ã€ŠCorinthã€‹


 1.0 - Prologue

    The Corinthian Empire no longer grew. From the Borosil mountains in the south, through the archipelagos of the west, and up into the resistance of the north, the empire spanned. In the east, the borders faded where the empire¡¯s hold wouldn¡¯t solidify: the unimaginable vastness of an unpopulated land left nothing to conquer.

    Some argued that the Corinthians should march south as the first settlers had decades earlier, seeking the other side of the mountains. Some argued that the western islands must extend further into the mists, and should be settled. Few argued that the north could be pressed further, holding the only force that was able to resist the empire¡¯s push. Only one had ever argued for expansion to the east, and that interest had ended with his life.

    As ever, though, it would be the constructs that determined the empire¡¯s path. In the endless range of rugged mountain roads, the constructs gave little advantage, as they could not repair a wagon or carry a load. In the mists and fog of the islands, the diffuse light left the most researched fields of study useless, and with it a large portion of the creations themselves. In the north lay an enemy whose practice for years had been to target the constructs first, and the soldiers second. No researcher would design constructs for the north, save to reconfirm their brittle nature.If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

    In the east, though, there lay empty land, fertile soil, and plentiful sunlight. Expeditions there could use the devices without fear of damage, and the artifacts helped the problems of long travel in unmapped lands significantly.

    But past expeditions eastward had been far from productive. When the first expedition returned, claiming to possess powerful foreign mages, they surrendered emaciated slaves, senseless with pain, who died within months of delivery. Later expeditions reported few inhabitants and quiet lands, unworthy of notice when cities lay waiting for conquest. The most recent simply hadn¡¯t returned at all, perhaps unwilling to place their mediocrity into recorded history.

    Yet all citizens knew Corinth¡¯s heraldic words, his directive to ensure the longevity of his empire: ¡°Expand, conquer, and search; our future is ever further.¡± The Trifecta, ever wary of the ill will of their subjects, sent orders to their northern armies, drafted messages to be placed on public notice, and met with their treasurers. The Empire had fought to create itself, fought armies to expand its borders, but could not fight its nature: the Corinthians marched east.

 1.1a - Departure

    Sojo looked again at her bags, marvelling that anything so small could contain the foundation of life. Food, travelling clothes, cheap weapons, decent crockery, expensive maps, rope, leather, water, medicine; everything an expedition could need. She felt the unfamiliar bounce of her grandmother¡¯s ring and necklace against her collarbone, a gift for her imminent departure.

    Her companions, having finally arrived, were steadily adding their bags to the wagon pile. Brehen placed his heavy pack beside his personally prepared food stores, his quiver and bow in wood frames to protect them during the trip. After giving the straps a final adjustment, he stepped back and looked down at the rest of the stored luggage. Mirrel¡¯s stores were a more standard type of ration. Rather than Brehen¡¯s peculiar combinations of meats and cheeses, individually packaged to keep the flavours from mixing, Mirrel had bought large bags of smoked meats, an enormous package of nuts and dried fruit, and two large cheese wheels.

    Their wineskins, filled with what may be the last trustworthy water they would soon find, lay next to the three large barrels of water and a smaller cask of alcohol, each bearing the sigil of the Corinthian Scouts.

    As the last bag was loaded onto the wagon, Sojo wracked her brain for anything she might be forgetting. There would be a couple weeks of slow travel before they couldn¡¯t be sure of bartering for those last items, but somehow she hadn¡¯t been able to stop worrying for the last few days. All through serious conversations with her travelling partners and deliberately jovial nights with her family, plans and possible pitfalls had never been far from her mind.

    ¡°No second thoughts, I hope?¡± Eyn asked her, breaking the trance before Sojo could get too deeply entrenched.

    ¡°Just wondering what we¡¯ll find!¡± She replied, watching Eyn sway under the weight of baggage. ¡°Do- do you need me to grab some of that from you?¡± Sojo stepped forward with arms raised as Eyn teetered towards the wagons, dumping her packed goods unceremoniously onto them.

    ¡°I¡¯ll be fine, now,¡± Eyn said. She climbed onto the wagon and began packing things more securely. ¡°I didn¡¯t want to go back for another load. I¡¯ve been ready to go for days, and we¡¯re wasting time waiting around here.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m not saying I like waiting, but I think it might be important still.¡± Sojo replied. ¡°Hey Brehen! What do you think? Could we have gone without today¡¯s load of food?¡± She called out.

    ¡°Can you even call it food?¡± He asked, looking anxiously at his foodstuffs nearly crushed into a gap between barrels. ¡°I¡¯m still not convinced, I¡¯ll tell you that much.¡±

    ¡°I think you¡¯ll have to change your mind, by the time we get properly settled.¡± Eyn quirked an eyebrow at Brehen¡¯s bow. ¡°How long do you expect your arrows to last you?¡±

    ¡°He¡¯ll get tired of missing out on my meals long before he runs out,¡± Mirrel cut in. ¡°Besides, I¡¯m going to claim a good portion of anything he does manage to get. We¡¯ll be longing for fresh rations soon.¡± Mirrel walked towards the back of the wagons, checking over the loaded gear. ¡°The horses are ready to go, is everything loaded?¡±

    Sojo nodded. ¡°I think so. If we¡¯d forgotten anything, I think we¡¯d have noticed by now.¡± She looked out at the distant arch marking the edge of the city. ¡°Once we pass through, we can¡¯t be turning around for anything. This is the last chance: are we ready?¡±

    Sojo looked at her companions as each nodded in turn. ¡°Let¡¯s go.¡±

    ¨C

    The wagon rolled through the cobbled roads, gathering only cursory glances from the vendors. Groups collecting supplies to venture out were becoming more common with each passing week, and the money flowing through the eastern-most cities of the empire was invigorating the merchants more than in living memory.

    The soldiers likewise paid the travellers no mind. Any military member in the east was only glad not to be fighting in the endless northern wars, and scoffed at any rumours about actions elsewhere. The steadily increasing size of the military presence in the east was of far less interest to them than the rising food costs they were causing.

    In fact, the only eyes that focused on the passing wagon belonged to other travellers. Many were jealous, fretting that anything worth finding would be found before they made their own departure, but these were common woes, no stronger today than any day before. Some were gleeful, seeing other groups as a safety measure, meeting any dangers well in advance of their departure, or as a potential source of resources should disaster befall them on their travels. These were fewer, but discomfiting in their mere existence. Very rarely, though, tired eyes would track their passage. These belonged to the travellers who had returned from the east, and only wished someone would have listened to their tales of the emptiness they had found. These eyes were only glad when facing west, and none would be following the wagon as it finally passed below Porial¡¯s blessing, through the city¡¯s eastern gate.This narrative has been purloined without the author''s approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.

    ¨C

    Sojo looked out on the plains, shielding her eyes from the sun beating down from the azure sky. This near the city, the only evidence of trees were the stumps left behind; few enough grew healthily that no efforts to replant them had been made. The long horizon was still broken by the common shrubs growing and tended for their berries, but for the most part there were only fields of drought-resistant crops.

    The roads were well travelled here, and Sojo knew from their size and construction that this had once been intended to be a road for passing armies, should the empire ever decide to continue east. In the deepest wagon ruts, she could see slabs of heavy stone that were likely quarried far away, built to withstand far heavier loads than they¡¯d received so far.

    ¡°How do the settlers expect to house themselves, do you think?¡± She called back to the trundling wagon. The rest of the group had started their midday meal and were resting their legs, but she¡¯d kept walking. ¡°I can¡¯t see a useful thing to build with for miles in any direction.¡±

    ¡°Trade, maybe?¡± Brehen replied around a mouthful of cheese. ¡°They¡¯ll need to be trading food for tools and essentials anyways.¡±

    ¡°They¡¯ll be starting under whatever boards they¡¯ve carted in the wagons, covered with skins or canvas and walled with dirt.¡± Mirrel countered. ¡°I doubt they¡¯ll be expecting any luxury beyond that for a while.¡±

    ¡°They¡¯ll stop near the most trees they can find,¡± Eyn decided. ¡°Only the first ones will be able to make wooden houses.¡±

    ¡°Well, they won¡¯t have any food surplus for a few seasons anyways, so I doubt they¡¯ll need much space once they sell and trade their crops,¡± Brehen continued. ¡°I¡¯m still not convinced they¡¯ll be able to grow much in this soil. At least it¡¯s passably good for grazing.¡±

    Sojo felt the soles of her feet aching and glanced back at the wagon. None of the rest had finished their lunch, so she pressed on and tried to ignore the dull pain.

    ¡°And in the long term? Assuming the settlers can get by, how far east do you think they¡¯ll go?¡±

    ¡°Well¡­¡± Mirrel started, ¡°the empire as it stands is over 400 miles from end to end, and the furthest survey ever attempted made it 250 miles east before running low on supplies. Since then-¡±

    ¡°Were those the ones that came back proclaiming they¡¯d caught some powerful eastern mages?¡± Sojo interrupted. ¡°I remember reading a story about that when the eastern push was first announced.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m not sure, I never heard of anyone being found by any of the surveys.¡± Mirrel began packing up his lunch.

    ¡°Leave something out for me?¡± Sojo asked, her eyes settling on a bag of small loafs.

    Mirrel took one out, then packed the rest of the food away into the wagon. ¡°Right, so the furthest survey made it deep into the east, but still never found anything of real interest. All I heard was that the land kept getting worse, and they couldn¡¯t even graze their animals properly with how sparse things were growing.¡± Mirrel stepped off the wagon and started walking again.

    ¡°Damn, I¡¯m stiff,¡± he commented. ¡°I can¡¯t believe it¡¯s only been half a day so far. This is gonna be a real pain, isn¡¯t it?¡±

    Sojo laughed, ignoring the pain in her feet. ¡°Are you kidding, it¡¯ll only get easier from here on out.¡± Eyn shook her head before hopping off the wagon herself.

    ¡°If even the first half of the surveyed distance can be settled successfully, it¡¯ll take a lifetime before the eastern push stops.¡± Brehen said, offering Sojo a hand in climbing into the wagon. ¡°So anything we find out can be sold ten times over to the next wave of settlers.¡±

    ¡°Well first we have to find something, so keep your eyes peeled!¡± Sojo replied, staring intently at the horizon before breaking into a wide smile. ¡°There could be secrets behind any shrub or blade of grass.¡± Brehen smirked, stretching his arms and legs before starting a slow stride.

    Eyn turned to look at Mirrel. ¡°250 miles¡­ that¡¯s doesn¡¯t seem very far.¡±

    ¡°It isn¡¯t, only a couple weeks of light travel normally,¡± Mirrel answered, ¡°but they were going without roads, and not directly east either. They checked north and south to see if there was anything more interesting to find, but never came across anything unusual save some hills and valleys.

    Sojo cut in, pulling out a map from her bags on the wagon. ¡°With the roads built, we can make a much better pace, albeit with some zigzagging of our own. It shouldn¡¯t be a month before we¡¯re getting to the edge of the land they could have seen.¡± She held up the map and traced a line along the marked route. ¡°If we follow these roads, we should be able to get to unexplored areas by midsummer. If there¡¯s anything worth finding, we should be able to find it, draw some maps of our own, and be selling them back in the city before the winter weather really starts to come around.¡±

    ¡°So what do you expect to find then?¡± Brehen asked, checking over the horses. ¡°What monumental discoveries will we make, to then sell for mounds of gold and glass?¡±

    ¡°An ancient civilization, full of potent magic and forbidden knowledge!¡± Sojo called out, her mouth sneaking back into a wide smile.

    ¡°A land of sumptuous spices and fertile soil!¡± Mirrel replied, walking more easily than before.

    Brehen shook his head. ¡°A valley of great beasts, each more sedate and delicious than the last, of course!¡± Mirrel laughed as Brehen pretended to bite into a horse¡¯s neck, only to brush it soothingly with his hand.

    ¡°The edge of the land, and a new sea of islands to explore.¡± Eyn said, staring entranced at the long waves rolling through the fields of wheat and corn.

    ¡°So long as there¡¯s something better than just more plains,¡± Sojo concluded, ¡°I¡¯ll be fine.¡±

 1.1b - Departure

    The sky had shed its blue tinge by the time they had stopped for the night, and was working through the realms of purple and red when Sojo finished staking down her tent. They¡¯d settled next to a copse of trees, and she could almost imagine the horizon was still echoing with the axe-blows of Mirrel cutting wood for his cooking fire. The firelight against the thin branches caught her eyes more and more as the sun set, and she could see Brehen glancing over at his bow as if to hunt the shifting shadows themselves.

    ¡°Nice of the last group to leave the stones around the firepit,¡± Mirrel commented, stirring a pot of soup and picking though packages of spices. ¡°I wonder if they realized how rare sizeable stones will come to be as they head out. I¡¯m tempted to take these myself.¡±

    Brehen raised his head, returning from his thoughts. ¡°I don¡¯t think Sow and Fallow will appreciate the extra weight in the wagon, small though it may be.¡±

    ¡°Yeah, I don¡¯t need them. It¡¯s just always a nice luxury in the dry grass. I think we¡¯ll be short of those soon.¡± Mirrel dipped a finger into the soup pot, and turned to Sojo. ¡°Tastes decent, to me. Let¡¯s see how the first meal is appreciated. Eyn! Food¡¯s up!¡±

    Eyn walked out from the trees moments later, rough lumps of wood in hand. ¡°Food, you say? I think I could dispose of that for you.¡±

    ¡°I think,¡± Brehen called out, ¡°that you should all check your feet for blisters first. I have some salve and binding that works best overnight.¡±

    Mirrel looked longingly at the soup pot. ¡°Easy for you to say, you didn¡¯t have to wait for the soup to eat.¡±

    Brehen stood, looking down at him. ¡°I want to use the last of the sunlight, it¡¯ll only take a few minutes.¡± He stepped over to Mirrel and sat, brandishing a small jar.

    Sojo sat beside him. ¡°Let¡¯s get this over with, then,¡± unlacing her shoes. She exhaled as the shoes slid off, stretching her toes. ¡°Now that¡¯s a feeling.¡±

    Eyn sat as Brehen wrapped Sojo¡¯s blistered heel in a salved bandage, and began to unlace her own shoes. ¡°How were your rations, then? I haven¡¯t had the soup yet, but just the smell makes me question your tastes.¡± She inhaled deeply as emphasis, cut short by a yelp as Brehen poked a raw toe.

    ¡°It was the same as ever, that¡¯s the point.¡± Brehen answered, gingerly slipping a bandage between her toes.

    Mirrel passed Sojo a bowl of soup. ¡°But what¡¯s it seasoned with? What¡¯s in it? What spices do you prefer, then?¡±

    ¡°None. It¡¯s meat and cheese.¡± Brehen answered curtly. ¡°Now show me your feet so I can fix at least one thing about you,¡± he said, smiling.

    ¡°So uncivilized.¡± Mirrel muttered, glancing back at the soup pot as if expecting it to vanish without his presence.

    ¡°Who wins today¡¯s round, Brehen?¡± Sojo asked, her bowl nearly empty already. ¡°My heel¡¯s in rough shape, but I can¡¯t be the only one.¡±

    ¡°Might be me,¡± Mirrel said, ¡°I¡¯ve got one heel and a toe at least.¡±

    ¡°It does look like you¡¯ve got the worst of it,¡± Brehen confirmed, ¡°but by tomorrow you¡¯ll hardly feel it. The salve will mend the skin and harden it so it doesn¡¯t tear as easily.¡±

    ¡°That sounds good to me.¡± Eyn muttered, nursing her bandaged toe.

    ¡°Of course, something else will blister tomorrow. Expect it to repeat until I¡¯ve bandaged every part of your feet.¡± Brehen smiled at the chorus of groans, and stood, offering Mirrel a hand. ¡°Go get your precious soup.¡± Mirrel doled himself a bowl to the brim and set about emptying it.

    Sojo put down he empty bowl. ¡°It¡¯s been a day now, and we can¡¯t go back, so it¡¯s time to ask. What did we forget? Anyone thought of anything yet?¡± She stepped to the soup pot and emptied the last into her bowl. ¡°I know I forgot to pack extra tent pegs in case some break.¡±

    Eyn looked over at Sojo¡¯s staked tent. ¡°I could probably whittle you some extra if you want. I¡¯m out of practice, so it would be something easy to start with.¡±

    Sojo smiled. ¡°I guess you didn¡¯t forget your whittling knife; that sounds perfect. But you¡¯ve missed the point of the exercise! What did you forget?¡±

    ¡°Oh, uh¡­¡± Eyn fiddled with her spoon, stirring through the meagre remnants of her dinner. ¡°I haven¡¯t noticed anything yet, actually. I bent the blade of a knife in one of my bags when I was loading the wagon, so I¡¯m worried it¡¯s weaker now. Does that count?¡± She relinquished her spoon and bowl to Mirrel, bringing out a thin blade and staring intently at one of the lumps of wood.This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it

    ¡°Sure, that¡¯ll do. I¡¯m trying to figure out what to buy at the first settlement we visit. Brehen?¡± Sojo turned to see him leaned against the wagon, eyes closed. ¡°When he moves to his tent, then. Mirrel? Anything you¡¯re missing?¡±

    Mirrel paused with his bowl raised to drink the last of his soup, the debate clear on his face. Finally, he put down the bowl. ¡°I could always barter some spices, of course. We¡¯ll see how much is needed once we get to the settlement, and if it isn¡¯t as much as we brought they¡¯ll make fair trade goods.¡±

    Sojo nodded, thoughts twisting like mirrored light in her mind. ¡°Beyond that it¡¯s mostly resupply.¡± Mirrel concluded, picking his bowl up again, a delighted glint of firelight in his eyes.

    ¡°Seems like we weren¡¯t half bad in our preparation.¡± Sojo declared. ¡°Keep it in mind over the next few days, though. I doubt we¡¯ll find many places with abundant trade.¡± She stood and stretched, looking over at her tent. ¡°I¡¯m going to get settled. The travel should only get easier, but I¡¯m going to be sore tomorrow.¡± She pressed a finger into her heel, and began picking at the bandages.

    ¡°Leave the binding alone.¡± Brehen called from the wagon, one eye open and watching the rest getting their gear stowed. Under the navy sky, only the reflected firelight gave hint that he wasn¡¯t fast asleep.

    Sojo grinned at him. ¡°But of course! I would never meddle in the works of our sleeping Ontam.¡± She stepped into the cool darkness of her tent, and her pain melted as she laid on the soft down of her thick, dense blanket. This luxury, she knew, she would never regret bringing. As she arranged her gear around her, she heard Eyn explaining Ontam¡¯s divinity over textiles, bandages, and the like to Mirrel.

    Then the tent flap swung closed, and all was dark.

    ¨C

    The next morning saw a few lonely cinders left smouldering in a stone fire pit as the wagon trundled off. The copse of trees held fewer shadows now, nothing revealed by the sun¡¯s light save birds¡¯ nests and rich, wood-formed soil. The horizon shimmered slightly as the morning warmed the plains, and clouds massed on the horizon, threatening faraway voyagers with shade and water. Overhead, however, was nothing more than air and sunlight.

    Sojo stepped slower today, her aches slowly easing as she walked. ¡°I thought you said the blisters would be gone by the morning,¡± she said, looking pointedly at Brehen. ¡°When I took off the binding this morning, it felt like I was taking half my heel with it.¡±

    All three looked over as she pronounced the limp her heel was insisting upon. ¡°It should have,¡± Brehen replied slowly. ¡°Maybe your foot was worse than it looked in the evening light. Have you ever had that treatment before?¡±

    ¡°No,¡± Sojo said, ¡°I¡¯ve never needed it before.¡±

    Brehen¡¯s frown deepened. ¡°What about other salves, have they had normal effects? There might be something in you that disagrees with the components.¡±

    ¡°Not that I can remember, but I¡¯ve tried to avoid needing them in the past.¡± Sojo waved him off and forced herself to smile. ¡°It¡¯ll be fine, I¡¯ll just need another round tonight. How are the rest of you?¡±

    ¡°Feels fine, but I don¡¯t know how long that¡¯ll last.¡± Mirrel mumbled around his breakfast bread. ¡°Eyn?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m fine,¡± Eyn said, looking over at Brehen. ¡°How are you feeling?¡±

    Brehen looked down, an embarrassed look crossing his face. ¡°I actually had a binding on during the first day¡¯s walk. I never thought to offer until we stopped for the night.¡±

    Sojo walked over to him, playing up the limp, and poked a finger in his chest. ¡°Well, in the future, I expect you¡¯ll think a little more of us!¡± She managed to hold the scowl as a look of astonishment and guilt flew across his face, before bursting out laughing. Brehen scowled back, and walked over to tend the horses, chuckling once his back turned on Sojo.

    ¡°Well I¡¯m claiming the first spot on the wagon at lunch then.¡± Sojo said, and took a deep breath. ¡°This fresh air is lovely, I¡¯d forgotten how overwhelming the city smells can be.¡±

    Eyn nodded, and squinted at the grain of two rough wooden lumps in her hands. Seeing something pleasing, she put the left one away and began carving off pieces as she walked.

    The road slipped away beneath their feet, and Sojo started to worry at the silence. As the minutes went by, her thoughts went further and further afield looking for stories to share; each time she thought of something, be it family, or childhood, or old friends, she found herself wondering if they wouldn¡¯t just press the absence of home closer to mind. Still the silence rang, though, and she worried about the thoughts that must be running through her companions¡¯ minds just as much.

    ¡°My family has always been interested in collecting histories,¡± she said, not quite expecting to be speaking. ¡°And my grandmother wanted me to keep a recollection of history with me as we travelled. She gave me a book that she said had the truth of the empire¡¯s founding.¡±

    Mirrel looked over, clearly interested, but made no comment. Encouraged, Sojo continued, ¡°I could read from it if you¡¯d like, to help pass the time.¡±

    Her heart fell at the silence that followed, wondering if she¡¯d misjudged.

    ¡°I¡¯d like to hear some, if you wouldn¡¯t mind,¡± Eyn answered, smiling over at Sojo. ¡°I¡¯ll be curious to see how much this ¡®truth¡¯ match all the tales I¡¯ve heard over the years.¡±

    ¡°Well with such rousing enthusiasm, I guess it¡¯s settled,¡± Sojo said sarcastically, looking at Mirrel and Brehen. Mirrel shrugged, apparently unconcerned, but Brehen didn¡¯t seem to be following the conversation. ¡°I¡¯ll see if I can¡¯t draw you in.¡±

    Sojo walked to the wagons to find her bags, and stepped forward again with an old leather-bound book between her hands. She began to recite.

    ¡°The empire began from the invasion of Myranel by the University town Derudt, headed by the great mage Corinth, and Derudt began through the discovery of Constructs and the Crystal Ichor. But all this truly started from an expedition into the Borosil mountains, searching as so many had before, for a land beyond them, and a place of fame in the halls of legend. That they found one resonates to this day.¡±

 1.2a - Mountain Settling

    Adran crested the slope and pressed his hands to the stones narrowing his path. He felt a burst of energy pass through him as the stones began to lift and pressed outwards, sending them careening away.

    ¡°The ledge is clear,¡± he called down to Torean, clinging lazily to the cliff face below. ¡°Come up and check the view.¡±

    Adran felt a shadow glide over him, and watched Torean alight on the plateau in front, light as a sparrow. He stood and shook the dust from his clothing. The expanse visible from the high ledge was enthralling as ever, with the towering trees of the mountain range stretched below him, fading from giants of the forest to a green bedding scarcely recognizable in the rough-carved lands.

    ¡°Do you recognize the valleys?¡± Adran asked, his eyes tracing the curve of a lonesome river.

    ¡°No, the landscapes all bleed together in my mind.¡± Torean replied. Adran sighed and sat on the rock, staring down at the wagon of supplies far below.

    ¡°If it weren¡¯t for the damned horses we¡¯d be home in days.¡± Adran muttered, a common refrain.

    Torean sat beside him and began reciting the arguments of the past few days. ¡°But without anything to show, we¡¯re too in debt without the horses to sell again. But with the horses slowing us, we¡¯re unlikely to find anything. But without knowing the way home, we can¡¯t find anything a second time anyways. And now we¡¯re looking for a path home we don¡¯t need to use, to better travel with horses that don¡¯t help, to find something we¡¯ll then lose, to hopefully make another trip out again.¡±

    Adran turned to look at his friend. ¡°Well it just sounds bleak when you say it.¡± He looked out over the valley, waiting for inspiration to strike him. It was already three days late, so he was sure it would come anytime. As he stared down at the expanse of valleys and mountainsides, he heard Torean scuffing his feet along the ledge behind him. ¡°So what¡¯s with the cave?¡±

    ¡°What cave?¡± Adran asked, staring intently at a twisting river, hoping to see a familiar course emerge.

    ¡°The cave, my friend, on whose doorstep you sit?¡± Torean replied, his voice growing fainter. Adran turned to find himself alone on the shelf of stone, and noticed a break in the slope like a stab wound, punched through into the mountain¡¯s heart. He moved to the opening, gauging whether or not it would fit his frame. He hesitated, and shuddered, and moved a few cautious steps closer.

