《To Kill A God》


 Black Sands

    Into the black dessert, the scarred man walks, and with him, death lingered over. Step by step, the man ushered himself to move forward. Sharp winds kept on blowing black sand into his sunburnt face. He covered his eyes, preventing the grains from blinding him. His naked feet burned from the baked sand. Sweat no longer trickled his skin for it was dried by the hot wind. He tried to look up ahead. All he could see was a sea of black particles surrounding him. The sky was no better. There was nothing to see except for the golden sun that was slowly melting him away.


    He continued his path, his legs carrying on despite cramping several times. Here and there, he would often pass by big blocks of stone buried in the sand. They were his only companion. He would often rest beside them, hiding in their shadows. They, after all, provide a limited space of shield from the sun.


    After wandering for some time he came upon a corpse. It seems that the vultures already made work of it for there was nothing left except the bones. This unfortunate fellow was even robbed of its rotten scent. He went to it with unhurried steps, taking his time. It wasn''t that he wanted to go slow. Every muscle on his body was already protesting for water.


    He stooped low to the corpse. A tiny spark of hope lit up inside his heart. He knew that the chances of finding a canteen filled with water were low. Nevertheless, he could not help hoping for it. He started rummaging the sack nearby.


    Instead of water, several gems and pieces of jewelry peaked in the sack.


    He looked at the corpse, studying the whole thing.


    Must''ve been a bandit. A dumb one at that. Nobody uses this route to escape.If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.


    He searched the corpse thoroughly until he found a canteen. Licking his chapped lips with anticipation, he took it. The light weight of the canteen disappointed him the most. It contained nothing but dust.


    Death''s playing with his food


    He kept the canteen for later use. Out of habit, he also kept the sack of jewelry.


    Might need them later after all. Maybe I could bribe God?


    The dry wind kept pounding at him as the sun continues to move westward. Sometimes he would see what he thought of as an oasis, only to find nothing. It was the so-called desert mirages that mother nature cruelly played. By sunset, he couldn''t walk anymore. He collapsed face forward. In the distance, a sandstorm was brewing. He quickly looked for a tall slope but didn''t find any. Instead, he found a broken pillar. Marked with intricate designs, it stood there, a piece of what once must have been a great temple. Summoning all his last strength, he crawled towards it. The howling sandstorm can be heard approaching closer. He tried to snake his way himself behind the pillar but failed as his last ounce of strength left him. The sizzling sand burned his cheeks. Giving up, he ignored it and closed his eyes.


    Looking back in his past, many people wanted him dead. He spent his whole life making too many enemies instead of friends. If fate had been kinder, he would rather spend his life back in the faraway lands of the south. Unlike this desert hell hole where nothing grows, the south was prosperous.


    He pictured himself tilling lands while watching his children play tag in the sunset. His wife would probably be in their shack, cooking dinner. Every night he would lie in bed, tired from all the labor he did. But that wouldn''t matter. The warm body of his wife would heal his aching back. When morning comes, the fresh breeze of the southern mountains would greet him.


    Not a bad life at all.


    Unfortunately for him, his luck was shit from the start. He could not help but feel a tinge of anger towards the gods for giving him this life. Feeling bitter for himself, he continued resting his head. Death was soon coming for him. All he had to do was wait.

 the third plane

    He opened his eyes. The first thing he saw was the star glazed night sky. Many different stars were racing in the dusk colored canvas. They slowly drop, like the dew in the mountain grass every morning, forever chasing each other. Though some differ in size, all of them sparkle just the same.


    Gone was the rough texture of sand. It was replaced by the feel of water. He was lying in some kind of lake. His movements disturbed the stillness of it. The lake acted as a mirror to the beautiful face of the sky above, making it look like there were stars below too.


    He didn''t know how long he was lying there nor how he was floating in a lake. The sky was far too mesmerizing for him to care. Needless to say, he lost track of time. He was startled by the sound of a boat paddling towards him. A figure of a person rowing can be seen.


    "Eshikel," the stranger softly called.


    Up close, Eshikel can see that the man was all bones. He was clad in a black robe. Flesh was stripped of him. The only thing that seemed alive of the man was the inside of his skull which was radiating fire. With a bony hand gripping the paddle, the man approached him.


    It seems that he was meeting Death.


    He slowly stood up to meet him. He had no idea how he was walking in water. All he knew was that his bare feet refused to sink.


    "Where am I?"


    "In the third plane," Death replied.


    He motioned him to come aboard the boat. Eshikel complied and sat on the opposite side, taking care not to rock the small boat. Death started rowing again. Gentle waves rippled in the lake as they cut their way into the water. Together, they watched the falling stars dance in the sky. Despite Death''s terrifying appearance, his scent was that of a beetlegrass. The minty scent soothed both Eshikel''s tired soul and body. He let it wash away his worries for now.


    "Beautiful isn''t it?" Death said.


    "It is."


    "It''s from my wife."


    "Your wife?"


    "Yes, she made those stars for me."


    His scent changed to that of a sunflower. The calmness that was in Eshikel''s heart a moment ago shifted towards a warmer feeling. This scent reminded him of the sunsets he always watched on the top of the mountains. He remembered the clear skies that always domed his small little world. There, he spent most of his childhood peacefully. Free-spirited, carefree and most importantly, untroubled by the tides of war.


    Silence passed while he reminisced those days. The misty bite of the dusk wind whisked Death''s robe into a flutter. Eshikel collected his thoughts. There were many questions he wanted to ask him but he decided to ask the most important things first.A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.


    "My family, are they here?"


    "Yes, they weren''t marked."


    Relief flooded his heart upon hearing that. The gnawing emptiness inside him subsided a little knowing that his loved ones were in a paradise.


    "Then why am I here, I''m marked," he asked.


