¡°If you want to,¡± Cain said. ¡°If you want to ask me anything, go ahead. If you want to . . . tell me anything, then feel free. Anything you want.¡±


    Isaac began to gesture, but the sling stopped the arm. ¡°What am I supposed to say?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t know. That¡¯s . . . up to you.¡±


    ¡°Are you not even going to apologize?¡±


    ¡°Would it make you feel better?¡±


    Isaac looked away, blinking until his vision was clear.


    ¡°If it would,¡± Cain said, ¡°then I¡¯ll do it until the sun burns dry. I just . . . didn¡¯t think you¡¯d want me to. This isn¡¯t about me.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s not about you?¡±


    The cloud rose above the device, the face inside climbing towards his eyes.


    ¡°You know,¡± Isaac said, ¡°I never had a speech planned. Mostly, I imagined you would be talking. Telling me how glad you were to see me, and how long you¡¯d been down here, and how proud you were that I¡¯d made it this far. I never wanted to say anything, really. I just wanted to hear you speak.


    ¡°I was afraid, walking in here. I was afraid that you¡¯d be like him. Like Berith. Every time I¡¯ve ever spoken, every time I¡¯ve done anything that wasn¡¯t an order, I¡¯ve been scared. Scared that I¡¯ll be struck, scared that someone will be angry, scared that anything I ever try to do on my own will just get me punished. Even now¡ªyou tell me I can say anything, and I still don¡¯t want to. Because I¡¯m scared it¡¯ll be wrong.¡±


    He shifted on his knees, wincing at his burned thigh. The pain only made him clench his fists.


    ¡°It¡¯s never been about what I want. Never. I had to train to save you, I had to study for the journeyman exams, I had to do chores to earn my keep. Every moment of my life has been about serving others. I don¡¯t even know how to do what I want. It¡¯s a foreign concept to me, even thinking that I can. Like every instinct I have is telling me to stop and turn around and fall back in line again. And now you¡¯re telling me that I¡¯m free to do anything? You¡¯re telling me I can kill you if it¡¯d make me feel better?¡±


    Dust curled in the air, smelling faintly of death.


    ¡°Do you know what I want?¡± Isaac asked. ¡°I want to leave. I want to turn around and walk away and never think about this tomb again. I want to see the places I¡¯ve only read about in books. I want to feel the moments I¡¯ve only seen in dreams. I want to wake up and walk outside and watch the sunrise and not be terrified that I¡¯ll be struck for doing so. I want¡ªI want¡ªI¡ª¡±


    His vision blurred, and he lowered his chin to his chest, and, more than anything, he hated that his only concern was the others seeing him cry.


    ¡°I don¡¯t want to do this anymore.¡±


    His wounds still ached. His clothes were filthy, and his pack was heavy, and he missed the softness of his bed, the warmth of a cooked meal, the feel of old, musty paper on his fingertips, and his tears only came harder when he remembered all the things he would never see again.


    ¡°Do you know what I¡¯ve wanted, Isaac?¡±


    The soul had drifted forward, close enough to his face that the light left spots in his vision. Wisps were leaking from the invisible field around the device, as if holes were forming in the barrier. Once the little tendrils detached, they were gone, drifting out through the air and joining the dust.


    ¡°I wanted to save myself,¡± Cain said. ¡°I just pressed a button. I had journeyed for days, I had watched all my teammates die around me, I had just killed a necromancer who was older than most bloodlines, and I was walking around this little shack, looking at all the trinkets and lab reports, and I pressed that big button down there, just a quick little moment of curiosity, and it destroyed my body. It took a second of carelessness, and I was trapped.


    ¡°I panicked. I think anyone would. It was weeks before the Diet tried to contact me. I spent those weeks in the dark, alone and afraid, coming to terms with my only choices. It was you or me. That was it. I had to put my soul in your body. Kill my son to save myself. I was still struggling with it when they called, and when they asked what could be done . . . I made my choice. I thought Sarah might understand. I thought the Diet would acquiesce if I kept the obelisk hostage. I thought I wanted to live more than anything.¡±


    The purple cloud was spreading out. Light boiled inside.


    ¡°But then I was alone again. For years, I was alone. I practiced with the bones, I learned this city¡¯s language and history, I explored every inch I could wriggle a finger inside of, and it still wasn¡¯t enough. There¡¯s no way to tell time in the dark. I couldn¡¯t even sleep to pass the days. In the end, thinking was the only thing I could do to occupy myself. And I did a lot of it.¡±


    Roiling. Shifting. The vague tendrils of a face.


    ¡°I thought about you. I thought about how much you might resemble me. I thought about your first steps, your first word, your first spell. I thought about all the training you would have to do before you could be sent. I thought about the Archons, all the ways they would keep this a secret from the guild regulators, and, slowly, I realized what I¡¯d done. I realized what they would have to do to Sarah. I realized what they would have to do to you, just so it would all stay a secret. And I realized that my fate was likely sealed, no matter what.¡±


    Below, some of the gauges had reached zero. Lights were beginning to die.


    ¡°I wanted to save you,¡± Cain said. ¡°But there was nothing I could do. The Diet did not contact me again, and the reach of this little box only went so far. Surprisingly enough, not a single person entered the tomb surrounded by dragons and pirates. My only hope¡ªthe only thing that kept me sane through the years¡ªwas that, someday, you would arrive here, and I would get the chance to speak with you, and I would tell you to run far away and forget all about me and to live your life on your own terms. I practiced for it. Tried to teach those old bones to talk. All I ever managed to say was your name.¡±


    Isaac remembered the grinding voice of the bones. It was incredibly impressive he had managed to speak the name at all.


    ¡°After an eternity, after I¡¯d almost lost all hope at all, I was called again. And it was Berith who spoke to me. And he. . . .¡±


    The cloud shuddered, as if a gust of wind had pierced it.


    ¡°He told me everything. Your entire life. There was not much to tell, from the sound of things. Just training and lessons and a cracking whip. And after all that time and effort, after he had spent decades of his life meeting my demands . . . he¡¯d been forced to kill you. In a few days, you would swallowed by the desert, and there was nothing I could do to stop it. He asked me if I was proud of myself, and told me just how long he¡¯d been waiting to say that I was no brother of his anymore, and that I should¡¯ve just accepted my death all those years ago, instead of forcing him to give it to me now.¡±


    More wisps leaked from the invisible barrier. They twisted in the air, spreading out into dust.


    ¡°I lost my mind,¡± Cain said. ¡°That¡¯s the only way to put it. Snapped the last strand. I gathered every bone I could find and, when he entered the catacombs, I threw everything I had at him. Of course, it was useless. They had sent Berith the Bone Hunter with an army of thralls, and there I was, just a self-taught novice that was too blind with fury to try any tactics. I knew my fate was sealed¡ªthe only motivation I had left was spite. When you showed up, I thought you were his reinforcements, or some wandering scavengers, and if I hadn¡¯t been concentrating most of my mass on Berith, I would¡¯ve slaughtered you without a second thought. It was only afterward, when I was listening, that I realized. . . .¡±


    A high-pitched whine began to ring from the device. Most of the gauges had died. The soul inside was beginning to drift apart, growing thin and transparent.


    ¡°Oh,¡± Cain said, quietly. ¡°I wondered how this would feel.¡±


    Isaac clutched the device, running his hands over the dials and switches. ¡°What¡¯s happening?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s out of energy. The obelisk. . . .¡± A warbling sigh came from the speaker. ¡°I think I¡¯m losing the memories. . . .¡±


    ¡°Wait, wait.¡± Isaac leaned forward, tugging at the pipes that fed into the device. ¡°Is there another energy source? Can it transmutate, like a scroll?¡±


    ¡°Isaac¡ª¡±


    ¡°If I cast some fire, I can¡ªthere should be some transfer¡ª¡±


    ¡°Isaac,¡± Cain said. ¡°I¡¯ve accepted this. You should, too.¡±


    The whining was only growing louder. Something was venting from the top of a device, coming out in a hiss. It made the soul inside tumble and churn.


    ¡°I want you to forget about me,¡± Cain said. ¡°I want you to leave this tomb and never return. I want¡ª¡±


    ¡°Why didn¡¯t you warn me?¡± Isaac slapped at the buttons. None of them worked. ¡°I could¡¯ve tried to save some of the energy. I could¡¯ve done something!¡±


    ¡°Listen. You have to leave. The Diet will send assassins after you. The treasure is below. Take as much as you can. Use it to start a new life.¡±


    ¡°No! No! I can still¡ª¡± He rattled the metal cylinder back and forth. ¡°You could¡¯ve just let the Diet in from the start. They could¡¯ve studied this thing. They could¡¯ve saved you!¡±


    ¡°Isaac, if there was another way, none of this would¡¯ve happened.¡±


    The soul had turned from a gaseous ball into a long, spreading shape, like a cloud drifting through the sky. The air glinted with dust and energy.


    ¡°Press the button,¡± Cain said. ¡°Please. I¡¯m losing it all, and I want to remember. You and her.¡±


    It was a large, red circle in the center of the device. Through the layers of dust, he could see a faint oval, like a fingerprint from decades before.


    For a moment, Isaac uncurled his fingers, reaching out. He stopped halfway, finding his hand shaking.


    The high-pitched whining filled his ears. On the interface below, all the lights had died. There were only dead instruments left. Ancient metal.


    ¡°I heard you talking in the tomb,¡± Cain said, his voice faint and warbling. ¡°Follow your dreams. Travel the world.¡±


    Streams of purple light drifted out from the device, spreading through the air in a glittering wave.


    ¡°Don¡¯t let any of us keep you waiting. Not anymore.¡±


    He laid his finger on the button. It was cold and riddled with dust. He could feel the mechanism already start to give.


    ¡°I¡¯m so proud of you, Isaac.¡±


    His vision blurred. His hand trembled.


    ¡°Live your life. Be happy.¡±


    ¡°Goodbye, father,¡± Isaac said, and pressed the button.


    There was a mechanical shunt. All at once, the purple cloud came spilling forward, tendrils rubbing against his robes like a fine mist, and, for a moment, he almost felt like he was wrapped in a hug made of fog and light. Then it began to dissipate, breaking apart into streams and wisps, vanishing into the dust. He found himself clutching desperately at the last little strands, failing to grasp even a single one. In a few seconds, nothing remained. There was only dust, swirling in the air.


    For a moment, he looked down at his empty hands. Then, the last of his strength fell away, and he cried.


    He felt himself falling forward, his head leaning against the cold metal of the necromancer¡¯s device, and his injuries screamed at him, and his stomach ached from hunger, and he was filthy and tired and weak, and he cried until all his pains and wants became one large, gaping wound.


    Zaria came up behind him. She didn¡¯t say anything. She only kneeled down, wrapped him in her arms, and held him tight.


    He cried until the tears were streaming down his face. He cried until he was heaving and gasping for air. He cried until the noises that came from his throat were more guttural and wretched than any he had ever made before. All the pain he had held inside of him, all the pain and aches and misery that had been beaten deep inside since the first day of his life¡ªhe cried until it all was flooding out, raw and livid and endless, and he did not stop until he was sure that there was nothing left inside.


    Hours might¡¯ve passed. It didn¡¯t matter. The world was far away, and his home was gone. Through it all, the arms that wrapped around him were the only thing that gave him comfort. They were all he had left.


    When he finally regained himself, the green torchlight still burned above the dais. There was still lab equipment on the benches, chemical vials on the shelves, skeletons on the testing rigs. Dust still swirled in the air. The skeleton of the necromancer still reclined in her chair, her lab coat scoured by fire, her skull gaping in shock towards the ceiling, as if she could not believe that her time had truly come.


    The only thing that had changed in the room was the necromancer¡¯s device. It was no bigger than a steel cuirass. Empty and unpowered. He found it incredible that everything around him had remained just as it was. His entire world had just changed forever, and, yet, almost nothing about the world itself had changed with it. It seemed outrageously unfair that everything could continue to exist as it was, after what had just happened.


    Behind him, Zaria loosened her arms. It took a moment for the words to come. ¡°Glad you were there for him.¡±


    Isaac rubbed his fingers along the device. The metal was cold.


    ¡°You gave him peace. That¡¯s all he needed.¡±


    The dust curled in the air. It seemed to twist with a life of its own.


    ¡°Treasure¡¯s nearby,¡± she said, beginning to stand. ¡°Gonna look. Shout if you need something.¡±


    He might¡¯ve nodded back. She squeezed his shoulder and walked through the closest door. Only silence was left behind. There was a feeling of weight coming from the walls, the heavy pressure of rock and dust and time.


    He stared at the corpse of the necromancer. After a while, he found the strength to limp over to her. He ran his fingers along the rotting fabric of her lab coat. He scratched a nail at the scorch marks on her rib cage. He peered into her empty eyes, wondering what her name had been.


    She had been dead all along. All his life¡ªall the training sessions, all the studying, all the preparations and plans and tactics. All along, she had been dead. He had spent his entire life training to kill someone who had died before he was even born.


    Isaac stared into the necromancer¡¯s face, rubbing the stripes and stars symbol on her lapel, and he tried to bring himself to feel some emotion. Anger, sadness, even laughter. Nothing came. He looked into the empty sockets of his nemesis, and he felt nothing but a dull ache, deep inside.


    ¡°Isaac! You¡¯ll want to see this!¡±


    Her voice sounded far away, deep beneath the earth. It managed to faintly echo.


    He looked over the lab equipment. The sorceress had written in a journal, and the relative lack of rot on the paper suggested it had been just before she died. As near as Isaac could translate by hand, she had been expressing regret. He didn¡¯t fully understand the sentences, but there were words that roughly translated to gold, pillage, slaughter and worship. The words for remorse and sacrifice frequently appeared together. Occasionally, the word for gold would be next to another word that he could only translate as lightning or energy.


    ¡°Isaac!¡±


    There was a small apparatus hanging above the bench. It took him a moment to recognize it as the model of a solar system. The sun was the same, but the number of planets was wrong¡ªthe sorceress had placed nine around the star. On the third one, there were fingerprints mingling with the dust, suggesting that she had often palmed the little metal ball, as if the planet held some special meaning for her.


    She had written a word on the planet. It translated to dirt. Earth.


    For a moment, Isaac looked at the small metal ball, feeling strangely wistful. Then, with no ceremony, he released his grip on the necromancer and walked away, leaving only a small cloud of dust behind.

 Weight & Time

    The gold stretched away, rising like a tide.


    There was no mistaking the distinctive tint of yellow. All the same, Isaac found himself comparing it to every shade of the color he¡¯d seen before. The hue was more vibrant than sunlight. The color was not quite as pure as mustard seed, having just a hint of orange in the brilliance. Pyrite¡ªfool¡¯s gold¡ªhad a much sharper glint when it caught the light. The sea of coin in front of him did not sparkle. Instead, the light wrapped around the metal like a piece of lingerie, soft and seductive, as if beckoning the eye.


    Lemon. Honey. Flaxseed. Chamomile. Every comparison fell short. There was no equal. This was gold.


    It was not all in coin, though there was certainly plenty of that. There were golden rings studded with gems. There were swords with golden pommels and glimmering cross guards. There were entire piles of golden jewelry¡ªnecklaces, bracelets, cuff links, brooches, earrings, and medallions. There were golden tiaras and coronets whose ornaments were capped with garnets and emeralds and amethysts. There were towering stacks of furniture that had been inlaid with the lustrous metal¡ªwardrobes, bathtubs, royal bed frames, coffers and thrones and tapestries.


    Zaria¡¯s eye reflected the golden light. The teeth of her grin did the same. ¡°Callin¡¯ it now. I¡¯m the best pirate there ever was.¡±


    With his eyes adjusting to the dim torchlight, Isaac was beginning to see the end of the chamber. The room was square, a quarter mile in width and length, and the teeming wealth seemed to cover most of its area. It would¡¯ve taken him weeks to count it by hand. A fleet of sandships would struggle to stay buoyant with such a bounty in their holds. It was more coinage than all the mints of the region could produce in a decade.