    ¡°You¡¯re blocking the light!¡± Torean¡¯s voice emerged from within, a faint note of fear ringing in the rocky echoes. Adran stepped back and waited for his friend to emerge. He returned to fruitlessly searching the horizon, growing ever more irritated as the sounds of Torean¡¯s delight tumbled from the rocky wound. Finally he emerged carrying a waterskin and a mischievous smile.

    ¡°There¡¯s a spring down there, if you take the right wall.¡± Torean called out, passing over the skin.

    Adran lifted the skin to his lips, but stopped as an unusual smell wafted out. He looked into the skin, wondering at the quality of the water, and tried to place the odor. It permeated like the smell of woodsmoke, but held the freshness of a sea breeze, of salt and sand mixing. ¡°Did you drink any?¡±

    ¡°Of course not! I¡¯m not mad. I thought we¡¯d try boiling it to see if the smell¡¯s from something growing, or if it¡¯s minerals.¡± Torean rolled his shoulders, looking down at the camp below. ¡°Shall we head back?¡±

    Adran sighed. ¡°There¡¯s little else for us to do up here.¡±

    ¨C

    Adran could hear raised voices before Ulner¡¯s wagon even came into view. Qarnet, their research colleague and improvised cook, would be arguing for a swift return home with the sun¡¯s light to guide their general path; Torean, having gone ahead, would be glorifying the few things they¡¯d managed to find today, more for the sake of argument than anything; and Ynten would be steadily groaning louder from the wagon floor, praying that they would stop for the sake of his cracked skull.

    Adran passed through the last of the trees, passing by the wagon to his tent. As he bent to collect his journal, he heard the conversation clearly.

    ¡°¡­in my cooking pot, you won¡¯t. You¡¯ve no idea what¡¯s in it, and I¡¯m not risking the fate of my soups for your curiosity.¡±

    ¡°But you¡¯ve no idea what will happen, Qarnet!¡± Torean pleaded, holding his wineskin protectively against his chest. ¡°For the sake of knowledge!¡±

    Qarnet glared at him, his lips pursed, and then glanced at the cooking fire. Several skewers of meat were well roasted in the open flame, and the pot lay to the side, unused.

    ¡°It¡¯ll only take a few minutes, and I¡¯ll clean it out after.¡± Torean said, sensing his opponent was tiring.

    ¡°You certainly will, residue or no. And if it¡¯s tainted it in the slightest, it¡¯ll be on your head!¡± Qarnet walked over to the fire and tended to his skewers.

    When it was clear that he wouldn¡¯t be adding anything more, Torean grinned and grabbed the pot, emptying his wineskin into it. Again, a sandy salt smell wafted through the air, strong enough Adran could smell it from beside his tent. He continued his notes and listened in to Torean¡¯s running narration.

    ¡°Coming to a boil quickly on the open fire. It¡¯s boiling well, nothing visibly unusual. Bubbles linger on the surface slightly longer than usual, indicator of dissolved materials. Bubbles are¡­ following channels in the water? Now that¡¯s odd.¡±

    Adran heard Qarnet¡¯s stomping over to the cooking pot, and imagined him as a mother hen watching Torean play with his beloved child.

    ¡°Did you do anything to this fire, Qarnet? Change the temperature or burn rate for the skewers?¡± Torean¡¯s voice had a slight quaver to it, as if he was afraid of the answer.

    ¡°No, it¡¯s just burning wood. Let me see¡­¡± Adran glanced up to see Qarnet looking into the pot, a growing concern on his face. ¡°I don¡¯t know what¡¯s causing it, but I don¡¯t like it. End your experiment and get scrubbing.¡± Torean began to groan, but it was immediately overtaken by a louder groan from the wagon.The author''s content has been appropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

    ¡°Um, uh, ok then.¡± Torean concluded, pulling on thick leather gloves to handle the hot metal. Adran began writing the soup-pot argument into the journal, thinking it might give him a laugh on some cheerier day in the future, when a heard a grunt and a loud thud.

    ¡°What. Was. That!?¡± Qarnet shouted, striding over to Torean. Adran glanced up again to see Torean still holding the pot, a look of disbelief upon his face. Adran stood and walked over, following their eyes to a patch of wet, flattened grass.

    Nestled into the blades was a roughly circular lump of crystal glass.

    ¨C

    Torean, Qarnet, and Adran sat near the fire, each ignoring a skewer of meat held in their hands. Every few moments, Qarnet leaned forward as if to bite but never managed to finish the thought, and slowly returned to his former position. In front of them lay the glass, still smelling faintly of salt and sand, refracting shimmers of firelight across the ground between them.

    ¡°So the water boiled¡­¡± Adran began, then hesitated. ¡°And then¡­ turned to glass?¡±

    Torean shook his head. ¡°That can¡¯t be. Makes no sense. There¡¯s no way to dissolve that much of anything in a single skin of water.¡±

    ¡°How then? Did it draw something from the air, from the ether?¡± Adran leaned forward and drew a finger along it. ¡°It feels like¡­ glass. Just normal glass.¡±

    Qarnet tapped his fingers on the pot beside him, and ran his hand absentmindedly around the interior. He glanced down and seemed surprised to find no residue on his fingers. He¡¯d seemed surprised each of the dozen times he¡¯d done it now. ¡°At least it didn¡¯t break my pot.¡± He decided.

    Qarnet took a bite of his meat skewer, and his eyes refocused on the meal. ¡°Well, it¡¯s beyond my understanding. Apothet¡¯s blessing is fire and metal, not boiling water.¡± With that said, he turned his attention wholly to his food.

    Adran sighed and took a bite, eating without thought. ¡°It¡¯s a marvel, that¡¯s for sure, but-¡°

    ¡°But what do we do with it?¡± Torean concluded, falling backwards. He held the skewer aloft, staring as if the simpler concept of cooked beef might help him understand. ¡°With the right moulds, it could be an artistic wonder. With the right craftsman, you could make fine tools, or easier optics. But that still doesn¡¯t answer what we¡¯re going to do here!¡±

    ¡°We can¡¯t sacrifice one of our water barrels for it. We can¡¯t even find the route home yet, it¡¯s too risky.¡± Adran said, still staring unhappily at the rough lump. ¡°We can probably spare one of Qarnet or Ynten¡¯s waterskins,¡± he said, ignoring Qarnet¡¯s evil look, ¡°but I don¡¯t know if we can do much more.¡±

    ¡°But the minute we leave it, we¡¯ll never find it again!¡± Torean complained loudly, waving his skewer in the mountainside¡¯s general direction. ¡°We have to buckle down and take this risk, or else we¡¯ll-¡±

    ¡°THAT¡¯S IT! I CAN¡¯T TAKE IT ANYMORE!¡±

    The huddled explorers looked at the wagon, disbelief etched on all their faces, as Ynten staggered out. He was pale as the moon, the left half of his face a mess of bruises and cuts, and his bloodshot eyes roamed wildly, never seeming to properly notice the faces around him.

    ¡°Why is it that you lot are incapable of even one solid minute of blissful silence? I¡¯ve been lying in that wagon for days, fighting the cold grip of death, and yet you haven¡¯t even had the decency to still yourselves for the sake of my broken skull. I¡¯d even say that¡­ that you¡­ why is everything blurry?¡± Ynten swayed slightly, his roaming eyes unfocused, then sat on the edge of the wagon. ¡°So what have you found that¡¯s so important as to disturb my attempts at peaceful demise?¡±

    Torean glanced at Adran and smiled. ¡°Well I guess we know what to make from the glass.¡±

    ¨C

    Adran walked slowly down the mountainside, holding his knife carefully extended to one side. After the damage caused to Ynten, he¡¯d decided not to descend slopes hastily. He stopped at a tree and carved a large blaze into the bark, looking back to ensure the next one up the hill was visible. He was nearly back at the camp, and as if on cue he could heard the sounds of arguing echoing past the trunks.

    He sat at the base of the blazed tree and sighed, feeling weariness down to his bones. He¡¯d expected friction between companions at times, considering the attitudes of most researchers and mages he¡¯d met, but this had been unending. His ears began to pick out the words, ¡°heat¡± and ¡°bend¡± nearly shouted, but tuned it out as best he could.

    In the foggy silence of his imperfect denial, he mused at the thought of music, and wished they¡¯d brought along someone who could carry a tune. It¡¯d never struck him before how hollow conversations could get before they¡¯d left.

    His thoughts were dashed by an outcry, as ever, and he rose to his feet to walk back. Something felt off, though, and he stopped mid-pace. It wasn¡¯t a feeling of being watched, though he¡¯d had that before in the foothills. No scent on the breeze besides a trace of woodsmoke. It struck him: at least one voice was joyous. This was a sound beyond success, it was a discovery, a burst of understanding visceral in it¡¯s strength. He strode through the last trees, ignoring the knife in his hand, and rushed past the wagon.

    ¡°What¡¯s going on? What have you found?¡± He asked, staring at Torean¡¯s unrestrained glee, tears brimming from his eyes.

    ¡°It¡¯s glorious, all of our dreams fulfilled!¡± He cried out, rushing towards Adran before stopping at the sight of his knife still in hand. ¡°Put that away! We¡¯ve no need to worry. No blazing to do, nothing to fear. It¡¯s all going to be alright!¡± At these words the tears spilled over, and he collapsed into Adran¡¯s arms, the knife clattering to the ground.

    Adran stared at Qarnet, dumbstruck, leaning slightly with Torean¡¯s meagre weight held against his side. Qarnet simply smiled, a restrained exuberance pouring from his glittering eyes.

    ¡°He¡¯s right.¡± Qarnet said simply. ¡°We¡¯re saved. Teph¡¯s blessing, we¡¯re saved!¡±

    Adran began to smile, their glee infectious as the buried tension within him relaxed ever so slightly. He held a calm fa?ade as he said, ¡°Please, have mercy. Just tell me what you¡¯ve found.¡± He walked over to the fire where a shallow bowl of wood lay, charred, and the pot sat nearly filled with oval glass pieces. He sat and waited for the lecture that he knew would come.

    Torean straightened and attempted to compose himself, his smile pulled around his face before resuming its post in the center. ¡°Look at these lenses,¡± Torean said, holding out a pair of glass lumps, ¡°and tell me what you notice.¡±

    Adran held them up and observed the warped images of the surrounding forest. ¡°They don¡¯t seem to match, do they?¡± Torean prompted, failing to restrain himself. Adran shook his head, and passed them back.

    ¡°We thought it was a poor mold, at first, but once the wooden cast was fully smoothed the problem persisted.¡± Torean waved his hand at the ground surrounding the fire, showing Qarnet¡¯s measuring cups scattered all about. ¡°We thought it might be uneven amounts of glass, so we took to measuring. Then, Qarnet did as he always does, and thought of heat.¡±

    Qarnet jumped in, clearly eager to tell his part. ¡°I realized that the fire was probably not boiling the water evenly, so I dampened the heat a bit to even it out. When we compared to the previous lenses, the refraction was completely different!¡± Adran frowned, confused. ¡°The glass bends the light a different amount depending on the curing temperature. It¡¯s unlike any transparent material I know of!¡±

    Adran cocked his head to the side. ¡°That would have some interesting uses, I¡¯m sure, but I don¡¯t think-¡±

    ¡°We aren¡¯t done yet!¡± Torean interrupted, grinning maniacally. ¡°How would you, if you had a mage with control of fire and heat, cure lenses at an even temperature?¡± Adran opened his mouth. ¡°By direct application, of course!¡± Torean finished, laughing. He passed a waterskin to Qarnet, who cupped a handful of its water.

    Qarnet adopted a serious expression. ¡°Now, for the real trick.¡± He flattened his palm, and the water failed to flow out of his hand. He clenched his fist and a trickle ran down his fingers. He opened it and in his palm remained a hollow-sided glass pyramid. ¡°It didn¡¯t boil.¡± Qarnet said, eyes aflame. ¡°It simply felt the push of magic and¡­ formed. Directly.¡±

    Adran strode forward and grabbed the waterskin. Pouring it over his palm, he pushed weightlessness into the fluid, and felt a glass glove encase his hand. Slowly, as if holding the finest of crystal, he pulled the waterskin away, and marvelled at the unfaceted gem, gesturing in supplication, with his fingers distorted within. A true god-given miracle. In fading disbelief, he felt his worries fall away.

    His fa?ade cracked, and Adran fell to his knees and wept.

 1.2b - Mountain Settling

    The rock walls scraped ever closer as Adran shuffled into the cave. Gritty sandstone rasped at his shoulder, pressing him sideways through the opening. The surrounding stone seemed to glimmer in the darkness, his eyes demanding details as the light dimmed ever further.

    ¡°Keep your hand on the right wall,¡± Torean¡¯s voice echoed down the tunnel. Adran grit his teeth at the imposing darkness, focusing solely on his footsteps and the roughness of the stone passing under his fingers. After an endless pause, he took another step. Again, the light dimmed, the stone wall grated, and his fingers traced. Another moment of gathering willpower, another step. More glimmers in his vision, louder echoes of his own breathing, and unyielding stone.

    Adran shook his head and stepped forward again. The grit dug deeper into his fingertips, and he felt warm blood being drawn into the walls. He felt his shoulder bones grinding, and heard their shards landing at his feet. He felt the ceiling pressing down onto him, and knew, deep within himself, that the mountain-crushed rock above simply couldn¡¯t withstand the pressure any longer. He felt it pressing the very life out of him, felt the vibrations as the stone prepared to fill the overlooked passage, and trap him for an eternity in darkness.

    Adran stepped forward once more, and felt a cold rivulet of water run over his trailing hand. He stared at the darkness, willing it to show his hand in front of him. He reached down at his feet, plunging his hands over the lip of rock and into a lake of miracles, unsounded and vast. He tried to speak, his voice emerging as an inhuman croaking, taunting him with echoes from the void.

    ¡°I¡¯ve found it.¡± He called out, deafened by the reflections of his own voice. Shuddering at the chill permeating through his mind, his shaking hands dropped his pack and withdrew the company¡¯s 6 waterskins. He filled them numbly, praying for the water to oblige quickly, and allow him departure from this realm of terror and seeping panic.

    After minutes of nothing but darkness and his own stuttering heartbeat, he stowed the waterskins in the pack and began walking back, right hand tracing the wall. He stepped, felt his shoulder skid along, and paused to breathe. Step, skid, breathe. Step, skid-

    His breath caught. Adran felt his heart stop. He reached out with his left arm, and found no wall to grasp. Time in the darkness was endless, and he couldn¡¯t recall how many steps he¡¯d taken in, nor how many he¡¯d taken to get out. He knew that his left arm should be tracing the wall to exit, but as he flailed in the dark he felt nothing, only the faint current of near-stagnant air.

    He sat, his right hand affixed to the wall in desperate fear of total loss. Staring into the void, the glimmers intensified, and he saw the wall, mere paces away. He closed his eyes, unable to stand the thought of it being a phantasm, a trick of his mind in a moment of panic.

    Finally, he gathered his courage and stood. Stretching out from the wall, he held his left hand forward and stepped away, the crushing darkness giving no hints of where the end might be. He pushed off hard from the ground, beginning to run, hoping only to find the other side.

    He ran directly into the wall, his vision flashing white with a piercing ache. Staggering, blind, and with a pain shooting from his chin to his forehead, he ran along the left wall until the light returned to guide him.

    ¨C

    Adran stepped from the cave, the sun shooting daggers of betrayal into his eyes, and stopped in front of the water barrel. He emptied the skins into it, watching the water level inch upwards to the halfway point, his knees shaking with the adrenaline and relief of his hasty exit.If you find this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the infringement.

    ¡°What took so you long?¡± Torean asked, sitting against the other side of the barrel. At the lack of response he stood, seeing Adran for the first time. ¡°What happened to your face?¡±

    Adran closed his eyes, leaning heavily on the barrel. ¡°I took the wrong wall back for a while, then realized and hopped over to the left wall. I may have run headfirst into the rock,¡± he admitted through clenched teeth.

    A burst of laughter caught him off guard, and he looked over to the side, where Ynten and Qarnet sat tending a fire. ¡°It¡¯s not much fun, is it?¡± Ynten called out, grinning hugely. His eyes were large behind ugly, barely-functional glasses, pressing deep ridges into his nose and ears.

    ¡°At least I didn¡¯t break our only compass,¡± Adran called back, smiling despite himself. ¡°I don¡¯t think I can do that again,¡± he sighed, dropping his pack beside the barrel. ¡°It¡¯s too cramped, I can barely keep my thoughts in my head.¡±

    Torean slumped, downcast. ¡°That¡¯s all right, I can keep going. Qarnet, you¡¯ll have to take some turns eventually.¡± He said over his shoulder, stepping through the slashing entrance.

    Qarnet smiled widely. ¡°Of course I will. And you¡¯ll have to cook tonight, and suffer our criticism!¡± he shouted at the cave.

    Adran cocked his head, ignoring the pain from his battered cheek. ¡°Why would he have to do that?¡±

    Qarnet looked back at the fire, his smile dimming. ¡°He bet that you¡¯d do at least five runs before you gave up, I said that you¡¯d never manage more than two. Now he¡¯s paying the stakes.¡± Qarnet shrugged sheepishly. ¡°Sorry for betting against you, but Torean¡¯s never made a reasonable statement in his life. I¡¯d bet against him just on principle.¡±

    Adran lay near the fire, looking over the edge to the cleared area below. A dozen trees had been felled already in a widening clearing. The beginnings of a log cabin were taking shape between the stumps. ¡°I can¡¯t believe he¡¯s going to do this,¡± Adran said, staring at shadows lurking in the thick undergrowth. ¡°Are you sure the food will last him?¡±

    Qarnet grunted, throwing another lump of wood on the fire. It burst into flame immediately, yellow flames curling like a river around a stone. ¡°Yes.¡±

    Adran nodded, accepting the answer as he had each time he¡¯d asked. Long minutes passed, the silence broken only by Torean¡¯s return from the spring, and departure. ¡°It only took us a couple weeks to get here, so three months should allow us to go out and return.¡± Adran looked at the clouds drifting by, dimming the sun moment by moment. ¡°I¡¯d feel better if we had a compass, to be sure of our navigation.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ve been thinking about that, actually.¡± Ynten sat up, his magnified eyes staring through the mountainside. ¡°The glass refracts differently based on the heat applied right? But you mentioned that your glass glove was lighter than it should be, your imparted lightness wasn¡¯t wearing off as it normally did?¡±

    Adran nodded, the shape of the idea coming through. ¡°Well,¡± Ynten continued, ¡°I think it can interact with and channel magic as it does with light. Refract, bend, mirror, and store it, like no material I¡¯ve ever worked with. So all we need is to bind both Apothet¡¯s metal blessing and Porial¡¯s directional blessings to it to magnetize it.¡±

    Ynten reached into his bag, and brought out a device, a construct the size of a large man¡¯s head. It was woven of ropes, strand over strand, each tied into intricate knots and threaded around slender poles to create a rough pyramid. The knots, once laid together, created a pair of interlocking sigil patterns; and the construct -ropes, poles, and all- was made of crystal glass, seemingly tied together when molten by red-hot hands.

    Ynten looked up at the clouds, waiting. When the sun peeked through, he held it over a patch of bare stone, and the light shattered, casting a circle of dancing light shards on the ground. He lifted it further up, and the shards coalesced into a circle with a small break, pointing roughly north. He smiled and rotated the construct, and Adran realized the circle wasn¡¯t following. The gap pointed north regardless of how it was held.

    ¡°And there you are,¡± Ynten said, placing the glasswork on the stone. ¡°I couldn¡¯t sleep last night with the pounding in my head, so I decided to give it a shot. I still can¡¯t quite explain how, but it seems to work. Just don¡¯t follow my lead and headbutt the compass.¡± Ynten gave a pained smile and closed his eyes again.

    ¡°Then I guess it¡¯s decided,¡± Adran said, looking at the cave. ¡°Torean will settle here, and the rest of us will take the easy road, trekking back to civilization to convince them of an unbelievable miracle, only to the hike all the way back.¡±

    ¡°No,¡± Ynten cut in. ¡°I¡¯m staying too. If these glass marvels are half as important as I think they¡¯ll end up being, the world will change around me.¡± He tilted backwards to lie beside the fire. ¡°If I¡¯m right¡­ I¡¯m not sure I¡¯ll ever leave.¡±

 1.3a - Settlement

    As the wagon rolled along the rough dirt road into the camp, Sojo sank deep into the sounds of conversation, cooking, and bartering, letting the familiar feeling of strangers¡¯ lives wash over her.

    They¡¯d been travelling for a week now, and Sojo felt a sigh of relief pass her lips. She¡¯d have at least a day and a night without having to constantly fret about her word choices, about seeming cheery and adventurous, and most of all confident in everything from navigating to pitching a tent. She¡¯d never been so close to a group of people for so long before, and was realizing how tiring it could be. Or maybe that was just the endless walking.

    Still, the days had only reconfirmed that she¡¯d chosen her people well. As much as Brehen¡¯s food issues had caused friction, his clear competence in tending to the horses had put the group quite at ease. Mirrel¡¯s cooking was so far without issue, though Sojo still wondered whether strain would build as fresh ingredients dwindled. And Eyn was quieter than she¡¯d first come across, but seemed to be listening to every conversation. More than that, though, she was sharp whenever she decided to contribute.

    The few things that did add friction so far only made the departure feel more real. Eyn had managed to knock something off the wagon each day for a week straight, and still seemed unsteady when she took a break from walking to ride. And Brehen stalking off hunting for an hour after each day¡¯s stop made Sojo worry whether the food stores would last the whole trip; she only grew more worried when he returned empty handed. He¡¯d brought back enough to feed himself some nights, but he hadn¡¯t yet managed more.

    Mirrel was her only serious source of worry. Even after the long days of travelling and talking, he didn¡¯t seem to realize that he could have help with any problem with a word. Twice she¡¯d found him struggling to set up his tent at night, and still he was completely unwilling to ask Eyn for help. In an ideal world he¡¯d start to trust the group¡­ but Sojo had no idea how she¡¯d address it if he didn¡¯t. The wagon creaked to a stop near a water trough, and Sojo refocused on her surroundings.

    The settlement had growing pains; there was no shortage of evidence for it. The inn they¡¯d stopped at hadn¡¯t been properly kept up, and the front steps still showed dried mud, likely tracked in days ago at the last rainfall. Shoddy buildings were in abundance, clearly made to cater to a large influx of travellers, and never fixed up properly once occupied. The lack of building material in the plains and scrubland hadn¡¯t helped. Mud and thatch was present in many of the new constructions. Some didn¡¯t even have a complete set of walls, just a roof and some half-built hope.

    But down the road, she could see the reason Brehen had wanted to stop: a market, far removed from bustling, with tired-looking farmers and a smattering of non-empty stalls.

    ¡°The market¡¯s just down the road, Mirrel, if you wouldn¡¯t mind restocking our food?¡±

    ¡°Sure, though I doubt I¡¯ll be able to match the variety we set out with,¡± he replied. ¡°I¡¯ll be spending a little extra on spices and such.¡± His eyes unfocused slightly as he considered their current rations.

    ¡°That shouldn¡¯t be a problem, just let me know if anything¡¯s more expensive than you¡¯re used to.¡± Sojo stepped towards the front of the wagon. ¡°Brehen, can you refill our water and alcohol stores at the inn here?¡±

    Brehen looked up from the horses. ¡°Not a problem. I¡¯ll probably step off to the market afterwards for some procurement of my own.¡±

    ¡°Eyn, I¡¯d like you to get us rooms here as well. Eyn, Brehen, is there anything specific you want us to look for at the market?¡±

    ¡°Only if you find something that you know will catch my fancy,¡± Eyn replied, smiling. She stepped through the inn door, only to turn back. ¡°Actually, if you see any trinkets, or something to keep my hands occupied, I¡¯d appreciate it.¡± She waited to see Sojo¡¯s nod before stepping fully through the doorway.

    Sojo turned away. ¡°Brehen? Anything you need?¡± At the shake of his head, Sojo and Mirrel started down the road towards the stalls.

    ¡°It seems a bit bare, don¡¯t you think?¡± Mirrel asked, peering at the empty stalls near the market¡¯s edge. ¡°You¡¯d expect the travelling boom would bring the growers out in droves.¡±

    ¡°I did notice that,¡± Sojo replied. She turned towards a farmer selling undersized squash at a nearby stall. ¡°Excuse me, could you tell us why it¡¯s so quiet today?¡±

    ¡°Quiet?¡± The farmer asked, ¡°This is fightin¡¯ for busiest day of the week.¡± Seeing the surprise on their faces, he explained ¡°The scouts passin¡¯ through are buying up half of each field they come to. A lot of the farmers are wonderin¡¯ how hungry they can get over the winter for the extra coin in their pocket. It¡¯s not often the army pays for what it takes.¡±

    ¡°The Corinthian Scouts are still around here? We thought they¡¯d have moved on a while ago.¡± Sojo asked.

    ¡°They¡¯re out n¡¯ back again, from what I hear. The ones I¡¯ve talked to said there ain¡¯t much to live off of further east, particularly with non-scouting soldiers coming soon. We started callin¡¯em the Corn Scouts after they stripped the Matices¡¯ whole cornfield bare.¡±This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

    ¡°I¡¯ll have to see if I can¡¯t find some to talk to,¡± Sojo said, half to herself, as Mirrel began bartering on the farmer¡¯s squash. She walked down through the stalls, pausing at some well-made leatherworks, but moved on before she could be entranced into buying something unnecessary. At the far end of the market, she passed a stall of spices and stepped into a poorly stocked jeweller¡¯s.