    Death looked beyond the far line of the lake as if there was something behind those distances.


    "Have you ever heard of the living God? He is known by many names."


    "Yes."


    How could he not know? He conquered almost all the land familiar to man.


    "I need you to stop him." He kept on rowing.


    "Huh?"


    "I summoned you here to stop the fake God. Why?"


    Death turned around to face him.


    "Because scums like him are learning how to devour a soul."


    Death, with that bare face of his, couldn''t frown yet from the tone of his voice, Eshikel could feel a certain coldness leak out of it. His scent, like earlier, changed from the fragrance of the prairies to the snowy pines of the tundras in the north. His emotions also changed. Memories of his bloody past flooded him. He remembered particularly the feeling of warm blood on his hands and the cold glare of his wife''s corpse.


    He clenched his jaw.


    Numb your heart


    It was a phrase that he always repeats whenever he can''t control his emotions. He had his revenge yet he still felt that empty feeling of dissatisfaction.


    "Oh, pardon me child."


    The icy scent that Death emitted was soon gone. It was back to the calmness of the beetlegrass. The anger that chewed him also vanished, leaving him with a clearer mind.


    Death continued. "If a soul is devoured, it wouldn''t be able to go here. My children down there would suffer."


    Eshikel got the gist of it. If God says it''s a threat, even he would be wary. There was one more thing bugging him. Of all the people Death could''ve chosen, why him? He was a sinner. His cursed mark was proof of that. What once was a clean soul was tainted by his petty revenge.


    "You wanted a second life. Here I am." Death waved his hands towards himself. "I can remove the curse if you succeed. This is your chance."


    Death turned around and faced him.


    "Will you take it?"


    "How will I kill a God?"


    "Make him human again. Find the ownerless things that made him a God. Piece him back together and he will be vulnerable."


    "I don''t understand."


    Eshikel was confused. There were many things that didn''t make sense. But this was God.


    Of course it wouldn''t make sense.


    "Child, do not confuse yourself. You will understand when the time comes. I cannot keep your soul here much longer."


    Eshikel mused A second life was what he wanted. Although he wasn''t expecting something like a bargain from Death himself, he couldn''t pass off this last thread to life.


    "I''ll do it," he said while staring at the empty skull of Death.


    As impossible it might seem, a chance to live was better than rotting in the middle plane.


    "What about my sanity? How long will it stay?" Eshikel said. Based on his experiences, an undead lasts only a month.


    "I do not know for nothing in this world is certain. Everything is odd."


    Before he could ask further questions Death stopped rowing. "Travel west to the crooked tower. Ask for the magi Rowan."


    He patted Eshikel''s head. "Go now. Tanja cheers for you"


    "Tell her I love her."


    "I will."


    He asked Eshikel to step out of the boat. Just as Eshikel was expecting his feet to float, the water swallowed him down. His body continuously sank deeper and deeper in the lake, as if someone was pulling him. He wasn''t drowning. He didn''t even feel the need to breathe. The light of the stars becomes dimmer until he was covered in pitch-black darkness. A few moments passed and without knowing it, he slipped out of consciousness, forever sinking into bottomless waters.

 Westward

    The sandy grains hugging his cheeks were back. This time, he was buried in it. He stood up, shook off the sand and dusted his whole body. Normally the grating roughness of the sand would have irked him by now, but even though it was in every corner of his body, he felt nothing. He didn''t even feel his own touch.


    Odd.


    Looking around, what once was a golden sky is now covered in night''s blanket. Although the stars weren''t as magical as the one in the third plane, it was still an exquisite view. There was Kila the northern star that''s burning brightly, guiding travelers to the true north. Besides her were her three little siblings Kailo, Kimo, and Kaimo. Even stars had families in the constellation riddled skies.


    Westward then.


    He finally began his journey, traveling into the vast black desert without stopping. No sane human would dare travel this way, but he wasn''t human anymore. He was an undead, accursed to walk the land of the living. At least he''s still thinking. Soon enough he might go hollow just like what happens to the rest of them.


    Let''s not think about that.


    He let muses sprout in his thoughts to fight off boredom. Sometimes he would simply sit down and watch the deadness of the dry wind as it tries to carry the black grains, often comparing it to his past deeds.


    For three days he wandered the unfamiliar sands. The farther he goes, the healthier the sand becomes. From black, it slowly changes to golden brown. Throughout this time, he witnessed the lifeless desert transform into something that houses life. Here and there were Sandweeds, tough as ever. He even stepped on a Kravanian viper hiding under the sheets of sand. On the fourth morning, he came upon an oasis. Up in the distance there appeared many tents near it. Big enough to rival a southern village. Their location was well hidden, placed behind tall sand dunes. He crouched, fearing that someone would spot him. They wouldn''t welcome him with flowers and hospitality anyway. An undead is not exactly a wanted visitor. People often treat them as a calamity they have to live by. Sandstorms form, people shit, and undead rise. He snuck his way through the cover of the old stones. Even in these parts, several stone ruins remain. After listening for a few moments, it became apparent that this tribe was particularly quiet.You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.


    Too quiet.


    The busy bustling of the families one would usually hear wasn''t present. He decided to check the tents near him.


    Empty.


    Everything was a mess. The whole chests are ransacked, tables and chairs were flipped, and several shattered clay pots were spread out on the floor. He went out and checked the next tent only to find the same scene. After checking the whole settlement, he found nobody.


    Probably raided by slavers.


    Such was the desert life. You either die thirsty or die as a slave.