    ¡°Isaac.¡±


    On the floor, or what little of it he could see, there were murals adorning the concrete, the colorful paints dull and faded with time. He could see figures hauling coin and jewelry to the feet of colossal figures, giants in bulky suits with striped flags and helmets made of glass. The gods casted a swarm of flies down on the worshippers. They burrowed beneath the skin, and wings grew from the worshipper¡¯s backs, great plumages made of feathers and wax and gold, and the wings would carry the faithful high into the air, up towards the stars¡ª


    ¡°Isaac. Look here a moment.¡±


    Zaria stepped in front of him. A glimmer of gold outlined her form. He could see it on the cutlass in her hand, shining over fur and leather. ¡°Quite a sight, huh?¡±


    ¡°Sure.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s all you got to say?¡±


    ¡°Do I need to say something?¡±


    ¡°A sea of gold deserves some awe, don¡¯t you think?¡±


    ¡°Excuse me if I don¡¯t break out into song.¡±


    ¡°Look,¡± she said. ¡°I know we said all them things about saving the world, and being righteous, and what not. I¡¯m glad we did. I like stopping evil cunts from raising giant monsters as much as the next lass.¡±


    He remembered blood flowing over black robes. Blue eyes.


    ¡°But this. . . .¡± She waved in both directions, and, each time, her hand gestured over a different sea of gold. ¡°This is pretty big, is it not?¡±


    ¡°Sure.¡±


    ¡°For fuck¡¯s sake, where¡¯s all them fancy words of yours? Surely you¡¯ve got one.¡±


    ¡°Repugnant,¡± Isaac said.


    ¡°What¡¯s that mean?¡±


    ¡°It means a lot of people died to make this treasure.¡±


    ¡°No different than usual, then.¡±


    He scratched the sutures on his arm.


    ¡°Look,¡± she said. ¡°It¡¯s a crying shame, is what it is. It¡¯s a stupid pile of metal that¡¯s just gonna fall in the hands of your wizard masters. They didn¡¯t get their titan, aye, but they¡¯re still getting rich beyond measure. We went through all the trouble, and now we gotta let our payment lie ¡®cause it¡¯s too much to haul by hand.¡±


    Isaac let his vision roam over the coins. There were many currencies. Faces and sigils, engravings and flags. Long dead monarchs.


    ¡°But,¡± Zaria said, ¡°here¡¯s the thing. Gold is heavy. It¡¯s heavier than steel is at the same size. It¡¯s got more¡ªwhat do you call it¡ªthickness to it, I suppose.¡±


    ¡°Density.¡±


    ¡°They¡¯re heavy, love. Speaking from experience here. Coin purses feel like rocks in your pack. You hear all them pirate tales of men dying in the desert ¡®cause they wouldn¡¯t drop their shiny pebbles. That¡¯ll be us, if we try the same.¡±


    ¡°Make your point, please.¡±


    She gestured out to the hoard. ¡°I¡¯m countin¡¯ a lot of gems out there. Diamonds. Sapphires. Rubies the size of your cockhead. Some types of crystals I don¡¯t even got names for. Now, gems often got more thickness than gold, but they¡¯re worth more. Value for weight, if you get my meaning.¡±


    Isaac shifted on his feet.


    ¡°I¡¯m thinking,¡± Zaria said, ¡°that we pinch as much of them crystals as possible. Go at it until we¡¯re spilling rainbows with every step. Then, once we climb from this tomb, and abscond through the desert, I can ply my trade as a thief to get us in contact with fences and the like. Turn it back into proper richness.¡±


    Isaac looked around the room, trying to grasp the full scope of the wealth in front of him. He used all the known empirical weights, made estimates and calculations. His mind struggled with the math.


    ¡°We¡¯re gonna need that coin, love. Both of us have got manhunts comin¡¯ our way, and the only way we¡¯re surviving them is fleeing as fast as possible. That means horses, carriages, passage on ships. That means bribe money, especially, not to mention all the food and water.¡± She shrugged. ¡°And don¡¯t tell me it won¡¯t feel a little nice, carving off some of that ill-gotten wealth from the claws of your wizards. They¡¯ll notice what you done, and it¡¯ll just be more piss in their porridge, I¡¯m sure of it.¡±


    Isaac let his gaze fall on a bed frame made of marble, its every post glimmering with gems. After a moment, he said: ¡°Sure.¡±


    Zaria leaned down into his vision. ¡°That¡¯s fine, then?¡±


    ¡°Were you waiting on my permission?¡±


    ¡°I think you¡¯ve earned a say on the matter.¡±


    ¡°It seems your mind is made, already.¡±


    ¡°Well, my squire is not the most worldly sort, but he¡¯s got the right spirit. Just needs a guiding hand, at times.¡±


    With a grunt, and a growing sense of pain, Isaac shrugged off his pack and held it out to her.


    She didn¡¯t take it. ¡°Not gonna help me?¡±


    He raised his other arm, still in the sling.


    ¡°Right,¡± Zaria said, as if suddenly embarrassed. She took his pack. ¡°Course. Never you worry. I¡¯m well-versed in prowling through cargo.¡±


    He made to leave through the concrete doorway, but she grabbed his arm.


    ¡°Hey.¡±


    Isaac didn¡¯t look back. His wounds were beginning to ache. The numbness was subsiding. The pain seemed to come from everywhere, all at once.


    She squeezed his arm. ¡°You don¡¯t wanna look around a bit?¡±


    ¡°Why would I?¡± He grunted, shifting his weight. ¡°Not like we¡¯re taking most of it.¡±


    ¡°Aye, no, but. . . .¡± When he looked back, she was gesturing. There was no lack of things to gesture at. ¡°This is historical, love. I mean, biggest treasure pile there ever was, and by quite a margin. There¡¯s jewels and swords and thrones and probably anything else you could imagine. I¡¯m liable to go swimming in it.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s not a liquid.¡±


    ¡°And that¡¯s not the point. You and I are never gonna see anything like this again. No one will. It¡¯s once in a lifetime.¡±


    He gazed around the room. The walls often vanished beneath mounds of coin and royal furniture. There was nowhere in the vast chamber that his eye could rest which was not tinged with the distinctive luster. Wherever he looked, his vision was swallowed by gold.


    ¡°I realize¡ª¡± She cleared her throat. ¡°I mean, don¡¯t you want to just . . . savor it a bit?¡±


    ¡°No,¡± Isaac said, ¡°I don¡¯t.¡±


    She looked down at his pack, then back at him.


    ¡°I¡¯ll be outside,¡± he said, and walked through the door.


    He climbed back up the stairs, limping at every step. The air was suffocating. The walls were pressing in. He needed to breathe.


    But, before he could enter the sorceress¡¯ chamber, he saw a side room in the hallway. Gold glimmered from the doorway. Despite himself, he poked his head inside.


    The room was small and littered with tools. It had been a workshop of some kind¡ªthere was a metal bench, scarred with soldering lines, and most of the shelves were covered in dissected machinery. He saw wires, receivers, pieces of hull that resembled the metal ships out in the ossein canopy.


    On the workbench, there was a thin sheet of metal. It was green and highly corrugated¡ªIsaac had a basic knowledge of voltaics, and he recognized certain sections as channel gates, heat sinks, slots and channels and sockets. There were metal wires wrapping around it all, no bigger than capillaries. Whatever it was, the green metal sheet seemed like some highly advanced device for channeling electricity. He could not say what its purpose had been. A switchboard, maybe.


    There were flakes of gold next to the metal sheet. Judging by the welding tools hung on the wall, and some black residue left on the switchboard, it appeared as if the sorceress had been attempting to wire the sheet with gold. From his studies, he knew the lustrous metal was exceptionally good at transmitting electricity.


    But the tools were rusty, and the room was covered in dust, and there were dozens of other green metal sheets, broken and cracked and tossed into corners, and it did not appear as if anyone had worked here in centuries. Whatever goal had been attempted in this room, it had long since been abandoned.


    Isaac was growing sick. He needed to leave. He needed fresh air.


    He entered the sorceress¡¯ chamber through a veil of dust. He walked through the laboratory, desperate for sunlight. But, when he made it to the open doorway, he looked behind him, and he saw the empty device again, and no matter how hard he tried, he could not tear his vision away from it.


    It was just an empty cylinder, sitting in a dark and dusty corner. There was no light. There was no power. There was nothing but metal.


    He remembered the click of the button. Light spilling out. Tendrils and dust, reaching for him.


    Standing in the doorway, he made a sound that no one heard.


    He limped along the side of the building until he was facing the center of the cavern. He pressed his back to the wall and lowered himself to the ground. He tried to breathe until it felt like he wasn¡¯t suffocating. The air was motionless. It felt as dead as the bones.


    After a while, Zaria emerged from the doorway. She handed him his pack. It had been nearly empty before¡ªnow, it was heavy and bulging.


    ¡°Too much?¡± she asked.


    He slung it over his shoulders and began to walk towards the necropolis.


    ¡°Isaac.¡±


    He kept walking. After a moment, she followed.


    He didn¡¯t look back again.


    ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------


    The final straw was a clod of dirt.


    They had been walking for nearly an hour, or long enough for the sunlight to slant further down the rocky ceiling, and they had managed to traverse half the length of the cavern. The ruins of the necropolis were steadily growing larger. His mind was filled with the dried blood on his limbs, the bulging gems at his back, the steady cycle of his limping walk. For a while, he had managed not to think of anything else.


    Then his boot landed on a nub of dirt, no bigger than a dice, and he slipped when he leaned his weight on it. He barely managed to brace himself. His elbows scraped on the concrete. His leg screamed in pain.


    And that was it. He had reached his limit. He was going to die on this barren stretch of concrete. A single fall had killed him as surely as someone slitting his throat.


    Zaria paused, giving him time to stand. When he didn¡¯t, she said: ¡°Come on, love. Get up.¡±


    He rested his cheek on the cement. Sand blew away with every breath.


    ¡°Get up,¡± she said. ¡°We¡¯re camping by the wreckage. Still a ways to go.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m done.¡±


    ¡°Come again?¡±


    He didn¡¯t answer.


    ¡°Isaac.¡± Her feet crunched the sand as she stood over him. ¡°Get up.¡±


    ¡°No. I¡¯m done.¡± With great effort, he flipped himself onto his back. The cavern ceiling was turning red with the coming dusk. ¡°That¡¯s it. I¡¯m done. I¡¯m just. . . .¡± He tried to think of something to better to say. Nothing came. There was no other way to put it. ¡°I¡¯m done.¡±


    ¡°No, you¡¯re not,¡± Zaria said. ¡°Get up.¡±


    He didn¡¯t move. Not even the worst of his training sessions had left him this tired. He barely felt able to breathe.


    ¡°Squire, I¡¯ll bloody well carry you if I have to.¡±


    He didn¡¯t answer.


    ¡°What¡¯s your plan, exactly?¡±


    He gazed up at the remnants of the rocky ceiling. The sun was waning. The air was growing cold.


    There was no plan. Not anymore.


    ¡°Fine,¡± she said, slinging off her pack. ¡°We¡¯ll stay here, then.¡±


    ¡°Z. Please. Just go.¡±


    She began digging through her pack, unfurling her bedroll and retrieving the rations.


    ¡°Just leave me here,¡± Isaac said. ¡°You can still¡ª¡±


    ¡°Shut up. I¡¯ll allow¡ª¡±


    ¡°Zaria¡ª¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll allow that you¡¯re beaten to shite. I am too, as it happens. We¡¯ll camp here, exposure notwithstanding, and you¡¯ll get up come the dawn, and I¡¯ll forgive you for speaking such nonsense.¡±


    She began to set up camp. He laid on the concrete, covered in sand and filthy clothes. He felt as if there was a hole in his chest, and the emptiness was gnawing its way through him, and whatever life he had left was draining away, like blood from an open wound.


    ¡°Isaac. Can I show you something?¡±


    He didn¡¯t answer. It was only when she nudged his shoulder that he turned his head.


    She was sitting beneath a tent, making another broth with his stone mortar. This time, in addition to water and salt meat, she was breaking off clods of hardtack and stirring them into the bowl.


    ¡°Have to apologize,¡± Zaria said. ¡°This whole journey of ours, I¡¯ve been watching you go at the hardtack like chewing through a brick wall. A flat tooth like you would crack his pearls that way.¡± She kept stirring the soup with a finger. ¡°You gotta let it soak a while. Gets it soggy. Not good, mind, but better than masonry.¡±


    Isaac watched the meat and hardtack float in the bowl, like it was something far away and of no concern to him.


    She scooted a little closer. ¡°Ponder that, for a bit. You take this nasty stuff¡ªsomething hard and tough¡ªand you do a little work, make a few changes, and, suddenly, it¡¯s not so bad. Almost good, even.¡± When he didn¡¯t respond, she added: ¡°It¡¯s like one of them metal forks.¡±


    He blinked. ¡°A what?¡±


    ¡°Metal forks. Like, say, in a book. Know you¡¯re good with those.¡±


    ¡°. . . a metaphor?¡±


    ¡°Aye. That¡¯s what I said.¡±


    ¡°That is not at all what you said.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not seeing the difference.¡±


    ¡°Oh, yes, what is the difference between a figure of speech and a dining instrument? It¡¯s a riddle for the ages.¡±


    ¡°Well, maybe you should stop beating your cock to ink stains and glowing circles. Might help your thinkin¡¯ some.¡±


    ¡°And maybe you should try beating yourself with a couple tomes, just so the knowledge might get absorbed by sheer osmosis.¡±


    ¡°Now you¡¯re just making up words.¡±


    ¡°Osmosis is exactly why that bread gets soggy, you stupid¡ª¡±


    He paused. She was failing to hide her grin.


    ¡°Oh. Very funny.¡±


    ¡°Had you going there.¡±


    ¡°Maybe.¡±


    ¡°Quite well, I¡¯d say.¡±


    ¡°Your illiteracy does leave me appalled, at times.¡±


    ¡°You get my meaning, though?¡± She stirred the broth, bouncing the meat and bread. ¡°Making the best of bad situations?¡±


    ¡°Oh, yes. Your metaphor was quite profound.¡±


    ¡°Glad to hear it. A born wordsmith, I am.¡±


    She handed him the stew. He stared down at the thin offerings. There was a ravenous hunger inside of him, but, at the same time, the feeling was distant and dull, and the thought of eating anymore of their dry, flavorless rations made him nauseous.


    He missed the meals he would have after the training sessions. There would always be bread, sometimes hot from the oven, and stews made with barley and onion and pork, entire plates full of olives and peas, mashed potatoes thick with butter, boiled eggs coated in salt, bowls of figs and strawberries and¡ª


    ¡°Isaac.¡±


    He took his gaze off the stew.


    ¡°We got some hard climbing ahead,¡± Zaria said. ¡°Gonna take us a day or two to get out this pit. You¡¯ll need to stuff your gullet as much as possible.¡±


    The bowl was cold. He knew the meat would be leathery. The bread would still be hard in the center.


    He was close to sobbing again.


    ¡°Hey.¡± She leaned in. ¡°Please.¡±


    He looked at her, looked down at the bowl, and slowly began to drink.


    Soon, the sun was gone, and they could glimpse the stars through the cracks in the rocky ceiling. At night, the ships inside the ossein canopy took on a sinister appearance, like the thickets of a forest teaming with wild beasts. The air was growing cold with frightening speed. Isaac knew from experience how chilly the desert could be, and the depths of the cavern would only worsen the drop in temperature.


    ¡°Best we double up,¡± Zaria said, beckoning him from her tent. ¡°Share the warmth.¡±


    Isaac hadn¡¯t bothered setting his own tent. He was too weak, and there was no point. Instead, he continued to lie on the concrete, feeling the chill creep in through his tattered robes.


    He wished she had left him behind. It would¡¯ve been easier.


    ¡°I¡¯m not lettin¡¯ you sleep in the cold. Get over here.¡±


    With a sigh, and no lack of shivering, he shrugged off his pack and crawled into her tent. Her bedroll was only designed for one person, and she was more than adequately filling it out, but he managed to squeeze himself inside without tearing anything, whether that be cloth or injury.