    ¡°Can I help ya, miss?¡± The shopkeeper stepped forward, buffing a roughly made metal bracelet in his hands. ¡°We haven¡¯t the greatest selection at the moment, but I can make most things to order if you¡¯ve the time to spare.¡±

    ¡°I was actually wondering if you could tell me anything about this ring?¡± She pulled her necklace out and unfastened the clasp. ¡°My grandmother told me stories about it all through my childhood, but I was never sure what to make of them.¡±

    The jeweller reached out for the ring, and held it gingerly between his thumb and forefinger. ¡°I can¡¯t say much for it, save that it¡¯s well made. The metal might be pewter, iron, or silver, but it¡¯s hard to check without a test that¡¯ll mark the surface. Has it tarnished since you¡¯ve had it?¡± He twisted the ring to look at the glinting inset stone.

    ¡°No, not that I¡¯ve seen,¡± she said, as glimmers sped across the countertop.

    ¡°More likely silver, then. Again, I can¡¯t be sure, but I sincerely doubt this inset is a gem. It¡¯s got angled cuts, clearly, but also two twists that look like someone grabbed it and turned it in their hands¡­ I¡¯ve no idea how someone would shape a diamond to do this. I¡¯d put my money on it being well-wrought glass, but it¡¯s no less beautiful for it.¡±

    He passed the ring back to Sojo. ¡°Is there anything else in particular I can do for you?¡± the shopkeeper asked, smiling as Sojo stared at the pieces of clipped sunlight the ring threw across the shop.

    Sojo looked up at him. ¡°No, that¡¯s all I was hoping to hear. Thanks for humouring me.¡± She smiled, stepping back from the counter.

    ¡°Anytime, Miss.¡± The jeweller replied, picking up his buffing cloth and bracelet as she walked out the door.

    ¨C

    Sojo walked back through the marketplace, browsing more thoroughly now that her errand was done. She noticed a weary-looking merchant selling wooden puzzles and tried her hand at unlocking them, but found herself thoroughly confused.

    ¡°How do you come up with these?¡± She asked the merchant woman, fiddling absentmindedly.

    ¡°Well,¡± the woman said, gauging Sojo¡¯s interest, ¡°my parents had some when I was growin¡¯ up, and they¡¯d let my sister¡®n me play with them as a reward for if we worked hard. Most days, though, she and I would be starin¡¯ at them, trying to scrounge up an idea to use the next time we got the chance. After a while, I started findin¡¯em scattered about in my dreams, and that¡¯s where I¡¯ve found new ones ever since.¡±

    The old woman sighed, dreaming as she spoke. ¡°I haven¡¯t been able to find many new ones since we settled here, though. I¡¯ve mostly been carvin¡¯ out older puzzles.¡±

    Sojo looked down at the puzzles contours again. There were curves and edges that added no difficulty, but lent an odd flavour to their construction, and portions where the wood was made to pass through itself despite remaining a single solid piece. Much of the craftsmanship seemed confused, or even contradictory. It held the eye far more than she expected a mere curiosity to.

    ¡°I think I¡¯d like to take a couple of these, then. I¡¯m travelling with someone who¡¯d love to unlock them, or even carve her own.¡±

    The merchant picked up a pair of squat spirals with interlocked wood rings. ¡°These are my favourite design, I found them in the same dream when we first arrived here. If you solve them, the pieces¡¯ll mesh again. They make another puzzle even when you think you¡¯re through.¡± She smiled warmly, and passed them over. ¡°Unless another one catches your fancy?¡±

    Sojo passed over her coin, and tucked the two puzzles away in her pack. Walking back towards the inn, she found Mirrel squinting suspiciously at a yam, and pointed him in the direction of the spice booth she¡¯d passed earlier.

    Walking through the sparse market, with the sun friendly on her cheeks, Sojo felt the tension flow out of her. The plains, with a horizon so far away she couldn¡¯t seem to reach it after days of travel, had begun to wear at her. It held a vast emptiness with no familiarity or comfort for the weary traveller. In the late hours, when the darkness had brought that unreachable horizon to the edge of their campfire, she sometimes felt a looming menace brimming from the landscape, and found little solace in the flimsy barrier of her tent.

    Moving leisurely, she found herself disinterested in the paltry showing from the remaining merchants, and dreaming only of a night with a bed and walls.

    She picked up her pace, and immediately regretted it as a blister tore on the side of her foot. She hadn¡¯t seen any shops with salves or medicine, so she limped on to the inn.

    Finally, she pushed through the doorway and walked inside, taking a seat beside Eyn at the bar. ¡°I hate my feet.¡± She grumbled, loosening her laces. ¡°Why won¡¯t they just accept the salve and toughen?¡±

    Eyn patted her on the back, and gestured for the tavern keeper¡¯s attention. He smiled wearily and walked over. Her drink arrived with well-practiced efficiency.

    Sojo sipped, and a warm wave of goosebumps travelled down her back. ¡°Mmm. How¡¯s the road been treating you, Eyn? I know I¡¯ve missed drinks with flavour and, well, walls.¡±

    Eyn rested her arms on the bar, staring into her drink. ¡°I¡¯ve been doing well so far. I wasn¡¯t quite ready for how slow the road would be, but I¡¯ll adapt.¡±

    ¡°Nothing around here is bustling, this town excluded, but we¡¯re not at the interesting part yet either.¡±

    ¡°Do you really think it¡¯ll change all that much? When I look out over the horizon, it feels endless. Like we¡¯ve been walking in circles, and we¡¯ll never even realize it.¡±

    ¡°Well, of course¡­¡± Sojo¡¯s words died on her lips as Eyn turned to look her in the eye, taking another sip of her drink. She tried again, ¡°From all the maps I¡¯ve seen, it¡¯s endless. But we¡¯re heading beyond the maps, trying to find something worth telling about. There¡¯s a part in me that refuses to believe there won¡¯t be something worth finding.¡±

    Sojo looked down at her drink. ¡°I mean¡­ I don¡¯t know how that could be,¡± she said, watching the last of the liquid glide around it¡¯s crystal enclosure. ¡°How there could be somewhere in the world that truly isn¡¯t worth knowing. It doesn¡¯t seem possible.¡±

    Eyn smiled sadly, and downed her glass. ¡°You¡¯re probably right. The thought that we¡¯re heading towards nothing of consequence just won¡¯t leave my head some nights.¡± She stood and stretched, fugue falling off her shoulders to the sound of creaking floorboards. ¡°Come on, I¡¯ll show you our rooms. Let¡¯s let those bags and burdens sit there on their own for a while.¡±

    Sojo took her offered hand and stood, leaving her empty glass on the bar. ¡°Porial¡¯s love, yes please.¡±

 1.3b - Settlement

    The party sat around the table nearest the fireplace, enjoying their first proper drink in many, many days. There were only two other patrons sharing the common room with them. One of the two seemed to have no eyes but for the barkeep, who was keeping him pleasantly distracted ¨C and progressively less sober. The other, though, kept eyeing them from across the room. He seemed discomfited, perhaps from the lack of conversation, or perhaps simply from the way they kept staring at small details. At the grain of the wood slowly burning in the fireplace, at the chair that creaked every time they shifted weight, or even just staring, transfixed, at the glimmers of firelight passing through their brew.

    Finally it seemed he¡¯d had enough. Getting a final pint from the bartender, he swayed over to the group, not bothering to introduce himself. ¡°Not a chatty bunch, are ya?¡±

    Mirrel looked up and scowled at him, opening his mouth to reply.

    ¡°¡­¡± He closed his mouth with a clack, then turned back to the group and smirked wordlessly.

    Sojo sighed, and turned in her seat. ¡°Please excuse Mirrel, he thinks he¡¯s clever.¡± She gestured around the table. ¡°I¡¯m Sojo, that¡¯s Brehen and Eyn. And you are?¡±

    ¡°Talen Matice, local farmer and gossipmonger. Pleased ta meet y¡¯all!¡± Talen swept into a sarcastic bow, nearly pitching over forward in the process. ¡°Hum, maybe I should avoid theatrics with this many in me,¡± he mused, dragging a rough chair over. ¡°So, farmers or craftsfolk? Normally I can tell the two apart in a wink, I assure ya, but while you¡¯ve got the cart for both, you¡¯ve the clothes of neither! Couldn¡¯t get much from the glance when ya came in, nothing but bundles and barrels on that wagon o¡¯ yours. Could be anythin¡¯ in there, seeds for sowing or leather for workin¡¯¡­ I don¡¯t expect ya could have packed much forge-worthy kit in there, and not with enough room for food along the way neither¡­¡±

    Talen spread his arms wide. ¡°A real mystery then! So tell me, what brings y¡¯into my delightful company?¡±

    Brehen and Eyn were wide-eyed, and she was leaning back as if the words were a howling wind. Sojo was struggling to contain her laughter. ¡°Porial¡¯s blessing, I¡¯ve found my people!¡± She leaned in, and it was like the edges of her vision had darkened, and nothing in the world existed but Talen¡¯s eager grin.

    ¡°We come as explorers, trekking this vast and featureless landscape in search of adventure. Also treasure, if we can find it. And we wouldn¡¯t turn down some great, news-of-the-year discoveries were they to fall into our laps.¡±

    Talen leaned forward to interrupt, but Sojo continued, relentless.

    ¡°But that¡¯s enough of us! A great gossip is too valuable to waste, so I simply must know: what have the scouts been saying? I¡¯ve heard they¡¯ve been out and back again already! Have you heard anything from them?¡± She watched the man absorb her demands, and took the moment to check the rest of the table. Eyn still looked like a cat about to bolt, but Brehen had relaxed fractionally. She couldn¡¯t get a look at Mirrel; his mug was in the way, and she got the impression it wasn¡¯t moving for a while.

    ¡°Well if it¡¯s news on the Corn Scouts you¡¯re lookin¡¯ for, ya got the right farmer. They¡¯re the ones funding my gossip-huntin¡¯ rounds, after all ¨C bought every stick of food or feed I had not ten days back. We just finished replantin¡¯, and I decided a few days off and some lighter pockets were in order.¡± He raised his mug for emphasis, and his posture suffered just a little more for it.

    ¡°They must have told you something of what they¡¯d found, then?¡± Sojo prodded, as Talen¡¯s attention wandered a touch in the direction of his drink. His eyes refocused, but Sojo couldn¡¯t help but wonder whether he¡¯d even remain upright if she nudged his elbow off the table. Eyn was staring there too¡­ hatching escape plans, maybe?

    ¡°They tried not to talk too much, but there¡¯s always a few willing to spread the word.¡± He puffed out his chest, and massacred a dignified expression. ¡°The o-fficial word is that they¡¯ve found good land, and that it was ¡®unmarred¡¯.¡± Talen lingered over the word like an unfamiliar candy. ¡°Really just means that they didn¡¯t get into fightin¡¯ out there. They wouldn¡¯t be coming back so soon if it was that good, though, probably couldn¡¯t graze too well and had to feed some of their rations to the horses.¡±Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings.

    He noticed Sojo¡¯s rueful expression and chuckled. ¡°Not what ya wanted to hear, was it? Well lemme tack on something better. They kept asking about who ¡®round here is known for their brewin¡¯, seemed very interested in getting some barrels and drink.¡±

    Mirrel¡¯s mug went down as Talen rambled. ¡°Normally I¡¯d pass it off as just soldiers bein¡¯ soldiers, but the officers were askin¡¯ too!¡± His face spasmed, and it took Sojo a moment to realize he was trying to waggle his eyebrows. Mirrel¡¯s mug started creeping back.

    ¡°Now, the scouts know their business, ain¡¯t none who¡¯d argue that. Ain¡¯t none!¡± he insisted as Eyn scoffed. She subsided into sullen silence. ¡°I¡¯d say they¡¯re tryin¡¯ to find ways to lighten the loads on the horses. If they know they hafta carry more feed, though, it seems to me that they¡¯d be bringin¡¯ alcohol to mix in with local water, keep them from gettin¡¯ sick on the way.¡± Brehen¡¯s chair creaked, and Sojo could hear his foot tapping on the table leg. ¡°I¡¯d bet heavy coin that they found a lake somewhere, or maybe even a river, and they¡¯re expectin¡¯ to ¡®plenish their water from it.¡± Talen sighed, ¡°Couldn¡¯t get the place of it out of them, though. Teph¡¯s given us all the light we can stand, out here, but water¡¯d make any farm rich in this desert. As it is, the carpenters ain¡¯t slept in a month, with people throwing coin at¡¯em for rain barrels.¡±

    ¡°You think people would pay to know where this lake was sitting?¡± Sojo asked, wondering what kind of detour they could afford.

    Brehen cut in. ¡°Oh definitely, if it was near 50 miles of here the town might even pool together to get a road fixed up to it.¡± Sojo¡¯s grin was widening, but Brehen continued, glancing at her. ¡°Don¡¯t get your hopes up too quick, now. If it were along the road, they¡¯d have heard news from down the way. Those scouts have been out for weeks; there¡¯s no telling where that lake might be.¡±

    ¡°But-¡± Sojo started.

    ¡°No, he¡¯s right.¡± Mirrel interrupted. ¡°It would be a gamble, to try for the lake. On the one hand, there¡¯s a certainty that folk would pay to know a better place to settle. It¡¯s appealing, should we find it.¡± Mirrel paused, looking through his empty glass, and waved it suggestively at the bartender. ¡°On the other hand, we expected it to be weeks before we even made it to the end of the road. It would take us a good two months to search a portion of the land on either side of it, and even then we¡¯d have no guarantee of finding anything.¡±

    ¡°Can¡¯t trust the scouts anyways,¡± Eyn said softly. When the rest looked at her, she quailed, but continued. ¡°Can¡¯t trust the scouts to keep it to themselves anyways. They know word¡¯ll spread through folk like, uhh¡­¡± Her eyes widened again.

    ¡°Talen.¡± Brehen said softly.

    She continued, nearly whispering. ¡°Right, Talen. They know he¡¯d puzzle it out. They probably just don¡¯t want to encourage people already settled to move again. I bet they already have the maps drawn up, sent by envoy to Eastern cities to help manage the next wave. We¡¯d be hard pressed to find it, map it, and sell it before them.¡±

    At this, the table went quiet again. Sojo glanced at Talen, curious why he hadn¡¯t broken the silence, and realized his elbow had gone out on its own. She noted the growing puddle of drool on the table and decided not to wake him.

    ¡°So, no change to the plan,¡± she concluded, and they all nodded. They still seemed a little shell-shocked at the exchange, but she was privately delighted the gossip had come around. It was satisfying, like a scratched itch. ¡°Oh, Brehen, Mirrel, do you think we should add to our food stocks, then? If it starts to get sparse, we might have issues feeding Sow and Fallow.¡±

    Brehen nodded. ¡°Did you see anyone selling oats at the market? I could go see if there¡¯s any left, or maybe in the morning.¡±

    ¡°Not that I can remember,¡± Mirrel replied, ¡°and they¡¯ll be gone by now. There¡¯ll be another town along before the grass goes on us.¡±

    ¡°In that case, I¡¯m off to bed.¡± Brehen stood slowly, and gave a parting glance to Talen, still face-down on the table. He shook his head and walked away. The farmer started to snore loudly in response. Within moments, he was alone at the table.

    ¨C

    The group woke with pre-dawn twilight sliding through the window, and set unhappily to their tasks. To onlookers, of which there were none, they would have appeared confused by working without a stiffness borne of sleeping on hard-packed dirt; they walked slowly, slightly hunched despite their rest, and moved to their tasks with a curious lack of familiarity.

    Finally the wagon was packed and ready, and as they prepared to leave, the breeze stilled. The ramshackle buildings were not yet warmed enough by the sun to creak, and animals still slept quietly behind them. The travellers paused, and in the hush from absent footfalls their breath caught in their throats. With pulses pounding in their ears, the group¡¯s attention snapped to Eyn as her puzzle clacked in her hands.

    She glanced around as the light breeze resumed, and the group¡¯s low chuckles echoed off the buildings as Brehen urged the horses onwards. They walked briskly out of the settlement, with at most a few bleary eyes noting their departure.

    No gazes followed them long; no anger or grief was stoked by their absence. The town slumbered at the early hour, but would soon revive itself, returning to a bustle as each person prepared for the days ahead. None would hear the words shared as the group fell over the endless divide of empty land and empty sky.

 1.4 - Constructs

    Conten raised the construct to the light, examining it from multiple angles, and grinned as the light refracted through the carefully wrought angles and points. Holding it in his right hand, he threw it onto the floor, shattering it into an unrecognizable mess of glittering shards. ¡°Still no progress,¡± he sighed, sweeping at the scattered pieces.

    His workshop consisted of a small room filled with jars and containers, holding every type of compound and material he could afford to buy. He¡¯d collected dirt vials from all corners of the known world, rock compounds from every mine, sands, plant samples, nectars, saps, animal extracts, all layered one upon another across the walls of his room. The only gaps held the doorway, a cluttered windowsill, and a small table well-wrought enough to be approaching a pedestal, which held a single opaque glass cube.

    The cube was his treasure, a work created early in his efforts, and nearly indestructible when compared to the unaltered glass. He¡¯d found that salt, ground finely enough, would dissolve into the fluid, and that when provoked it would form glass with unparalleled strength. He¡¯d been working for over a decade now to reduce or remove the opacity, however, as the constructs were nearly useless when unable to refract.

    He poured the crystal shards through a sieve, collecting the larger pieces, and let the dust fall into a small bin below. Marking off the bumblebee venom as unsuccessful, he stepped out the doorway and began the short trip to the dining hall. Both of the researchers he passed smiled at him, but saw his expression and decided against passing conversation.

    ¡°Am I that frightful of a sight?¡± Conten wondered, glancing back at the pair. He made a deliberate effort to smooth his features before stepping into the bustle of a room filled with more hungry people than it should ever reasonably hold.

    He spotted Torean across the room, and waved as he searched for an unoccupied seat. Torean drifted over as Conten waited for a small group to finish their lunches, and felt himself relax at the old man¡¯s delicate grip on his shoulder.

    ¡°I see from your face you¡¯ve made a great breakthrough today!¡± Torean said wisely, his face empty of guile or malice.

    ¡°How do you figure?¡± Conten asked, as the last of the seated group downed their drinks and stood to leave.

    A grin fought for control of the old man¡¯s face, but couldn¡¯t quite keep its foothold. ¡°Rumour has it,¡± he said quietly, ¡°that you¡¯ve discovered the lost art of patience!¡± The grin burst forth, all the wider for its brief repression.

    Conten stared blankly at the delighted man, unsure how much of his words were humour, and how much was his aging brain giving up ties to reality.

    ¡°For someone so young, you didn¡¯t really fit your name,¡± Torean continued, unaware or uncaring of his companion¡¯s deadpan. ¡°You¡¯ve never before really seemed Content¡­¡± He paused, sweeping his feet dramatically off the floor, and slowly falling into his chair. ¡°But today,¡± he exclaimed loudly, ¡°rather than search for a table where none would be found, you learned patience, the ancient and nigh-lost art!¡±

    Conten felt a smile rising at his friend¡¯s theatrics, despite himself.

    ¡°No, today you stood by a group obviously finishing up, and you waited for them to depart. In all my years, there are few here who I have e¡¯er seen act so wisely ¨Cnay, sagely¨C in the pursuit of their humble goals.¡± Torean concluded, gesturing widely at the packed room. ¡°So what else has my wisest of friends learned?¡±

    Conten laid his head in his hands. ¡°My dearest companion,¡± he began, trying to mimic Torean¡¯s speech, ¡°I have learned that if ever I desire peace and quiet, I would sooner revise those who I call my friends than expect anything less than exuberance from you.¡± He smiled across the table; ¡°though often, unexpected flair seems to be exactly what I need.¡±

    Torean smiled, and made a mock bow. ¡°I¡¯ve eaten already, if that¡¯s what you came to this fine establishment for, but I can keep you a table while you collect the delightful stew they¡¯ve served for the fourth time this week. I understand pride, but their cooking choices might now be verging on folly.¡±

    Conten stood, groaning theatrically, and walked to the bar. As he waited for the stew to be served out, he stepped into a window¡¯s sunlight, and looked out at the mountainside.

    The view was dappled green, though considerably less than it had been before the settling had started, and woven through with roads and trails. Further down the mountain, the settlement was properly taking form. The constructs returned by the first researchers had proven monumentally valuable, and people of every profession had started trekking to the site. Talks and bartering with the closest of cities and rulers had given them permission to form a university, and only now was the school beginning to settle into a sustainable rhythm.

    Conten was glancing further up the mountain at the entrance to the fluid tunnels when the room seemed to stutter. Every table wobbled in unison, every glass rattled, the bowls of stew rippled in matched time. A plume of dust and smoke had erupted from the mouth of the cave, and the travellers in sight had paused, staring in that direction. In the hush that fell, Conten¡¯s commentary carried much farther than he had intended.

    ¡°That must have destroyed the tunnels,¡± he said, brow furrowed, as he stared out the window.

    Every eye turned to towards him, fear and confusion writ large. He flinched back, and desperately pointed out the window. ¡°Th-The cave. There was a¡­ it just¡­ exploded. The glass tunnels.¡±

    Comprehension swept through the crowd, and a stampede began as researchers fled the room, desperate to determine the fate of their beloved glass reservoir.

    Conten stared out the window as a single form stumbled from the wounded mountain and collapsed at the cave mouth.

    ¡°What are you waiting for?¡± Torean asked from beside him. ¡°Let¡¯s go!¡±

    -

    Conten gasped for breath, watching Torean bound effortlessly up the mountainside, and cursed the old man not for the first time. Dragging himself up the glorified goat path, he arrived at the landing and found himself on the edge of a crowd of frantic researchers attempting to revive a dust-covered man.

    The man wheezed for air, and the crowd hushed, two glaziers fussing over him and trying to ease pains. Someone passed forward a waterskin with a bright brass buckle, and the man drank, spitting out murky water.If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

    Torean alighted at the man¡¯s side, others making room for the oldest of researchers. ¡°What happened, Gillam?¡± he asked desperately.

    Gillam coughed and drank, his lips forming words unspoken. Finally, he wheezed, ¡°The sounding-¡±

    Another coughing fit took his voice, and he spat tarry phlegm at his feet before continuing. ¡°We tried a sounding. Bennard insisted on taking the lead. He was finishing his first draw when the tunnel collapsed.¡±

    Torean¡¯s face was drawn, all joviality gone. ¡°What were you using to measure? We¡¯ve tried all manner of soundings before.¡±

    Gillam frowned, ¡°Everything else bowed with distance, or floated too much. Glass¡­ it¡¯s neutral in the water. So he just pressed out and formed a rod of glass in the reservoir.¡± The crowd exchanged uncertain glances as Gillam coughed, waiting for something to explain the disaster.

    ¡°I was watching the entrance, to keep anyone from going in and disturbing them, but¡­ I could hear the voices if I stepped inside a few paces. I heard Bennard saying he was feeling resistance. He tied off the end of the sounding rod and pulled it from the water. Last thing I heard was shattering glass, then¡­ bang.¡±

    Conten craned his neck, trying to see as the dust-covered man lay down again, his energy spent. ¡°Do you think the tunnels are down? Can we find a way through?¡± he called out, hoping to get some kind of answer, though from where he wasn¡¯t sure.

    ¡°Someone needs to go in there and check!¡± someone in the crowd called out, and the noises of agreement were cut short by Gillam hacking up another lump of black spit. No one stepped forward as a volunteer.

    Conten eased through the crowd to look down the tunnel. Dust still flowed outwards, seeping out from the cave like a thick fog, and rubble strewn along the bottom gave credence that it might have collapsed completely. He stepped forward, edging slowly towards the entrance, and took a breath of the dusty air.

    A burning filled his lungs, and he started coughing heavily, backing away from the cavern. He shook his head, trying to speak through the feeling of grit. ¡°We might have to wait a while,¡± he managed, trying to muffle his coughs. He stepped forward again, holding his breath this time, and pocketed a handful of the fallen debris for his tests.

    ¡°No.¡±

    Conten glanced up at the crowd, and saw Torean marching towards him. ¡°This place is all I have left,¡± Torean called out, his voice growing louder with every word. ¡°My friends are gone, my wits are leaving me, but I will not see my only legacy crumble in my lifetime!¡±

    Conten held the old man back as he pulled towards the opening. ¡°Torean, it¡¯s darker than pitch in there, unbreathable, and you can¡¯t even be sure of the tunnels themselves. It¡¯s not possible!¡±

    Torean jumped, and Conten¡¯s arm was nearly torn from its socket by the force of the pull. He let go, as Torean bobbed in the breeze beside him.

    ¡°I swam through the darkness of these caves to find the reservoir once, and I have no doubt I can do it again now. I know the tunnels better than any man living.¡± Torean glanced around feverishly, and settled his eyes on one of the men caring for Gillam. ¡°Give me the waterskin!¡±

    Torean caught the tossed vessel, emptied it of water, and peered at the cave opening. Slowly settling back to the ground, he touched down uncertainly with one foot. His ragged breathing slowed. Conten stepped forward and put a hand on his friend¡¯s shoulder, helping him stay planted.