    Just as he was about to leave he heard a faint whimper. He looked around and strained his ears. The sound was coming from a barrel hidden behind a large protruding stone just beside a small tent. He went there and lifted the cover. A bolt then found its mark on his head. It struck his eye dead clean. He moved back on instinct even though it didn''t hurt. There in front of him were two boys peeking on the cover. The eldest child was holding a crossbow, winding it up again for another shot. Eshikel dashed with speed, his dead muscles springing to life. No longer bound by the limits of a human, his strength was enhanced. He grabbed the crossbow and yanked it upwards, avoiding another shot. The kid struggled to keep his grip on the handle. He did all he could, even wrapping his whole body in Eshikel''s arm. He tried grappling his way out but Eshikel was stronger. He pried the kid out of his arm, maintaining his grip on the crossbow. The kid soon gave up. He ran and picked up his little brother.


    "Wait, don''t move!" Eshikel shouted.


    The kids kept on running. Eshikel winded the crossbow. He aimed and shot an arrow just in front of them. A warning that the next one might land on their skulls. Both stopped on their tracks, frozen by the glint of the arrowhead. The eldest taking action shielded his younger brother.


    "Don''t move. I''m not gonna hurt you."


    The two were a mess. Their faces covered with sand and grime. He also noticed what the two wore. A  matching blue silken robe with patterns and symbols of different pine trees. It was also adorned by different hues of blue dye. Silk was hard to come by in a dessert.


    Must be from the south. Only big shots and chiefs can afford those.


    "Where''d the slavers took ''em?"


    The two stood there saying nothing. Their shirts were bright but their faces weren''t. Eshikel knew that look. He also wore it several years ago.


    A mix of sorrow and rage, a feisty one at that.


    "Tell me where?"


    "Why''d you wanna know!"


    The eldest shouted, clearly enraged. Raw emotions that he had bottled inside was spilling and with it comes his tears, desperately clinging on to his eyes.


    Because you look pathetic like me.


    "I''m actually going westward. If they took em'' there then... I might just be able to do something about it."


    "They went north," the boy spouted bitterly


    "Splendid! North it is then", Eshikel smiled.


    He threw them the loaded crossbow and began to walk back into the tents to scavenge what was left.


    "Let''s go. We have a lot of ground to cover".

 A most treasured memory

    The year 909, the start of the warring period in all five states. A younger Eshikel was playing in the woods. Just like how other children look at the world, his eyes had a lens of curiosity. He was and had always been observing the things around him. Every leaf was just as interesting as the one he saw yesterday. Whether it was a newly bud leaf or a browning one, all were shown with the same fascination that he poured on to other things. It was his hobby, a job even, to spend the day exploring this mysterious hunk of green mountain. Sometimes he would look unto the setting sun and wonder what''s beyond. Today, however, was different. It was the first full moon of this year''s spring. The village of Mumadon was getting ready for a feast. The season''s harvests were abundant and they plan to thank Mother Vita, the Goddess of life.


    Eshikel was watching a caterpillar snack through the leaves when a familiar voice echoed in the forest bed.


    "Eshikel! Eshikel!"


    Mother is calling. I should go back


    He sprinted all the way back home, enjoying the feeling of the fresh wind. Dusk was coming and the fragrance of the Nightviolets was starting to spread, attracting the crickets into its carnivorous mouth.


    "Eshikel!" another shout was heard.


    "Coming Ma!"


    He passed through the forest until he got out into a clearing. There he saw the familiar scene of his village. He had seen it almost a hundred times. The bamboo shacks that made up the majority of the village, the busy market square full of stalls with vendors, and of course their very own house. All of this enclosed in a wooden fence that keeps the wolves away. The sight wouldn''t be complete without the figure of Ma yelling at their front door.


    Little did young Eshikel knew that this would become one of his most treasured memories. For one never truly realizes the value of something once lost.


    He ran up to his home. Later on, after the sun sets, they would go into the bonfire set up near the village plains. There everyone would start dancing the Ikling, a two partnered dance in honor of Mother Vita. He was still too young to participate for he has only survived 7 winters. "To be old enough is to learn how to hunt", as old man Juri would''ve said.This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it


    The thing is, he doesn''t want to hunt. He would rather be a farmer, like his Da. There''s a difference between a jumping rabbit and a dead one. He had to learn that the gruesome way. One time, he was sneaking up on a rabbit. it looked for something to eat, oblivious that it was being followed. An hour passed and he found himself hiding in a bush. Suddenly, a black wolf pounced on the rabbit. It locked its jaw on the rabbit''s neck, shaking it violently. It fought back, struggling to escape but to no avail. Eshikel watched the rabbit slowly go limp. He saw the very moment life left the rabbit''s eyes. And that terrified him. Even more so, to be the one that cuts that fragile thread of life.


    Of course, he hasn''t told anyone that experience except for his parents, in fear that they would think he''s a coward. He''s already being teased by the Manroy brothers, giving them another reason wouldn''t help.


    "By the true Gods, I told you to stay clean!" his mother bellowed to him.


    "Its just dirt Ma, I''ll wash my face later."


    "Eat first! Here dinner''s almost ready. Da''s getting some carrots for the broth."


    Eshikel removed his sandals and wiped his feet with a wet cloth. A clean home is a happy home, as his mom taught him. Even inside, the cool air circulates through the gaps of the bamboo hut. The village, after all, prided themselves with their bamboo craftsmanship.


    He picked up the red cloth and made the table. Finally, after waiting for some time, Eshikel''s father came. He brought with him his vegetables that were harvested today. They ate conservatively, saving space for the festival foods that will be shared later.


    "Da, are you dancing again tonight?"


    "No, I''ll be tending the fire. Why?"


    Eshikel chewed his food and thoughts slowly, carefully choosing his next words.


    "Well if you''re not there then who will Ma dance with?"


    Yohan smiled, recognizing the intent of his sly child.


    "Hmmm, who could possibly replace me? I''m sure your mother would be lonely," Yohan looked at Mirna


    "I could do it!" Eshikel blurted, clearly excited.