    ¡°No,¡± she said, jostling him around. ¡°Like this. Tiniest one in front.¡±


    He ended up on his side, facing away from her. His head rested on her arm, her breasts spilled along his back, her legs weaved between his own, and she rested her snout on top of his head, letting the fur on her neck and chest cover him like a blanket. There was a clattering of gems as she fluffed her pack like a pillow.


    ¡°Good?¡± she asked, shifting. ¡°Any complaints?¡±


    ¡°You smell like a jockstrap bathed in entrails.¡±


    ¡°What, and you¡¯re all flowers? Some cherub dipped in lavender?¡± She shifted again. ¡°We¡¯re both suffering, believe me.¡±


    As he rested his cheek on her arm, he realized that he didn¡¯t mind her scent anymore. Nothing about it had changed. It was still the same heady musk he had been subjected to for several days. But, now, it made him think of the night they¡¯d shared in the bathhouse. It made him think of her.


    He shouldn¡¯t have crawled into her tent. He didn¡¯t know why he was doing this.


    ¡°Z. I¡¯m not going.¡±


    He felt her heart begin to quicken.


    ¡°Just leave me here,¡± Isaac said. ¡°I¡¯m done. You should¡ª¡± He swallowed a knot in his throat. ¡°You should go. Without me.¡±


    ¡°Shut up, squire. Go to sleep.¡±


    ¡°You need to go. Our deal is finished.¡±


    She snorted. He felt it across his body. ¡°Oh, that deal? The one I made with a dagger at your neck?¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± Isaac said. ¡°You¡¯ve got your treasure. That¡¯s what you¡ª¡±


    ¡°Go fuck yourself, you sodding ape. I¡¯ll not take that insult from you.¡±


    ¡°Zaria¡ª¡±


    ¡°Like I¡¯m still some cutpurse sniffin¡¯ for coin. Like I haven¡¯t risked life and limb¡ª¡± Her breath came as a growl. ¡°Is that still how you see me?¡±


    ¡°No. I mean, no, I just¡ªyou have the chance to¡ª¡±


    ¡°Isaac,¡± she said. ¡°If you¡¯re not going, then I¡¯m not either.¡±


    ¡°No, no, please, I¡¯m just. . . .¡± He struggled to speak. ¡°I¡¯m trying to save you.¡±


    ¡°Save me? How¡¯s that, exactly? Is leaving me at the mercy of the desert some noble deed to you? What happens when I get run down by a pirate ship?¡±Unauthorized usage: this narrative is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings.


    ¡°I¡ª¡±


    ¡°I still need your magic hands, ya daft cunt. If I don¡¯t got them, then I¡¯ll have my innards pulled out for show, and I¡¯ll take any bloody fate other than that. Entire reason I came down here, if you care to remember. So, if you¡¯re staying, then I am as well.¡±


    The knot in his throat grew sharper. ¡°Please. I¡¯ve lost too much blood. I can¡¯t make the climb. I can¡¯t cast. I¡¯m just dead weight.¡±


    ¡°We¡¯ve got plenty of rope. I¡¯ll help, you¡¯ll manage it, and, by the time we¡¯re clear, you¡¯ll be sneezing fireballs again, same as always.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t know how to sell these gems. I¡¯ve never been to a city, never lived off the land. Never done anything that could help us get away.¡±


    ¡°Good thing you got me, then. Maybe you¡¯ll like being an outlaw.¡±


    ¡°I can¡¯t do it. I can¡¯t. I¡¯m. . . .¡± He rubbed his cheek against the fur of her arm. ¡°I¡¯m scared.¡±


    Her snout shifted through his hair.


    ¡°I¡¯m scared.¡± He could barely form the words. ¡°I¡¯ve never known anything but this. It¡¯s all I¡¯ve done. All I was meant for. I¡ª¡±


    ¡°Isaac¡ª¡±


    ¡°The Diet has trained assassins, people who specialize in hunting down rogue mages. They¡¯ll find me, they find everyone that tries to run, and if we don¡¯t separate¡ª¡±


    ¡°Hey, hey¡ª¡±


    ¡°I can¡¯t. I don¡¯t know anything. I¡¯m just a burden. I¡¯ve always been a burden. I¡ªI can¡¯t. I don¡¯t know. I don¡¯t know¡ª¡±


    ¡°Isaac.¡±


    He felt her shift at his back. She wrapped her arm around his side and tucked him tight against her chest.


    ¡°I was scared, too,¡± she said. ¡°I got tortured for days. Almost executed. Then, I was dashing off towards a tomb that I¡¯d always been told was full of blackness and evil, and then there were bone monsters, my old crew, an army of mages, a fucking titan rising out the ground, and the only thing I had by my side was this young mage who had all the means and motive to want me dead.¡±


    She trailed a finger down his chest.


    ¡°But you know what? I made it through. You had every chance in the world to leave me behind or kill me off or do anything that most men would do in your situation, but you never did. Except for that one time, but you meant well, even then. The only reason I¡¯m still drawing breath is ¡®cause you decided to help, and don¡¯t you think I¡¯ll ever forget that.¡±


    Outside, the air was cold. Their bedroll was thin, and the concrete was hard. But her body was covering his, and she was soft and warm, and it felt like it would be enough.


    ¡°That favor¡¯s gonna be returned. One debt to another. And if one good fucking thing¡¯s gonna happen here, it¡¯s that you are gonna live a long life, far away from this place.¡±


    Her snout pressed against his ear.


    ¡°I¡¯m not letting this tomb be the end of you. Count on that.¡±


    He blinked through the tears. Slowly, taking care not to rip any wounds, he grabbed her hand and squeezed. She squeezed back. Her muzzle rested on his head again, and their hearts returned to a steady rhythm.


    The stars grew brighter. Despite his exhaustion, he found himself unable to sleep, replaying the events of the day over and over in his mind. Each moment seemed to cut worse than the knives.


    Eventually, Zaria began to snore. He listened to the sound, feeling each breath at his back. Every night that he had known her, he had fallen asleep to the sound of her snoring. The first night, it had been irritating. The second, he had hardly noticed. The third time, in the bathhouse, he had found it relaxing.


    Now, as the air grew cold and the ossein canopy glimmered a pale white under the stars, he found it comforting, the same way one might find comfort in the crackle of a torch while journeying through the dark.


    He fell into a dreamless sleep, still holding her hand.


    ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------


    ¡°It won¡¯t work.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s gonna.¡±


    ¡°It hasn¡¯t the last dozen times you¡¯ve said that.¡±


    ¡°How much you wanna bet?¡±


    Isaac gazed up at the shattered skull. A day ago, it had been a house. Now, it was a few fragments of stone jutting out from beneath a boulder, close to fifty feet above their heads. One of the white slivers was sticking out like a broken limb.


    ¡°Come on,¡± Zaria said, swinging the rope like a lasso. ¡°What¡¯s your wager?¡±


    Isaac rolled his eyes. ¡°Five sapphires.¡±


    ¡°Five? Goin¡¯ cheap on me?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m helping you be graceful in defeat.¡±


    She swung the bowline high into the air. The loop missed the broken bone by a couple feet, landing on a collection of loose scree. A shower of rock followed the rope as she tugged it back. She growled, swiped some pebbles from her fur, and began to swing the knot again, glaring at the stone that used to be a house.


    They had been climbing for hours, making their way through the jagged, open valley where the colossus had once rested. Isaac judged that they were about where the abdomen had been. He could see waterfalls of ground water pouring from the rocky cliffsides. Beneath the sand, there were shards of furniture, broken walls, signposts and window frames, an entire street¡¯s worth of fingers scattered like gravel. Stone dust was thick in the air, constantly spreading through the cracks and gaps as the wreckage continued to settle. If there was anything left of the necropolis, it was either buried under tons of rock, or shattered down into powder.


    So far, the majority of the climb had required them to scramble up boulder faces, leap across slot canyons, and crawl through the gaps of the rocks when they could not ascend. Now, they were faced with a large stack of boulders crushing a residential neighborhood of skulls. Neither of them saw anyway around that wasn¡¯t unstable and treacherous. They had to climb.


    ¡°I¡¯m raising the wager,¡± Zaria said. ¡°Seven opals, four onyxes.¡±


    ¡°This is a stupid game.¡±


    ¡°Is that cowardice I¡¯m hearing?¡±


    She swung the rope again. This time, the loop hit the underside of the broken bone. It bounced back harmlessly. She retied the knot, flexing her bandaged hand.


    ¡°It¡¯s not going to work,¡± Isaac said.


    She swung once more. The broken bone was missed again, but the rope managed to rest on the jagged suture of a parietal plate. When she tugged on it, the stone came loose, and a massive bony slab came spilling from the rock. She just barely avoided the impact. When both of them had finished coughing from the dust, Zaria clambered over the broken stone and prepared to swing.


    ¡°It¡¯s not going to work. We should go back. There was a hillside¡ª¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s scree. It¡¯d be an avalanche before long.¡±


    She threw the rope. She missed.


    Isaac pointed to their left. ¡°We could try to climb along the columns¡ª¡±


    ¡°Not sturdy enough.¡±


    He pointed to the right. ¡°That boulder is craggy¡ª¡±


    ¡°Needs two hands.¡± She swung, missed, and growled. ¡°Why am I slingin¡¯ the knot? You¡¯re the one that¡¯s got two bloody eyes.¡±


    ¡°I thought my knight was strong and gallant?¡±


    ¡°Aye, but her squire is shirking his duties.¡±


    ¡°Fine. Let me see your leather. I¡¯ll shine it with spit.¡±


    Zaria twirled the rope until it blurred, bending her ears flat, and, with a great heave, hurled the loop towards the promontory. It missed. The ruins of the necropolis echoed with a loud ¡°fuck!¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s not going to work.¡±


    She growled as she retied the rope. She flung it hastily. It sailed far off-target.


    ¡°Can we take a rest now?¡±


    She whirled around. ¡°Cork it, squire! I¡¯m sick of hearin¡¯ you! Xotra¡¯s cunt, you¡¯re bleating like a babe without a teat to suck on!¡±


    Isaac adjusted his seat on the broken house. ¡°Is there any way I can help?¡±


    She looked at him with a curling muzzle. Then, after a moment, she straightened herself, sported a grin, and sauntered over. ¡°Aye. There¡¯s something.¡±


    Isaac scooted back, suddenly nervous.


    Zaria stood over him, fondling a breast. ¡°Give us a kiss. For luck, we¡¯ll say.¡±


    ¡°. . . what?¡±


    ¡°You heard me. You want to whine like a babe, I¡¯ll treat you like one. Kiss my tit.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not doing that.¡±


    ¡°Seemed rather happy to, before.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t people kiss on the mouth, usually?¡±


    ¡°My face ain¡¯t flat like yours, and I only got one set of lips. If you¡¯d rather kiss them instead¡ª¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not kissing you at all!¡±


    She leaned over him, cupping her breast towards his face.


    ¡°Zaria!¡±


    ¡°Kiss ¡®em, squire. I need some luck.¡±


    ¡°The rope!¡±


    ¡°Hm?¡±


    ¡°The rope! Throw the rope!¡±


    ¡°Oh? That rope there?¡±


    ¡°Yes!¡±


    ¡°You want me to throw that rope?¡±


    ¡°Yes!¡±


    ¡°Want me to toss that rope up to that bony bit, there?¡±


    ¡°Yes! Yes! Please, just¡ª¡±


    He stopped. She leaned back and laughed. His blush was hotter than the sunburn.


    ¡°Too easy,¡± Zaria said, walking away. ¡°Hope you learned your lesson.¡±


    ¡°What lesson was that, exactly?¡±


    She picked up the rope, looked back at him, managed to wink with one eye, and threw it into the air. The loop caught on the broken bone. She tugged the length a few times, testing the strength. Nothing seemed to come loose.


    ¡°Shoulda learned not to doubt me.¡± She shrugged off her pack and tossed it next to him. ¡°I¡¯ll be taking them gems now.¡±


    Reluctantly, Isaac dug through his pack, burying a hand through the rainbow of precious stones. Zaria dragged the hanging rope line over to the face of a boulder. With one hand, she placed a foot against the craggy face, lifting herself off the ground. She had found a system of climbing one-handed that involved using her teeth and hugging the rope to her side. The rope burns were accumulating fast, and it was incredibly nerve-wracking to watch, but she was making it work. Isaac was certainly in no condition to do any better.


    ¡°Right,¡± she said. ¡°She¡¯s sturdy enough. I¡¯ll make a winch for you, same as usual.¡±


    ¡°Hey.¡±


    She looked his way.


    Isaac was already moving towards her. Before he could lose his nerve, he cupped her breast, raised it to his lips, and gave the nipple a gentle kiss. The look of surprise she gave him made his blush burn all the hotter.


    ¡°I was just pullin¡¯ your tail, love.¡±


    ¡°Please be careful.¡±


    She tried to clamp down on her grin. ¡°Nothin¡¯ to it. Count my gems nice and proper, would you?¡±


    Isaac nodded stiffly. She began to climb.


    He watched her ascend towards the broken house, using the loose stack of boulders as footholds. All her muscles were clearly outlined through the fur. The climb was awkward and perilous, but, even still, she was making fast progress. So far today, her strength had never ceased to impress him.


    Isaac looked back at the cavern. Down past the sloping wreckage, the ossein canopy stretched out over a blanket of concrete, studded with boulders and great furrows of claw marks. Colossal bones littered the floor like rifts of snow across a mountainside. He could see the pyramid in the center of the destruction. He couldn¡¯t see what remained on top of it, but his mind was filling the gaps.


    Rotting. Baking in the sun. Loose robes and blood.


    He could hear his voice again. Shouting orders, negotiating, begging. The look in his eyes when the blade¡ª


    ¡°Isaac.¡±


    He tore his gaze away. Zaria was resting her feet on the protruding face of a boulder, leaning her body out over a twenty foot drop. ¡°Keep counting the gems.¡±


    He opened his palm, full of blue and black and purple. ¡°They¡¯re right here.¡± He let them fall into the open mouth of her pack. ¡°Done.¡±


    ¡°Great. Keep an eye above, then. Let me know if something¡¯s comin¡¯ loose.¡±


    ¡°I can¡¯t exactly catch you if it does.¡±


    ¡°Just give me a warning, would you?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t see how¡ª¡±


    ¡°Isaac,¡± Zaria said. ¡°Eyes up here. Not down there.¡±


    He blinked several times. ¡°Right. Sorry.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t be sorry. Just do it. Alright?¡±


    He nodded. She resumed the climb.


    He kept his gaze focused. Even when his mind would wander, and something sharp would sink through his chest, he always managed to keep his vision on her and the climb ahead.


    ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------


    He dangled his feet off the edge, watching the pebbles bounce and fall.


    The sun was creeping towards the horizon. All day, it had been a constant enemy¡ªthe glare stabbing his eyes, the heat burning his skin. His robes, already tattered and stiff with blood, were growing lines of salt where the sweat had soaked through. He was not sorry to see it go.


    Still, the sunset was beautiful. There was a distant storm off to the west, and the clouds were shining orange at the edges. A rainbow stretched between the hanging curtains of rain. On the other side of the cavern, he was beginning to see the dunes, and they ringed the top of the wall like the curving crenellations of a castle, soaking in the dying light. From where he was sitting on the wreckage, the distances were vast and awe-inspiring. He had never gained a better appreciation for how large the world truly was.


    All the same, he had to keep looking at the pebbles. If he watched the sunset, he would find himself thinking of all the ones he had seen from his bedroom window, and then his thoughts would spiral into shouts and pain and fear, blood on a sword, the wet gasping breaths¡ª


    He kept kicking the pebbles. His thoughts felt much the same as them¡ªready to fall at the slightest push.


    Zaria sat down next to him. The pads of her good hand were seared with rope burns, and she had been struggling to build the lean-to where they would shelter for the night. She rubbed the herbal remedies he had packed between the burns, clearly dissatisfied with their healing.


    ¡°Runnin¡¯ low on rations,¡± she said, gnawing on a cut of salt meat. ¡°Gonna be out long before we hit a proper town. We¡¯ll make it, but it¡¯s gonna get lean. Very lean.¡±


    Isaac didn¡¯t answer. He kicked his feet against the pebbles.