    ¡°Are you sure about this?¡± Conten asked quietly, all too aware of the whiteness of Torean¡¯s hair, the wrinkles of his skin.

    ¡°Just give me a push, so I can get some speed.¡±

    Conten braced himself, his hands overlapped in front of his chest. Torean pushed off lightly, placed his feet on Conten¡¯s hands, and sprung out, leaping towards the cave like an arrow, vanishing into the gloom.

    The minutes that followed tore at Conten¡¯s mind, the guilt at enabling his friend¡¯s reckless action growing in him. None in the crowd spoke above a murmur. Twice, the sound of stone scraping against stone echoed from the cave, and all froze, waiting for something more. Even the men bolstering Gillam paused in their labour, as they helped him limp down the path to the hall.

    Slowly, the dust and shadows began to clear in the cave entrance. Shafts of light pierced into the wounded stone, and glanced softly off a parcel on the floor. Conten took a breath, wading into the dispersing mists, and reached out to grab the parcel. As his hand brushed over it, he felt a leathery surface, and retreated with his catch.

    Staying his breath in fear of residual dust, Conten found himself holding a full waterskin.

    He panicked, and lunged into the dust, frantically scrabbling for shapes not rubble or rock. A twist in the air showed a drifting shadow, and Conten grabbed it by the boots and threw it towards the entrance.

    He followed, footsteps growing heavier at the lack of breath. Outside, the crowd had again joined together to render aid, and he needed several emphatic gestures before he was deemed healthy and released. With shuddering breaths, he stood to watch Torean¡¯s limp form being towed down the mountainside.

    Murmurings from the cave drew his attention again, and he saw the forgotten waterskin being spilled, shards of crystal chiming on the stone ledge. He walked over and put his hand into the stream, withdrawing it cradling a small vial and stopper. Pulling the gathered cave-dust from his pocket into it, he stoppered the bottle and began the slow trudge back to his tiny office workshop.

    -

    Conten sat in front of a bowl of glass-water, and released Apothet¡¯s blessing to light the tinder beneath it. As the distortions of heat passed through the liquid, he pressed it into the liquid itself, and formed the thinnest tendrils he could manage, spiralling around and around until the construct seemed more a ball of yarn than a glass sculpture. Unlike his past efforts, he focused on passing his magic through all the spirals, and only once it reached through did he allow it to continue to extend the glass thread.

    He began to feel a resistance. As he lengthened it, it was as if the magic he poured into it was falling through a sieve, and less was reaching the end of the glass with each moment. He pushed harder, and saw bubbles of steam forming along the edges of his construct, where the heat was slipping from the glass despite his concentration. Finally, the glass would go no further, and he allowed the magic to recede before the roiling water shattered the fragile craft within.

    Plucking the glass from the bowl, he raised it to the light, and marvelled at the complete lack of elegance. No fine curves, or sharp edges, just a hodgepodge of strands twisting and turning like a pile of drunken snakes. He held it firmly in his right hand, turned to leave his meager office and walk to the dining hall, when the bottles in his room began to rattle and shake. Row upon row of carefully collected samples fell, most surviving the light impact with the wooden floor, and came to rest in a disorganized heap of glass.

    Conten¡¯s gaze bounced from the bottles leaking samples to the tangle of glass wires in his hand, then back again. Feeling oddly hollow, yet emboldened by the sign, he stepped through the mess, left the room, and closed the door on the chaos behind him.

    Walking down the hallways, he passed two chatting researchers, and gestured for them to follow him. Curiosity piqued by the mess of glass, they followed him to the meeting hall, full of friends and colleagues, and rife with speculation about the unexpected tremor.

    ¡°If I could have your attention!¡± He called out, and this time was prepared for the eyes of the room to turn his way. He raised the glass tangle in the air. ¡°I have a new construct for the interest of all!¡±

    Skepticism showed plain on the faces of many, looking at the fist-sized rat¡¯s nest of glass wires.

    ¡°I believe I might have an answer for last week¡¯s unexplained tragedy,¡± Conten continued, stepping towards a window. ¡°I haven¡¯t tested it yet, but if my instincts are right-¡± He paused, brow furrowed. ¡°Well, if they were right, I might not have a knee-high layer of jars and dirt samples in my office. But if I¡¯m right in this case, we¡¯ll all have something new to worry about.¡±

    With his audience¡¯s interest piqued, Conten opened the window and gestured grandly. As he gestured, he let the construct fly free, and it dropped out the window and out of sight.

    The cries of confusion were quickly overshadowed by the large explosion two floors down throwing a flash of light up through the windows, and the shattering of all the window panes on one side of the dining hall.

    Conten picked himself up and brushed the dust and glass pieces from his clothes.

    ¡°As you can see,¡± he said, surprised at how quiet his shouting voice sounded to his own ears, ¡°we have a problem. Our university is able to produce weapons of war.¡±

 1.5a - End Of The Road

    Her feet ached. Every morning, when Sojo woke, her feet ached. Every day, as she ate an early lunch on the wagon, her feet ached. At noon, while others rode the wagon and ate, her feet ached. Every afternoon, as she rested on the wagon to drink, she took a break from worrying about her aching feet to nurse her sun-stricken headache. Every evening, as they pitched their tents and lay down in dreadful weariness, her feet ached. And every night, as they told stories and cleaned the bowls their dinner had been feasted from, she laughed until her feet were forgotten and her cheeks were sore from smiling instead. And then when she lay down, her feet ached until she fell asleep.

    Travelling had become an uneasy mix of isolation and close company for her. Each moment, she was within arms reach of her companions, with hardly a change of scenery or passing breeze to distract from their closeness; yet still she longed for those not present, for the family she¡¯d never been so long separate from.

    A jolt of the wagon woke her from her stupor, and as she sat up she imagined the joy of seeing an unknown face staring at her, perhaps from a market stall or even just the back of a laden horse. Instead she saw Eyn¡¯s kind eyes and uncomfortable expression.

    ¡°Right, right¡­¡± Sojo muttered, stretching to recover from the bleariness that had taken her. She hopped down from the wagon as Eyn smiled thankfully at her. Sojo left her to her lunch, picking up her pace to get abreast the horses. Her shoes still smelled from time to time, and she had no intention of repeating that mistake. She brushed the horse¡¯s side to the sound of Eyn rummaging for a midmorning snack and scrambling to catch the spilled contents.

    ¡°Did you doze off back there?¡± Brehen asked, walking beside the other horse. ¡°I¡¯ve nearly done that a couple times on my worse mornings.¡±

    She could imagine the slight smile on his face as he poked fun, and would have seen it too had she not been rubbing the sleep from her eyes. ¡°Almost,¡± she admitted, ¡°but I¡¯m not quite tired enough to forgive the road its bumps yet. Seems like today¡¯s going to be a warm one.¡±

    Brehen nodded, not yet sweating in the morning coolness. Each step east they took seemed to still the wind further and thicken the air they passed through. ¡°I¡¯ve been wondering whether we even need the tents at night, with the evenings as calm as they are.¡±

    Sojo let her mind drift, but didn¡¯t bother to answer. She¡¯d got to know Brehen well enough by now not to worry about keeping the conversations going. The group seemed to find its stride best at night around the campfire, and during the walking hours drifted, dreamlike, with only the passing murmurs needed to keep pleasant company.

    Even so, that feeling of isolation seemed to rear up every morning. She¡¯d run out of topics to peruse with them, and more and more found that flights of fancy stirred faded memories to cause longer conversations. Something in the boundless horizon and endless green grasses still managed to be unique, and provoke a different path for her thoughts to wander down with every step. She found her gaze drawn into the rich, blue sky ¨C

    But needed no jolt this time to bring herself back to the present. Mirrel was walking alone ahead of the group, and she felt it was her responsibility to at least check in on him. Again, she stepped up her pace, and felt the soles of her feet renewing their endless protest.

    ¡°What travelling have you done before this, Mirrel?¡± she asked, finally matching his pace leading the party. She¡¯d agonized far more than she should have over how to ask that question, worrying about intruding. As it became clear how badly she was running out of other topics of conversation, however, Sojo had given in.

    ¡°Well, I grew up in the Western Isles,¡± he answered, unsmiling. ¡°The lands of mist and fog¡­ it¡¯s a beautiful place, but hardly welcoming. Little surprise I ended up a traveller.¡±

    Sojo was about to reply when he continued. ¡°I suppose you could say my whole trek out here has been one long journey. But with so many long stops in there, it¡¯s hard to say.¡± He smiled then, seeming happier to get away from the topic of the Isles.

    ¡°Sounds like you¡¯ve gone far,¡± Sojo said. ¡°Did any-¡±

    ¡°Have you been on any long trips before?¡± Mirrel cut in curiously.This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings.

    Sojo leaned back and stretched her arms in the air. ¡°Actually, I¡¯ve-¡±

    Her response was cut short by a sudden introduction of a sharp rock to a tender foot, breaking the conversation for the next half-minute as she swore, kicked at the rock, limped a few paces regretting the decision, and finally picked the rock up and threw it as hard as she could.

    Mirrel smirked, not looking as the rock landed far afield with a sullen puff. ¡°Feet still sore, then?¡± he asked, not making eye contact.

    ¡°Just a tad.¡± She grimaced, and tried to put on a straight face, still limping slightly. ¡°That cream of Brehen¡¯s is useless, I swear.¡±

    ¡°Maybe your feet are just too soft, still need to be firmed up by more days walking. Have you done much travelling before this?¡± Mirrel asked.

    ¡°Oh, hang it,¡± Sojo moaned, her voice cracking a touch. ¡°Don¡¯t make me think of more long, empty roads, please. Tell me about something better than this! What¡¯s the most beautiful place you¡¯ve ever been to, a place that took your breath away and made you forget about the trip it took to get there?¡±

    Mirrel grinned, wide and toothy. ¡°Well, I suppose¡­¡± his eyes drifted over and beyond the fields, and slowly his grin faded. ¡°There was a place. I¡¯ll do you one better, as this place requires no endless roads, or aching feet. Still the most beautiful view I¡¯ve ever seen. This place was less than an hour¡¯s hike from the village I grew up in, and¡­¡±

    ¡°I can¡¯t say what a treasure it was. There was a bay, surrounded by cliffs, with rough stony beaches below. Warm, emerald waters, all that. No cloudless sky, though, never on the Isles. In one place it was deep enough that you could jump from the cliffs into the water, and near there was a single patch of sand where you could lay at low tide. We would swim there often, and dare each other to jump. But some days, the mist would wash in, and the fog was so deep you couldn¡¯t see the water from the clifftop.

    ¡°We¡¯d always wondered what it would be like to swim in, with the mist, but no one dared. We¡¯d stand on the cliff and look down, and believe there was no water under the clouds: just a clouded sky above, and clouded sky below.

    ¡°Well, one day, a childhood friend of mine decided she would do it. The fog had rolled in, we were sitting on the clifftop, and she said she wanted to try. None of us really tried to dissuade her, of course, because we knew it couldn¡¯t be that dangerous in truth. It was only the feeling of something unknown that held us back.

    ¡°So we watched, and waited, and we worried that she would get lost trying to find her way back up, or in the bay. She said not to worry, that she would find the patch of sand and wait for the fog to recede. It usually did, once midday had passed.

    ¡°And then, well, she jumped. We saw her pass into the mist, turn to shadow and nothingness before our eyes, with only the roiling vapours left where she had been. And we heard nothing. No splash, no sound, no triumphant call or cry of despair. Just stared into the clouds, and waited.

    ¡°Noon passed, and the fog remained, another hour, two, and finally it began to recede, and even as our view cleared we saw nothing. Dark stone, some vague waves in water, and finally even a patch of sand, but¡­ nothing.¡±

    Mirrel looked up, and met her eyes. ¡°I left a few days later, decided that there had to be other places so lovely in the world. Safer ones.¡±

    Sojo walked in silence, and Mirrel turned to look out at the horizon again. Finally, she asked, ¡°Did you find anything on the sand? Had she been there?¡±

    Mirrel didn¡¯t turn. She couldn¡¯t see his face as he answered. ¡°Nothing to see. The tide had gone up, and the waves come with it. Nothing left but the sand.¡±

    ¨C

    Before the travellers lay a sight they weren¡¯t entirely prepared for. The empire¡¯s constructed roadway had been tapering up to this point, growing thinner, less maintained, but now they had reached the end. The point they had come to where the stone path ended, and the sandy soil of a new land took its place.

    The path was still visible, lightly marked by the wheels and feet that had passed before them to settle the land, but it was no longer a permanent fixture. Sojo stared at the transition point, marking the faltering grasp of their empire. She saw the churned dirt, with the small, hardy vegetation of the arid summer growing all around it. It was a shifting thing, and vividly in her mind she saw this place as it once had been, unkempt and self-sustained. She saw the Scouts pass by, and the stones laid down in promise of a future that never quite came. She saw the years pass, and the stones slowly shifting, the eager land pulling them down under the burden of their age. She saw this reclamation interrupted by travellers like herself, hoping to renew the vows made in earnest by unprepared rulers. Finally, an unbidden image arose of the tracks grown over, and the land restoring its sway that had been so weakly wrested away.

    Sojo looked at the stopped wagon, at her companions similarly lost in thought. She reached for the words to inspire them, but the image was overbearing; their goals and aspirations seemed so paltry and small compared to the slow roiling of the land itself. Instead, her actions would be rebellion to the traitorous fears she sheltered:

    She walked forwards to the end of the road, stood mere inches from the shifting sand, and as she stepped across, as her foot embraced the soil, she felt as though a part of her was embraced in turn. A nostalgic recognition swept through her, and in that glorious moment, all her ails seemed to vanish, healed by the raw touch of the dirt. She took another step, and¡­

    Her feet ached.

 1.5b - End Of The Road

    Her feet ached. Every morning, when Sojo woke, her feet -

    ¡°Wait.¡±

    Sojo rolled out of bed and opened the flap a hair. She held her foot up to the scant light and poked it. ¡°What.¡± She poked it a little harder. ¡°¡­ow?¡±

    Her foot¡­ didn¡¯t ache. Much. For the first time in far too long, Sojo stood up and found it pleasant. Sure, there was still tenderness, but in the morning light she could see the broken blisters beginning to heal, the raw patches scabbing over. She curled up in her tent for a few minutes to keep from disturbing her dream. If she woke now, it just might break her.

    Soon, though, the smell of breakfast started to intrude, and she roused herself from the bedspread. She could tell Mirrel was being clever again; whenever he was proud of his morning meal ¨C or just tired of waiting for the group to wake up ¨C he would flick a pinch of spice into each tent. The smell alone usually roused them within moments.

    She crawled slowly out of the tent, each motion a glorious victory over the road. ¡°Brehen!¡± she called out, ¡°I think I need to give that salve one more chance.¡±

    Brehen blinked at her. Distracted as he was by sleep and the dawning sun, it took him a moment to realize he was blinking aggressively at the cookpot. He turned his head towards her. ¡°Ehn?¡±

    ¡°My feet are finally patching themselves up,¡± she said, reaching for Mirrel¡¯s stew like a hungry bird. ¡°I think now they might- mmmph.¡±

    Mirrel hummed happily at the sight, and passed a bowl of stew to the others, refusing to let go of Eyn¡¯s until she had it firmly in hand. ¡°Well that¡¯s good to hear,¡± he said. ¡°Any other excitement, or should I share my news?¡±

    Seeing nothing, he continued. ¡°Take a gander, then,¡± he said, pointing to the horizon beyond the wagon. They dutifully stared at the sky, empty save for a wispy cloud near the horizon. ¡°There was a plume of smoke over there a little while ago. Good size too. Close as we are to the road-end, I think we might run into the Scouts soon.¡±

    Brehen yawned, passing his bowl back to Mirrel and picking up Eyn¡¯s from where she¡¯d dropped it. She blushed, and turned away to start taking her tent apart. Sojo smiled. ¡°Looks like we¡¯ll get a chance to harass them for ourselves. I, for one, have an assortment of questions for them.¡±

    Mirrel frowned, brushing dirt off of the bowl bottoms. ¡°What do you hope to get out of them, really? I don¡¯t expect they¡¯ll be eager to share. At best we might get them to direct us to the furthest of the settlements so we have a last chance at restocking.¡±

    ¡°Oh I don¡¯t know,¡± Brehen cut in, surrounded by the wreckage of his tent. ¡°I could certainly use some advice on their grazing practices. It¡¯d be a relief to know of anything toxic to Sow and Fallow before we find out for ourselves.¡±

    ¡°What about you, Eyn?¡± Sojo asked, trying to entice her into the conversation.

    ¡°Nothing to ask them,¡± she replied.

    Sojo frowned. She was normally one of the more energetic of the party in the mornings. Never very conversational, as a rule, but this was odd. ¡°Did you sleep alright?¡±

    Eyn¡¯s eyes flashed with annoyance. ¡°I¡­ might have been fiddling with those two puzzles a little later than I should have,¡± she said. ¡°You really delivered with them. I¡¯ve barely been able to put them down.¡±

    Sojo nodded, breathing a little easier. ¡°I¡¯m glad. There are worse things to be losing sleep over.¡±

    ¡°And maybe you¡¯ll stop dropping my dishes if you give those hands some more exercise.¡± Mirrel said with a grin. Eyn looked down at her slender hands, outraged.

    -

    Mirrel and Eyn were almost back on polite speaking terms when the Scouts passed by. For a moment, Sojo was worried they weren¡¯t stopping, but the back half of the company peeled off to meet them while the rest continued on.

    Even at half-strength, the riders made a show of circling the group before coming to rest a dozen paces away. The leader of the group - or so Sojo assumed, having a fancier hat and shiny sword belt - dismounted and walked over.

    ¡°Good morning, travellers!¡± He approached at a measured pace, creases of worry on his face testifying to a habit of vigilance and forethought. ¡°We saw your hail, is there some trouble we can help you with?¡±

    Sojo smiled and stepped forward to shake his hand. ¡°No trouble, but we were hoping to take a bit of your time if we might. We have a few questions about the land up ahead.¡±

    Again, she saw worry. Sojo glanced around at the other riders and saw similar expressions. Some of the horses were riderless, she noticed.

    ¡°I can leave a few folk with you to answer some questions, but the most of us will need to be getting on if there¡¯s nothing urgent.¡± The well-dressed man turned back to his company and gestured at three of the riders. ¡°I¡¯ll pass the word along to the next group heading out, they might find you along the way.¡±If you stumble upon this tale on Amazon, it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.

    Moments later the company was thundering off, three souls fewer.

    Sojo turned to study the riders left behind. Brehen was moving toward one of the two women; she was shorter, her slight dimples and soft expression lending her a kind air. The other woman had rough leather armour and stood apart, keeping herself between the party and the horses, Sojo noticed. Her expression wasn¡¯t unkind, but everything about her, stance, tense posture, and fidgeting hands gave an impression of distrust. Eyn gave her a wide berth, almost shielding herself behind the last rider. He was tall and thin with a gaunt face, but seemed friendly enough. His eyes, however, were bloodshot.

    ¡°Is it alright that we¡¯re keeping you back?¡± Sojo asked the riders. ¡°If there¡¯s trouble starting, all we¡¯d need is reassurance we¡¯re headed for the next settlement.¡±

    Tense looks were exchanged before the scout in rough armour answered. ¡°No, it should be fine. There¡¯s nothing pressing now that we¡¯re this far back from the edge lands.¡± She sighed, shifting from foot to foot.

    ¡°I noticed some of the horses were riderless,¡± Sojo said slowly. ¡°Is that something we should be concerned about?¡±

    ¡°Oh, I¡¯d sure think so-¡± the male scout started, but the armoured woman¡¯s sharp glance held him back.

    ¡°You¡¯re right to be cautious, but so long as you¡¯re in a settlement I wouldn¡¯t fear. It¡¯s not until you get well into the Sink that things get rougher.¡± The armoured woman was starting to calm, Sojo could see. Her stance was opening, and her voice didn¡¯t sound so brittle. The tension was bleeding into her own party, though, if their quietness meant anything. ¡°We think it was animal attacks,¡± the rider continued. ¡°Can¡¯t blame beasts for being aggressive when they live in such a barren place. Anything looks like food to a starving wolf.¡±

    ¡°The riders weren¡¯t killed, mind you,¡± the kinder-seeming woman cut in. ¡°They were in the wagons that didn¡¯t stop with us. That¡¯s why the Captain was in such a rush. He didn¡¯t want to leave them.¡±

    ¡°If you¡¯ll indulge us, then, we might as well be acquainted. I¡¯m Sojo, leader of this expedition. Brehen¡¯s our master of horse, Mirrel the head chef, and Eyn is our problem solver and scout, of sorts.¡± Sojo said, gesturing at the others in turn. Something was pretty clearly being held back, she thought, but there were easier questions first. And seeming amiable would help loosen tongues, in the end.

    ¡°I¡¯m Sergeant Garnet, of the 12<sup>th</sup> Company Scouts,¡± the shorter woman replied proudly. ¡°Those two are Harran and Martre. You¡¯d¡¯ve had a Lieutenant to speak with, but half of ¡¯em were in the wagons. Still, we can probably answer whatever you need.¡± The Sergeant paused, taking a moment to collect herself. ¡°So what can we do for you?¡±

    Brehen stepped forward. ¡°As I was saying to Martre, we¡¯d heard the grazing gets worse when you get further into the East. My worry was that, not knowing the local grasses, there¡¯d be something toxic to our horses.¡±

    The scouts nodded unhappily, Martre patting her horse¡¯s neck. ¡°There¡¯s a small yellow-green plant that grows out there, gets to ankle-high. Don¡¯t graze the horses once you start to see them. We haven¡¯t figured out what it is, but something growing around there upsets them, and they¡¯ll take ill if they eat for more than a couple weeks. Until then, though, it shouldn¡¯t be an issue. You won¡¯t see it before Eastgate.¡±

    ¡°Is that the next town out, then?¡± Sojo asked.

    ¡°It¡¯s the last town,¡± Harran replied. ¡°A few have tried settling past it, but nothing¡¯s growing fast enough to hold them through winter.¡±

    Sojo gestured to Eyn. ¡°Would you mind getting the compass bearing for Eastgate, then? I don¡¯t want to miss it. You said you wouldn¡¯t need to ask anything¡­?¡± Eyn nodded and brought Harran over to their maps. The riders seemed to have tensed up again, she noted, frowning.

    ¡°So, what brings you here?¡± Sergeant Garnet asked. ¡°Seems a little odd not to know the name of the town you¡¯re headed for.¡±

    ¡°Oh, well, we aren¡¯t planning to stay.¡± Sojo said. ¡°We-¡±

    ¡°Not us, no. We¡¯re travellers!¡± Mirrel interjected, and Sojo winced. It seemed he¡¯d warmed up to the scouts, then. ¡°Voyeurs of the horizon! Couldn¡¯t stay cooped up like that, with walls and ceilings blocking out the glorious empty view.¡± He grinned. ¡°No, we¡¯ve come to this empty land to find something worthy of being stared at, and we aren¡¯t going home until we¡¯ve seen it!¡±

    The riders¡¯ expressions had turned stony at Mirrel¡¯s outburst. It could still be salvageable, Sojo thought. They shouldn¡¯t distrust explorers, even if they might dislike them on professional grounds. He¡¯d managed an impressively awkward phrasing, though.

    ¡°We¡¯re explorers,¡± Sojo said quickly. ¡°We were hoping to enter Eastgate to restock, but we¡¯ll be heading beyond there in a day or two. We want to map out the Eastern edges, and maybe find something worth telling about back home.¡±

    She¡¯d expected that to pacify the scouts¡­ It didn¡¯t.

    ¡°Go home.¡± The Sergeant ordered. ¡°You aren¡¯t prepared enough for the Sink. Not nearly.¡±

    ¡°We weren¡¯t even prepared for it,¡± Harran said. ¡°We weren¡¯t ready for poisoned horses or wolf-mangled officers, but that doesn¡¯t cover it by half.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s parched soil and useless land for another 50 miles, and then you get to the Sink proper. Nothing but sand and sun for all the days we spent there,¡± Martre concluded.

    ¡°How do the animals survive, then?¡± Brehen asked.

    ¡°Are you sure it¡¯s wolves attacking?¡± Eyn looked from one soldier to the next.

    ¡°Oh, we¡¯re sure,¡± the hard-eyed Sergeant replied. ¡°I pulled an inch-long wolf fang from my Lieutenant¡¯s shoulder. Hard to miss, that.¡± The Sergeant and Eyn locked gazes, and Sojo could tell something was amiss. ¡°We Scouts have had to deal with their kind before, it¡¯s part of the profession. But I¡¯ve never seen beasts plot ambushes, or disappear so quick without finishing off their hunted meal. Something¡¯s wrong with the land out there and it¡¯s no place for amateurs. Or pretenders.¡±

    She was nearly spitting her words by the end of her speech, and the Scouts closed ranks by their horses. ¡°If you¡¯ve any sense, you¡¯ll turn back. Anyone in Eastgate¡¯ll agree with me, I assure you. Now, unless there¡¯s anything else you need, we¡¯ll be heading off to rejoin the company.¡±

    Sojo glanced at Eyn, who was nearly steaming with anger held in check. Mirrel seemed no better, unable to tolerate disdain at the best of times. Brehen, at least, was calm. She hadn¡¯t seen him upset yet on their trip, though, so it was hard to judge. It was a moot point to delay: the scouts wouldn¡¯t be sharing any secrets over lunch regardless.