    "Do you know how?"


    "Of course! I always watch you do it."


    "Then show me how."


    Eshikel stopped eating and suddenly stood up. He then performed his version of the Ikling. He was mimicking the motion of a farmer tilling the soil all while following the imaginary Six stringed Kurdau playing inside his head.


    "Not bad, but I think I ought to teach my son how to do a decent one. Mind joining me Mirna?"


    Soon enough, Yohan and Mirna joined him in the dance until the broth that they so much wanted, cooled down.

 Journey to a rumored city

    If there were traces of human or camel footprints, they were nowhere to be found. Eshikel couldn''t track any footsteps for the desert wind blew it away. He chose to go north anyway because he heard from merchants that there was a great city lying in the savannah. And slavers usually want a big market.


    He looked into the setting sun and saw the wind brush against the two brothers.


    Must be getting cold for them.


    He dropped off his enormous bag. If one could call it a bag. In truth, it was only a big cloth, smartly folded to carry as much as possible. Bringing it was an easy feat for him.


    He shuffled through their supplies and prepared a makeshift tent for them. He also brought the wood they scavenged in the village, making a fire pit that they could cook the snake he hunted a while ago.


    "Your parents marked?" he asked the two brothers while prepping things.


    They didn''t answer. They have been quiet the whole journey. He would tend to their needs and they would eat what he provided, but other than that they remained silent.


    He tended the kindling campfire. It was the only source of warmth in this cold desert night. The two were huddled closely.


    He tried again. "I asked you a question. I need you to answer me."


    Still no answer.


    Stubborn aren''t we?


    Eshikel began gutting and skinning the snake. After a while, the crackle of an emperor viper roasting could be heard. With it comes the growling sound of the stomach of the two brothers. They both eyed the meat with intensity.


    "Swallow your spit boys, this one''s mine," Eshikel said with a smile


    He then took the meat and examined if it''s done.


    "We haven''t eaten yet."


    "Is thas so?"


    Eshikel took the first bite, ripping off a chunk of tough meat. He chewed vigorously, making sure to express how delicious the food is through his face.


    It tastes like air. No, air has more flavor than this.


    He knew that the undead had no longer the sense of taste because of their dead tongue but he was hoping that he''d be an exception.


    The growling sound of the stomach of the two brothers decided to butt in.


    "Tell you what, I''ll give you food if you answer my questions," he said while waving the snake meat in front of them. "How about it?"


    "Ask your question," said the eldest


    "Were your parents marked?"


    "Both of them were."


    Parents are marked. That means they''ll definitely be taken as slaves. So it''s to the great city after all.


    "Really? What''s your name?"


    "Zilloh."


    "And you", he said while pointing to the youngest. "What''s your name?"


    He didn''t answer, instead, he made some hand gestures that Eshikel wasn''t able to understand.


    "He said that his name''s Herod and that he''s mute. He also thanked you for taking care of us", Zilloh said, interpreting Herod''s sign language.


    A mute huh.


    "Here", Eshikel replied, tossing them their food.


    Zilloh caught it and immediately divided it into two. Together they mercilessly attacked the meat.The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.


    "What about you? Do you still remember your name?" Zilloh asked while chewing.


    "Yes, yes I do. I just turned for over a week. Still a long way to go before I go hollow. Hopefully."


    He continued stroking the fire, reflecting on his most likely fate. There was only one path for the undead and that path is to go senile and eventually become hollow. All of his memories, gone.


    "You can call me Eshikel."


    "Eshikel?" Zilloh''s eyes widened. "Are you perhaps the Eshi¡ª"


    "No, I''m not that Eshikel. I''m no king. Just another slave of the desert," he mumbled.


    There were no more questions after that. Eshikel let them eat in silence and bask in the warmth of the firepit.


    "You should get some sleep, don''t worry I''ll keep watch," he said after a while.


    Zilloh lifted the resting head of his little brother from his lap. He carried him inside the tent, grunting because of his full stomach. Today was full of hardships. If there was one thing he was looking forward to, it was the bliss of escaping reality through sleep.


    ***


    It had been at least a week since they left the ransacked village. The supplies they gathered in the village was long gone. Good thing Eshikel knew how to hunt. He set up traps that would yield scorpions or salamanders. But those weren''t enough. The desert could only provide so much.


    Zilloh lifted his canteen, shaking it in an attempt to wet his dry tongue. Only a few droplets of water made it in his mouth. He tapped it, hoping that there was more water hiding in it.


    "No matter how hard you choke that canteen, it not going to magically piss water."


    Eshikel continued walking.


    "Then what do you suppose I fucking do?"


    "Drop the profanities and bear with it in the meantime."


    Eshikel observed the state of the two. They were no better. Compared to when he first saw them, they were far skinnier now. Sunken cheeks, defined collarbones, and a thinner frame doesn''t suit them.


    They''ll last only until today. If this keeps going, they''ll die of thirst and there''s nothing I can do. This desert''s drier than old Jenson''s wife.


    Eshikel realized that they''ll just have to continue, blindly hoping for a miracle.


    It all changed for the better when Eshikel began seeing some grass. When there''s grass, there''s water and when there''s water, there''s life. That was the ironclad rule of farming. One that Eshikel firmly lived by. He kept on the lookout for any possible source of water. Anything was welcome whether it be trees or an oasis.


    Hell, even a pool of horse piss would do.


    They kept on persevering. They had no choice but to keep on walking forward. It was either that or to drop dead. Zilloh understood the situation and decided to save his energy instead.


    If he can run his mouth then he can still walk. Herod is the one I''m worried about.