    ¡°How¡¯s the arm?¡±


    ¡°Fine.¡±


    ¡°Workin¡¯?¡±


    He shrugged. The sling dug into his shoulder.


    ¡°Don¡¯t mean to put you out,¡± she said, ¡°but we¡¯ll need them spells soon enough.¡±


    His wounds were healing at a rapid pace. The poultice had already turned the deep stabs into tight crevices. Only the burn on his leg was still troubling him. ¡°I¡¯ll do my best.¡±


    ¡°Good. Good.¡±


    The sun continued to fall. Around them, the shadows were stretching faster and faster.


    ¡°How¡¯re you feeling?¡±


    He tore his gaze off the city wreckage. She was watching him with no particular expression, save for the gentle twitch of an ear.


    ¡°It¡¯s hard to describe.¡±


    ¡°Try it.¡±


    He looked out over the tomb. The words had to be extracted.


    ¡°I¡¯ve thought of killing my uncle before. Many times. It wasn¡¯t always idle fantasy. I¡¯d be lying in bed, nursing the wounds, and I¡¯d think of plans, imagine scenarios, try to guess how far I could make it before the Diet or some local soldiers hunted me down.¡± He swallowed. ¡°Never did it. I was too scared, as always. I found it easier to convince myself to go along with everything. Do my duty. Hope for the future.


    ¡°But then I¡¯d start thinking about my father, and I¡¯d hate him just as much as my uncle. I¡¯d wish he was dead. I¡¯d wish the sorceress would kill him already. I¡¯d imagine how happy I would be if I was told that he was gone forever, and I¡¯d never have to train again.¡±


    He watched the sun crest through the dunes. ¡°I was going to go back there. To the tower. After the chapel. . . .¡± He blinked. ¡°After I met you, I thought I¡¯d finally worked up the courage to confront my uncle. I was going to bring my father back to my home, and I¡¯d tell Berith that I was leaving, and I¡¯d never be coming back, and I hoped he¡¯d be happy with his brother, because he had certainly never been happy with me.¡±


    He rubbed the sutures on his arm.


    ¡°Then I saw him down here. And it just . . . it happened so fast, there wasn¡¯t time to think, I made a decision, and¡ª¡± He kicked the pebbles. ¡°And now that he¡¯s dead, I can¡¯t stop thinking about what I could¡¯ve done differently. Down here, back at the tower. If I had just said something this one time, if I had been a little more grateful at others, if I had¡ª¡±


    ¡°Isaac,¡± Zaria said. ¡°Stop. You were a child.¡±


    ¡°I know.¡±


    ¡°It was abuse. It was wrong.¡±


    ¡°I know. I¡¯ve always known. It¡¯s just. . . .¡±


    ¡°Let me ask. If you could go back, right now, go back to your home with everything you¡¯ve learned about him, and he was there again, same as always, would you still confront him?¡±


    The answer came immediately. ¡°Yes. I would.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯d still tell him to chew sand and fuck off?¡±


    He didn¡¯t answer. He kicked the pebbles.


    ¡°There¡¯s hope in abuse,¡± Zaria said. ¡°Hope that you¡¯ll see that good part of them again. Hope that you can make it stop if you just act a little better. Hope that it¡¯s all got a point, somewhere, and maybe the problem ain¡¯t with them, but you, and maybe you do deserve it, after all, and on and on until you¡¯re just used to the blood and tears, thinking that¡¯s normal. With people like your uncle, hope gets you nothing but pain.¡±


    His gaze fell in his lap. Thunder rolled across the wreckage, bouncing through rock and shattered stone.


    ¡°When I lost my father,¡± she said, ¡°I was a crying mess. Spent days in the crate, all dark and cramped, having naught to do but starve and live it in my head, over and over. When I got taken out¡ªwell, I¡¯m sure you can imagine how well a bunch of pirates treated some little girl crying about her daddy. I got beaten and cut until I learned to shut my mouth. Only cried at night, when the decks were dark, and no one could see. Had to weep without making a sound ¡®cause I¡¯d just be smacked bloody, otherwise.¡±


    ¡°Sounds familiar,¡± Isaac said.


    ¡°Only thing that saved me was the work. Sailing¡¯s a hard trade. While under way, you¡¯re worked at all hours¡ªslinging rope, swabbing, all the running and heaving. Top that with raids, boarding actions, just being hungry and scared of my mates, and I had no time to stand idle and be sad about things. Always busy. Always back to the struggle.¡±


    Her face was outlined in the fading light. It seemed bloody and tired.


    ¡°One day, I woke up, got sent right to work scrubbing all the piss and pus from the sick bay, and a few hours into it I realized that I hadn¡¯t been thinking of my father at all. Not a single thought, all that morning. Longest I¡¯d gone without doing so in months. Soon after, I was going whole days. Then, it was weeks, sometimes months, and now I just kinda do it here and there, whenever something reminds me.¡±


    In the distance, lightning pierced the rainbow. The clouds were black with rain.


    ¡°That¡¯s how it works, I think. There¡¯s nothing sudden. Nothing that makes the world all tarts and rainbows again. You just . . . get used to it. Day after day. You keep waking up, you keep living. The faces you think you¡¯ll never forget in all your life¡ªwell, you do. Time scabs them over. The memories fade. You move on.¡±


    Isaac watched the shadows grow along the shattered buildings. An ancient empire, gone forever.


    ¡°Course, at first, your mind thrashes. Every time you wake, you never know how you¡¯ll feel. Sometimes, you¡¯ll be strong, and the ache in your heart seems like it¡¯s gone away. Other times, it takes all your strength just to flop out your bunk. You¡¯ll be going about your business, and you¡¯ll catch a word or smell that reminds you of home, and it¡¯ll cut right through all that armor you thought you had. Raw as the day it happened.¡±


    She rubbed the scar on her muzzle.


    ¡°It¡¯s like a tree, right? Swing an axe a couple times, but leave it standin¡¯. It¡¯ll bleed some sap, its leaves might wither for a season, but it¡¯ll survive. Come back again, and it¡¯s still got that axe wound in its side, but its sealed over now, and the thing¡¯s still sucking earth and water, and, without looking too hard, it seems no different than the rest of the forest. It¡¯s healthy again, even with the gash. But, no matter how large it grows, it¡¯ll keep that wound. The tree will never forget the axe.¡±


    The sun had drifted below the storm. It gleamed through the rain, orange and bright.


    ¡°You¡¯ll get through this,¡± Zaria said. ¡°You¡¯ll move on. You¡¯ll keep living.¡±


    He had to make sure his voice wouldn¡¯t crack. ¡°It doesn¡¯t feel that way.¡±


    ¡°It never will, love. Not for a long time.¡±


    He kept looking down. He kept trying to breathe.


    She shifted next to him. There was an intake of breath. After a few moments, the words became a sigh, and she began to stand. ¡°Sorry. I¡¯ll leave you be.¡±


    ¡°No, please,¡± he said. ¡°Can you. . . .¡±


    Her eye blinked at him. Her face was covered in dirt and flaking blood.


    ¡°Can you just stay here?¡± Isaac said. ¡°Like this?¡±


    She looked pained and tired, as if all she wanted was sleep. But, after a moment, she sat back down, and they were together.


    They watched the sunset. The light crawled up the face of the dunes, bathing the sand in pinks and reds. Lightning flashed through the distant storm. The cavern below, with all its bone and concrete and rock, had long since been buried in shadow.


    Isaac remembered the day he had left his home. He had worked through Khador, thinking that it seemed so different from the streets rather than his window, and when he had reached the edge of the village, he had looked behind him, and he had seen Berith¡¯s tower as everyone else had always seen it¡ªa spire of stone and brick, perched over the bank of a river, seeming to impale the foothills that laid behind it. Large and imposing, like the man himself.


    Then, Isaac had turned, and he had gazed down the length of the road in front of him, and he had been amazed at the size of the world, amazed at the knowledge that his journey would take him far beyond the horizon that he saw now. All his life, he had imagined that, when he finally stood at the crossroads, he would gaze long at the tower, and he would leave it behind with a heavy heart. Instead, he had barely spared it a glance. The moment was over, and he had been glad to be away.


    After Zaria, he had imagined that he would return. He imagined that he would throw open the heavy oak of the front door, and he would greet all the servants that had served him, he would run his fingers along the fence of the yard, he would smell the musty paper of the library books, he would go to his bedroom and hear the creak of the rafters, feel the breeze drifting in through the window. He would finally speak his mind to his uncle, and, when he left again, all the memories would be closed in his heart.


    He would never see it again.


    He cried in her arms until the stars were bright.


    ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------


    The top of the wreckage came faster than expected.


    Zaria was scrambling up the sloping face of a boulder, managing to crawl more often than climb. She reached the top, wincing at the rope burns in her hands, and Isaac could suddenly see the morning sunlight on her fur. It seemed to startle both of them just as much. She turned to look behind her, and the shadows of her ears rose sharp on her head.


    ¡°Xotra¡¯s cunt!¡±


    Isaac wiped sweat from his face. ¡°Already?¡±


    Her cackling laughter was the only response.


    She threw the rope down for him. He barely had time to find any footholds while she yanked him up. When he had reached her position, the sunlight hit his eyes. He squinted, looking through the glare.


    A few boulders remained in front of them, probably the position where the skull of the colossus had once rested, but all the slabs were nestled at such a level that they could simply be walked over. Ahead, there was a lip of sand rising from the edge of the cavern wall, leading out into long, smooth blankets that ran for miles in every direction. It curved like velvet, rising into slopes and hills. It stretched as far as he could see, and the morning sun was already climbing above it all, bathing the sand to a searing heat. The air swirled and danced.


    Zaria clapped him on the back. ¡°What¡¯d I tell you?¡±


    ¡°Alright, fine.¡±


    ¡°What¡¯d I fucking tell you?¡±


    She ran and leaped across the boulders. Isaac picked his way carefully. When he reached her, she was kicking up showers of sand as she danced. Her cheers echoed through the dunes. Despite himself, the corners of his mouth began to twitch into a smile.


    With a voice that was loud, warbling, and horribly off-key, Zaria began to sing.


    ¡°O, the winds had died, the bilge ran low


    And we had naught but sand in tow


    We had no rum, we had no stores


    We damn near got to pushin¡¯ oars


    We¡¯d lost our teeth, we¡¯d burned our eyes


    And we¡¯d seen naught but sand and skies


    The hands would cry, ¡®the hull is lost!¡¯


    And the capt would shout, ¡®bugger the cost!¡¯¡±


    Her voice echoed over sand. The wind carried it high. It seemed to travel across the entire length of the tomb.


    ¡°Douse the mains, tilt the prow!


    We¡¯ll cut her through like a bleedin¡¯ sow!


    The ropes ain¡¯t cut, the sails ain¡¯t gone


    And we need naught but steel and brawn!


    So fuck the moors, and fuck the land!


    And fuck them all by the blasted sand!


    We need no prize, we need no shore


    And we damn sure got no want for more!¡¯¡±


    She cupped her hands around her muzzle, just to make sure the wreckage heard her clearly.


    ¡°Hey, hey! Away!


    We beat the sand, we beat the squall!


    And you best believe we¡¯re standing tall!


    Hey, hey! Away!¡±


    Isaac cleared his throat.


    Zaria stood on the edge of the cavern, watching her words echo down through its length. After a moment, she turned back, wiping sand from her leather armor. ¡°Sorry. Seemed appropriate.¡±


    ¡°There¡¯s no need to desecrate a grave with your singing.¡±


    She trudged past him, cupping her eye against the glare of the sun. ¡°So, here¡¯s my thinkin¡¯. We gotta head out through them dunes, right now. Liable to burn ourselves blind in the heat, but there¡¯s nothing for it. Gonna be tracked ¡®fore long, and we need the distance. We¡¯ll keep our three eyes peeled for an east-facing dune wall, something that¡¯ll give us some shade to rest when the sun¡¯s at its worst, and then we¡¯ll start traveling by night. Should be manageable, if we¡¯re smart with the water.¡±


    Isaac looked out over the canyon behind them. Not too long ago, it had been a colossal skull sticking from the sand. Now, it was a great wound in the earth, something that would soon fester with Diet expeditions¡ªarchaeologists, historians, and more guards than a royal caravan. There would be furious debate amongst the minting officials. He could only imagine the arbitrations that would be necessary to divide the treasure.


    ¡°Let me see your map again.¡±


    She took it from his pack without waiting for a response.


    ¡°Look,¡± Zaria said, shoving the map into his vision. ¡°See this here?¡± She traced a black claw north. ¡°That¡¯s our route, for the time bein¡¯. Know some old contacts up that way. Some of them I ain¡¯t on the best of terms with, but I¡¯ve got my natural charm, and a fountain of gems besides, so we¡¯ll manage.¡±


    Isaac scratched his beard, digging out the dirt and sand.


    ¡°Come on, then. I ain¡¯t takin¡¯ a second bloody look at this place, and you shouldn¡¯t neither.¡±


    ¡°Z,¡± Isaac said. ¡°What do you think our odds are?¡±


    ¡°Of what? Not dyin¡¯ of thirst? Not gettin¡¯ slaughtered by any pirate or guard wants to cross our path?¡±


    ¡°More than that. Afterward. Once we get out of here, once we leave the continent¡ªwhat¡¯s our plan, then?¡±


    She blew a raspberry. ¡°Fuck if I know. We¡¯ll get it figured once the time comes. Best we stay focused on getting there at all.¡±


    Isaac nodded, gazing out over the tomb. After a moment, he turned to face her. ¡°I¡¯m serious. What do you think our odds are?¡±


    ¡°Were you wanting reassurance or honesty?¡±


    He kept watching her.


    ¡°Speaking plain,¡± Zaria said, ¡°the odds are shite. We got pirates and wizards chasin¡¯ us, we¡¯re short on food and water, we got a long distance to go before I¡¯d even think of feeling safe, and it¡¯s all gonna be unfamiliar territory once we¡¯re clear. If I was betting on it, it¡¯d be an easy choice, which way to toss the coin.¡± She shrugged. ¡°Then again, I¡¯d have said the same about our odds of surviving everything down in that tomb. And we made it out of there, didn¡¯t we?¡±


    ¡°Seems that way.¡±


    ¡°Standing pretty tall now, huh?¡±


    ¡°I suppose so.¡±


    ¡°You got any reason to stick around?¡±


    ¡°Not particularly.¡±


    ¡°Always wanted to travel the world, haven¡¯t you?¡±


    He nodded, looking into her eye.


    ¡°Then what¡¯re we waitin¡¯ for? It¡¯s worth a shot, far as I can tell.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s worth a shot? That¡¯s it?¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s all we¡¯re getting, love. The outlaw life is not one of safety. Best you get used to it.¡±


    Isaac gazed over the endless waves of sand. He breathed through the heat. ¡°Alright.¡±


    ¡°Great. Onwards.¡± She began to turn. ¡°Gotta say, first bloody thing I¡¯m doin¡¯ once we hit town is grabbing a fat, juicy steak¡ª¡±


    He hugged her. He did it hard enough that it almost made her stumble. By now, her motley strips of leather and cloth had been torn into rags, and he felt himself pressing up against warm, soft fur, more than anything else. Underneath it all, there was a solid core of muscle, something strong and firm to lean against.


    There was a quiet snort. ¡°Don¡¯t celebrate just yet. Still got quite some hardship ahead of us.¡±


    Isaac tightened the hug. He pressed his cheek against her chest, burrowing through the hairs, and, in a quiet, whispering voice, he said: ¡°Thank you.¡±


    There was a slight hitch of breath. Some words were almost spoken.


    But nothing was said. After a few moments, she returned the hug. He felt himself squeezed against her larger frame, and she held him just as tightly as he was holding her. Isaac hoped the moment would never end, he hoped he would never have to let her go, he marveled at the idea that in this pirate, the same cutthroat that had taken him hostage not five days prior, he had found more warmth and care and understanding than he had ever known before, and, right then, he could not hug her as tight as his heart demanded.