    ¡°No, but thank you for taking the time,¡± she said. ¡°I hope your fellows have an easy recovery.¡±

    Sojo saw a last twist of grief in the riders¡¯ eyes. ¡°They won¡¯t.¡±

 1.6 - Pivot

    They came back, tired, to fanfare. The crowds had been informed an expedition would be returning, and had ventured out in hopes of seeing foreign wonders, recovered spoils, or really anything more exciting than dusty, dirty, dead-tired travellers. The people dispersed nearly as fast as the expeditioners passed them by. Only a few stragglers followed them to the university halls, peering at the pale hunched forms carried with them, the sole treasure claimed.

    These inquisitive eyes held no empathy, not even frail attempts at understanding of the terror these captives felt. Stolen away, chained, and confined for the days, weeks, months it took to return¡­ Hani so fervently wished she¡¯d been killed in the fight now. Only after weeks of travel away from their home had she realized how far the travellers would bring them. How faded the call of their home¡¯s magic would become. But even when the captives had coordinated to escape, they¡¯d been too well guarded; two of their friends had earned their deaths, but Nindu and her had been subdued with caution and bound more carefully.

    Now there was hardly any remnant of the seeping feeling of home, and every day she weakened. Already she could hardly eat and her stomach was beginning to distend; she¡¯d seen the like before as folk starved out in the desert.

    The wagon creaked to a halt in front of a grand stone building, and she stared up at five stories of cut stone with impossibly intricate glasswork windows. It had marvellously sharp lines and edges, stones shaped with intricate care, but even so the facades were bare of decoration. She¡¯d seen far grander buildings, but none more than half standing, and all with corners rounded by uncountable years of blowing sand. Did these savages have some means of preserving their buildings? Perhaps they built them with thicker walls than they needed, and carved the corners back into shape every few decades? Hani shook her head at the thought. To put that much forethought into the building and yet refuse any artwork felt inconsistent. Yet here it stood.

    She was still staring when he started walking back down the convoy of wagons. She tensed, and turned to the nearest raider. The woman gestured for her to climb down, and offered her arm. Even such a short drop was agonizing, raw as she was from the restraints, and Hani staggered as she touched down.

    Ahead of her, Nindu and that one opened the front doors, large affairs of glass that shattered and reformed as they moved. Her breath caught simply watching it, the thousands of interlocking pieces sliding past each other, a storm of shards that coalesced into a tawdry open door once it had rotated. She roused herself and continued walking, enduring one step at a time, still leaning heavily on the female traveller.

    They walked up the steps. Hani mostly kept her eyes down, but she could feel the appraising looks from the people inside. They wore fine clothes, all in darker tones and muted hues, and around her was forest and hillside and rough-hewn buildings of wood and stone, greys and browns and muted greens. None of the dusky colours of her desert, just air thick with the smell of vegetation and hanging moisture ¨C nauseatingly so.

    She walked slowly inside, feeling entirely out of place. Glancing over at Nindu, they locked eyes and together steeled themselves. Then began the speeches, proclamations, and questions rife with implicit tones of judgment. Neither of them understood a bare word.

    ¨C

    ¡°I think they¡¯re starting to get concerned,¡± Hani said. Nindu didn¡¯t answer.

    ¡°Two days since we got here, and neither of us can hold down a meal. Your ribs showing so gaunt I can see it through your shirt, my stomach acting like it¡¯s been years since I¡¯ve seen food¡­ We seem a mess.¡± Nindu still didn¡¯t answer.

    ¡°How long until they realize there isn¡¯t a cure, do you think? I wonder what they think of it all. I haven¡¯t felt a trace of our magic in the soil here, but can you tell if they have their own?¡± Nindu didn¡¯t answer.

    ¡°No, you¡¯re right, they must. Just the door to this prison, the glasswork¡­ It must be mage-work, there¡¯s no other way they could have made it. Maybe theirs is indirect, then? They can¡¯t harm us with a touch, or tear through armour like we can. Can. Could.¡± Hani sighed, and leaned back against the stone wall.

    Elsewhere in the building, people were shouting. She¡¯d been ignoring it for an eternity, she thought. Maybe a couple hours. She could hear it moving through the floor, towards the main entrance.The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.

    Hani stood, though it took her two tries, and peered out the window. She had to turn her head sideways to make out the front walk. It was so, so worth it. She saw him land on his side, hard enough that he must have been thrown. Revelling in the sight, she heard the shouting cut off and saw the dancing lights of the glass door closing, shards reflecting scattered sunlight, and he was left sprawling in the dirt.

    ¡°Nindu, come look! The folk here might not be as bad as I thought, they just threw the bastard out!¡± She turned to Nindu impatiently, but Nindu didn¡¯t answer. He didn¡¯t move. He just lay there, sleeping, dead to the world.

    She staggered over to him, shook his shoulder roughly. ¡°Come on Nindu, wake up!¡±

    Nindu didn¡¯t answer.

    It dawned on her that he hadn¡¯t moved in hours, that she hadn¡¯t heard him cough or breathe. She couldn¡¯t see his chest rising even now.

    Hani knelt beside him, and held her hand over his mouth. Nothing.

    ¡°Hello? Someone? Please! Help! HELP!!¡±

    She called out for anyone who might hear, and frantic words kept pouring out of her, nonsense by the time anyone arrived, but that wouldn¡¯t matter to the damn foreigners. They¡¯d never know.

    They carted Nindu away, and soon she was alone in her room, still desperate, feeling her world fall away. Feeling the throbbing headache of echoing sounds. Feeling the gnawing pit of her stomach, unquenched for months now. Feeling the pounding of her heart that wouldn¡¯t settle.

    Feeling the kick of something living in her body that she wasn¡¯t nearly ready to accept.

    ¨C

    Hani had learned some of the common words spoken in the stone house. She¡¯d had ample opportunity now that the residents knew how few days she had left, and were cramming endless tests and interviews into them. She¡¯d learned of their odd magics, far more varied but weaker than hers. Or had been at least, before they¡¯d stolen her from the lands it blossomed in.

    They didn¡¯t appear to see her as a threat, which irked more than many things about her treatment. She was emaciated, hardly able to eat, and nearly bereft of magic, but the warrior in her still stood proud.

    She¡¯d even gotten to see their glassmaking. They poured their magic into some putrid water ¨C vitrium, they¡¯d called it ¨C that shattered into intricate glassworks, but sick as she was she could hardly think through the smell. She¡¯d tried her hand at it, but couldn¡¯t draw enough from the land to work with. At that, more than anything else, the researchers seemed disappointed.

    Hani wasn¡¯t sure, but she didn¡¯t think they¡¯d realized she wasn¡¯t cooperating. To avoid their ire she¡¯d hidden it behind a mask of language and misunderstanding, but even now she refused to answer their questions properly. They¡¯d steal no secrets of her people, no mysteries of her desert home. She¡¯d given them some delightful recipes that they¡¯d never complete without some absent spices, though, and that was joyous in itself. These little deceptions were her only hobby left. Hard to do anything but misdirect when you couldn¡¯t stand under your own power, after all.

    And it was getting worse. Her head would swim when she tried to sit upright, and she understood why Nindu had seemed so comfortable in his final rest. She hadn¡¯t the energy to move anymore, and even a stone bench could grow comfortable when shifting your weight was like lifting a dune.

    It wouldn¡¯t be long now. It was well past half a year since the expeditioner had exercised his depravity, but she knew her body wouldn¡¯t last the full term. With how little food she¡¯d kept down, it was miraculous that Kain hadn¡¯t already claimed the unborn child¡¯s life. She couldn¡¯t decide whether or not to be thankful.

    No, it wouldn¡¯t be long. Night was falling, and with it the comfort she¡¯d once found. Pain was mounting, and her stifled cries weren¡¯t quiet enough. One of the foreigner guards had heard her, and had come with water and towels.

    It seemed they gave mercy in the end. It would have to do, as a parting gift.

    ¨C

    She gave him to her captors, her only child, one she¡¯d never planned for or even wanted. Hani felt there should be love in her for it, for him, but that part of her heart had been filled with dread for so long now. She only got a short glimpse of the child when he was nestled against her. The guard had waited for his crying to stop, and the sight and the pain and the slow weakening after a birth her body was barely able to manage¡­ Hani had no thoughts left, only waves of desperate horror and regret for what was certain to be the miserable life of a miserable child.

    And then he was gone, gone from her, as if she¡¯d been nothing to him but a point of origin, as if he wouldn¡¯t carry anything of their people along with him. As Hani slipped away, she wondered if this land would kill him so quickly as it had them, or if his curse of a progenitor would pass along enough to spare him the death she could feel herself sinking into.

    No matter.

    Away from her sight, away went the boy from the pale body he would never see, the face he would never know, nor trace save by his own hand in the mirror when trying to understand what he was.

    The guard was not a kind woman, but she¡¯d heard the stories. She¡¯d heard of the expeditioner¡¯s rage at the frail mages he¡¯d caught, and his desperate fear that they¡¯d expire before he could show them off like exotic caged animals, sold to the wealthy bidder with a taste for uncommon livestock and foreign cuisine.

    And from the glares, the disrespect and disdain from all those who¡¯d journeyed with him, she¡¯d pieced together his crime. So the guard took that babe, a rightful repossession even by one without a claim. She brought the child to her sister, a woman who¡¯d found herself barren after years of planning for the family she¡¯d one day have, and gave her a gift stained with lust and bloody hatred.

    She loved him all the same.

 1.7a - Eastgate

    The moon hung low in the sky, heralding the coming dawn. As Sojo stared at it, she felt the stirrings of an irrational anger in her gut. It passed quickly. She couldn¡¯t well blame the moon for anything, after all, as its slow transit had been charted long before her time and wouldn¡¯t be changing for her benefit anytime soon.

    The Scouts had been wrong. The sounds in the night had started before they even reached Eastgate, sounds like animals tracing the edges of their camp and then stealing away into the dark. She¡¯d thought it a dream at first, and so had most of the others. Only Eyn brought up her fretful waking, and in doing so connected the memories of each the members. So now Sojo stood on guard, the last of the rotation each night, and balefully bade the moon to hurry on its way.

    This was the third night they¡¯d held guard, and so far they hadn¡¯t been slowed as badly as she¡¯d expected. Brehen was easily the biggest victim of the change. Waking had never been his strength ¨C obvious since their second day of travel ¨C so he¡¯d been allowed the first watch. Eyn was similarly disgruntled by the dawning sun, but was more used to working around whatever schedule was needed. Mirrel had quarrelled over the second-to-last shift, but Sojo had exercised her begrudged authority to make him take it. In return for starting a small fire each morning. Not a large cost, she¡¯d thought, but trying to light a fire in the pre-twilight hours had proven troublesome.

    Still, she just went to bed earlier with kindling set out for the morning and called it a win. Mirrel took a nap after lunch on the wagon, Eyn remained clumsy but gained an excuse, and Brehen got to complain about overworking the horses by carrying people along with cargo. A fine compromise.

    And yet. She looked away from the moon, blinking away the faint spots from its glow, and looked at the utterly still horizon. Absent from it was any sign of movement, of hidden threats, of danger even as petty as a turned ankle from an errant rock. And yet... She hadn¡¯t heard noises in the night on her watch, nor did any of the others mention them. They¡¯d seen neither track nor trail, not a bird in the sky.

    She sighed. And yet the feeling of impending danger was ever mounting, as if each step was a little higher up a mountain road and unseen ahead was the cliff.

    Sojo stared at the stars inching across the dark and tried to judge the time. Probably an hour to dawn, maybe less. The horizon in that direction was already lightening, turning from black to noble blue, so she was likely safe in starting her morning fire.

    She scrabbled half-blind in the dirt beside her tent, looking for the tinderbox she¡¯d stowed the night before. When she finally found it, she swapped it for the held lump of crystal and began the Trial of the Fire. She really should have paid better attention when Eyn showed her how best to light one.

    As she scraped away and watched the wood stubbornly refuse to ignite, she periodically reached out to pat the discarded crystal. That had been a true surprise. Eyn had brought it out when they¡¯d decided on posting watches, calling it a memento of a past adventure; apparently when left in the sun it gathered and held the light that passed through it, and if you pushed out the cylinder of glass that was sunk through the center it would release it all at once. They hadn¡¯t been given a demonstration, as Eyn wasn¡¯t sure it would work twice.

    Sojo was half terrified she would lose it in the dark, and half amazed that Eyn hadn¡¯t dropped it and done the same long ago. Still, Eyn¡¯s look was serious when she gave it up, so she was taking care to treat it well.

    Finally the sparks caught, and a glimmer of fire started crawling up the kindling. She bent low and whispered into it, watching her breath give life to the flame, and delighted as it grew. There was something magical about nursing it into a proper blaze, she thought. If only she actually could use magic, maybe it wouldn¡¯t be such a hassle every morning.

    She started to rise, when her eyes caught the horizon. It seemed as if a distant fire had started at the same time as hers; she could see the tiny flickering glow even as her fire devoured the kindling.

    Then her depth perception kicked in, and the glimmer swam into focus. Not in the distance, but only a couple hundred feet from their camp. Not one ember, but two reflections in the eyes of a small hunched form.

    Her breath caught, and she froze. She considered reaching for the glass at her side, but didn¡¯t want to move for fear of spooking the creature. As she stood petrified, the horizon began to dim, the stars growing fainter, and the colour of the sky slipped to black again. She imagined her fear as a vice gripping her heart, suitable as her chest was aching more with every passing moment, and noted with a sliver of detachment that the edges of her vision were fading as well.

    She forced herself to take a breath, and the dawn returned. Her vision swam for a moment, but filled out even as the blue crept back into the sky. The reflections had gone. She coughed, realizing the vice on her heart had been her aching lungs, and wondered whether the eyes had even been real. Just bright stars moving across the horizon, maybe? If only she could convince herself so easily.

    No, something had been there. She was certain of it. The horizon was perfectly flat again in the light, where before she¡¯d seen something jutting from it.

    A rustle sounded behind her, and it was all she could do to stifle her scream to a squeak. Mirrel flinched at the sound and squeaked himself, halfway through the entrance of his tent. Their eyes locked, and even in the dim twilight she could clearly see his crimson blush. No doubt hers was visible just the same. A moment passed where they wordlessly agreed it would never be admitted, and Mirrel stepped fully out of his tent.

    ¡°The fire¡¯s dying,¡± Mirrel whispered, staring down at the flickering coals of her kindling. She glanced at the fire, then back at the fast-approaching dawn.

    ¡°I got distracted, after I lit it.¡± She whispered back. ¡°There was something out there, watching the camp.¡±

    Mirrel tensed, and his expression twisted as he shaved more kindling from his firewood. ¡°I thought we¡¯d be getting devoted admirers after we returned in glory, not before.¡± He placed his shavings over the coals, and within moments the wood was ablaze again.

    She didn¡¯t reply. The horizon brightened by shades, and she fidgeted with the glass until her companions rose.Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.

    -

    They were only two days from Eastgate now, Sojo mused. And it was definitely for the better. Tensions had been higher among the party, stemming mostly from Mirrel¡¯s increased petulance. He hadn¡¯t taken to the watch system well, and escalating anxieties had seen him berating Eyn before she even got the chance to drop his dishware.

    Brehen had similarly fallen into his sights, and for his ¡°cook¡¯s honour¡± he¡¯d demanded the man sample every dish he created, if not eat full portions. It seemed like Brehen¡¯s placidity had barely held, though he¡¯d also admitted many of the dishes weren¡¯t unpleasant. It wouldn¡¯t change their ration stores much even if he was convinced, though. Not really a benefit regardless.

    One more night. She¡¯d be able to manage that, and then they¡¯d be within Eastgate¡¯s walls ¨C they must have walls, this far out into the desert ¨C and they could finally sleep easy and catch up on some desperately needed rest.

    The wagon clattered over the uneven ground. Mirrel held his usual place ahead of the party, setting the pace and keeping to himself. She¡¯d considered going up to talk with him again, but their last proper conversation had ended with him recounting a childhood tragedy, so she was thinking it might be better to hold off for a while. Sojo drifted back toward the wagon and came even with Brehen and Eyn, chatting quietly.

    ¡°A pheasant¡¯s the best I¡¯ve seen in the recent weeks, but there must be some kind of ground-dweller in the area. If wolves are about, they¡¯ll be eating either something large or something easy to find. No way for them to survive otherwise.¡± Brehen gestured toward the wagon. ¡°And if I can find whatever they¡¯re surviving off of, my bow should take care of the rest.¡±

    He was rather hunched, Sojo noted, and seemed almost timid. He also looked a little thinner than when they¡¯d set out; he still stood tall, but not as broad or thick-set. She wondered not for the first time if meats and cheeses could truly sustain a person forever. Again she made a note to keep it in mind, and again she acted on nothing.

    Eyn stared ahead as she walked, not bothering to look at her feet even with the bumpy terrain. ¡°I haven¡¯t seen any animal tracks. The afternoon and evening walks are silent. Normally I¡¯d expect to hear birds settling down, or the calls of their chicks, wolves howling maybe ¨C the loudest things I¡¯ve heard are the grasshoppers.¡± It seemed as though she wanted to add more, but the words just didn¡¯t want to slip out.

    ¡°Do you really need to hunt to keep up the supplies?¡± Sojo asked, filling Eyn¡¯s hesitant silence. ¡°I thought you packed enough away from the beginning.¡±

    Brehen ran a hand through his hair, and his lips quirked up a touch. ¡°I should have enough to eat, though it might be a near thing. That said, Mirrel promised to cook up the next proper meal I can harvest however I want in return for eating his food for a day. I¡¯m worried that he won¡¯t have to hold up his end at this rate.¡± He stared at Mirrel¡¯s back, projecting suspicion, but Mirrel remained oblivious out of earshot.

    ¡°It sounds like he¡¯s been winning you over with these meals of his, then,¡± Sojo said. ¡°I can¡¯t say I expected that.¡±

    Eyn laughed, and the tall man smirked in a crude mockery of Mirrel¡¯s own grin. ¡°Oh, no. Not quite. It¡¯s not that bad, I¡¯ll admit, but that¡¯s not why I want to do this.¡± His grin widened, and he seemed unaware as he led the horses on. ¡°I just want to see him squirm when I don¡¯t let him do a single thing to that meat. Not a pinch of spice or careful cooking, just cut and roasted on the fire until the outside¡¯s blackened.¡±

    ¡°He just might faint at the sight,¡± Eyn added happily, her grudge evidently not yet settled.

    Sojo smiled back at them, but the good humour didn¡¯t last long. It drained from Eyn¡¯s face like water through a sieve, and Brehen returned to his usual calm demeanour shortly after.

    ¡°Ok.¡± Sojo started, looking squarely at Eyn. ¡°Something¡¯s up.¡±

    Eyn returned the look for a moment, before her eyes darted away to scan the horizon.

    ¡°You¡¯ve been distractible and distant ever since we got the bearing for Eastgate,¡± Sojo continued. ¡°More so than usual, even. What is it?¡±

    Eyn exhaled, reaching for a pouch on her small backpack and withdrawing a wooden puzzle. ¡°The Scouts we spoke to,¡± she said, fingers working, ¡°were not telling us the full story.¡±

    She seemed hesitant to explain further, but Sojo didn¡¯t want to let the topic go. It had been too obvious and long-lasting a bother to ignore. She held her tongue, and ¨Ctogether with Brehen¡¯s neutral presence ¨C Eyn caved to the tension.

    ¡°Do you remember how many wagons went by, when the riders passed us?¡± She asked. At a shake of the head, ¡°Eight of them, that I saw, and at least two had room for three people to lie without overlapping. Scout doctrine only calls for four wagons per company, though the Captain can request up to six without any real inquiries.¡± Her fingers were fiddling faster, finding a rhythm to the puzzle in her hands. Her eyes grew distant as she spoke. Recited, almost.

    ¡°That leaves the larger wagons unaccounted for. There are three usual cases for extra large wagons: lightweight supplies, for restocking a command post. Unlikely out in the desert. Misshapen supplies, such as particularly large building materials. They would have left the wagons in Eastgate for that, and they¡¯d be stripped for building supplies or put to other purposes.¡±

    Finally her gaze settled, and when she met Sojo¡¯s eyes there was no discomfort or uncertainty there. ¡°The last case is when you have crates of fragile materials that need extra padding. That¡¯s always glassworks, and two wagons of it is very, very important.¡±

    Brehen breathed in sharply. ¡°That would be¡­ meaningful to say the least. There¡¯s half a fortune in two wagons full.¡±

    Sojo nodded slowly. ¡°So you think they¡¯re committing more equipment, and breaking out the valuable stuff. An increase in funding, maybe laying plans for another push?¡±

    ¡°Worse. Much worse. The wagons were empty. They wouldn¡¯t need that much to outfit some farmers to any purpose, nor could they use the full capacity of constructs unless they settled a cloister of mages with them.¡± Slowly, her fingers stopped twisting at the puzzle, and she stared at it in frustration and despair. ¡°And the only constructs that break routinely are the ones designed to do so. If they¡¯re being kitted out with that much magical ammunition, our days in the Sink might be numbered.¡±

    ¡°One last question, then,¡± Sojo said. She didn¡¯t want to push Eyn too far, especially not with the tone she was taking, but some things had to be addressed. ¡°When we brought you on, you said you had been trained somewhat like the Scouts are. That you could give some insight into various landscapes, map and navigate for a party. But how exactly do you know the Scout doctrine in this much detail? You don¡¯t just leave the Corinthian Scouts once you¡¯re in. And definitely not as young as you are, with all limbs in working order.¡±

    Eyn looked between Brehen and Sojo, though neither were sure what she was looking for. Sojo tried to express determined curiosity without seeming angered, or reproachful. As far as she was concerned, this was just a question that needed an answer, nothing more.

    ¡°You aren¡¯t wrong,¡± Eyn started. ¡°I joined up with the scouts, expecting grand adventure or something of the like. Maybe if it¡¯d been a couple years later and I knew this expansion was coming I would have stayed in. But everyone I talked to with them was focused on the Northern war, that endless bloody thing. Wasn¡¯t much to scout for out there except whether there were people trying to kill you in this valley or that one. Never appealed to me as much.

    ¡°So once my training was done and they gave me my coin for the time I¡¯d been in, I left. It¡¯s why I don¡¯t claim to have as much experience as a proper Scout, even just an enlisted. I never travelled anywhere beyond the training grounds with them.¡±

    Brehen frowned, and looked at Eyn as if with fresh eyes. ¡°So this is one of your only voyages, then. I don¡¯t think that¡¯ll be too much of a problem.¡± He stretched his arms and gazed around the horizon, staring with interest at the continued emptiness. ¡°We haven¡¯t had any issues so far, regardless of your being a¡­ novice.¡±

    ¡°Oh Brehen,¡± Eyn replied, looking at him fondly. ¡°We both know the term you¡¯re looking for is deserter.¡±

 1.7b - Eastgate

    Eastgate came into sight a few hours before sunset, and it was an hour again before the smoke and smudges grew close enough to see properly. The houses were ramshackle, huts more than anything else. From the low roofs and dirt walls, Sojo guessed they had dug down to firmer soil and used the rest as building material. Wood was only used to shore them to avoid total collapse, and besides that was saved for more important structures. The two largest buildings she could see from the outside were wood, most likely a municipal hall and somewhere renting rooms. Ambitious merchants had been known to send coin and materials along with expendable cousins to get established in the new communities.

    What she didn¡¯t see, however, was a wall. The worry grew as they approached. There was a wall, as it turned out, but not quite how she¡¯d been expecting it. It seemed like the first settlers, likely with Scout assistance, had started an eight-foot high dirt wall around the village, but it had been coopted by the inhabitants as time went on.

    If the stories they¡¯d heard about the place were true, living couldn¡¯t be easy. First one family would have decided to place their house beside the wall itself, and only have to build three sides for it. Then a few more decided to do the same, but wanted a way to get some light in during the day, and had dug some windows through it. No doubt a few weren¡¯t familiar with dirt buildings ¨C to be expected, as they weren¡¯t common in a nation with largely forested lands ¨C and had collapsed the wall as they dug for light.

    The repair jobs were ugly, few reaching the previous height of the toppled section, and many were still slanted from the fallen debris. She could probably climb over in a half-dozen places, and go through just as many windows.

    She exchanged glances with Mirrel and Eyn, each looking just as grim as she felt. Brehen was sleeping on the wagon, so at least he wasn¡¯t bothered yet. She¡¯d have to wake him up soon, but not yet. Let him take the rest he¡¯d earned.

    Details became clearer as they approached, but few were surprising. There were tilled fields surrounding the village, visible mostly by the furrows in the earth. No growing vegetation was thicker than the native grasses, and even that was getting thinner, the stalks dry and wispy, liable to snap off in your hand or underfoot. Their crops were the same. How often did the rains come this far out, she wondered. How deep must you dig for a well?

    Deeper than the farmers had tried, she thought. By far, some cynical fragment added.