    Soon after, they saw some signs of civilization. There were some remains of what seemed to be an old tent. It was blown by strong gusts of wind and only the wooden frames were left. They went to check it and came upon an old well nearby. It was a sheltered one at that, with a makeshift wooden roof covering it from the sun rays. Realizing what it was, the two brothers ran towards it.


    The well was very deep, so deep that they can''t see the bottom of it. Despite the heat, the stone was cool and the darkness inside spreads a sense of freshness, as if it was left untouched by the desert itself.  Herod hurriedly tapped his brother, urging him to drop the bucket hanging at some kind of pulley mechanism attached to the top. Zilloh dropped the bucket and after a few clanks, pulled it back again. Inside the bucket was¡ª nothing. Disappointment showed in their faces. Herod was about to cry when Eshikel stepped in. He patted Herod''s head.


    "You can''t afford to cry. Save that tear, its precious water."


    He then eyed the well, examining if he could fit in it.


    "What are you doing?", Zilloh asked.


    "What else but to get water?"


    "It''s obviously dry."


    "Then I''ll magick it."


    "Don''t kid me, there''s no such thing."


    "Wait and see."


    Eshikel went inside the hole, extending both his arms and feet to prevent himself from falling. He let himself slide downward, slowly scraping his limbs until he reached the bottom. Just like what he expected, the well was pitch black, to the point that he couldn''t even see his own hands. He crouched down and felt up the sand, checking for any moisture.


    "Please be damp," he whispered to the sand.


    Yes! Its¡ª


    He began digging as fast as he could, using only his hands to scoop up the sand. Like a dog playing, he dug up a hole, at least one foot deep. Soon enough, that hole began filling up with muddy water.


    He let out a deep sigh, he has been holding his breath for a long time, exactly two weeks, and this was the first time he let out a breath.


    "Hey toss me that bucket!" he shouted to them.


    No magick needed at all.


    He smiled to himself, they''ve found water at last. It was a rare occurrence, a miracle of the desert maybe, but these things never happened to him when he was still alive. Even in his travels, some sick God would play tricks on him, often fooling him around with mirages.


    Well, that can''t be Father Death then.


    He deduced that if Death can create mirages, he damn sure could kill some random fake God in the middle realm. Otherwise, he wouldn''t be needing his help.


    Or he might just like a little challenge, an entertainment perhaps. Who knows how pretty boring the life of a God is?


    "Hey that bucket!" he shouted again, louder this time.


    There wasn''t any response except for the echoes of his voice.


    They can hear me for sure. Then why? Maybe they...


    He quickly started climbing up, fingers clawing the old clumped sand that was untouched just a few moments ago. He continued, drawing the light closer and closer.


    They might''ve passed out.


    Finally at the top, he hauled his body one last time before getting out. He was expecting to see them lying in the shade of the well. What surprised him the most was that he saw no one.

 Butterflies and Smoke

    One of the most breathtaking creatures that the middle plane offers is the Ramminton Butterfly. Named after Linton, the legendary adventurer that annexed most of the flying organisms. They fly in swarms, flashing their ultramarine wings along any predators that dare risk the wrath of the whole Kaleidoscope. Eshikel watched them surf the cool breeze that was brewed by the trees. He had finished his chores and was allowed to do his daily inspection in the afternoons. His mom had always urged him to play with the other children. But he can''t be bothered with that. He was a busy child after all. At the age of 14 winters, all he did during his spare time was to forage and play in the forest. However, today was different. He wanted to explore the deeper part of the mountains.


    The swarm of Ramminton butterflies circled around the canopy of wildflowers. When there''s a prey, there''s a predator. One of the old hunters taught him that. He crouched to see the life thriving below. Hiding in plain sight were spring spiders, camouflaged with their green skins. Here and there were invisible threads, set up in the most likely flowers that the butterflies will land on. One was caught in the legs. The spider immediately sprung, true to its name, and took the kill.


    It''s a shame really


    He watched as the spider crumples the wings of the dying butterfly. When he was little, he used to forage with his Grandma. She was the one who started the strolls in the forest. Together they observed all of the beautiful masterpieces that Life and Death had created.Unauthorized usage: this tale is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings.


    There was that one afternoon where he saw the same situation. A spider caught a butterfly in its nest. He would always free the butterfly from its deathtrap. Those pretty wings should fly after all. That is until his grandma reprimanded him. She patted his head, her crooked hands pointed at the sight.


    "My dear Eshi," she said smiling, "if you were to pick, which one will you save?"


    "Why the butterfly of course."


    "and why is that?"


    "Because it''s a beautiful insect!"


    "What about the spider?"


    "What about it?"


    "Is it not as beautiful to you as the butterfly?"


    He thought for a moment. When someone says beautiful, one often thinks of the vast prairies, clear lakes or adorable animals. Not one bit did the word spider cross his mind. Hideous would be the right term.


    "What''s so beautiful about it?"


    "All life is beautiful Eshi, even in its own bizarre way," she said sternly. "That spider, brutal as it may be, is an equalizer. It eats other insects such as dart bees and king hornets which, as you may know from experience, is nasty."


    She smiled again.


    He sighed.


    I wish she was still here


    The spider he was watching was now wrapping silk on its victim, saving it for later. He was so absorbed that he didn''t notice the smoke rising in the sky. Nor did he notice the screams of his people, the footsteps of the ambushers or the smell of burning oil. What he did hear was the faint ringing of the village bell. And that''s when he knew something was wrong and began the long run back home.

 Savanna negotiation

    It had been a very bad day for Manis and his goons. They almost had their necks wrung when they raided a desert tribe and failed to get one kid. Their orders from the captain were very clear, "Capture everyone in the tribe". They did capture everyone, except the kid.


    What in hell''s is so special with the kid?