    Around them, there was nothing but sand and sky. The sun was a searing heat on their backs. Their rations were low, their wounds were aching, they were tired and beaten and had miles upon miles to travel before rest could be found, and their coming life would only be fraught with danger. There would be fleets of pirate ships scouring the dunes. There would be teams of sorcerers whose sole purpose was to hunt down and assassinate rogue mages, lest they threaten the sovereignty of the Diet of Nine. There would be a constabulary at every town, there would be vicious criminals they would have to call friends, and there was no telling what kinds of lands and peoples they would meet out there in the world at large, if they managed to escape at all.


    Their future was far less than certain. They were lost. Abandoned.


    But, right then, standing above the ruins of an ancient empire, they had each other. And, despite it all, it didn¡¯t feel as if either of them needed anything else.


    Isaac felt her breath start to hitch. When he looked up, Zaria was wiping her eye.


    ¡°Nothin¡¯,¡± she said, stepping slightly back. ¡°Don¡¯t mind me.¡±


    ¡°What¡¯s wrong?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s nothin¡¯. Honest. Just. . . .¡± She broke out into a toothy grin. ¡°Just got my Little Lem back again. That¡¯s all.¡±


    She tousled the mop of hair on his head. He knocked her hand away, and she punched him in the shoulder.


    ¡°Shame on you. Don¡¯t you know not to consort with a pirate?¡± She cleared her throat, looking down. ¡°I¡¯m just a no-good thief. Never had high hopes for myself. Never had any prospects other than what I could steal. Never done much good for anyone my whole life.¡±


    Isaac felt that his mouth was aching from smiling.


    ¡°Glad I could be here,¡± Zaria said, wiping the tear from her cheek. ¡°Glad I could do something nice for a change. I¡¯d be glad to keep being nice, if you wouldn¡¯t mind.¡±


    He looked out over the tomb. He could hear their voices again.


    His uncle, drowning in blood, fighting desperately to speak.


    You deserved. . . .


    His father, already drifting away, all the words coming through a dying machine.


    Live your life. Be happy.


    ¡°Isaac?¡± He felt her step close. ¡°You¡¯re coming with me, right?¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± he said. He looked at the tomb for a moment longer, then tore his vision away, determined to never see it again. ¡°I¡¯d like that. I want to take the shot. I want. . . .¡± He felt a smile breaking through. ¡°I want to try.¡±


    She adjusted the bandage on her head. ¡°Brilliant. Let¡¯s fucking go, then. Need to find shade before the sun gets too high.¡±


    ¡°Hold on. I just have one condition, first.¡±


    ¡°Oh, we¡¯ve got demands, do we? Fine, then. Suppose I¡¯ll allow it.¡±


    ¡°You,¡± Isaac said, ¡°are going to stop calling me squire.¡±


    ¡°Still on this? What¡¯s the problem, exactly?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s demeaning. A squire¡¯s just a servant. Someone who polishes armor and feeds the horses. I¡¯m more than that. I could kill you, easily.¡±


    ¡°You wouldn¡¯t dare, though,¡± Zaria said.


    ¡°No,¡± Isaac said, ¡°but I could.¡±


    ¡°Aye. Sure.¡±


    ¡°Anytime I wanted to, really.¡±


    ¡°Undoubtedly, squire.¡±


    ¡°Then why do you keep calling me that? Is it just a joke to you?¡±


    ¡°Oh, it was, at first. Just a little fun at your expense.¡± She looked him up and down. ¡°Not anymore, I think. It¡¯s taken on a better meaning.¡±


    ¡°How¡¯s that?¡±


    ¡°A squire ain¡¯t just a servant. Sure, they do all the minor trifles that a proper knight don¡¯t got time for, but they¡¯re more than that. They¡¯re the knight¡¯s protection. When the knight¡¯s out travelling, braving the road and fighting the wickedness of the world, her squire¡¯s the only friend she¡¯s got. Her squire keeps the knives from her back. Her squire keeps her healed and gallant. Often times, her squire¡¯s the only thing keeping her alive at all. I know all them stories just give glory to the one in plate and mail, but, trust me on this¡ªa knight is nothing without her squire.¡±


    Isaac gave her a measured look.


    ¡°Besides,¡± Zaria said, ¡°squires are just knights in training, are they not? No shame in that. Everyone¡¯s gotta learn somewhere. And, while the squire is aiding the knight, the knight is aiding the squire in kind. Teaching them lessons. Giving them guidance. Making sure the young novice turns into the same dashing hero that they¡¯re servin¡¯. One day, that squire will be strong and wise, and he¡¯ll have his knight to thank for it.¡±


    Isaac shook his head, looking away.


    She stepped forward, towering over him. ¡°You¡¯re my squire.¡±


    He didn¡¯t answer.


    She pressed a finger to his chest. ¡°You¡¯re my squire.¡±


    He still didn¡¯t answer.


    ¡°We¡¯re not leaving till you say so.¡±


    ¡°I suppose,¡± Isaac said, ¡°that I don¡¯t hate it so much. When you put it that way.¡±


    She gestured out towards the desert. ¡°Is my squire ready, then?¡±


    ¡°After you, madam knight.¡±


    She grinned, clapping him on the shoulder. They began to walk through the sand, shielding their eyes from the morning sun.


    He could already feel that the day would be miserably hot. There would be no shelter waiting for them. If they did not find shade by the time the sun reached its zenith, then they would likely succumb to sunstroke. At the very least, they would exhaust the last of their water. He knew, from experience, how dangerous one¡¯s thirst could be.


    The pirates would still be out there. They might¡¯ve been scared off by the thrashing of the colossus, but they would not have gone far. They would return, either for vengeance or plunder. And soon¡ªperhaps sooner than he hoped¡ªthe Diet would send their agents. They would¡¯ve had a plan to betray Berith, once he had resurrected their prize. It was almost certain they had a contingency to deal with Isaac, as well. It would not be one he would find easy to escape.


    But Isaac kept walking. He kept his thoughts out past the pirates and mages, past the desert and all the kingdoms that laid under the Diet¡¯s jurisdiction. He thought of the world. He thought of continents he had never seen, oceans he had never sailed. He thought of cities teaming with life and culture, he thought of languages he had only read in books, he thought of roads and fields and forests and mountains and all the sunsets that he would have the fortune to see again.


    Somewhere out there, they would find shelter. Their wounds would heal, they would have soft beds to rest, and they would have all the hot meals their gems could buy. Once they were free, once they had escaped their fates, they would find a world that was vast and old and full of possibility. Somewhere, they would be safe. Out there, somewhere, they would find the things they had both been wanting. Sometime, somewhere, they would find a place that was better than the ones they had left behind.


    Somewhere out there, a whole new life was waiting for them.

 Alone, Together

    In the distance, through the spray of the ocean, a shape began to appear.


    At first, Isaac thought it was another kraken surfacing through the waves. He started to panic again. There were many things he had learned about the creatures since the start of his voyage, more than any sailor had managed to teach. The beasts were colossal, highly territorial, and vicious when disturbed. Their natural armor was impervious to cannons and harpoons alike. And, if Isaac could see the kraken now, then it had already been watching his ship for quite some time.


    He adjusted the focus of the spyglass, fighting for balance on the swaying, salty deck. Out in the distance, the shape only grew larger. He couldn¡¯t identify the conical body, the red slitted pupils, or the bristling colonies of parasites that would be growing along its mantle. It might¡¯ve been a juvenile, but that would be small relief when it dragged them below the waves. There were tentacles rising very high in the air, held in taut and rigid lines. . . .


    It wasn¡¯t a kraken. He knew exactly what the shape was, and his relief was audible.


    ¡°Captain!¡± Isaac shouted. ¡°Privateers! Starboard!¡±


    Behind him, the top deck of the Arms of Horn was in full operation. Deckhands were scrubbing planks and wrestling with a web of ropes. The first lieutenant, a taciturn horse by the name of Welton, stood on the gunwale and shouted to be heard above the snap of wave and canvas. Isaac could see seamen rushing through the ventilation grills below, lugging cannonballs across the gun deck to practice battle formations. Welton lead the drill with a fiery passion, as he did every day at an hour before noon. Above, a collection of young leopard boys were climbing through the rigging, trimming the sails and tossing fire onto the great, glowing sigil emblazoned within.


    Captain Vance made her way down from the helm, weaving a path through rope and deckhand alike. The otter was as lithe and tall as an afternoon shadow¡ªwhen Isaac handed her the spyglass, his chin barely reached her elbow. The medals on her navy coat glinted as she made to confirm his sighting. Despite the chaos unfolding behind her, she watched the sea as calmly as a bowman hunting a deer.


    ¡°Aye,¡± Vance said, after a moment. ¡°That¡¯s so. Not flyin¡¯ the black yet, but that¡¯s expected.¡± She turned to her first lieutenant. ¡°Welton!¡±


    Despite his shouting, the horse went quiet at once. He tottered along the gunwale, more drunk than usual. ¡°Capt?¡±


    ¡°Stop the drills! Have the starboard cannons manned and loaded!¡±


    Welton squinted towards the ship on the horizon. ¡°What the bloody cunt do we got a wizard for, then?¡±


    ¡°We¡¯re not takin¡¯ chances! See to it!¡±


    ¡°Aye, captain!¡±


    ¡°Presly! Be ready to bare the broadside!¡±


    Slumped over the helm, an elderly coyote raised a hand of acknowledgement, using his other to dig biscuit crumbs from his chops.


    Vance returned the spyglass. ¡°Warning shot again, if it¡¯d please sir mage. Can¡¯t kill the feline queen¡¯s pardoned pirates.¡±


    Isaac made a salute. ¡°Would the captain like them burned or frozen?¡±


    ¡°Off my arse, and nothing more. And stop your bloody gestures.¡±


    He saluted again. ¡°Aye, capt!¡±


    The otter¡¯s snort held some fair amusement. She clapped him on the back as she passed towards the stern, expertly ducking beneath the swinging line of the foresail.


    Isaac raised the spyglass again, trying to judge the distance between the ships. It was obvious, even to an untrained eye, that the privateer vessel was on a hard course of pursuit, banking to intercept them between their stern and broadside, where they couldn¡¯t easily return fire. They might not even bother raising the black flag before the first salvo. He thought of the range of scrolless casting, trying to judge the best¡ª


    ¡°Squire! Assistance!¡±


    He turned toward the hold, just in time to see a rainbow of feathers rush towards his face.


    The tropical bird barely avoided slashing him with its talons¡ªinstead, in a shower of wings and squawks, it flew up through the glowing sails, eventually roosting in the lookout post of the back mast. The young leopard boys swung through the rigging, avoiding several more of the birds that rushed to join it.


    Isaac was horrified. It had taken him six days of hard bushwacking to collect those specimens, the process of which had cost him untold suffering in sweat, rashes and bug bites, and now all the birds were flying free again. Their feathers were an iridescent hue of rainbows as they preened themselves in the sun.


    ¡°Grab them!¡± Isaac shouted to the leopards. ¡°Grab the birds!¡±


    Below, the top deck of the Arms of Horn was a chaos of fleeing animals. A colony of fire-breathing rats rushed between the legs of the deckhands, singeing the wet planks as they scattered. Fuzzy chelicerae appeared from the shadow of the hold as a megaspider peered through the doorway, blinking a dozen glittering eyes. At the helm, the elderly coyote¡ªSamson¡ªwas trying to pet a young cockatrice while it nibbled on his coat. He seemed to be succeeding.


    Isaac saw more movement from the hold. Something large slammed into the megaspider, nearly cracking its thorax. There was a flurry of fur, spikes and wings.


    ¡°Squire!¡±


    Zaria emerged onto the top deck while riding on the back of a manticore. Neither of them were enjoying the experience. The human face snarled, the lion body twisted, and the scorpion tail was flailing and stabbing in equal measure. She was wrapped around its neck, trying to wrestle it down, but the salty air seemed to invigorate the chimera. It slammed through a tangle of deckhands and nearly cut several sections of the rigging as it unfurled its thorny wings. They flapped twice, sending the fiery rats skittering across the deck, and tried to take flight.


    ¡°No!¡± the manticore screamed, sounding just like a human woman. ¡°No, please, no!¡±


    Isaac blasted the manticore with a gust of wind. He caught the chimera on one of its wings, and the force of the spell sent it corkscrewing through the air. Still wrapped tightly around its neck, Zaria twisted, heaved with all her strength, and slammed it down into the deck.


    The chimera thrashed¡ªthe lion body tore through the wood with vicious claws, and the scorpion tail was a blur of venom and fury. Thorny wings slashed at any deckhand that dared to approach. Zaria regained her footing and wrenched its head back as far as it could go, trying to reattach the muzzle on its human face. Its tail reared back for a strike.


    ¡°Give me some fucking help, Isaac!¡±


    In the moment, he didn¡¯t think about the value of the specimen, or how long it had taken him to capture it. Instead, he ran forward, charged a beam of light in his hand, and sliced off the scorpion tail.


    The manticore screamed in a disturbingly human voice. By now, the deckhands were throwing themselves onto the wings, flattening the appendages down to the planks. In one last desperate attempt, the chimera found its footing and tried to run, but Zaria had a solid grip on its leather muzzle and yanked it back. She kicked one of its knees, heaved to the side, and, with a yell that pierced above the others, she flipped the beast onto its back. Half the deckhands aboard the ship seemed to pile on top of it.


    After a few frantic moments, the manticore laid still on the deck. Zaria had locked a tight arm around its throat, and was breathing just as raggedly as her capture. Isaac approached with a beam of light still cocked in his hand.


    ¡°Are you alright?¡± he asked.


    ¡°Oh,¡± she said, ¡°like a cunt in silk, squire, you know that.¡±


    ¡°No,¡± the manticore whimpered. ¡°No, please, no.¡±


    At Isaac¡¯s side, Captain Vance approached with a pistol aimed at the chimera¡¯s face. ¡°Step aside, boatswain.¡±


    ¡°Wait,¡± Isaac said, dropping his spell. ¡°Don¡¯t kill it. The company charter¡ª¡±


    ¡°My crew comes first,¡± the otter said, taking careful aim.


    The manticore began to sob, trying to twist its head from Zaria¡¯s grip. Half the deckhands were keeping its body pinned to the planks. The others watched, clutching at bleeding wounds.


    ¡°Either it¡¯s our supper,¡± Vance said, ¡°or the fish¡¯s.¡±


    Isaac looked into the human face. It was still whimpering ¡°no¡± between every gasp for air. He knew it was only mimicry¡ªthe local villagers had made it clear that the chimera hunted by ambush, luring travelers off the trail with a voice that begged for help. The words it spoke now were likely the last ones of its previous victim.


    He sighed, taking a step back.


    Zaria looked to Vance. The otter nodded. In one quick movement, she fell back, and the captain fired. Blood sprayed across the deck. The manticore¡¯s wings stiffened and laid flat.


    Vance blew smoke from the barrel of her pistol, sheathed it back against her chest, and shouted: ¡°Fresh meat, lads!¡±


    The crew cheered. Behind them, the cockatrice poked its head through the crowd. Samson managed to recapture its attention with a biscuit.


    Zaria rose back to her feet, adjusting her boatswain uniform. ¡°Fuckin¡¯ thing chewed through its cage in the night. Would¡¯ve gotten most of the others if I hadn¡¯t caught it in time.¡±


    Vance looked behind her. ¡°All those that got cut, to the sick bay. Double rations and three days rest.¡± She looked down at Isaac, her short fur glistening with the spray of the sea. ¡°You¡¯re on surgeon¡¯s duty. Keep this up, and the post will be permanent while away.¡±


    Isaac cleared his throat. ¡°Sorry, captain. I gathered enough herbs on the last embarkment to make a stock of poultices. They¡¯ll heal.¡±


    ¡°They better,¡± Vance said. ¡°My naturalist best not let his specimens run loose again, or else they¡¯ll be paddin¡¯ our larder.¡± She turned to the gathered crowd of hands. ¡°Capture the rest and put them back in the cages! Alive, if you can!¡±


    ¡°Aye, capt!¡± said the crew, and scattered.


    Isaac watched the blood leak from the manticore¡¯s head. The skin around the entry wound had burned from the muzzle flash. Taxidermy wouldn¡¯t fix it. He would have to settle for the bones and lion pelt once the butchering was done.