    ¡°Notice how little livestock they keep,¡± Eyn said, pitching her voice so Mirrel would hear. ¡°I think we might have trouble convincing them to part with any water.¡±

    ¡°I can barter with some salt and spices,¡± Mirrel replied, ¡°I stocked up at the earlier settlements. Spices might not work, if they truly don¡¯t have deep reserves, but salt is never refused out of hand.¡±

    Sojo¡¯s eyes traced over the dirt huts, the neglected wall, and rested on the single trail of smoke wafting upwards. If that was the pulse of the community, it was thin and hesitant, liable to give in any minute. ¡°I¡¯m not sure even that¡¯ll work, Mirrel. I don¡¯t get the impression this place is well-run, or anything close to sustainable. They don¡¯t have a well, nor a trustworthy harvest, they¡¯ve been living on the supplies the Scouts brought them¡­¡±

    She couldn¡¯t find the words. Maybe she would be surprised by the community, find them hale and glad for the challenge the land posed. There were some, she knew, that desired nothing less than hardship and the will to overcome it. But looking at the holes in the wall, the disdain shown by each for their neighbours, she was far from filled with hope.

    ¡°Don¡¯t leave the wagon, once we get inside. I¡¯m not sure this meeting will be altogether friendly.¡± The pair nodded, and she saw a hint of steel in their gazes. They weren¡¯t in love with hardship, but neither were they strangers to it. Sojo sighed. ¡°I¡¯ll wake Brehen.¡±

    -

    There was no gate to pass through, in Eastgate. Sojo glanced to the side, expecting to find evidence of a gate since scrapped for building materials, but there was only the edges of the walls. It seemed the place had been a misnomer from the beginning.

    Despite their low expectations going in, the village was a disappointment. The haphazard arrangement of the buildings showed poor oversight indeed, with homes forcing the central avenue to zigzag in places. Others were askew to the road, corners butting towards the roadway, and had doorways facing half toward their neighbours. No stalls were set up with food for sale, no crafts set out to grab interest. Instead they found farmers leaving their crops to the sun, staring with hard eyes at the wagoners as they passed by.

    They stopped in front of one of the two buildings that deserved the name. Sojo glanced at the crowd, and reminded herself to look confident. She walked towards the biggest cluster of people who¡¯d come to see who they were. ¡°Good afternoon,¡± she called out, ¡°who¡¯s in charge here in Eastgate? We¡¯re hoping to trade some goods.¡±If you encounter this story on Amazon, note that it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it.

    The villagers exchanged glances and one stepped forward. He was the unlikely pick in Sojo¡¯s eyes, very grimy from what she assumed was his work earlier that day. The rest weren¡¯t particularly tidy, but if they weren¡¯t in the middle of town she¡¯d have expected him to be in the process of digging a fairly deep hole in muddy earth.

    ¡°I don¡¯t think you¡¯ll get much,¡± the man said. He looked the wagon up and down, but didn¡¯t explain further.

    ¡°Is there nothing you¡¯d need from us, then?¡± Sojo asked, already feeling frustration start to well up. She¡¯d been worrying over this interaction all day, and it was immediately going sour.

    ¡°Oh, I¡¯m sure we could find a use for everythin¡¯ you¡¯ve carted in,¡± the man said. The crowd shifted uncomfortably with his words. ¡°The shame is that I don¡¯t think we¡¯ve anything to spare for barter. What was it you were hoping t¡¯get?¡±

    Mirrel walked over, and Sojo tensed reflexively. ¡°I¡¯ve got a pack of spices and salt that we could part with if necessary, but we¡¯re running a little light on water. I don¡¯t suppose you¡¯d be able to find any you could spare?¡± Mirrel smiled, and scratched the back of his head. ¡°I¡¯m the cook of the group. If you could manage it, I could rustle up a meal. It wouldn¡¯t feed a village, but I¡¯m sure no one would complain about getting a bite of something with a little extra flavour. Might lift the spirits.¡±

    Sojo tried to keep a neutral expression, but it was hard. Mirrel was actually sounding¡­ reasonable. Normal. Something must be wrong. She glanced at him, but he just smiled a little and patted her on the back.

    ¡°Well, maybe then, if that¡¯s all-¡±

    ¡°I didn¡¯t catch the name,¡± Mirrel interrupted.

    ¡°Tom,¡± the man said.

    ¡°Good to meet ya, Tom. I¡¯m Mirrel, and this is Sojo. Those two are Eyn and Brehen.¡±

    ¡°A pleasure,¡± Tom replied quickly. ¡°I¡¯ll have to grab Orik, he¡¯s been in charge here the last few months. No one¡¯s to take more than a daily ration from the cisterns without his say-so.¡±

    ¡°We¡¯ll be here,¡± Mirrel said, and turned back to the wagon, arm still on Sojo¡¯s shoulder.

    Brehen had already put Sow and Fallow at rest, and was chatting with a couple of the villagers who¡¯d come closer. Eyn was standing relaxed at his side, but Sojo noted that she kept him between her and the people.

    Mirrel withdrew his hand quickly once they were back beside the cart. ¡°Sorry about that,¡± he said, having the courtesy to look a bit abashed.

    ¡°That¡¯s alright,¡± Sojo replied, ¡°I just would have preferred a little warning. I didn¡¯t realize you had that much civility in you,¡± she said with perhaps a touch more bite than she¡¯d meant to.

    ¡°I¡¯ve seen this kind of thing before,¡± he answered quietly. ¡°These people are not well off. They don¡¯t have a coin between them that feels like it could be spared. If you go in talking about trade, they¡¯ll just feel out of place and upset. There was no way we¡¯d get a re-supply of water without the justification of getting them some dinner, and better if you can make it a happy event.¡±

    His smile was back, but she could see there was a little sadness in it too. Maybe that was why they¡¯d recognized it so easily. ¡°Do you want to take the lead then?¡± She asked. ¡°It¡¯s pretty clear you understand them better than I do.¡±

    -

    Dinner was indeed a happy event, with all the town turning out to get a taste of the exotic cooking. They also added a fair helping of bread and some slightly small field vegetables, making a decent meal. The folk seemed eager to speak with them, trying to get any news possible from their travels. Sojo had advised the group not to mention what their destination was; they feined interest in a settlement further to the northeast, not mentioning that the Scouts had thought it untenable.

    But all too soon Mirrel¡¯s cookpot was empty, and the crowd started to disperse back to their own homes. The sky was shifting to purple and getting darker by the minute. Sojo gestured to Brehen and Eyn to gather them over to Orik. The dusty man was still sitting beside the cookpot, even as Mirrel was cleaning it out, and watching the first stars appear.

    ¡°You mentioned there was some room in the communal hall?¡± Sojo asked. It took a moment for the man to return, his mind clearly still on some other winding path.

    ¡°Yep,¡± Orik said, ¡°we¡¯ve only got the one room open as our newer farmers ain¡¯t been housed proper, but it¡¯s yours for the night if you¡¯d like.¡± He stood and stretched, groaning like an old man though he didn¡¯t look older than forty. ¡°I¡¯ll show you the way, as soon as Mirrel here¡¯s done.¡±

    ¡°Only a moment more,¡± Mirrel confirmed, sweeping his cleaning rag along the pot¡¯s rim.

    ¡°I think I¡¯ll sleep in the wagon, Sojo.¡± Eyn said. She leaned against the side of it casually. ¡°If there¡¯s just the one room you¡¯ll all be comfier for it, and I always wake early with the sun anyways.¡±

    ¡°Perfect,¡± Sojo said, and nodded. Blatantly false too, but she didn¡¯t comment on that bit. ¡°Does the room have a window?¡± She asked Orik, as the group set off. ¡°We¡¯ll want to be going pretty soon after sunup.¡±

    ¡°That one there, for a fact,¡± he answered, pointing to a corner window of the wooden building. The hall was two floors, and the tallest thing in town because of it, but they were being settled on the ground floor. The closer she got, the happier she was about this, as the quality of construction left a lot to be desired. Quality, for a start, and right angles seemed conspicuously absent in many places too.

    By the time they¡¯d settled down, and bartered over who¡¯d take the small bed for the night, she could see an uncountable splay of stars in the sky. From her spot on the floor she couldn¡¯t see the roofs of any huts, just the implacable turning of the celestial veil. She hardly even noticed herself slipping off, relaxing inch by inch despite her misgivings, and the irritating press of a knife resting beneath her hip.

    It wasn¡¯t until hours later, in the dead of night, that she was woken by angry shouting and the appearance of the noonday sun.

 1.7c - Eastgate

    Sojo knew there was something wrong immediately. A searing light drove her up, cutting out of existence as fast as it came but leaving a crackling taste to the air and her vision such a wreck that it seemed bright still. She felt the urge to flee from the brightness, from the unnatural glare of colour it left on her eyes, but mastered herself before she could run.

    Seeing the night sky vaguely through the window, she climbed out and flopped to the ground. Her balance was off in the darkness, and she took extra care not to land on her knife as she rolled over. Shakily regaining her feet, she lumbered to the wagon to find Eyn still crouched in it, two blurry shapes nearby rolling on the ground, hands clutching at their eyes. She considered the spots still lingering in her own vision, and felt a moment of pity for the two before moving on.

    ¡°Eyn!¡± She called hoarsely, stepping onto the wagon. Slowly, Eyn withdrew her head from the crook of her arm, and looked up at her. She was cradling her other hand, which looked as if it had been scoured with sand. Red blisters were already forming, and it looked sunburnt even in darkness.

    Eyn grimaced. ¡°Two I could see sneaking up on the wagon. Sounded like more in the houses around. Sounds like they¡¯re still there.¡±

    The sounds were slow to filter to Sojo¡¯s ears. In the aftermath of the roaring flash ¨C silent, yet still somehow deafening ¨C she hadn¡¯t paid attention to the noises of the town. It sounded like they¡¯d woke the lot of them, and the scuffling of nearby shoes was audible under the whimpering of the grounded men.

    ¡°There¡¯s no coming back from this,¡± Sojo said, thinking desperately. ¡°They won¡¯t accept what we say and we don¡¯t have the clout to make any decisions for them. We have to go.¡± Eyn shivered, looking properly miserable in the late night chill. ¡°Get the horses calm, then unhitch them. I¡¯ll grab the others. We go before they think to stop us.¡±

    Without waiting for Eyn¡¯s confirmation, she hopped off the wagon and ran over to their room¡¯s window. ¡°Pack up!¡± She shouted in. ¡°Eyn beat up some thieves, we¡¯re getting out before questions get asked.¡± A dark shape flew at her, and she ducked just in time for a bedroll to pop out the window and over her head.

    ¡°Already packed, we guessed.¡± Mirrel called back, before clambering out. Sojo noticed a long knife sheathed at his belt, one that had definitely not been there at yesterday¡¯s dinner. It seemed she wasn¡¯t the only one who¡¯d been prepared. Brehen climbed out afterwards, about as gracefully as she had just after the flash. She helped him to his feet, and the group darted back to the wagon.

    Sow and Fallow were still whinnying anxiously, she saw, but Eyn had unknotted most of their hitching before trying to calm them. She didn¡¯t have a way with the animals despite any training she¡¯d received. They calmed quickly once Brehen got near, and he unmoored them. They didn¡¯t have time to harness them properly, but he was rigging up something functional before she could worry.

    As he worked, she took the chance to look around the village. Candles were being lit, and people were starting to emerge from the buildings in the commotion. The hitching posts were on the side of the building, so they hadn¡¯t been noticed yet in the dark, but people would search more as their eyes cleared. It hadn¡¯t been two minutes, though it felt horribly long as she stood waiting by the cart.

    Finally the horses were set, and they stepped away from the hall. Brehen set them at a jog and the group abandoned subtlety, hoping merely to pass fast enough that the villagers wouldn¡¯t be able to grasp what they were seeing in time.

    The hodgepodge placement of the huts was to their advantage now; they turned out of sight of the farmers almost at once. Already she could see the gateless end of Eastgate, where the horizon started to stretch out.

    As they passed through the gap, a shape ran across the top of the wall and leapt down, landing squarely in their wagon. A second peeled away from a nearby hut and started jogging beside them. Sojo whipped her head around, looking for any further additions, but it seemed the two were it. She waved to Brehen to keep moving, and let the wagon pass her by to see inside.

    Two shapes were wrestling in the back, hard to distinguish in the dark, but the smaller and less dirty shape subdued the other with a sharp jab and a headlock. The other extra traveller was still jogging along at a slight distance, and didn¡¯t seem inclined to start a fight.

    Nearly a mile later they stopped, Mirrel gasping more heavily than she expected for someone so well-traveled, and Eyn tossed the stowaway off the wagon. He got to his feet as the other one joined him, and with the village a modest bump glimmering beneath the night sky Sojo studied the arrivals.

    One was easily identifiable, Tom the Filthy Farmer who they¡¯d first spoken to near the hall. The other, she thought she recognized as one of the villagers talking to Brehen as they waited for Orik to show up. Not too helpful for explaining why they¡¯re here, she thought.Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

    ¡°Why are you here?¡± She asked, feelingly distinctly impatient.

    ¡°You seem t¡¯ask just the worst questions,¡± Tom replied, fists clenched at his side. ¡°First wantin¡¯ to meet that waste of water Orik, now askin¡¯ why the starved peasants are followin¡¯ you from the starved village.¡±

    ¡°So¡­ because you¡¯re starving then,¡± Sojo said. ¡°Right, well, no thanks. Head on home.¡±

    ¡°I told you, Tom. Blind as Teph¡¯s curse, the lot of ¡®em.¡± The woman threw her arms up in disgust, but Sojo noted she didn¡¯t move so much as a step away from the wagon.

    ¡°Who are you, again?¡± She asked, pointing at the woman.

    ¡°Do you care?¡± She rebutted, crossing her arms and staring angrily.

    ¡°Ech, maybe not,¡± Sojo sighed. It was too late in the night for this much aggravation, or maybe too early. Definitely too late if she had to worry about the difference. ¡°Look, we don¡¯t have the food to add two people to the roster, nor do we need any skills you have unless you can somehow survive in a parched desert on sand and grass alone.¡± Tom looked ready to jump in, but she bulldozed through. ¡°And more to the point, we aren¡¯t going to another settlement further east. The Scouts said they all failed anyways, so there¡¯s nothing this way for you. No farmers needed. Go home.¡±

    Tom and the woman looked taken aback at the admission, but she recovered quickly.

    ¡°So you¡¯re not going to a settlement, then?¡± She asked, eyes narrowed.

    ¡°No, we¡¯re just-¡±

    ¡°Then take us west, back to somewhere livable,¡± she demanded.

    ¡°Ok, now I want to know,¡± Mirrel cut in. ¡°What is your name, ma¡¯am?¡±

    ¡°Enell,¡± the woman answered.

    ¡°Enell, you have a frightfully demanding way about you, for someone in no position to demand anything.¡± Mirrel stared at her, head cocked to the side as if trying to puzzle something out in his head.

    She scoffed. ¡°Is it really so demanding to expect decency from strangers? To expect travellers not to leave their fellows to die?¡±

    Sojo gritted her teeth and stepped forward. ¡°So what do you want? We have food, but not a crumb less than we need to complete our voyage. Would a few loafs of bread save you? Or a few days of water? We have a cart and horses, but could you not make the journey back with what your village has stockpiled? Are you really so desperate that you¡¯ll keel over the moment we leave?¡±

    She felt sparking anger inside her and let it rise, breathing embers growing hotter with every word. ¡°No, your village wouldn¡¯t be sitting in mud huts letting the days pass while crops wither if you truly hadn¡¯t the food to carry on. You¡¯d be plowing every inch of land, digging deeper every day for the well-water sitting somewhere beneath you, or forcing the scouts to bring you westward one at a time if need be.¡± She stepped forward, Tom and Enell retreating in the face of her sudden anger.

    ¡°No, you¡¯ve simply decided that our goals can¡¯t possibly be more important than yours, and have thrown the burden of your failure on our backs. Well consider it returned. We don¡¯t want you. You can¡¯t have us. Leave.¡±

    Sojo turned back to the cart, breathing deeply to calm herself. She glanced at Eyn and Brehen, seeing stricken looks on both of their faces. They were clearly as conflicted as she¡¯d been, sympathetic to the strangers and unhappy with the hard decision to be made. Mirrel, on the other hand, still seemed to be puzzling at the farmers.

    Enell was clearly fuming, but Tom ¨C ever the voice of apathy ¨C was trying to direct her back to the village. It seemed he¡¯d lost the stomach for daring action after Eyn had choked him into near-unconsciousness. Sojo turned away before the sight could provoke anything further out of her, and grabbed a few loafs from their supplies.

    ¡°Here,¡± she said, tossing a pair to the farmers. ¡°Your little misadventure got you breakfast, at least.¡± Finally, Mirrel shrugged and looked away from the pair, giving up on his personal mystery. Sojo patted Brehen on the shoulder. ¡°Let¡¯s get going.¡±

    -

    Even hours later, the exchange was still roiling in Sojo¡¯s mind. Something about the situation had struck her as particularly unfair. She couldn¡¯t be expected to derail her life for strangers, ones who¡¯d come by their problems through their own actions, yet neither had she thought of herself as one who wouldn¡¯t help those in need.

    There was something romantic about it, coming across helpless people and allowing yourself to be put-upon for aid. Something foolishly noble, which might just be the same thing.

    Instead she¡¯d found her entire expedition threatened by the demands of these farmers, with no real compromise to be found. Anything less than their full commitment would be no help at all, but the expedition had cost more than she could easily afford. More than she could afford at all, in fact. If they came back with nothing, there would be reckonings found.

    More surprising to her, though, was the steady resentment building towards the farmers themselves, some part of her wishing them ill for having the gall to make such demands, to come to this foreign land and expect to be indulged. It surprised her mostly because she hadn¡¯t noticed it building until she was nearly cursing their names. She hadn¡¯t felt such quick dislike before, not without far better reason; maybe the voyage had taken a greater toll than she¡¯d realized.

    Her thoughts spiralled even as they walked on, taking a much slower pace than normal. None were eager to press hard with the lost sleep, and they were worried that the creatures in the night might be returning to haunt them again. It was only with the coming of sunset that she finally managed to break free from the mire of her resentment and sympathy, and the party set up camp with quiet comments and general confusion, staring upwards.

    The darkening sky was lined with tears of purple, streaking the noble blue as a faultline in the reality of the air. It mingled with the early reds of sunset and set the dying light to crimson, a canvas of blood dripping from the descending orb over a land wracked with thirst.

    None in the party could say quite why the horizon had turned to blood before the night, but those on watch had little trouble staying awake despite their pre-dawn flurry. And in the night, barely audible over the wisps of wind, they heard again the shifting sands of passing forms unknown.

 1.8a - Growth

    In a room crowded with pre-dawn shadow, Corinth woke from restful slumber.

    It had become common over the last few months for him to wake before the sun, and he let his gaze trace across the texture of the ceiling rafters, following the maze of woodgrain from beam to beam until light began to trickle in again. Somehow it always snuck up on him. He looked outside to find the sun fully risen and walked downstairs to greet his mother for breakfast.

    She was already at the stove, frying an egg for each to mix in their morning oatmeal. They were a lucky pair, she often told him. Many wouldn¡¯t be able to raise a child on their own, let alone in a house with a second bedroom, but her inscription work paid well and kept them housed and fed. One of the benefits of living near the university was a cadre of wealthy researchers with an endless desire to see their names carved onto things. He sat, and it was only a few drowsy moments before she passed him his bowl, brushing his hair into order as she passed.

    ¡°You¡¯re meeting with Striver Paten this morning, right?¡± She asked, hoping to stir his thoughts into motion.

    He nodded. ¡°Yeah, he said today was candles.¡±

    He spooned up the last of his oatmeal, eager to finish it before it went cold, and then cleared the dishes from the table. He washed what little remained from them in silence, and only when it was done did he look up and realize she was waiting for him to say something. ¡°Umm, what are you working on today,¡± he finally asked, and she smirked at him.

    ¡°Nothing too unusual, though I had a couple researchers say they¡¯d be bringing in rockglass in a few days. Apparently they made a few canes and things out of it.¡± She shook her head. ¡°Seems like a waste, to me. Using your time and expertise to make a walking stick.¡±

    He shrugged. ¡°They love to stand out. Remember when one of them went on a spree making lodestone bracelets? He nearly got thrown out for wasting resources. What was his name again? Oll- Olnit¡­?¡±

    ¡°Oltrim, Seeker Endrim¡¯s son. And he¡¯s still there, so don¡¯t make too much fun of him,¡± she chided. She didn¡¯t even try to hold her grin back, though, so he knew he wasn¡¯t the only one to remember still. ¡°Alright, off with you! Daylight¡¯s burning, and the candles should be too.¡±

    -

    Candles was both the best and worst task you could be given at Apothet¡¯s temple. Walking in, the first thing most people noticed was the hundreds, thousands of candles, all lined up in rows along each wall. The task was simply to light them all, one by one. But Apothet¡¯s blessing was over fire and metal didn¡¯t make him generous, nor his servants opulent; the candles didn¡¯t stay lit. You¡¯d light the first off whatever fire was at hand, and then use its flame to light the next. Then you¡¯d extinguish the first, and light another with the newly lit one. And repeat until you reached the end of all the rows upon rows of candles, or more likely gave up or fell asleep.

    When Striver Paten had explained it to him, he hadn¡¯t understood the point of it, so the Striver had demonstrated a few dozen. Just as his attention was beginning to drift, Paten told him to look at the candle just lit. After a moment, he caught the trick: it was cast-iron. And aflame.

    Interspersed within the rows of tallow were iron candles, some painted or coated with wax to disguise themselves, others unashamed in their places. If, in the depths of the monotonous task, Apothet decided you were worth bringing into his fold, one of the metal candles would light. Striver Paten said the painted and coated ones were to not interfere with the student¡¯s faith that it might light, whereas the dark metal was for those who were confident that the will of the gods was more important than such tricks.

    Either way, Corinth had started working on candles that day. It had been eight months, and even as the afternoon dragged on he still hadn¡¯t seen a second metal candle alight.

    Most days weren¡¯t so full of drudge and optimism, though. Usually it was cleaning around the altars, or prying up melted wax from beneath the rows to cast new candles from. On occasion, the Striver would allow a student to spend a day in prayer in the temple. That usually meant he thought the student was losing heart.

    Today was candles, though, and he dutifully started the process. Within a few minutes he had the rhythm and was trying to distract himself enough that he might not spot metal until it burned beneath his wick. Down the row another student was prying at hardened pools of wax, and Corinth tried to strike up conversation.

    ¡°Hey Elnet,¡± he said, eyes still watching the wick¡¯s flame.

    ¡°Corinth,¡± Elnet answered, looking up. ¡°I didn¡¯t realize you were here today. How¡¯s the candles been going?¡±

    He watched a wick start to glow beneath his fingers. ¡°Not the best, got distracted last week and spent minutes heating up a painted one. Nearly burnt my fingers when the heat spread through it. How about you?¡± This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

    ¡°About the same. I thought I saw sparks from one of the coaters, but it was probably just the layers melting.¡±

    Corinth nodded, shuffling slowly down the line towards him. ¡°Yeah, that hurts a bit when you notice.¡±

    ¡°It does, doesn¡¯t it? You feel like finally you might be making some progress and then it snuffs into smoke.¡± Elnet shook his head, walking to the other end of the rows to stay out of his path.

    ¡°You¡¯ve been here, what, five weeks?¡± Corinth asked, skipping over cast-iron nestled in a nook.

    ¡°Just broke two months, actually. I¡¯m not sure I¡¯ll stick around once the last of the spring snows melt though.¡± The boy sighed, leaning onto the knife handle and popping a thick ring of wax out.

    ¡°No?¡±

    ¡°Nah, there¡¯s too much to be done when summer picks up. I usually work in my dad¡¯s shop when the heat comes and the visitors really flood in.¡±

    ¡°Makes sense, I guess. I¡¯m here for the long run,¡± Corinth said, holding two wicks together.

    ¡°How long has it been?¡± Elnet asked, leaning on the edge of the rows.

    ¡°This is month nine,¡± he admitted. ¡°I just- oh you cast iron ass!¡± He slammed the metal candle down on the wooden stand, the wind from his movement nearly blowing out the other one.

    Elnet¡¯s face crinkled as he tried to hold back laughter. Eventually the candle was replaced and Corinth continued down the row.

    ¡°As I was saying,¡± Corinth said, trying not to laugh himself, ¡°I just can¡¯t abide the thought of giving up. This is my only way into the university, and what can I really accomplish outside the walls? Short of joining a convoy and moving off the mountains, that is. I need this.¡± He wasn¡¯t laughing by the end, and it took a few candles before Elnet asked the obvious.

    ¡°But why do you need to do that? I wouldn¡¯t mind it, don¡¯t get me wrong, but there¡¯s no shame in running a shop in town and getting along. My family¡¯s lived here for half a hundred years like that.¡±

    Corinth sighed. ¡°I don¡¯t know. It seems like the university is the only place where things change, where something new gets made or discovered every year. How many farmers or shopkeepers just do the same thing every day, the same things your father, and his father did for all those years? It seems so pointless.¡± Corinth stared at the flaming wicks in front of him. ¡°It seems like trying to light a cast iron candle, only forever without the hope of flame.¡±

    Elnet looked sideways at him, and shrugged. ¡°Well, hopefully you¡¯ll get it soon then.¡±

    He went back to scraping at the wax, and the conversation died. Corinth thought about the words yet unsaid. About the stories his mother had told him about the pale-skinned captives brought back from the desert. The tales of the expeditioners, of foreign mages that fought with deathly fury, ripping apart metal armour with their bare hands and killing with even the lightest blow. He stared down at his own pale hands, nothing like the rich brown of the people of Derudt, and wondered if such power might be lying in wait there.