    He had never seen his captain more royally pissed before. Pissed enough to send them reeling back to the tribe, but level headed enough to give them a second chance. The client this time was a big fish. One that would bite back if they failed. The cloaked figure that talked to the captain provided a hefty amount of gold.


    Too much gold for one head I say.


    Not only that, but the figure also included a letter sealed with the insignia of the Kingdom of Almar, a dangerous country armed with the treasures from the fallen tower. Something him and his boys were hesitant to deal with. But greed knows no bounds and his captain was an especially greedy man.


    He touched his pendant made from a falcon beak. Luck was on their side this time. A miraculous event happened occurred when they were sent back to look for the kid. Just a while ago, they found two kids sitting in the shade of an old well.


    "What a luck if that''s them," Silv the lanky man said.


    "Uhuh as if it''s that easy," said Borlus ringing his deep voice. His camel had trouble bringing his brawny built.


    "Who told you to speak baldie?" Silv fired back. Clearly irritated at both the desert heat and his companion.


    "I did, you scrawny little shit. Good thing you''ve your sword with ya. Prevents the wind from sweeping you away."


    "Perfect, you speak of swords. I do wanna test it to a meatbag, now might be the chance."


    "Get off the camel then."


    "No, you get off. Move that fatass. I feel for the camel''s back."


    Suddenly, Manis laughed. Borlus became red, thinking he was being the butt of the joke.


    "Lads, I think we hit the lucky stars," Manis said.


    That stopped both of the two from further bantering. Up ahead they saw what the two kids wore. Matching Azure silken robes, the same as what the captured chieftain wore.


    ***


    Eshikel saw the camel footprints. The two idiots didn''t even scream or struggle for him to hear.


    They could''ve been too weak to shout.


    He clicked his tongue. Based on the footprints there were four camels that passed by, meaning a small group.


    Not slavers then.


    Like wolves, Slavers usually travel in packs. He can think of several plain practical reasons for this. But one stands out the most.


    Fucking cowards.


    He sighed.


    Time to move.


    He followed the track. They weren''t able to go far. Three people were riding with the two kids. None of them looked weak. Zilloh and Herod were squirming in a separate camel, bounded and gagged. He followed them and continued observing. The canopy was beginning to look more of a savanna rather than a desert. Perfect for hiding. Eshikel sneaked about in the tallest bushes he could find. The sound of insects masked his footsteps. He trailed them for a while until they stopped into a nearby lake. The sun was beginning to set and they would need to make camp here.


    The smallest man mounted off and started barking orders.


    "Silv, give them water would ya? If they die, we follow too."


    The tall man called Silv groaned. He proceeded to rummage on his wares and conjure a pot.


    "Borlus you too, get the dry wood. I''ll chop up the game for some stew."


    The three went to work and so did Eshikel. He was trying to plan on how to separate the three.


    They have all they need. Three on one doesn''t sound like a good idea. Separate them then? Take them out one by one. No that wouldn''t work. Maybe they''ll need to take a jiggy sometime. They might, no they will, make a ruckus. Tsk, they''re also armed.Enjoying the story? Show your support by reading it on the official site.


    Eshikel checked his inventory. A cape, some gems, and some cooking supplies were all he had. He didn''t even have the crossbow. He gave that away to the two brothers, which ultimately befell on the hands of the captors.


    Shit.


    He didn''t have a single thing that could help fight them.


    Sneaking off then, while they sleep. Get the camels and the kids and¡ª No that wouldn''t work either you nut brain.


    Eshikel just stayed there, crouching, letting his mind work. The three were now arguing on how to make a fire.


    What can I do then? Wait? I don''t have the time to¡ª


    He watched them boil the water while he mused his idea. He chewed it, played with it until all the other possibilities that could go wrong was gone. By this time, the water was already boiling. Eshikel sneaked off deeper into the wild grass. He''ll come back later. He had time after all.


    ***


    A hint of light from the sun was starting to cascade into the sleeping sky. Eshikel sat nearby, hidden by the bushes and the dim surroundings. He watched the two sleeping slavers while the other one named Borlus sat awake looking at the fire. Eshikel had the urge to sneak off after him but he held himself back.


    Patience Eshikel, Patience.


    All of his efforts would go to waste if he dashed at any random ideas that came upon. He needs them to be awake and relax, not tense from being abruptly awakened.


    When morning finally came and the trio was having breakfast, he decided to approach them. He walked towards the three with a drunken man''s confidence, as if there was nothing wrong with appearing out of nowhere. The three looked at him, surprise showing on their face, then animosity, followed by an intense warning glare that clearly says "stay the fuck off". They fumbled for their weapons.


    "Now gents gents, easy on the swords." He raised his hands. "I mean no harm."


    "Look at this bugger showing his sorry ass in our lot," Silv said pointing his brand new sword at him.


    "Urghhh you reek," Borlus said, covering his nose.


    Eshikel had to admit, he wasn''t exactly the epitome of hygiene. He had ragged clothes all dirtied by dried mud. A few bathless weeks would surely make anyone smell. Although the stench might be coming from his rotting eye.


    "I''ve small patience undead, what do you want?" Manis asked. His eyes straining for any movement.


    "I''ll get straight to the point then. I need directions."


    "Directions? Directions to the afterlife? Only God knows that boy. You and I both know you ain''t going anywhere."


    "No, to the nearest city, sir."


    The three looked at each other, gauging what they thought about the stranger.


    Manis was the first to break the silence. "Alright then". He lowered his sword. And then swung at him. He was quick. The blade cut through Eshikel''s wrist, almost severing it. The others followed. They aimed for his other hand and legs. Eshikel sidestepped. They missed.


    "Wait!" Eshikel shouted, clutching his hanging wrist. "Wait, wait, wait! Calm the fuck down."


    The three continued advancing. They tried circling him but Eshikel kept on backing up.