    ¡°Isaac,¡± Vance said. ¡°Let me be clear again. The Royal Claw may be payin¡¯ our wages, and you might be doin¡¯ good for the sciences, but this is my ship, and my crew, and I¡¯ll not see them harmed. We don¡¯t need to test that sentiment, do we?¡±


    ¡°No, captain. Sorry.¡±


    ¡°The feline queen is an ocean away. I¡¯m the only law you need concern yourself with.¡±


    ¡°Of course, captain.¡±


    ¡°From now on, I¡¯m holding supreme veto on any beast you decide to bring aboard. Anything I don¡¯t like is only gracing my deck as skin and skeleton. Are we clear on this?¡±


    ¡°Yes, captain.¡±


    Vance¡¯s whiskers dripped with sea spray as she looked down at him. After a moment, she adjusted her tricorn hat and nodded. ¡°Right. Enough of that. Back to pressing matters.¡±


    ¡°What?¡±


    ¡°Our pursuers, sir mage.¡±


    Isaac looked over the sea again. The privateer vessel had grown from a distant speck on the waves to a growing tangle of rope and wood. Glowing sigils burned like cattle brands across the sails. Even without the spyglass, he could see crews climbing through the rigging, tossing entire bushels of fire onto the canvas, bringing the ship into such sharp acceleration that her prow was nearly impaling the waves.


    At the front, the flag of the feline queen had been lowered. In the place of pads and claws, a black flag rose above the foremast, bearing an ursine skull and crossbones.


    ¡°Isaac,¡± Vance said. ¡°Stop us from being robbed and put to sword, and it might be I like you again. Agreed?¡±


    ¡°Aye, captain!¡±


    ¡°Quit fucking salutin¡¯ me.¡±


    Isaac approached the starboard edge of the Arms of Horn. As he began the mnemonics, Zaria leaped onto the gunwale, grabbed a section of the rigging for balance, and shouted: ¡°Clear the deck! Wizard firing off starboard!¡±


    Through the ventilation grills below, Welton the horse shouted: ¡°Wizard firing!¡±


    ¡°Wizard firing!¡± shouted the leopards above.


    Isaac went through the casting motions carefully, making sure the energy draw was smooth and efficient. A ball of flame appeared in each of his palms. He pressed his hands together, and, when he drew them back, there was one large conflagration, twisting and hissing with the spray of the sea. He put more energy into the cast, and the flames grew larger¡ªthey went from the size of a melon to a cannonball, surging past the point of a trebuchet missile, and, when it was about the size of a boulder, Isaac had to lean the fire out past the gunwale, lest the flames start to burn the rigging.


    Ahead, the privateers were beginning to turn and bare their broadside. Their hull was worn, rotting, and studded with cannon holes.


    ¡°Fire at will,¡± Vance said.


    Isaac shot the fireball.


    It arced across the waves like a second sun blazing through the sky. Isaac wobbled on his feet, nearly collapsing from the energy transfer, but Zaria was already catching him before he fell. They watched the fireball complete its downward trajectory towards the privateer vessel. It exploded into the sea, instantly boiling the water into steam, sending a massive plume of vapor up through the air.


    The reaction was immediate. Instead of a slow turn that would bare their broadside, the privateer vessel began to pull hard to starboard, almost cracking their hull with the sudden twist. Before long, all they could see of the vessel was the stern and the back of the sails, rushing headlong back into the waves. The screams of scalded pirates echoed across the sea.


    The crew began to cheer. Much of it was mixed with taunts. Zaria kept a firm hold on Isaac, giving him enough support that he could concentrate on breathing.


    ¡°Cunt to cactus,¡± Vance said. ¡°Sure wish I¡¯d had a bloody wizard back in the navy. Needs to be standard issue, far as I¡¯m concerned.¡± She kept watching the privateers sail away. Her whiskers bent back with a snarl. ¡°Wish it weren¡¯t a warning. Traitors deserve worse.¡±


    ¡°They¡¯re pirates, capt,¡± Zaria said. ¡°Only loyalty they¡¯ve got is to coin.¡±


    ¡°Exactly. Feline queen pardoned them. We¡¯re flying her bloody colors. That should¡¯ve earned some pause, at the very least. Craven sods are just using the Royal Claw as a means to pillage.¡±


    Zaria cleared her throat. ¡°They¡¯re told to do so, more or less. Price of war and all. ¡®Sides, you tellin¡¯ me it don¡¯t pay better than navy wages?¡±


    Vance watched the privateers disappear into the waves. The disgust was plain on her face.


    After a moment of watching the otter, Zaria gently helped Isaac stand straight again. ¡°Good?¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± he said, panting. ¡°Thanks.¡±


    ¡°Sure. My squire¡¯s rather cute when he¡¯s all breathless.¡±


    ¡°I believe the word is dashing.¡±


    ¡°Oh, that¡¯s one of them, surely.¡±


    She tousled his hair. He slapped her hand away. She began to grin, but a cleared throat made it stop. Vance was watching the two of them. Zaria adjusted her boatswain coat and stood at attention.


    ¡°Isaac,¡± the otter said. ¡°Come to my cabin for dinner tonight. We need to talk.¡±


    ¡°Captain, I¡¯m sorry about the manticore¡ª¡±


    ¡°Not that. Got a missive from the Royal Claw this morning.¡± She shivered. ¡°Right in the soul. Odd feeling, that. Anyway, they¡¯re wantin¡¯ me to give a full report on your findings. You done all your sketches and what not?¡±


    ¡°Uh, yes. Mostly. I¡¯ll finish them by tonight.¡±


    ¡°After you¡¯re through patching my deckhands.¡±


    ¡°Obviously, captain.¡±


    Vance made a noise in her throat. ¡°Boatswain, you¡¯re comin¡¯ as well.¡±


    Zaria blinked. ¡°Me? I just keep the rabble in line, capt. Not deservin¡¯ of fine dining.¡±


    ¡°Aren¡¯t you? Seems like you¡¯ve been helping my naturalist quite a lot, as it happens.¡±


    ¡°I aid him on his journeys landside, aye. You gave me leave to do so.¡±


    ¡°Must be you two are working close. On return, he¡¯s always got your scent on him.¡±


    ¡°Must be all them funny creatures he¡¯s rubbing against.¡±


    ¡°Always seems to be walking bow-legged, too.¡±


    ¡°He¡¯s just sore from all the hiking.¡±


    ¡°Ah,¡± Vance said, deadpan. ¡°Well, I¡¯m sure my boatswain knows I keep a strict ban on fraternizing between officers.¡±


    ¡°On your ship, you mean.¡±


    ¡°Aye. On my ship. Whatever happens off it is not my concern, of course.¡±


    Zaria slid an arm over Isaac¡¯s shoulder and pulled him to her side. ¡°Just so, captain.¡±


    ¡°Right,¡± Vance said. ¡°Then let¡¯s pretend I¡¯m inviting you as my officer and not the better half of my naturalist.¡±


    ¡°Honored to accept, then. What¡¯re we supping on?¡±


    ¡°Fried manticore.¡±


    ¡°Lovely,¡± Zaria said. ¡°If that¡¯s all, capt, then I think we¡¯ve got our tasks to attend to.¡±


    ¡°Right you are.¡± Vance looked down at Isaac. The grip of her pistol was shining as brightly as the medals on her coat. He fought in vain to control his blush. ¡°Good work, sir mage. At ease.¡±


    She nodded at each of them and walked away, expertly maneuvering through the throngs of deckhands still chasing the fire-breathing rats. At the helm, Samson and some of the leopards were feeding rats to the cockatrice, who was flashing her scales with affection.


    ¡°Well,¡± Isaac said, still catching his breath, ¡°she was bound to find out eventually.¡±


    Zaria¡¯s grip on him tightened. Before he knew it, he had been leaned back over the gunwale, and she was kissing him. The moment was drawn out and quite obvious to the crew. Isaac was about to start protesting when she dipped her muzzle down and began to drag a heavy tongue along his throat, rubbing the bristles of her muscle against the freshly trimmed hair of his beard.


    ¡°She¡¯s always known.¡± Her breath danced across wet skin. ¡°Them ex-navy types are sharp as arrows. Just gotta follow the rules.¡±


    ¡°And what¡¯s this, then?¡±


    ¡°Mutiny.¡±


    She began to gently nibble the nape of his neck. Isaac found himself growing painfully stiff.


    ¡°Two days till landfall,¡± she said. ¡°Gonna be paradise, so I¡¯ve heard.¡±


    He struggled to recall his charter. ¡°Tropical island. Dense forest. Highly volcanic. Natural hot springs.¡±


    Her hum was punctuated by more nibbles. ¡°Could use a bath.¡±


    ¡°All the baths in the world would not save you, I¡¯m afraid.¡±


    Hot exhale. ¡°Could use my squire¡¯s magic tongue, as well.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t know,¡± Isaac said, growing aware of how many of the crew were watching them. ¡°It seems to be taken for granted.¡±


    ¡°A golden tongue, it is. The envy of bards and conmen the world ¡®round.¡±


    He pushed her back, and she retreated just far enough to give him a smoldering gaze. Her black eyepatch clashed with tawny fur and pink, weathered scars.


    ¡°Well,¡± Isaac said. ¡°Maybe I¡¯ll work up an appetite.¡±


    ¡°Maybe the feast¡¯ll go both ways.¡±


    ¡°Maybe we should swim. Might be faster.¡±


    ¡°Hmmm.¡±


    She stepped back. The sea spray returned. A few snickers were heard beneath the snap of wave and canvas.


    ¡°Two days,¡± she said. ¡°Be ready.¡±


    He nodded. She turned and strode away, as if they¡¯d never been talking at all. Isaac had to adjust himself before doing the same. As he descended into the dark, humid depths of the gun deck, he found himself already counting the hours.


    ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------


    ¡°And so now,¡± Zaria said, spilling some wine as she laughed, ¡°Isaac¡¯s got the bloke staring daggers. I mean, he¡¯s got naught but fury in his eyes, but sir mage here is still talkin¡¯ as he was, telling the sod he¡¯s got less letters than a signpost. What¡¯d you call him, again?¡±


    Isaac continued to saw through the manticore steak. ¡°Jobbernowl.¡±


    Vance snorted, breaking a biscuit with her hands. ¡°Jobbernowl? What¡¯s that mean?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s from a poem. Jobber, as in blocky, and nowl, as in head. Blockhead. Moron.¡±


    ¡°Jobbernowl!¡± Zaria said.


    ¡°It¡¯s a real word! He had a big, ugly head!¡±


    Isaac demonstrated with his hands. Vance hid her smile behind a sip of wine. At her side, Percival, her jackal first mate, was wiping a ship¡¯s biscuit through the juice of his manticore steak, and obviously not hearing much of the conversation. One of his ears was gone, and the other had been burned shut from a cannon blast, and he had long ago decided to listen only when things were important.


    The captain¡¯s cabin of the Arms of Horn was expansive. It covered the breadth of the stern, and it was not much different than the study of some noble scholar. Vance had a sizable collection of books, maps and encyclopedias shelved along the walls. Her king-sized bed made Isaac¡¯s hammock seem like a rolled up flag, and her dining table was currently adorned with manticore meat, including the puffy white flesh of its tail, along with biscuits, dried fruit, and no lack of butter and spice.The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.


    There was wine, as well. Vance had made a show of opening a vintage bottle. Whatever she wanted to discuss, it clearly involved some celebration. Isaac had only been properly drunk a half dozen times in his life, and he had learned not to miss the chance when it presented itself.


    ¡°So,¡± Zaria said, clawing some gristle from her teeth. ¡°So, the bloke invites Isaac to step outside, real serious-like. Sir mage here goes, ¡®nah, arm wrestling, that¡¯s what we¡¯re doin¡¯.¡¯ Everyone watching just about cracks on the spot. The bear¡¯s got arms the size of Isaac¡¯s head, and the latter¡¯s so drunk he can hardly sit on his stool.¡±


    ¡°Do we really need to tell this?¡± Isaac asked, taking a big gulp of wine.


    ¡°No, no,¡± Vance said. ¡°I spoke of runnin¡¯ my ship aground thrice in a day. It¡¯s only fair.¡±


    ¡°Captain¡ª¡±


    ¡°We¡¯re hearing this. Boatswain, continue.¡±


    ¡°So, they sit, right?¡± Zaria gestured with the meat on her fork. ¡°And while the bloke¡¯s turned ¡®round to laugh with his mates, Isaac¡¯s moving his arms below the table, casting a spell. Nothing seems to happen, though, and he gives me a big ol¡¯ wink and sets his arm ready. The bear grabs his hand, and they start wrestlin¡¯. The man¡¯s clearly not trying at first, thinking it¡¯s already settled, but, after a moment, his eyes just about pop from his head, and he starts screaming real loud. Isaac slams his knuckles down to the table. The bear rushes from his chair, and his hand¡¯s so burned that it¡¯s still hissing, and he¡¯s grabbing every drink he can find to douse the fur.


    ¡°Isaac¡¯s sat there, laughing about it. The rest of the crew aren¡¯t of the same thought. They step forward, loosin¡¯ their scabbards, and sir mage makes the flame go bright in his hand, and you can see the fire reflecting off the eyes of everyone in the tavern, and he goes ¡®anyone else wanna try?¡¯ No one answers. I suggest they get their mate to a sawbones for some salves, and they do so, huffin¡¯ and spittin¡¯ the whole way. I follow them out to make sure they¡¯re actually leaving, and, by the time I get back, Isaac¡¯s already ordering another drink.¡±


    ¡°Got them free the rest of the night,¡± Isaac said, finishing his cup in two large gulps.


    Percival made an effort to smile, only because he could tell that the story was over, and went back to sawing at his steak.


    ¡°My word,¡± Vance said, whiskers twitching. ¡°I¡¯ve got quite a delinquent on board. True terror with a bottle. You sure you can handle that vintage, sir mage?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m fine.¡± He began to pour another glass. ¡°I promise that¡ª¡±


    Zaria kicked his shin below the table. She gave him a stern look, using her eye to order the wine bottle down. He ignored her, filling his cup. ¡°I promise that I don¡¯t burn the ships I¡¯m sailing on.¡±


    ¡°Ah,¡± Vance said, ¡°and what about ashore, then?¡±


    ¡°I prefer homes and orphans, in that case.¡±


    ¡°Lovely. So long as my sails ain¡¯t singed, I¡¯ll loan ya kindling.¡± The otter finished her own cup and glanced to Zaria. ¡°Your hand bothering you?¡±


    She tried to smile, still cutting through the steak. ¡°Nah, capt. It¡¯s fine.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ve noticed you favor the off-hand, at times.¡±


    ¡°Just an old wound. Gets a bit stiff. The sea spray ain¡¯t helping.¡±


    Vance made a noise in her throat. Her smile had vanished. ¡°How¡¯d that happen?¡±


    Zaria shrugged, not looking at Isaac. ¡°Muggers. Turned through an alley, barely managed to block the knife. Fucked the nerves, apparently. Lost the eye on the second swing.¡±


    ¡°Well,¡± Vance said. ¡°Them¡¯s cutthroats for you. Just ruining lives to line their pockets.¡±


    ¡°Aye, capt. Glad they didn¡¯t do worse.¡±


    Vance¡¯s gaze lingered on the hyena for a moment. She noticed Isaac was watching, let her smile return, and turned to her first mate. ¡°Percy.¡±


    The jackal was picking his teeth with a knife, working out a long strand of gristle.


    ¡°Oi! Percy!¡±


    Percival flinched, nearly stabbing his gums. Vance flicked her head towards Isaac. The jackal stood up hurriedly, rattling the dinnerware and trying to wriggle a scroll from his inner breast pocket.


    ¡°¡¯Bout time we talk business,¡± Vance said.


    He came around to Isaac¡¯s side of the table and flattened the scroll along the cloth. The paper was a maze of titles, paragraphs and subsections. Just from a glance, Isaac could see that it had been inked sometime today¡ªsome of the black lines hadn¡¯t dried properly.