    As he went along the rows though, feeling the morning slip away with the quailing shadows, all the warmth of the temple seemed to run from him. By the time he gave up he was shivering in the heat of noon, and when he held the last candle, the flame nearly extinguished from his gaze alone. Just the light breeze as the Striver passed was enough to blow it out.

    -

    Corinth walked along the edge of the woods, leaving footprints in the thin layer of snow not yet melted. Elnet had seen the snow as the end of his efforts in the temple, a natural boundary that would require something significant to thrust him through, but to Corinth it was no such thing. He¡¯d started at the temple a few months after the melt the previous year, and while it reminded him of the length of futility he¡¯d endured, it promised no end to it.

    Even at the bare edge of the village, where it turned into wilderness and unsettled lands, he could see the university rising. It was easily the tallest building around, so he couldn¡¯t really hope to escape it the sight. If that was even why he¡¯d started to wander. Truthfully, he had no notion of why he¡¯d struck out on his own. Striver Paten didn¡¯t mind, of course; he believed it was foolish to force his students to toil for hours on the candles. In his eyes, it was their own relationship to forge. Corinth would receive neither recrimination nor sympathy from him.

    As he walked forward, burn marks and jagged cuts started to appear on the trees, signalling the end of his path. The next stretch was the testing area for new construct designs, and not even the researchers themselves would delve there without good reason. At best, you¡¯d end up with shards of glass in your foot. At worst¡­

    Corinth turned to follow a lightly-trodden path back, studying the scarred trees with idle curiosity. The results of several designs were hinted at ¨C bursts of heat, thrown shards, even a patch of charred wood that looked like a hot iron had been pressed against it for an extended time ¨C but it galled him that the mysteries of this craft might never be revealed. How could people stand to live next to a fountain of divine truth yet never drink?

    Slowly, the trees thinned to reveal stone walls and glass windows, shards twinkling in the afternoon sun from inside a multitude of rooms. He could only see experiments from the first three floors, yet there were wonders enough to steal his breath all the same.

    He pressed his hands against the stone walls, wishing fervently that he might find himself inside, or that a researcher might come by and take an interest in him. He closed his eyes, and prayed that when he opened them and lifted his hands the potency of his yearning for this place would have scorched the stone beneath them. He stood for minutes, not wanting to open his eyes and let the fantasy be broken, but finally grit his teeth and checked.

    When he lifted his hands, all that showed was his shadow.

    -

    He ate a sullen dinner, upset enough with the world itself that he couldn¡¯t hold a steady conversation with his mother. Lying in bed in the light of the setting sun, he only felt worse knowing he might have upset her.

    He drowsed despite the early hour, thoughts looping through learned prayers and visions of metal candles burning. By the time he came back to himself the room was dark. The faint light outside was unable to find traction as he traced the beams overhead.

    There were no dreams of burning metal when he slept, only uneasy reveries of shifting shadows and crooked teeth, and strange faces watching him from beyond the endless horizon.

 1.8b - Growth

    When muddy roads and the absence of a permeating chill finally came, Corinth rose with a dreadful weariness. The spring melt was here, and with it he had passed another threshold of no particular import save to remind him that he had accomplished nothing.

    It was Elnet who should be feeling conflicted, he thought grudgingly, as he was the one whose hopes of divine blessing had ended. Despite this, he felt as if something was slipping his grasp, carried away with the snow and ice.

    He walked downstairs, feeling alert for once in the early morning, and saw his mother kindling the stove. He was wordless in the morning light. Instead of a greeting, he walked up and hugged her, feeling her start in surprise before shifting to embrace him in return.

    ¡°What¡¯s wrong?¡± she asked, cupping his cheek. She slowly tilted his head up, trying to get a view of his face, but he wanted nothing more than to bury it in her shoulder and wait for¡­ something. He couldn¡¯t say what. Something that would make his fears and bound up tension go away, and let him just breathe.

    He shrugged instead. ¡°I¡¯m just tired. And worried. And I don¡¯t know what to do.¡± He gripped her tighter, feeling his chest constrict at the admission.

    ¡°It¡¯s the temple isn¡¯t it? You¡¯ve been getting more sombre every day since you started there.¡± At his nod, she hugged him tight, then slowly began to press him back. ¡°Striver Paten mentioned to me that you haven¡¯t been seeing any signs. He said that¡¯s common, but usually people give up by now.¡±

    Corinth sighed, still unable to meet her eye. ¡°Is that what he thinks I should do? Just accept that Apothet won¡¯t take notice and try to find a new goal?¡± There was an emptiness welling up, something fighting the tears in his eyes even as he thought about it. It whispered in his ears, a song of contempt. Anger flickered, anger at himself, at the Striver and Apothet and this whole damned town and everyone in it-

    He looked up at his mother smiling sadly at him and stifled it. He couldn¡¯t be angry at her, and with the thought broken the anger snuffed out. He felt tears returning and looked down again.

    ¡°No, that¡¯s not what he said,¡± she replied. ¡°He and I both know how long you¡¯ve dreamed of the university, and he knows best of all how instrumental the temple is for that.¡± His mother lifted his chin, and made him look her in the eyes. ¡°He said that if I felt you couldn¡¯t take the waiting anymore, there was another option. He¡¯ll only try it the once, so you¡¯d best be sure you¡¯re ready for a gamble.¡±

    A shiver passed through him at the words. ¡°Did he say why he¡¯d only try it once?"

    Her brow creased. ¡°He said-¡± Her voice was light, tentative, but she pressed on. ¡°His words, not mine. He said ¡®You can only spit in a man¡¯s face once, and the receiving end has a temper.¡¯ If you really need to, tell him you want to try.¡±

    Corinth huffed out a breath of laughter before he could help himself, realizing the wry look was from her distaste at the words as much as the message itself. ¡°I don¡¯t care if it¡¯s the last thing I do. If this means I never have to look at a candle again, I¡¯ll try it.¡±

    -

    ¡°Apothet doesn¡¯t need a choir to sing his praises,¡± Striver Paten proclaimed, ¡°he needs those with the will to grab a flaming sword and carry out his commands.¡±

    They stood alone in the temple, every candle extinguished, with brilliant daylight throwing dark shadows in the corners and through the nooks behind altars.

    ¡°Those who truly hear his voice are terrible things, for fire and metal are not tender, and the light they offer always has a cost. There¡¯s a reason there¡¯s only one Striver at any temple of his. He doesn¡¯t often hold with those who sit and ponder, and it takes a firm will to hear your own god¡¯s calling and tell him no.

    ¡°So if he won¡¯t hear you, if he won¡¯t acknowledge you despite your prayer, there¡¯s only one answer: grab your god by the throat and declare you¡¯ve been overlooked! Righteous fury and heretical anger are but different shades of the same flame, and both will draw his attention.

    ¡°Sharpen your will, Corinth. Announce your intent to be heard to the world, and perhaps if you believe strongly enough he will listen.¡± Striver Paten stepped back, and in the sudden quiet Corinth steeled himself.

    He tried to calm his breathing, but the desperate stress of this moment¡¯s importance set him to trembling. All around him stood monuments to the thrall Apothet laid upon the world, carved statues of his likeness and piles of material ready to burn at a moment¡¯s notice. There was enough tallow and wood to make a pyre of the building with only an errant spark, yet none had ever feared it in the domain of the lord of flame.

    He shook his head, and tried to refocus his thoughts. ¡°How do I impress a god,¡± he murmured. ¡°Something that has temples built in his name, something that demands subservience but also will.¡± He felt an unravelling, and a plan jumped unbidden into his mind.

    ¡°Pay attention, you rusted out disgrace! Can¡¯t the god of Teph¡¯s leftover torches even muster the energy to notice when it¡¯s someone worthy calls its name!? Apothet!¡± Corinth shouted, glaring at the altar ahead of him. His pulse was rising, fear and anger racing each other for dominance over him, spreading goosebumps through him like entwining roots. ¡°I didn¡¯t spend this year lighting your flames to be snubbed, nor will I forgive it! You will answer for the fires burning in me, or I¡¯ll burn your temple down with all your damn candles inside!¡±

    Corinth tensed, expecting something to come from fighting a god with their own flames, but ringing silence was all he heard. Still, a voice inside called out. Heresy and defiance, it told him. Give Apothet a tale he¡¯s never heard. In a desperate whisper, he obeyed.Help support creative writers by finding and reading their stories on the original site.

    ¡°I will find my people one day, even if it means burning a path through this whole damned land. I will return to the home that was stolen from me, no matter how these people try to craft a replacement. And when I learn their magic, when I can kill with a touch and tear apart those who would stand in my way, I will return.¡±

    One last time, madness called out to him. None feel such assurance as a god, and none are so vulnerable as shepherds of a flock.

    Corinth growled out his threats, feeling certainty in his veins, as if he was carving the words on a slab of stone. ¡°You will help me find this trail, or I will rend your name from existence, one Striver at a time.¡±

    Around the temple, across the multitude of candles unlit, wicks started to smoulder. Smoke rose in the half-light, and Corinth focused his mind on the magic he so desperately wanted to learn, on finding within himself something that could grant that boon. He felt a jackal¡¯s grin spreading across his face, and a hunger not his own. Heat bloomed in the light of noon, and then-

    Darkness fell. Before his eyes, smoke withered away and beams of light were devoured, leaving the clarity of absence in their place instead. Corinth could number the candlesticks, trace the woodgrain of the rough floor, and see the fear lining the Striver¡¯s face.

    ¡°What is this?¡± Striver Paten called out. ¡°Corinth, what have you done?¡±

    ¡°Is¡­ is this not right?¡± He asked, uncertainty rising in his breast against the consuming rush.

    ¡°Apothet has no hold on light, only the fires that throw it. Or has he simply struck me blind for one blasphemy too many?¡± He barked out a laugh, but Corinth could see the man trembling. He walked over, and the Striver flinched as he took him by the arm.

    ¡°Outside then, where the light still shines,¡± Corinth mumbled, walking unerringly to the doorway. As they passed through the arch, the light struck them like a blow. The Striver staggered, and Corinth was forced to his knees, pale skin burning in the sunlight.

    Even as the two recovered, a low rumbling started, rocking the buildings nearby on their foundations. Striver looked inside at the darkness evaporating like a morning fog.

    ¡°It would seem that something else already has a claim.¡±

    -

    ¡°It was magic, then. Loreli?¡± the robed man asked.

    Corinth thought he knew him by sight, as he did some of the university researchers, but had never heard more than a few words in passing from him before. Now he was one of the three interviewing him and the Striver, all university members of acclaim, each representing one of the three gods of potency.

    The speaker was named Conten. He was fairly short, with thin white hair and wrinkles, and lethargic to the extreme. The others seemed to defer to him quickly, however, so his wits likely weren¡¯t as slow to rousing. And he was a devout of Apothet.

    Loreli was taller, with greying brown hair and clever eyes that seemed to take in the room all at once. She spoke the most, and had introduced herself as a devout of Teph.

    The last was Ornell, who¡¯d said nothing beyond their introduction, and who had smiled encouragingly at him without pause since their eyes had met. Somehow, it hadn¡¯t reassured him in the slightest. They were a devout of Porial, as evidenced by the lenses on their glasses rotating as they moved. It was subtle, at first, but clear once you paid attention to the light markings on them.

    ¡°I¡¯ve never heard of Teph¡¯s gift creating shadow. It¡¯s almost a dogmatic contradiction, being connected to both light and revelations as he is. Shadows symbolically hide the truth, they do not reveal it.¡± Her expression kept switching between concern and curiosity, and Corinth had trouble meeting her gaze. It was a general trouble at the moment, though, most likely due to being in the room with four people who could forge or shatter his dreams on a whim.

    He cleared his throat, trying to speak through the tension. ¡°I, uh, I know the Striver couldn¡¯t see through it, but everything was clear as daylight to me. I¡¯m not sure how that would apply.¡±

    Loreli hummed. ¡°Could you produce the shadow again? It¡¯s possible that if it¡¯s Teph¡¯s blessing, then others similarly chosen would be granted sight.¡±

    Striver Paten spoke before he could think of a proper answer. ¡°You might say we stressed the situation to get that reaction, Loreli. It¡¯d be troubling to have to try again. I wouldn¡¯t like to make Corinth do it, not today at the very least.¡±

    Corinth sighed, feeling shivers and sweat running down his back. His thoughts were still running in circles, echoing with the instructions that had flashed through his mind hours ago. To invite them back in? He felt nauseous at the thought.

    ¡°Well then, let¡¯s try something simpler,¡± Conten spoke up. ¡°When you called, and something answered, how did it feel? In a word, how would you describe it?¡±

    That, at least, he could answer easily. ¡°Hungry.¡±

    All four faces went blank, and they leaned back in near unison. Glances were exchanged, and Corinth could tell that that was not what they were prepared to hear.

    ¡°Apothet¡¯s been described not dissimilarly,¡± the Striver said, but Conten was shaking his head already.

    ¡°He might be demanding, but burning, devouring even as flames are wont to do, I¡¯ve never heard it as hungry. Eager, more often.¡±

    ¡°Teph¡¯s followers hunger only for wisdom and truth, and he doesn¡¯t demand that they provide it. It feels wrong to me,¡± Loreli added.

    ¡°Porial provides direction, and those who follow him find themselves satisfied in the process.¡± Ornell looked at him, and Corinth saw again a reassuring smile that had never truly considered him a factor. ¡°So we seek direction. Where do you think we should look?¡±

    He scrambled for an answer. ¡°I- I don¡¯t- can¡¯t you tell? How would I know?¡± he spluttered.

    No flicker of disturbance passed across Ornell¡¯s face. ¡°We have our knowledge, and yet can¡¯t find the path. Yet the Striver says you were whispering to the altar just before the shadow came. Was there something of importance he didn¡¯t hear?¡±

    ¡°I spoke of home,¡± Corinth answered without thinking. ¡°We don¡¯t speak of it much, but my mother- well, she adopted me. I told Apothet that I would seek my home, with or without his help.¡±

    Loreli shook her head, muttering. ¡°Maybe that would rouse Porial, but I can¡¯t imagine Apothet or Teph rising to such a plea.¡± He looked around, but Ornell hadn¡¯t looked away from Corinth¡¯s face. Once more, they spoke.

    ¡°And where is this home?¡±

    Corinth quirked his head, struck by the line of questioning. This, he supposed, was the effect of having the god who seeks direction whispering in your ear. It was subtler than conjuring flame but he could almost feel it in the air regardless, as if a lodestone was drawing their questions to the nexus of this uncertainty.

    ¡°I was given to my mother by her sister, who was working as a guard here in the university. She never really explained what happened, but my mother pieced it together quickly enough. It¡¯s pretty clear from looking at me that my parents couldn¡¯t have been from around here.¡± He looked up at Ornell, at the masking smile on their face. ¡°I¡¯ve never known my home.¡±

    He could watch it light in each of them as they remembered and pieced it together. Only two worshipped Apothet, but he saw flames light in every eye, curiosity burning as Loreli put truth to words.

    ¡°You¡¯re the missing child of the foreign mage. The magic isn¡¯t from one of ours: it¡¯s from a foreign god.¡±

    And in the back of his mind, as if echoing from lands beyond the mountains, a dim voice laughed.

 1.9a - The Sink

    They feared the dark, now. Rightly so, Sojo thought, as they¡¯d heard something moving beyond their camp almost every night since Eastgate. They were quiet as a whisper, whatever they were, and left little for tracks in the sun-baked earth. It was becoming more sandy as they progressed, but even as the soil loosened the only markings to be found were indistinct. Fairly useless still, according to Eyn.

    And the local vegetation didn¡¯t seem any more inclined to grow than crops in the parched soil. Brehen had found the Scouts¡¯ plant, a little green bulbous thing with hard ridges and deep roots, and had changed the horses to packed oats. Now the countdown had really started, and within a month they would either have to find a new way to keep supplied or turn back.

    The stress was mounting, but with the trouble at Eastgate the party was actually holding together better than before. It seemed a midnight escape and the tough decision to refuse the farmers had somehow helped: they had all felt their commitment to the journey reconfirmed as the sun rose that morning. Brehen abandoned his evening hunts in favour of checking over the horses neurotically, Eyn was mapping their course using every trick she¡¯d been taught, and Mirrel would be bouncing between the two to double check ration levels every night as their dinner simmered over the small fire. There was a sense of fragility, still, but she¡¯d take it over being at each other¡¯s throats.

    Sojo felt she was contributing the least now that the ability to speak with strangers wasn¡¯t in demand, and she¡¯d made it her goal to draw the rest into conversation at every occasion. And with better results than she¡¯d expected. As it turned out, Brehen had an hour-long lecture ready at all times on the utility of various meat and cheese combinations, and she¡¯d gotten him and Mirrel to actually agree on the right way to smoke meat for travel rations.

    Eyn had been left out for the first while, until Sojo had steered the talk towards effective butchery methods and the types of knives best suited, at which point a three-way argument had ensued lasting the better part of the afternoon. All of them had been nearly hoarse from the lengthy debate, and Sojo had marked down a mental win for the week.

    As the sun set under crimson skies, though, the conversation always petered away. There was little for nightly storytelling, as the encroaching shadows breathed with unseen visitors in the minds of those on watch. The pre-dawn moments were what scared her the most. She only lit fires on half the mornings, as they were delving into less desirable rations, but the glimmering stars in twilight reminded her of the reflecting eyes she¡¯d once seen.

    On this morning, Mirrel had already crawled out of his tent. He looked tired and complained through every day¡¯s march, but she knew he wasn¡¯t sleeping well. They sat together as the stars faded beneath the rising blue, taking solace in keeping each other awake and being able to ease their attention to the night¡¯s noises.

    ¡°I haven¡¯t forgotten, you know,¡± Mirrel spoke softly.

    Sojo watched the last glimmers of a star fade beneath the coming dawn. ¡°And what are you remembering? You know that we¡¯ve spoken a few times, right?¡±

    Even with the sun hidden, she could see the flash of teeth from his grin. ¡°I do seem to recall being pestered for conversation.¡± He shifted in the sand, turning to face her slightly. ¡°You never told me about your travels. Every time I¡¯ve asked, you¡¯ve started lecturing from that history book of yours, slow as a snail.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s not my fault I¡¯m a little slow. I haven¡¯t read out loud to people often.¡± She felt a grin of her own rising, as conversations with Mirrel seemed to cause. She gestured toward herself, trying to parody elegance. ¡°I prefer to converse, as a matter of fact, not read from histories without any left to disagree.¡±

    ¡°Be that as it may, you¡¯re still a rather lousy orator. But you¡¯re dodging the point.¡±

    She huffed, but he just squinted at her and waited. She was tempted to let him wait. The morning was cool, but comfortable enough with a couple layers, and the unbroken landscape made an amazing show every morning as colours swept across the sky. She was starting to focus on another star, trying to catch the moment it slipped from view, but he kicked lightly at her and squinted harder.

    ¡°Oh, fine then. There¡¯s not much to tell.¡± She leaned back, resting on her elbows. ¡°My family has a history of travel, on my mother¡¯s side. It was a tradition that before you settled into a trade, you¡¯d take a trip somewhere that no-one in the family could tell you about. Sate your curiosity.

    ¡°My father¡¯s side wasn¡¯t too happy about that. They¡¯d never left the capital, even claimed to have had relatives in the city when it was still named Myranel, and they were proud of that. It made for some tension between the families. So my mum and him decided to go somewhere, take a trip. They told the families they were going to find their way to Bluefield since nobody had voyaged east in a while, and set off within a week.¡±

    She looked over at Mirrel, checking to see if she was straying too far from his question, but he hadn¡¯t moved an inch. She met his eyes, and continued. ¡°What they didn¡¯t say was that they weren¡¯t coming back.¡±

    ¡°My parents told me they were tired of the families bickering and decided to just get away from it. Bluefield seemed pleasant enough from what they¡¯d heard, and what they¡¯d heard was that it was named for the fields of blue flowers that grew like weeds. That was it. They gambled their future on some notable vegetation.

    ¡°But they¡¯re still happily living there, so I suppose it worked. I was raised with stories from both sides, of long travels and distant lands, but also knowing the city of your birth with amazing intimacy, and never got the chance to really understand either. Not surprising, then, that I always wanted to lead an expedition like this.¡± Mirrel¡¯s grin had faded a bit, though he was still paying attention. She decided to pick up the tempo a little.Unauthorized content usage: if you discover this narrative on Amazon, report the violation.

    ¡°When the Eastern push was announced last year, I figured this could be my chance to travel, and get that experience I¡¯d heard so much about. The shame was that I couldn¡¯t afford to go. My parents get along, but tailoring and clothesmaking isn¡¯t a lucrative profession by any stretch. Enter to the stage, my grandmother.¡± Sojo sat up, enjoying the taste of the words as she spoke. The sky was getting bright, and she no longer felt such a strong urge to speak in whispers.

    ¡°She¡¯d decided to take one last trip, in her old age, and came to visit my parents. It¡¯d been years since they scampered off, and they¡¯d been sending letters for a while once the families had calmed down. She¡¯d brought a decent chunk of my aunts and uncles as well, and for the first time I got to hear the stories firsthand, and ask as many questions as I could think of. It was amazing, getting told outrageous stories that I wouldn¡¯t have blinked at as a child, and every now and then even something I could believe.

    ¡°When they were getting ready to leave, my grandmother told me she¡¯d heard that I wanted to go east. She gave me enough money to get started, and helped lend me the reputation to get funding for the rest. It¡¯s how I could arrange the expedition.¡±

    Mirrel nodded. Sojo would bet that¡¯d answered a few questions he¡¯d been holding in the back of his head. ¡°So then, this is your first trip?¡±

    ¡°Yeah,¡± she admitted. ¡°I didn¡¯t want to let on when we were meeting and discussing travel plans. I thought it might be discouraging, or that you¡¯d think I¡¯d be a liability along the way.¡±

    Mirrel hummed and nodded, but didn¡¯t reply. Finally he looked away, and glanced at the sun cresting over the sands. ¡°I¡¯ll wake the others. Looks like it¡¯s time to go.¡±

    -

    As they walked, Sojo watched the sky return to a full blue. The purple hues were visible on the horizon, but never as pronounced at sunrise. The group was faster in the mornings than they¡¯d been at the beginning of their trip, wanting more time before sunset to make camp, but it was hard to feel any kind of haste when your footprints were the only markings of your passage.

    There were no mountains, no hills or valleys, no trees or shrubs or even particularly tall grasses at this point. Houses, roads, farmers fields, signposts, passing travellers, there was nothing! A month ago she would have thought it enough to drive her mad, trekking through an endless expanse of dried grass and unbroken skies, but now¡­ Something she carried with her rejoiced with the passing miles, and she found herself smiling at every painless step.

    The wind had finally returned, as well. She wasn¡¯t sure if it was the distance they¡¯d marched that had broken them through or if the slow change of seasons was bringing back the wind, but it was at their back as often as not.

    Sojo stretched out her arms, feeling the breeze linger over her skin ¨C now fully darkened, not burning ¨C and carrying with it fine-grained wisps of powder sand and dust. In this void of life, the sound of wind blowing through grass stalks played a melody over the rhythm of her feet.

    She turned to Brehen, walking at his spot beside the horses. ¡°I never thought I¡¯d be so thankful for just a breath of breeze,¡± she said, stretching her hands overhead.

    ¡°It¡¯s a pleasant change, though cooler weather would have been welcome with it,¡± he answered, running a hand through his hair. He¡¯d cut it shorter with Eyn¡¯s help, but hadn¡¯t done more than trim his beard since they¡¯d left. Another month of growth and his family wouldn¡¯t recognize him.

    ¡°There¡¯s something to the warmth though. It burns, but it burns with energy! Makes me feel like I could walk for days without rest,¡± she called out. She closed her eyes and raised her face to the sun, revelling in the heat streaming down.

    ¡°Well some of us still sweat in the desert,¡± Brehen retorted.

    ¡°Wait, what was that?¡± Eyn called out.

    Sojo turned to see her sit up in the wagon. Eyn crawled to the front and studied her up and down. ¡°You aren¡¯t sweating,¡± she accused. Before Sojo could respond, Eyn rolled backwards and out of sight.

    ¡°Ummm, what was-¡±

    ¡°Here!¡± Eyn called out, throwing a full waterskin at her. She yelped and deflected it, relieved when it landed unharmed. ¡°Oh, uh, sorry. I didn¡¯t mean to throw it so hard.¡±

    Sojo picked it up. ¡°It¡¯s just water, right? Why the sudden interest?¡±

    ¡°Enjoying heat, not sweating, and feeling energetic are the signs I was taught that someone¡¯s about to die from lack of water or a sun-fever.¡± She hopped down from the wagon and jogged over.