    "Wait! I can pay you! I can give it if you bring me to the city."


    Manis held his hand up, signaling the other two to withdraw. "Pay us?" He laughed. "By hells what can you pay us?"


    Eshikel grabbed a small bag from his side. He opened it, flashing them the brilliant assorted gems. "I''ll give this, but I need you to take me to the city"


    "We''ll just take it from ya bloody body. Don''t mean to be mean but," Silv said, inching his sword closer. "It''s easier that way"


    "N-No, wait, please. There''s more where that came from, I can tell you where it is"


    "Did he just say ''more''?" Manis asked


    "Is what I heard, boss.", Borlus replied


    "Hmmm, expound your uhh... proposition further. Me and the lads might think it over"


    These backstabbing bitches


    Eshikel feinted a nervous smile, he had trouble unknotting his clenched jaw.


    "I- my master and I were attacked by robbers. We were carrying ornamental stones for some Almarian Noble. I escaped of course. Brought some of the goods with me."


    "Where is it?"


    "Hidden nearby."


    Manis pointed his sword again. "Wrong answer. Where is it?"


    "If you agree to my¡ª"


    "Lookie here lad, you can die now or you can die later. We''ll give you directions, but there''s no way we''ll take you in. You know it yourself, you''re undead. Bad for business."


    "Alright alright, I''ll take what I can."


    "You two guard the kids."


    "I don'' think so boss. Is only fair we see the loot."


    "Damn straight Borlus, good thing you''re thinking now."


    Manis grunted. "Fine both of you can come. You, go on, lead the way."


    They took the bait. Now I''ll just have to lure them in.


    Eshikel started walking towards the dense thicket of the savanna. He took them deeper and deeper until they came upon a freshly dug earth that was sloppily packed. It was covered with some dead golden grasses.


    "Is this it?" Manis asked.


    "Yes. I''ll need to get my shovel." He went behind the three and proceeded to look for it in the bushes. He then kicked Manis sending him forward. Manis tripped unto what was supposedly packed earth. Instead, he fell down into a deep pit. Before the two could draw their swords, Eshikel went for Silv and pushed him. Down he goes with Manis. Borlus charged at Eshikel. He attempted to tackle him. Eshikel fed him a knee, straight to the chin. He heard a thump and the charging Borlus went to sleep.


    Manis shrieked. The pain on his forearms and wrists were starting to sting.


    Eshikel tied down the sleeping Borlus with his improvised rope made from different plant fibers. He looked over the pit, smiling.


    "My my, how''s the treasure gents?"


    Manis gritted his teeth. He held his aching wrist. Something was definitely broken. It was quite a drop he took. The pit was about ten feet deep and he tried to stupidly break the fall with his hands. Silv lay near him, passed out from the concussion. They had no way out. Not with their injuries.


    "Hey! Hey! Let us out you snake bastard!"


    "Give me the directions first, then we''ll talk."


    Manis paused for a moment, trying to come up with threats. "Were marked fucker! Once we die, we''ll hunt you."


    "Not before I burn your corpses."


    Manis went silent. He had no choice. His threats doesn''t sound very convincing, especially since he''s the one in the pit.


    "Go northwest from here, there''s a river there. Takes you straight to the city."


    "You''re slavers aren''t you?"


    Manis bit his lip. "Yes, what else can we be in this godsdamn world then?"


    Satisfied, Eshikel stood up. He threw Manis a sharpened stone.


    Manis looked at it the same way he would look at a pile of shit.


    "What am I supposed to do with this?"


    "Throw it over to your friend when he wakes up." And with that Eshikel left them to fend for their own.

 Rowan the Magus

    The year 870. His Godliness'' year, although the world doesn''t know it yet. A year that will shake the mightiest kingdoms.


    The year a flesh God was born.


    It was the start of fall and all the trees are starting to shed. Rowan trudged through the dry leaves, making them crackle under his leather boots. Dark circles hung on his eyes and his shoulders slumped, both tired from the heavy baggage and the dark news he carries. He looked up at his home. Their home. The crooked tower lies menacingly in the distance. It was and had always been the guardian of this town.


    He went up to the gate. The sun has just reached its peak and yet the guards were already drunk. They were playing dice when he came up to them. All of them immediately tensed when they saw the red robe he was wearing. They stood up and saluted him, knocking their playing table.


    "Sir, glad to see you''re back." One guard said dryly.


    He waved his hand and dismissed them.


    "Don''t mind me. Just passing through."


    Rowan entered the streets of Mordan. He can hear the bustling of merchants showing their wares. Here and there, one can see people scurrying out on their own businesses. Blacksmiths were paying street urchins on advertising their services. The cooks were fanning their grill, making sure to lure customers by wafting the scent of juicy meat everywhere. Meanwhile, the drunkards were already fighting at the nearest inn.


    He ignored all of it and went straight to the heart of the town. In the town center was the crooked tower in all its glory. True to its name, the tower wasn''t symmetrical at all. Some parts were twisted and bent. How the tower was able to stand was out of anyone''s guesses. With its interior dyed a deep red, the color of blood, it was a fitting home for the blood magi. Nobody knows who made the tower or what material did they use. All they knew about it was that it was indestructible. Even the finest chisels made from the last era did not even scratch the surface.


    He drew his knife and cut his palms. The entrance of the tower was at the top and there were no staircases made. His blood continued dripping but it never landed to the ground. It floated mid-air, swirling around. He compressed his blood, freezing it, and stepped on to it. The frozen blood mass lifted him higher and higher, acting as some kind of a floating platform. The rush of wind made him feel a little bit alive and brought a little color on his pale face. He could see the wooden roofs of the whole town. Tattered it may be, but the townsfolk patched it up to the best of their abilities.