    ¡°That¡¯s the missive the Royal Claw wanted me to pen for you.¡± Vance poured another cup of wine. ¡°Some flowery preamble to start, then a new contract.¡±


    ¡°New contract?¡± Isaac asked.


    ¡°Go on. Read it.¡±


    Isaac began to do so, having to use both hands to make sure it remained flat on the table. After a moment, Zaria stood up from her seat, came to his side, and leaned over his shoulder. He heard her begin to mouth the words.


    ¡°Oh,¡± Vance said, a note of surprise in her voice. ¡°Zaria, you can read?¡±


    ¡°Some. Gotta work it out, still.¡±


    Isaac leaned in, struggling to parse the neat, sharp curves of Vance¡¯s handwriting. He realized that he was very drunk. The wine was much stronger than the swill he¡¯d usually been served at a tavern. He raised his head for a moment, trying to catch the sea air coming through a portside window, and he saw the captain and first mate exchanging uneasy glances.


    ¡°Hold on,¡± Zaria said. She pressed a finger to one of the words. ¡°Ap¡ªate, um, rem¡ªun¡ª¡±


    ¡°Remuneration,¡± Isaac said. ¡°¡®Appropriate remuneration¡¯.¡±


    ¡°The fuck¡¯s that mean?¡±


    ¡°It means we¡¯re getting higher wages.¡±


    ¡°Keep reading,¡± Vance said.


    ¡°¡®Great excitement.¡¯ ¡®Exotic specimens.¡¯ ¡®New charter.¡¯ ¡®Circumnavigation.¡¯¡± Isaac paused. ¡°Circumnavigation?¡±


    Vance was holding a quiet smile.


    ¡°Wait,¡± Zaria said. ¡°That means travel around, aye? Then . . . travelling all around the world?¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s the new contract,¡± Vance said. ¡°Adding several years to the voyage. The feline queen¡¯s quite impressed with sir mage¡¯s funny creatures, and she¡¯s tossing heaps of coin to get more of ¡®em. Better pay, better provisions, gonna add cartographers, some escort ships¡ª¡±


    ¡°Fuck me,¡± Zaria said. ¡°No one¡¯s crossed the globe before. Half the maps are centuries old.¡±


    ¡°We¡¯ll be inkin¡¯ the new ones.¡±


    Zaria clapped Isaac on the back, struggling to get the laughter out. She was the only one to try. Isaac had come to the end of the missive, and a stab of fear had gone through his gut. When he looked up, both captain and first mate were watching him carefully. The room began to spin faster.


    ¡°What?¡± Zaria said, looking around. ¡°Ain¡¯t this grand? It¡¯s bloody history we¡¯re gonna make.¡±


    Isaac nudged her arm, pointing down at one of the paragraphs.


    ¡°Oh, just tell me.¡±


    He had to lean in to read it. The wine felt like it was squeezing his skull. ¡°The fugitive from justice currently aboard, known here as Zaria, is to immediately be taken into custody, whereby she will be returned to the mainland in order to stand trial for her crimes, listed here as murder, piracy, theft¡ª¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s enough,¡± Vance said. ¡°Listen¡ª¡±


    ¡°What?¡± Zaria grabbed the scroll, nearly burning it on a candle as she read. ¡°A fucking arrest warrant?¡±


    Isaac reached for the wine bottle and began to pour a full cup.


    ¡°Listen to me,¡± Vance said, keeping a hand close to her pistol. ¡°I am not¡ª¡±


    ¡°Is that it, then? Thanks for the work, and get fucked?¡±


    ¡°Zaria¡ª¡±


    She slammed the scroll on the table. Plates fell and rattled. ¡°It¡¯s fucking rubbish! The queen loves pirates when they¡¯re raiding merchant ships, but not on her barnyard boat, is that the way of it?¡±


    Vance sent her chair clattering as she stood. ¡°I¡¯ll not be yelled at in my own cabin. Keep your peace.¡±


    ¡°Oh, is the queen¡¯s dog gonna start barking?¡±


    Percival stepped back from the table, drawing his cutlass from the scabbard.


    ¡°Zaria,¡± Vance said. Her hand was tight on her pistol grip. ¡°Calm yourself. We¡¯re just talking. Nothing more.¡±


    Isaac¡¯s chair scraped along the planks as he stood. ¡°Take your hand off your gun, captain.¡±


    ¡°Not now, sir mage. Not until¡ª¡±


    ¡°Captain! Take your hand off your gun!¡±


    No one moved. Candles flickered. Fire reflected off the plates and knives. Isaac was so drunk that he nearly swayed with the ship, but, no matter what, his arms were always firm and steady. After a twitch of her whiskers, Vance gave a small nod to Percival. A hand fell from a pistol grip, and a sword returned to its sheath.


    ¡°Listen to me, ya stubborn cunts,¡± the otter said. ¡°If I was meaning to follow that directive, I wouldn¡¯t have warned you of it, would I?¡±


    Zaria¡¯s breath was hot on Isaac¡¯s shoulder. ¡°Small relief there, capt.¡±


    ¡°I had my suspicions of you. Navies these days are infested with runaway pirates. But you do good work, and I¡¯ve not seen any reason to complain. I¡¯d sooner have been ignorant of your crimes, and just let you go on fucking sir mage at every port we make.¡±


    The table cloth began to burn from a fallen candle. Percival reached over and beat the flames out, never taking his eyes off Isaac.


    ¡°Here¡¯s how it is,¡± Vance said. ¡°We¡¯re making landfall in two days. It¡¯s a cove not too distant from a royal outpost called Dewclaw, a two day journey southward. From there, there¡¯s roads leading to native cities, other ports of call, anywhere you want. Zaria, you¡¯ll be given enough provisions to make that journey, plus all your wages and my own written recommendation, in case you wish to grace someone else¡¯s deck. Meanwhile, I¡¯ll tell my superiors that you jumped overboard. They¡¯ll think you¡¯re dead, and things will stay peaceful between us.¡±


    Zaria tried to laugh.


    ¡°I can¡¯t do nothin¡¯ otherwise. The Royal Claw wants a clean roster, and they didn¡¯t appreciate you lying about your past, let alone all their ships you¡¯ve had a hand in plundering.¡± Her snout began to curl. ¡°And I¡¯ll not abide some cutthroat serving on my vessel. From the way it¡¯s told, you¡¯ve got quite some blood on your hands.¡±


    ¡°Like you don¡¯t, capt?¡±


    ¡°My blood was spilled for country and valor,¡± Vance said. ¡°Yours was for greed and malice. If you compare us again, I¡¯ll be throwing a corpse in the brig.¡±


    Zaria looked around the cabin, like the books on the shelves had suddenly closed in around her. She was failing to control her breath.


    ¡°Isaac. This contract¡¯s for you, and you alone. The feline queen¡¯s become aware of your little bounty with the Diet wizards, and, after seeing your work here, she¡¯s willing to offer a pardon. You¡¯ll have royal protection. Sign that contract, and you won¡¯t be hunted no more.¡±


    The wine in their cups swayed with the sea. The air smelled of salt and manticore blood.


    ¡°You hearin¡¯ me, sir mage?¡±


    Isaac blinked. ¡°A royal pardon?¡±


    ¡°Aye. Signed and proper. Not a bearded cunt in your magic towers who¡¯d think of crossing that. You can go home again, with nary a target on your back.¡±


    His sweat was clammy. His head was swimming. His mouth was sour with wine.


    ¡°Oi,¡± Vance said. ¡°You gonna put your magic hands down, or you gonna say something?¡±


    ¡°I¡ª¡± He was drunk. Far too drunk. He lost his balance as the deck swayed, and he stumbled into Zaria. He smelled her scent from the leather coat, and it was only then that his mind pierced the haze. ¡°Why me? Why not her, too?¡±


    The otter shrugged. ¡°You¡¯re more important. You¡¯re the one naming these creatures. You¡¯re the one blasting ships off our tail.¡± Vance looked over Isaac¡¯s shoulder. Her gaze hardened. ¡°You¡¯re hard to replace. She¡¯s not. She¡¯ll just be a stain on this crew, once it¡¯s all history.¡±


    Isaac ended up leaning hard on the table, rattling the plates. ¡°She is not some¡ª¡±


    ¡°Isaac.¡± Zaria grabbed his shoulder, pulling him back. ¡°Shut up a moment.¡±


    ¡°You don¡¯t deserve¡ª¡±


    ¡°Shut your fucking gob, squire.¡±


    He made to speak. She silenced him with a glare. After a moment, he stepped back, almost losing his balance.


    ¡°Captain,¡± Zaria said. ¡°Thanks for goin¡¯ out your way for me. It¡¯s¡ª¡± She cleared her throat, refocused her gaze. ¡°It¡¯s appreciated.¡±


    ¡°Aye,¡± Vance said. ¡°Least I could do. You¡¯ve served me well, and that deserves payment in kind.¡± She straightened her coat, looking the hyena up and down. ¡°As of now, you¡¯re relieved of duty. I¡¯m not thinking that confining you is necessary, is it?¡±


    ¡°No, capt. Prim and proper, as always.¡±


    Vance made a noise in her throat. ¡°Talk to Thorne. She¡¯s been ¡®round the island before. Can give you some direction. Sure Percy here¡¯s got a map or two of his own.¡±


    Percival nodded. His hand had never strayed far from the scabbard.


    Zaria leaned over the table, staring into the wine that had stained the cloth. ¡°Don¡¯t suppose I¡¯m talking you out of this?¡±


    ¡°I got my orders. Nothing¡¯s changin¡¯ that.¡± Her short fur bristled. ¡°And I¡¯m of no mind to argue them. I¡¯ve lost too many of my mates to pirates. There¡¯s acres of bone down below the drink¡ªgood sailors¡ªall dead ¡®cause of your kind. I¡¯ll not abide your presence here. Not on my ship.¡±


    Zaria straightened herself. She looked back at Isaac. For a long moment, her eye blinked, and her ears bent back, and there was something she was just on the edge of speaking. It never came. She closed her mouth, seemed to steel herself, and said: ¡°Aye, then. Thanks for dinner, capt. I¡¯ll leave you three.¡±


    ¡°No!¡± Isaac stepped forward. ¡°You¡¯re not going. This is not¡ª¡±


    ¡°She is going,¡± Vance said. ¡°We still need to discuss your terms.¡±


    ¡°There is nothing to discuss!¡±


    Both captain and first mate flinched at his shout. Their eyes went wide, watching his hands.


    ¡°I¡¯m not signing that contract,¡± Isaac said. ¡°Either she stays, or I¡¯m going, too.¡±


    Vance¡¯s whiskers curled down. ¡°That ain¡¯t happenin¡¯.¡±


    ¡°Then we¡¯re done here.¡± Isaac grabbed the wine bottle off the table. ¡°I¡¯ll be taking this, as well. Payment for saving your ship.¡±


    Percival¡¯s hand was resting on the hilt of his cutlass.


    ¡°Isaac.¡± Zaria reached for the bottle. ¡°That¡¯s enough. I¡¯m not raisin¡¯ a fuss.¡±


    He pulled the wine away, nearly falling onto the table. ¡°What were you doing, captain? You¡¯ve been sitting there all through the meal, smiling at us, knowing you¡¯re about to rip us apart while you joke and laugh. Was this your idea of a jest? Did you think I¡¯d be grateful that you¡¯re about to leave her stranded?¡±


    ¡°I was being gracious,¡± Vance said, her voice measured. ¡°Would you rather I¡¯d hauled her to the brig in front of you?¡±


    Isaac pointed at her. ¡°You¡¯re not half the person she is. She¡¯s worth ten of you combined.¡±


    Percival took a step towards the table, his burned ear flat to his skull.


    ¡°Isaac,¡± Vance said. ¡°I don¡¯t appreciate your tone. I¡¯ll not put up with it much longer.¡±


    ¡°That feeling¡¯s mutual, captain.¡±


    She leaned over the table, candlelight reflecting off her navy coat. ¡°Sleep this off. That¡¯s an order. You¡¯re upset, and three sheets to the wind, besides, otherwise I¡¯d have you disciplined.¡± She pushed the contract over to him. ¡°Read it. Think it over. We¡¯ll be heading back to the mainland after this last mooring, and I¡¯ll take your answer anytime ¡®tween now and then.¡±


    ¡°There¡¯s nothing to think over,¡± Isaac said. ¡°The answer¡¯s no.¡±


    ¡°Cunts to collars, Isaac, it¡¯s a royal pardon. It¡¯s the queen¡¯s bloody wishes. You¡¯ll never get another chance¡ª¡±


    He picked up the scroll, rolled it together, and stuck the end into the flame of a candle. When the fire had fully caught, he threw the parchment at Vance¡¯s feet.


    ¡°Fuck your contract,¡± Isaac said, ¡°and fuck you, too.¡±


    He made to leave. He tripped on the leg of a chair as he did, and stumbled hard across the planks, nearly throwing the bottle of wine. The cabin door seemed to rush at him. He fell into it without reaching for the knob, and the lock shattered off the wood as he plummeted through the doorway.


    The top deck of the Arms of Horn was dark, wet, and wreathed in the light of lanterns. The glowing sigil was bright against the stars, and the cold spray of the sea felt wonderful on his clammy skin. He washed the salty water down with a generous gulp of wine. One of the leopards was on watch, reflective eyes watching him in surprise.


    ¡°Wanna drink?¡± Isaac shouted.


    The leopard did not respond. Isaac laughed, took another swig, and stumbled toward the rigging, determined to climb.


    Zaria grabbed him. She was forced to grapple him to keep the hold. ¡°Quit your fuckin¡¯¡ª¡±


    He yanked on the fore-rigging, reaching up to the bottom of the sail.


    ¡°Isaac!¡±


    The world spun. His stomach did, too. It stopped just enough for him to see Zaria¡¯s face, tawny fur under a black eyepatch, grunting as she suddenly held up his entire body weight.


    ¡°Oh, fuck me,¡± she said, ¡°you¡¯re legless.¡±


    Being held horizontally did not agree with him. His stomach flexed. He began to gag, her eye went wide, the world spun again, and then he was vomiting off the side of the gunwale, painting the hull of the ship just as much as the ocean. Manticore dripped off the cannon holes. He barely had gaps in which to breathe.


    When his guts stopped folding themselves, he made out fractions of conversation.


    ¡°¡ªere¡¯s the wine back¡ª¡±


    ¡°¡ªyour quarters¡ª¡±


    ¡°¡ªnot like to happen¡ª¡±


    He was forced to stand and walk. When he did, Vance was watching from outside her cabin, her tall form bathed in the glowing sail light.


    ¡°See you on the morrow,¡± she said, rubbing the broken lock on her door.


    Isaac was taken below deck. The process involved more dragging than walking, and every breath Zaria gave seemed to have a curse. He passed the turn that lead to his hammock. All his protests were yanked and hissed into silence. There was a flurry of bulkheads, the ripe smell of the privy, the dull iron of cannonball mounds, crewmen on watch looming from shadow.


    He was in a dark room. He was shoved onto a mattress that was as thick as a puddle. After some curses and fumbling, a hanging lantern was lit, still dripping salt water.


    Zaria was already shrugging off her top¡ªcoat, vest and shirt. She was doing it with such force that they barely survived the process.


    ¡°Is this your cabin?¡± Isaac asked.


    It was little more than a shed. Her bunk was the only furniture, and it was just long enough that she could lie down without bending her knees. The sea was close, pounding loudly against the planks, and there was a constant salty dew on every surface.


    Zaria unclasped her brassiere. Isaac blinked at the sight of her breasts. Muscle, fur, scars, two pink¡ª


    She shoved a tankard at him. ¡°Drink the water.¡±


    ¡°There they are!¡±


    She slapped his hand away. ¡°Drink the fucking water.¡±


    ¡°There they are!¡±


    She made him drink. Some groping was allowed. He downed enough water to wash the taste of vomit from his mouth, and only managed a few breaths before she was demanding more. By the end, his stomach was full again, and some small clarity had returned.


    She grabbed him. He was dragged down to her mattress. The world became a dizzy mixture of fur and motion. All resistance was met with force, and every curse was met with laughter.


    When things settled again, or near enough with the rocking of the ship, she was on her back, he was lying on top of her, and his face was buried in the fur of her chest. It was a very pleasant surprise. Everything came second nature, then¡ªher smell, the heat of her body, the feeling of her hands. . . .


    ¡°Fun¡¯s over,¡± she said. ¡°Lie still.¡±


    He tried to push himself up, but her hands were on his back, keeping him pinned. Down below, the backs of her knees were locked against his.


    ¡°So help your furless arse,¡± Zaria said, ¡°you¡¯re sleeping here or the planks. Make a choice.¡±


    He fell back into her fur. His world became scent and fluff. ¡°Is this a bribe?¡±


    ¡°Aye. I¡¯m buyin¡¯ your compliance.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re a foul temptress.¡±


    ¡°And you best point that thing somewhere else.¡±


    He blinked. Then, he shifted his hips. ¡°Sorry.¡±


    ¡°He¡¯s a good friend,¡± Zaria said, ¡°but he¡¯s sleeping indoors tonight.¡±


    ¡°Oh, how he misses his sheath.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not your sheath! You¡¯re my bouncin¡¯ rod!¡±


    He snickered. She growled. After further prompting, he relaxed on top of her, burying his cheek into her chest. Hands began to scratch his back. There came a contented sigh, blowing out with the waves.


    But soon everything was spinning¡ªif he closed his eyes, the bed became a centrifuge, and the nausea grew strong again. When he kept his eyes open, he could see the lantern over a spotted carpet of fur, swaying on its hook and dripping with dew. He felt her breath on his hair. It kept him centered.


    After a while, her hands stopped scratching. There were small intakes of breath, as if she was taking several attempts to speak.


    ¡°So,¡± Zaria said, drawing the word out. ¡°Quite some shouting you did back there.¡±


    Isaac¡¯s grunt was affirmative.


    ¡°Them words all left you now, have they?¡±


    He rubbed his cheek through fur. The grunt was more affirmative.


    ¡°Isaac. You shouldn¡¯t have. . . .¡±


    Her sigh blew through his hair. Isaac felt a small stab of clarity.


    ¡°Shouldn¡¯t have done that,¡± Zaria said. ¡°You should¡¯ve signed the contract.¡±


    ¡°Should¡¯ve slapped her.¡±


    ¡°No, squire, look¡ª¡±


    ¡°The fucking nerve¡ª¡±


    ¡°Isaac. On the morrow, I¡¯m going back to her, and I¡¯ll do my damndest to beg for a new one. If she pens it, you¡¯re signing.¡±


    He blew a fat raspberry.


    ¡°I¡¯ll fucking puppet your hand, if need be.¡±


    ¡°Can you even spell my name?¡±


    ¡°Isaac,¡± she said, voice hard and firm. ¡°You need to sign it. She¡¯s right. It¡¯s the only chance you¡¯re ever gonna have to. . . .¡± There was another sigh. ¡°You can go back again. This is your only chance to return.¡±


    He burrowed his cheek into her chest. ¡°I¡¯d rather die than go back.¡±


    ¡°Oh, you¡¯d rather be stranded on some foreign island, instead?¡±


    ¡°With you,¡± he said. ¡°I¡¯m being stranded with you.¡±


    ¡°Do you know the language? Do you got any idea of the terrain, the cities, how many bandits line the roads? Do you even know the name of this place?¡±


    ¡°Do you?¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s not the point.¡±


    ¡°Isn¡¯t it? How¡¯re you gonna survive there?¡±


    ¡°I dunno,¡± Zaria said. ¡°I¡¯ll figure it out.¡±


    ¡°We¡¯re figuring it out together.¡±


    ¡°No, you stupid cunt. I survived the street. I survived the pirate life. I¡¯ll manage this, like I always have. You¡ª¡±


    ¡°You need my help,¡± Isaac said. ¡°You need my magic, you need my reading, you need¡ª¡±


    Her hands pressed on his back. ¡°I need you to sign this. All those things you got can be put to better purpose. You realize that? I mean, what do I got to offer? Slinging a rope, swinging a sword? World¡¯s full of them sorts. I ain¡¯t special. You are. You¡¯ve got a chance to be in the fucking history books. They¡¯ll speaking your name for centuries to come.¡±


    Isaac felt sick again. He had to stare at the lantern. Watch the droplets fall.


    ¡°Circumnavigation,¡± Zaria said. ¡°First expedition to clear the globe. You¡¯ll be inking the maps, making diplomacy, hauling trade, you¡¯ll be collecting all these monsters and going to all these places and it¡¯s just¡ªit¡¯s right there. You can have it. You can live something even beyond your dreams.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t care,¡± Isaac said. ¡°I¡¯m coming with you.¡±


    ¡°Well, I¡¯ll fucking care, if you don¡¯t. I¡¯m not letting you throw your life away for me. I¡¯m just¡ª¡± Her breath came through his hair. ¡°I¡¯m just street trash, love. I was never meant for greatness. Never had hope for it. I¡¯m fine this way. It¡¯s expected. I¡¯m not . . . I¡¯m not worth this.¡±


    Isaac slid his hands beneath her back, rubbing the muscle. ¡°Yes, you are.¡±


    ¡°No.¡± Her chest was hitching. ¡°No, I¡¯m not. Don¡¯t do this. Please. You don¡¯t know what you¡¯re throwing away. You can have more than I¡¯ll ever offer.¡±


    ¡°Z,¡± he said. ¡°I don¡¯t care.¡±


    ¡°You need to care. This ain¡¯t right. You need to¡ª¡±


    ¡°Z. I don¡¯t care. You know? I¡¯ve always. . . .¡±


    He laid there for a moment, his cheek rising with the breath of her chest. The lantern swayed with the sea. The air was salty, and his mouth was dry.


    ¡°I¡¯ve always cared,¡± Isaac said. ¡°Every decision I¡¯ve ever made. It¡¯s always¡ªwhat if this is wrong, and what will others think, and I¡¯m just not good enough, and. . . .¡± He swallowed. ¡°I¡¯m always second guessing myself. I never feel like I know what the right decision is.¡±


    He took a deep breath. Her scent pierced through the haze.


    ¡°I keep thinking that my uncle¡¯s ruined me. I¡¯ll just be scared the rest of my life, always fretting over everything I do.¡±


    He tightened his arms, pulling himself against her.


    ¡°I¡¯m not scared now. I don¡¯t care about the contract¡ªadventure, posterity, whatever. If it¡¯s a choice between you and everything else, then I¡¯m picking you. It¡¯s that simple. For the first time, it¡¯s exactly that simple.¡±


    A smile emerged, completely on its own.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know what I¡¯m gonna do with my life,¡± Isaac said. ¡°All I know is that I want you to be there with me. That¡¯s all that matters.¡±


    There was a long pause. Suddenly, her breathing turned ragged. When Isaac pushed himself up, she was trying to wipe the tears from her eye.


    ¡°I thought it was happening,¡± she said. ¡°I thought you were finally gonna leave me for better.¡± She breathed, ears folding flat. ¡°It¡¯s just what happens. People stab your back whenever they can. Everyone does it. They¡¯ll take the chance, if it¡¯s there. For a second, I was certain that you . . . even you. . . .¡±


    ¡°Oh,¡± Isaac said, breaking out into a grin. ¡°Is my knight losing her grace?¡±


    She tried to smile back. The tears kept coming.


    ¡°Actually, I don¡¯t think you¡¯re my knight at all. She¡¯s always so gallant and strong. You can¡¯t be her, surely.¡±


    She turned away, furiously rubbing her eye. He wrapped a gentle hand around her muzzle, coaxing her back.


    ¡°Maybe you¡¯re right. I should go serve a different knight, instead. Clearly, you¡¯re not up to the task.¡±


    ¡°Shut up. Shut your fucking mouth, squire.¡±


    She kissed him. It was barely less than a bite. Fur and teeth assaulted his lips, clearly not designed for the task. Hot breath filled the salty air, and her tongue barreled against his own, wrestling him down before he could mount a defense. Both of them became desperate for leverage. A hand grabbed his chin, an arm balanced on the mattress, there was a war erupting between their tongues, and he had to use all his strength to keep himself lifted while she pressed the attack.


    She dipped down, dragging her tongue along the length of his throat. He took the chance to breathe. When she reached the nape of his neck, the nibbling began, her incisors gently pinching the flesh, and the hand he was rubbing through her mohawk began to go slack. His shuddering breath only encouraged her. There was a flurry of licks, each one longer than the last, and, whenever her tongue moved to a different spot, the thick fur of her neck always followed, rubbing along the slick, steaming skin.


    She attacked his clothes. He rose to his hands and knees, trying to gain leverage. Every movement he made forced a brief loss of contact. Every time, it made her growl. He went from a crawling position to kneeling back on his haunches, and, as her onslaught continued, he was tilted back further and further until he lost his balance completely. Instead of the thin mattress, he fell against the cold, damp wood of her cabin wall. By then, only his undershirt remained, and she was already using the chance to strip him of his pants. His belt buckle glinted in the lantern light. It was still glinting when it was thrown against the opposite wall.


    Zaria stood off the mattress. Her pants hit the planks. Right then, she wore nothing but the light of the lantern, and Isaac could not decide where his gaze should settle¡ªthe spotted fur, the curve of her hips, the slope of her breasts, the muscles, the scars, the thin hint of pink already glistening between her legs.


    ¡°Take it off,¡± she said.


    ¡°You¡¯re beautiful.¡±


    ¡°Take it off.¡±


    He removed the last of his clothes. She rushed for him.


    The thin mattress did not cushion the impact¡ªhe felt more wood than cloth as she sunk her weight down on him, and he felt even more wood when his back was pressed to the wall. She had a plan, clearly, but she spent more time kissing him then following it, and every shift of position only came gradually. They developed a pattern¡ªlick, breath, move. A kiss, a grab, a turn. By the end, Isaac was sitting cross-legged, Zaria was hovering above him, and she was rubbing the head of his cock through the slick creases of her cunt, trying to reach the appropriate angle. Both of them felt it when she did.


    Their foreheads pressed together. She was gazing into his eyes as he entered her.


    A wave crashed against the hull, burying the sound of their gasping breaths. Her descent came slow enough that Isaac felt every bump and fold of her inner walls. She was slick, tight, burning hot. Every trace of the wine seemed to vanish from his mind. There was nothing but her scent, her breath, her grip tightening on his shoulders, the weight of her fuzzy thighs sinking into his lap.


    When he was fully hilted, they kissed again. She shifted her legs, wrapping her calves were around the small of his back. Her arms pressed him into a hug, one that encompassed the breadth of their bodies. With her breasts on his shoulders, and his face in her chest, it felt as if there was no part of them that was not in contact with the other.


    She began to rock back and forth. The penetration barely changed, the heavy weight of her thighs never quite left his lap, but every motion earned a hitch in his breath and a whine from her chest. She never changed the pace. It remained slow, firm, and steady.


    ¡°Do the¡ª¡±


    He pulled back just enough to take her nipple in his mouth. A sharp breath blew through his hair. As he tugged and licked, her hands roamed along his back, seeking for a place to grip. She settled on kneading her fingers through his hair. The shift in attention only barely slowed the rocking of her hips, and he felt her walls contract as he worked her breast. Every reaction he sought to earn was received in ample supply.


    ¡°My squire.¡±


    She pushed him back. He only had a second to glimpse her face before it was bending down to kiss him. The contact rapidly devolved into licks. He was forced to close his eyes against the long, heavy drags of her tongue. Soon, the wetness on his face was more saliva than sweat, and every attempt he made to pull away only earned a growl and a tighter grip.


    ¡°My squire.¡±


    She kept licking. He continued to resist, more playfully than not.


    Down below, their point of connection had turned sopping wet. As her fur ran across his thighs, it left streaks of their emissions. Every sensation came together as one¡ªher lips brushing against his groin, her walls gripping him like a fist, all the heat and wetness almost making him forgot the growing ache in his legs. She was sitting heavy in his lap, keeping him buried as deep as he could go, and, with her legs and arms wrapped tightly around him, he did not think that he could pull away, even if he wanted to.


    A whine came from deep in her chest. When he looked, she was crying again, wiping her face until the clasp of her eyepatch came undone. Her other eye blinked open, the iris milky white. She blinked it shut, turning her head away as the whine was buried under the crash of a wave.


    Isaac reached for her face, taking her cheek in his palm.


    ¡°Fine. I¡¯m fine.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re beautiful.¡±


    ¡°Shut up. Stop.¡±


    He used his hand to coax her head down. When it was in reach, he kissed her eye. Slowly, he began to kiss his way around the rest of her facial scars. Her tears broke through again, and she buried her face in the crook of his shoulder.


    ¡°Just a thief,¡± she said. ¡°Just a thief.¡±


    His other hand found its way to hers. ¡°I know. You¡¯ve stolen my heart.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s awful, Isaac.¡±


    ¡°Oh, you deserve worse.¡±


    She laughed, hooking her chin against his shoulder. With their hands still entwined together, she sent their arms on a journey down her body¡ªthrough the valley of her breasts, the furry grassland of her abdomen, and, finally, the sodden heat of her thighs. She pressed his hand to the hood of her sex, and Isaac did not dally with the task. His fingers rubbed around her nub, kneading her lips in circling motions. The rocking of her hips began to falter. There was a sharp breath, a tightening grip.


    ¡°Don¡¯t stop.¡±


    ¡°Is that my knight¡¯s command?¡±


    He felt the growl travel through his body. Her chin left his shoulder, and, as she rose to her full height again, his head was forced between her breasts. There was no effort required to keep him there.


    ¡°That¡¯s my squire,¡± she said, now fucking his hand as much as his cock. ¡°That¡¯s my¡ª¡±


    The ship lurched with a wave, perfectly timed with a stroke. He had never been deeper before.


    ¡°My squire.¡±


    His hair was a mess of hot breath and kneading fingers.


    ¡°My¡ªoh¡ª¡±


    A wet, burning friction. The rocking came faster.


    ¡°Oh, Isaac.¡±


    His arm wrapped around her waist. Her arm wrapped around his shoulders. Their hands were still together, down below.


    ¡°Isaac.¡±


    His face buried deep, an entire world of warmth and fur and smell.


    ¡°Hey.¡±


    ¡°Z.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m¡ª¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡±


    ¡°Hm?¡±


    ¡°Hm.¡±


    ¡°Hm!¡±


    It was all she needed to hear. The rocking came even faster. She bent down, hooking her snout against his head.


    There was a growing pressure. Isaac had almost forgotten that this would happen.


    There were hot breaths. Hot skin. A burning heat between them.


    Cold, salty air, dripping from wood and lantern.


    Hands together, searching for grip.


    Fur and scars and warmth.


    Her voice. Her smell.


    Her.


    They came together, every contraction of his cock receiving a similar response in kind, and their bodies were already entwined to the point that, when the waves of pleasure surged through them, they had nothing to do but tighten their grips, breathe as one, gasp and moan and shake until it was hard to tell one voice from another. Isaac felt like he¡¯d spent his soul inside of her. When the sensations began to retreat, they left behind a euphoria that spread through every vein of his body, a feeling of contentment that left all his muscles tingling and warm.


    Neither of them moved. The lantern was growing dim, a wave pounded against the hull, and it was fairly obvious that her mattress had been soaked to ruin, but, still, they held on to each other, breathing deep and long. Nothing but their touch seemed to matter.


    Isaac was the first to break the spell. He rubbed his cheek through her chest, relishing the fur and breathing deeply of her scent, and, in a quiet voice, he said: ¡°I love you.¡±


    She stiffened, pulling slightly away. A stab of fear went through his heart. All the old worries came flooding into his mind. Was that the right thing to say? Was it too soon? All this time, had his feelings not¡ª


    Her hands came away¡ªone from his back, one from her thighs. When they returned, they held his face in their palms, the pads soft and the claws applying gentle pressure. He looked up, and she was already coming down to kiss him.


    She had no lips, her nose was cold, and Isaac was very aware that one of her hands was wet, but, right then, he could not have imagined a better kiss in all the world.


    When Zaria pulled back, her old grin had already returned.


    ¡°I love you, too, squire.¡±