    It was all about perspective. Up here, the world was big and tiny at the same time. The people working down below looked like ants scurrying for work. He landed on the top balcony and opened the trapdoor.


    Immediately, a rotten stench made him gag. Cold sweat clung into his shirt. His heart started pumping adrenaline in his veins. And with this, he was wide awake, the weight on his eyelids gone. He jumped down, riding his own blood, not even bothering to use the stairs. The revolting scent becomes stronger as he goes down.


    He scanned all floors. The spiraling staircase was hypnotic in its own way and watching it spin was making him dizzy. When he got to the bottom, the familiar meeting hall greeted him. The red interior was decorated with the paintings of the previous headmasters, all in the same pose of sitting down and looking sharp. He landed on the round table. The chairs were adorned with the rotting corpses of his colleagues. Feeling the vomit line up his throat, he retched all of his lunch out. Their corpses were propped up, still sitting. He walked up into one, mustering any courage he hasn''t vomited yet.


    Their faces were covered with maggots squirming around all holes it could find. Some were wiggling underneath the skin, feasting around the dark brown flesh of his fellow Magi. Their eyes were long gone. He stared at them and the hollow eye sockets stared back. Their wounds were similar. Several gashes on the torso spilled their guts open. Some chunk of a neck was dismembered, lying on the floor. It was a violent death, one that they didn''t deserve.This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.


    He went out of the tower and sat on the roof. The sky, as if not caring, was a happy mix of orange and blue that was separated by white streams of clouds.  At first, he didn''t notice the crowd forming right below the tower. He was still busy taking it all in.


    They were standing still, staring at him. He finally saw them and went down. They stared blankly at him. There was something unnerving about their silence. It felt odd and abnormal.


    "Is something the matter?" he asked them.


    They didn''t reply. More people are dropping what they were doing and was coming towards him. Even the guards that we''re busy with dice were here. They enclosed him in a circle and smiled at him. All of their actions simultaneous, not a single person missed a second.


    His mouth dried up but he managed to creak "Stay back".


    They screamed at him. High pitched voices that cut through his eardrums. He covered his ears and felt blood leaking. A little girl went forward first, sprinting in all fours. And the rest soon followed. Fear made him froze up for a second and before he could run, she tackled him with a strength a child shouldn''t be able to achieve. They went down. Her spit was drooling on his face. She growled like a dog, prying his hands away from his neck. The contours of her jawline opened, tearing her mouth. Her grip crushed his hands and he felt his bones crack. That made him join the maniacs in their screaming. One of the guards caught his legs. He tried kicking but it was no use. The guard was able to seize his knees and popped them one by one. The pain almost made him faint but he fought to stay awake.


    He activated his blood and whirled it through the crowd, piercing everyone he can see. With no more hesitation, he decapitated the girl on him. It wasn''t enough. Headless, she kept on pinning him on the ground. He pierced her insides, making sure his blood flowed in her veins, and pulled out his blood, dismembering her whole body. He did the same for the guard and for everyone else that attempted to attack him.


    Ragged pieces of what used to be people lay everywhere. Rowan crawled. His useless legs weighing him down. Paired with his mangled hands, he was slower than a snail. Soon the pain will fully kick in. He needed to get out of this place. Anywhere but here. His elbow touched something. It was the head of the little girl that tackled him first. To his surprise, he recognized the face. How could he not? It was the face of his own daughter, smiling at him.


    ***


    He woke up with a jerk. A disheveled Tamara was beside him looking concerned. It took him a moment to get his bearings.


    "What happened?" she asked.


    "Nothing just cramps."


    She raised her eyebrows. "I woke you up because you were screaming."


    "Ah. That''s cause it was a big one. The fucker suddenly cramped," He said while massaging his thighs, pretending to get some relief from it. His throat felt raw.


    How long have I been screaming?


    She doesn''t look convinced. "Here have some water."


    He took the mug and drank the whole content, burping after.


    "It''s one of those is it?" She asked.


    He smiled, his daughter knew him too well. "Yes, it''s one of those."


    She sighed. Her father never told her what those nightmares were about. Even if she prodded further, he would just change the topic into something else.


    She held his crooked hand. Her old man was really stubborn. As far as she knew, he never told her of his youth. She wanted to know more about him but doesn''t want to open old scars. Especially now that more of his hair is turning white.


    "Is it morning yet?" he asked.


    "It''s still dark outside, go back to sleep."


    "I''m afraid there''s no more sleeping for these old bones."


    She remained silent for a while. "You want to tell me about it?"


    "Tell what?"


    "What''s been bothering you?" Hesitation mixed with her voice. "All this time, you''ve been bottling up something. And you never tell us. Were also getting worried you know?"


    "Ah that. It''s just some regrets haunting an old withering man like myself. One that I don''t like recalling. Or telling for that matter."


    "Sometimes you like to be difficult Father." she sighed.


    "Well if you find yourself a proper man then I might confide a thing or two with you."


    "What''s that got to do with this?"


    "Bah! Everything. You''re of age Mara. You''ve yet to discover the wonders of love. Why I bet many men would fight to hold hands with my fine daughter here." He moved to the edge of the bed and ruffled her hair. "You remind mind so much of your mother. My how the days have been dull without her."


    "I miss her every day too. We all do."


    That made his chest a little bit tighter. He really did miss his wife. He sighed. "I could use some night air. Clear my noggin up just a little."


    She picked him up. His frail body wasn''t even heavy at all. Partnered with the fact that his father was legless, it made it easier for her to raise him out of the bed and put him into his wheelchair. That was another story he hasn''t told anyone yet. He always said that he was born that way.


    They went out of his room towards the balcony. The cool air was refreshing for both of them. Up above, a starless sky peered into their own little inn. No words had to be said. They simply remained silent and stayed one with the night.