    ¡°So you¡¯re saying that if I feel great and have a good mood, I¡¯m probably dying?¡± Sojo batted weakly at Eyn¡¯s hands as she felt at her forehead.

    ¡°Pretty much, now hold still,¡± Eyn said. Sojo opened the skin and took a swig as Eyn obsessed over her hairline. ¡°Alright, you don¡¯t feel too warm.¡± Eyn frowned, and poked the skin again. ¡°Keep drinking, and hop in the wagon for a little bit. Once you finish the skin, if you don¡¯t puke it back up then you¡¯re probably fine.¡±

    Sojo stared at the bulging waterskin. ¡°Finish it? I¡¯m not sure I could do that in half a day!¡± She sloshed it in her hands, and thought about trying to down that much water in one go. ¡°Nope, that won¡¯t work. Try again?¡±

    Eyn threw her hands up. ¡°Fine then, finish half of it and go lie down. If you die, I¡¯m not to blame.¡±

    ¡°Much better,¡± Sojo said, and started drinking again. She slowed her pace, letting the wagon draw closer, and felt at her forehead. It felt normal to her, if maybe a little warm from the sun. Was that a bad thing? ¡°Ehn, at least I¡¯ll die comfortable,¡± she muttered, and climbed up the wooden slats.

    She stood up in the wagon, using the extra height to gaze at ever more distant grass and sandy soil. In the early days of the expedition, standing could show things hidden in the distance, but now the drooping horizon was only more of the same. It was also safer on the paved road, she thought as the wagon juddered over clumps of grass.

    She crouched down, and then flopped to a seat on the wagon floor. As she drank, an idle curiosity struck her, and she stood again. Far ahead of them, far enough that it was almost indistinguishable from the line of the horizon, it seemed like there was a ripple in the earth. The whole affair shimmered and bent under the rising heat of the sun, but¡­

    ¡°Hey Eyn, you have good eyes. Can you take a look at this?¡± She heard the wagon creak as the woman climbed on. ¡°Look ahead there. Do you see anything?¡±

    Eyn peered forwards, shading her eyes with a hand to block out the partially-risen sun. ¡°Maybe? It looks like a trench dug into the ground.¡±

    They exchanged glances, but didn¡¯t comment further. Before long Brehen forced Eyn down for the sake of the horses and they continued on, but Sojo could feel the question niggling at her. By noon it was closer in the distance, but the trough still remained unexplained.

    It wasn¡¯t until late afternoon that they finally reached the depression, or remembered the admonishments of the Scouts they¡¯d passed. As the sun slipped lower in the sky, they stared down hundreds of feet of steep slope, cutting the desert like a bowl a hundred miles wide. They¡¯d reached the Sink.

 1.9b - The Sink

    The night was dark, with a thin moon shedding not nearly enough light to ease the nerves of those on watch. The stars drifted overhead. At times they were obscured by thin clouds that only deepened the waiting shadows. And when dawn finally came, they stared anew at the cliffs of stone and sand waiting for them.

    ¡°In retrospect, the Sink does seem a fitting name,¡± Sojo said. They stood atop the cliffs, staring at the desert floor far beneath them. The curving walls stretched into the distance to either side, containing within them a sea of rolling waves and subtle currents writ large on the sandy floor.

    ¡°It looks like the sea after a storm,¡± Mirrel said. His voice was quiet, and his eyes were glazed over as he gazed at the unmoving dunes. ¡°The next morning, when the wind is gone but the waves haven¡¯t settled, and rollers taller than your head drift by to crash on the rocks. I could swear they shift when I look away, rolling into the distance.¡± Sojo put a hand on his shoulder to steady him.

    She turned to Brehen, who seemed less affected by the vista before them. ¡°Do you see anywhere the horses can go down safely?¡±

    He and Eyn both pointed to a slope visible to the right of their campsite. ¡°That looks to be the smoothest place,¡± Eyn said, shading her eyes with a hand to peer at the distant hills.

    Brehen nodded. ¡°It would be tough, but they could manage. We¡¯d have to unload the cart first and bring down the supplies by hand, but it should be safe if we go slowly.¡± He bent down to feel at the sandy soil, and frowned as it crumbled under his touch. ¡°You don¡¯t really want to, do you? The cart won¡¯t roll well on the sand, if at all, and getting it back up will be much worse.¡±

    All three of them looked at Sojo. ¡°I- I¡¯m not sure,¡± she said. She shook her head, confused at how intensely she¡¯d been preparing to enter the unfamiliar landscape. ¡°I don¡¯t know that we¡¯ll find more things of interest in the Sink than above. Thoughts?¡±

    Eyn shook her head immediately. ¡°Slow passage, high dunes blocking our view, and an uncertain exit strategy? It¡¯s a terrible idea unless we know exactly what we¡¯re going in for.¡± Brehen called out his agreement, but didn¡¯t add anything. He had stepped back to the horses, and seemed preoccupied with checking them over yet again.

    ¡°How far in can we see from up here?¡± Mirrel asked.

    ¡°We¡¯ve got at least a couple hundred feet on the floor below. Ten, maybe fifteen miles?¡± Eyn said, face screwed up in calculation. ¡°I don¡¯t remember the exact pattern, but either way it¡¯s farther than we can make out details.¡±

    Sojo stared out into the desert, and then back along the curved walls. ¡°That¡¯s not much, compared to the size of the place. But then, we won¡¯t get very far if the cart can¡¯t handle the sand either.¡± She sighed, but tried to keep her expression straight. It was hard to think with the expectant stares levelled at her.

    ¡°Let¡¯s stick to the upper level for a while, at least. If we don¡¯t see anything in a few days, we can change course then.¡±

    -

    There was a light wind blowing from the northwest, twisting specks of soil over the cliffs. Sojo watched them drift downwards and fall below the cliff edge, out of her view. ¡°The wind seems a lot steadier now that we¡¯re past the grasslands,¡± she noted aloud.

    None of the others looked up at her words. For all they¡¯d been trying to focus earlier, staring down at the great dunes was entrancing.

    ¡°I¡¯m not as familiar with weather patterns inland,¡± Mirrel eventually answered, ¡°but the coasts have very consistent trade winds. It might be the same here, with the wind blowing this way all summer long.¡± His gaze was still downwards, but now Sojo could see his brow creasing. ¡°Eyn, wouldn¡¯t that change the way those dunes built up?¡±

    ¡°They do seem to be spread across the wind. That¡¯s the same as ocean waves, I think.¡± She looked up suddenly, and stared along the length of the cliffs. ¡°If the winds went all the way across the basin, that could build up sand on the other side. We might find easier points of entry than the cliffs here if we follow the curve long enough.¡±

    ¡°How long would it take us to get around? Could we-¡±

    ¡°Eyn?¡± Brehen said.

    They turned to him, Eyn seeming very disoriented by the multiple calls for her attention. ¡°What is it?¡±

    ¡°Do you see the stones lying along the crest of the dune there? The sixth¡­ no, seventh one from the cliffs.¡± Brehen pointed, but Sojo could barely make out the darker colours on the hilltop.

    Eyn nodded. ¡°That looks like stones, but what about them? If they¡¯re shaped at all, I can¡¯t see it from here.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s not that. It just seemed odd to me. How did they get up there? Carried along by shifting sand?¡±

    ¡°Not a chance,¡± Mirrel cut in. ¡°They¡¯d be buried long before they made it that far from the walls.¡± He blinked a few times, struck by the thought. ¡°It¡¯s much more likely they were placed there.¡±

    The party had slowed as they looked, and came to a stop at the notion. ¡°It could have been the scouts,¡± Sojo said. ¡°There¡¯d likely be stone loose near the cliffs, and marking passages seems like something they¡¯d do.¡±Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

    Eyn nodded, but her frown only deepened. ¡°I wouldn¡¯t expect them to do that unless they expected serious danger from losing their way, even for a few hours. And they aren¡¯t quite at the crest, I don¡¯t think.¡±

    Sojo thought she could see the markers if she squinted, but Eyn¡¯s details were beyond her view. ¡°That would make them invisible to people already inside the Sink, wouldn¡¯t it? So these would be markers of where the scouts went in?¡±

    ¡°I think so. I would have expected stone stacks from them, but maybe they were rushed? Even if it wasn¡¯t the scouts, I don¡¯t know how much we¡¯d find in such bare traces.¡±

    They nodded as one, and starting walking again.

    ¡°Is that what we¡¯re expecting now?¡± Brehen asked. ¡°Ruined buildings in the sand? I can¡¯t imagine people surviving in the desert more than in passing.¡± It seems unwise to enter, Sojo thought he hadn¡¯t quite said.

    She¡¯d been surprised by the urge to move for the center earlier, but it made sense the more she considered it. The Sink seemed like a natural funnel, a point where people would be drawn by wonder and find cause to revere. Gazing at it, she felt a stirring in her mind. Something being awoken by the act of looking upon it.

    If, in the past, any had felt as she did, she could imagine temples half-sunk under the shifting sands. Treasures and foreign idols, altars to dead gods waiting to be seen and remembered. Something breath-taking and life-giving, enough to cause a minor pilgrimage through this desolate land just to be studied and understood. And she felt greed behind that; it had given life to this expedition through promises made for money borrowed. Greed was paltry, in comparison to the resonating reverence she felt, but she couldn¡¯t forget it completely.

    This was no holy journey. It would taint her actions, to even call it so. But she could feel it lingering, the trace of something grander to their steps than a purposeless trek. And when they found whatever had drawn them here, maybe it would satisfy the feeling. Maybe.

    Even as she doubted, Sojo couldn¡¯t find it within her to question that there was something calling to her, to consider that it was optimism, not fate, drawing her to the center of that desert.

    ¡°You know Brehen,¡± she finally said, ¡°if it¡¯s people we find in the end, at least they¡¯ll surely be interesting.¡±

    -

    They woke to the sounds of rustling and shifting sand.

    Around the camp were two small hills, edges of inclines down to the sink-floor, which they¡¯d chosen as windbreaks for the breezy evening. The sky held traces of cloud again, but this time there was only the barest sliver of moon to see by. Sojo could hardly make out the grey outlines of the sparse vegetation clinging to the hillsides of sandy soil. She saw nothing there, and nothing moved, leaving shifting sand in its shadowed wake.

    She whipped her head around at a sudden clatter, only to see Eyn fumbling in the dark for something at the mouth of her tent. Sojo crept to her side, waving silently to Mirrel as she went. He moved to wake Brehen.

    Feeling at her feet, Eyn lifted the disconnected pieces of a wooden puzzle, placing them inside the mouth of her tent. She looked to Sojo.

    ¡°What¡¯s going on?¡± she whispered, huddling close. Sojo sat, hardly able to think, waiting for a sound between the gusts of wind.

    ¡°I don¡¯t know. I could have sworn-¡±

    Rustling again from the northern hill. There was a roughness to it distinct from the whispers of sand, a quality that spoke of shifting weight and heels digging in, of clothing or fur dragging over the ground. Sojo was sure of it. She led Eyn to the rest of their party.

    ¡°Something¡¯s out there, I keep hearing it move.¡± Mirrel¡¯s fists were clenched tight, and something fierce had begun to creep into his eyes. Even crouched, his forearms had cords and veins protruding, and he bounced with barely-contained energy.

    Eyn took his hand and gently pulled at the fingers. It was only then Mirrel noticed he¡¯d been squeezing her glass lightmaker in his fist, hard enough that he might set it off at his side. He loosened his grip, and nodded at her.

    Where Mirrel was frenetic, Brehen seemed barely able to keep awake. He¡¯d passed out quickly last night after gorging himself on ¡°the only good meal Mirrel¡¯s ever managed,¡± and hadn¡¯t yet recovered. His mornings went poorly on the best of days, and nearer midnight as they were, even his nerves weren¡¯t enough to rouse him.

    They huddled together in the darkness, listening to the fragile silence. ¡°They don¡¯t normally stay this long,¡± Eyn murmured.

    Sojo nodded, and four heads turned at rustling noises just beyond their tents. She gasped, putting a hand over her mouth to stifle the noise. Their night visitors had never come so close before, either.

    ¡°What should we-¡± she started to ask, only to see Mirrel slowly drawing a knife from his belt. Eyn¡¯s eyes went wide, and she drew hers as well with a quiet metallic rasp. As soon as it sounded, the rustling stopped.

    ¡°So they¡¯re scared,¡± Mirrel whispered, ¡°damn right!¡± They huddled in silence for an endless moment, before slow footfalls hissed through the sand by the southern hill.

    ¡°Hah!¡± He shouted, jumping to his feet and bolting towards the sound. Eyn called after him, but he didn¡¯t so much as raise a hand in acknowledgement. The three exchanged glances, and started after him at a much more cautious pace.

    The sliver of moon was obscured by cloud as they ran, and within moments it was intensely dark. Sojo felt Eyn¡¯s hand gripping her shoulder, and took hold of Brehen in turn. Up ahead, Mirrel shouted again and was matched by snarling, before a white flash struck them all with the sound of shattering crystal. The snarling was gone, replaced by a horrible keening and footsteps fading into the distance.

    Sojo covered her eyes with her free hand, an afterimage of the scene burned into her mind. Mirrel had been standing with his back to them, the creature rearing up onto its back legs. Long fur draped its body, and its face had been covered enough to be indistinguishable aside from a pair of gleaming eyes. She walked forward slowly, eyes still closed, having a rough idea of how far Mirrel was.

    ¡°Are you alright?¡± She called out. ¡°Fine,¡± Brehen said, voice rough from sleep. Eyn squeezed her shoulder, but didn¡¯t answer. She listened for Mirrel¡¯s voice, but didn¡¯t hear him over the crunching sand beneath their feet. All she could hear was an odd gurgling-

    She tripped over something, and landed heavily on her side. Her eyes were open, but the pulsing from the light earlier left them useless still. Reaching out, she felt cloth and hair, before a hand grabbed hers in a crushing grip. Eyes starting to clear, she could barely make out Mirrel¡¯s face in front of hers, gasping silently in the night. And below it, a twisted mess of sinew and tendons, pulsing with blood as she stared.

    She froze, but only for a moment.

    ¡°Back to the camp. Now.¡±

    -

    Dawn found them huddled in their camp, backs together. After Eyn¡¯s brief efforts had failed and Mirrel still refused to rise, she had made sure only she would be able to see him as the night passed.

    They had heard nothing visiting their camp afterwards, though it wasn¡¯t always easy to listen for them. The tears that fell were not silent. But as light returned to the desert and she saw the white glint of a fang still buried in Mirrel¡¯s throat, Sojo found she had made her decision. They couldn¡¯t stay here and expect to be safe, but neither could they leave empty-handed.

    They would strike for the center of the Sink, and find there either their salvation or their demise.

 1.10a - Conquest

    ¡°What progress have you made over the last month?¡± Conten asked.

    The white-haired man had been Corinth¡¯s advisor since he¡¯d been recognized by the University. They sat in his office on the second floor. Monthly, they would meet and discuss the constructs that were the heart of University research, and Corinth had learned to consider his words carefully.

    ¡°I found more details of the fourth sigil we discussed last month, but not enough to make functional prototypes. I have confirmed the relation to wind, but haven¡¯t managed anything more. Stronger attempts have released poisonous gases, and had to be destroyed.¡± He wanted to stop there, but couldn¡¯t help himself. ¡°This follows the trend of the second and third sigils, where increased strength causes previously unseen flaws.¡±

    ¡°Are you sure these are flaws? Perhaps these sigils simply contain hidden aspects, only revealed when the whole is empowered.¡± Conten gazed at him, smiling ruefully. This debate had gone unchanged since they¡¯d dug into the second sigil. While it hadn¡¯t been proven either way, Corinth had been made to regret a few brash statements in the past through endless testing and examination. At least if the man was smiling, he wouldn¡¯t order another month of delving at minutia.

    ¡°I¡¯m not sure, of course. But whenever I see these in my dreams, the first sigil is central. And the whispers-¡± Corinth winced at even mentioning them. ¡°The whispers surge when I frame it like that. All the sigils answer to Kain, but it¡¯s clear that only one of them is his.¡±

    Conten¡¯s smile slipped away. ¡°Have you been hearing them more often? Is the research bringing the connection forward, still?¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s been slipping more as I worked on this one, but when I took a few hours to search for a first sigil construct it was back as quick as ever.¡±

    Conten nodded, and the glimmer of interest slipped from his eyes. ¡°Well, head off then. We¡¯ll have no more use of you, now.¡±

    ¨C

    As the office door shut behind him, Corinth sighed in relief. The meetings weren¡¯t unpleasant, exactly, but two years hadn¡¯t fully taken away the nervousness of speaking to the University¡¯s most revered scholar. He was convinced by now that nothing would. He noticed the tension rising in his neck just thinking about it, and let himself relax into the whispers.

    Now he would discuss with his other advisor, if you could call the seeping presence anything of the sort. Aside from the name Kain, the voice hadn¡¯t given him a word since it¡¯d drank the light from Apothet¡¯s temple two years ago. It felt like whispers in the back of his head, but the soft sounds never resolved into words. Tone and volume were all the guidance he could hope for.

    When he¡¯d first been given permission to seek a construct using Kain¡¯s sigil, there had been a chanting fervour for three days until he¡¯d passed out from exhaustion. When he¡¯d smashed the poisonous glasswork last week, a mournful keening had sung until midnight. And Conten had known when he¡¯d acknowledged them that the whispers would steal his attention until he found some facet he¡¯d been missing from the fourth sigil, or fell asleep.

    Corinth let the whispers in as he walked to his own quarters, basking in the attention they gave him. On rare occasions he¡¯d felt a heavier presence that he now associated with Kain himself, but this subordinate chorus was often all the guidance he received. They acted as a dialogue of sorts, changing in tempo to the ideas he considered. He started reviewing the container design he¡¯d made to trap the poison vapours, but was in his room before any real progress could be made.

    He grinned, walking through the doors. His makeshift altar was central within the room ¨C traumatizing pious visitors as a regular occurrence ¨C and that alone had gotten him a space to himself. A rough affair carved of soft stone by his inexpert hand, the temple in miniature was horrifying mostly from a professional standpoint. Then again, the jagged teeth and leering eyes it implied probably added to the unsettling feeling. He was familiar enough with it that it no longer bothered him, and as he walked by his attention remained elsewhere in the room.

    His office was larger than that of most researchers, but that was tempered by acting as his sleeping quarters as well. A writing desk lay along the right wall, and his bed was in the corner beside it. Across the room was a mess of stone, wood, and glass that made up the sum of his knowledge of Kain¡¯s pantheon; ornate sigils were carved to the delight of wordless voices, and the two constructs he¡¯d discovered rested on the shelves above their respective signs.

    Just from looking over the whispering intensified, but Corinth shook his head and turned away. His mother had left him a bundle earlier that morning. No chorus would supersede that.

    He sat on the bed, wooden frame creaking at his weight. There was glass under the wrapping-cloth, he could tell, and he unwrapped it dropping four thin saucers of rockglass into his palm. He felt markings under his fingers as he traced the faces of each in turn. She must have asked someone to brave entering his room, he realized, because each was engraved with one of the sigils he¡¯d traced from half-remembered dreams.

    Voices crowed in his head at the sight, and he smiled wider when he realized his name was engraved on the opposite side. She¡¯d found a sense of humour in raising a heathen, that much was certain.

    He brought the plates over, comparing the etchings to his scrawled designs. She was a much better hand than he was, clear by her profession alone, but he could see minor changes made beyond straightening the lines. Aside from Kain¡¯s sigil, each one had a wedge that he couldn¡¯t seem to remember the contents of. Rather than leave them vague, she¡¯d made each a stylized fracture that connected them stylistically. It wasn¡¯t a perfect solution, given the lack of energetic mental chants, but it cleaned the overall appearance significantly.

    The second sigil was a series of branching shards, all identical but receding ever smaller as they extended from the centre. In her version, the branches didn¡¯t fade into minute details so much as appear to wrap around underneath the previous ones, letting the illusion of depth go unbroken. It had struck him as endless branching paths when he¡¯d drawn it up, and he¡¯d found a representation in the construct through loops that energy could travel in any combination.

    The third was concentric circles broken in a path by the missing wedge, only thinly connected by lines radiating outward, and the construct he¡¯d worked out cooled the area around it. Under its effect, heat simply couldn¡¯t transfer between objects. He¡¯d been excited at the possible uses, until he realized that the effect that disconnected temperature connected the objects as well, and any motion of the things around it would jolt the construct too. Just trying to walk across the room had torn it from his grip, and several prototypes had shattered in accidents that month.Reading on Amazon or a pirate site? This novel is from Royal Road. Support the author by reading it there.

    The fourth he still hadn¡¯t worked out more than vaguely. It seemed to have a pattern of objects in lines across it, but he hadn¡¯t managed to map it out. Working from recollections of dreams reminded him of being stuck at candles again, going through the same details in hope of sudden, unlikely inspiration. He¡¯d tried to shape a basic construct through a similar pattern of knots in rows, but kept getting coughing fits after seeing shimmering in the air.

    He was surprised she¡¯d been willing to carve the first sigil, though. Even with his familiarity, the gaping maw and predatory fangs of Kain¡¯s chosen symbol was eerie. He¡¯d have to thank her properly for the gift.

    He left the plates propped up on the shelf between his constructs, and finally turned back to his sigil drawings. From his dreams, the fourth was related to wind and breath, and he was at a loss to depict that visually. The chorus called and he sank into a chair, letting time slip him by.

    ¨C

    He walked with Conten through dimly lit hallways of stone, grumbling about the shadows, and wished he could throw shade with the ease that Teph¡¯s Speakers cast light. The underground tunnels were unevenly paved, but the darkness would hold no mysteries if it was his darkness. He sighed, knowing that he¡¯d only end up guiding Conten by the hand, and resigned himself to a few more stubbed toes.

    ¡°What are we doing this far down, anyways?¡± Corinth asked. ¡°I didn¡¯t even realize the University had this many underground floors.¡±

    He thought Conten was smirking, but it was hard to tell in the dark. ¡°You¡¯ve only been around a couple years, wait until you find a second kitchen thirty years in. Then you¡¯ll ring some ears.¡±

    ¡°There¡¯s a second kitchen?¡± He asked. ¡°But where? I could have sworn- No, wrong topic. What are we looking for?¡±

    ¡°We¡¯ve talked about your research every month. This time, I¡¯m going to share some of mine. It¡¯s only fair. You¡¯ve seen the edges of most topics of study here, after all.¡±

    Corinth¡¯s eyes went wide. Conten¡¯s only research he¡¯d been told of was the rockglass discovery decades back; to learn of a whole new field would be an incredible opportunity. ¡°Oh, um, great! I¡¯ll be happy to learn-¡±

    ¡°No need for eager platitudes, and no time either.¡± Conten stopped at a stone door that looked to weigh as much as Corinth¡¯s altar, and withdrew a glass key from his robes. He unlocked the door, but didn¡¯t step through. ¡°I¡¯m warning you now, and it¡¯s the only one you¡¯ll get. The contents of these rooms are not to be trifled with, and they are placed under two dozen feet of stone for good reason. Tread with caution.¡±

    He pulled the door open without waiting for a response, and Corinth stepped through as the torches burst into sudden flame. Glittering shards drew his eyes from every wall, shelves and stacks of crystal twisted into innumerable forms. He felt the urge to walk around and peer into their depths, but held his place at Conten¡¯s side.

    ¡°We¡¯ll start with the first one, as it¡¯s the easiest to understand. A couple years before the passing of my own mentor Torean, there was an incident in the crystal reservoir. That day caused the health problems that eventually killed him, but also led to a discovery rather predictable, in hindsight.¡± He walked forward as he lectured, and picked up an egg-sized tangle of crystal without apparent order or reason. ¡°The more detail and finesse you try to put into a construct, the more energy it absorbs in the process. I¡¯ve found that long, thin, twisted wires are the best way to absorb as much as possible.

    ¡°The discovery that nearly destroyed our access to the reservoir was that this energy isn¡¯t lost when the construct is completed. In some cases, it can be released when the glass is broken. In the case of Apothet¡¯s blessing, this means releasing fire.¡±

    Without a word of warning, he threw the egg into an empty stone alcove, and the following gout of flame reinforced the scorch marks covering the surface. Corinth yelped as the firelight blinded him, and stood frozen until his vision returned. Conten stared at him, expressionless, watching as his student re-evaluated the walls of twisted crystals.

    ¡°So, everything in here¡­¡± he said, gesturing at the shelves of constructs.

    ¡°Could level a couple floors of the University with ease, yes. Hence the workshop far below ground.¡± Conten gestured at a cauldron of water, and Corinth approached hesitantly.

    ¡°Is there any particular form I should be following?¡± He asked, watching the last ripples vanish from the water¡¯s surface. ¡°Anything to know?¡±

    Conten shook his head. ¡°Long, curved wires. It¡¯s probably the easiest construct design we have.¡±

    Corinth nodded, and placed his hands on the water¡¯s surface. He waited, with only a low murmuring at the edge of his hearing, before a chasm opened. Suddenly he could feel the presence, a weight suffusing him and pulling him down into the depths, where a suppressed hunger ever lurked. He pushed it outwards, tendrils growing from his fingertips, and curled them around like untrimmed nails curving back towards the hand that grew them.

    Two loops in, and he could feel the strain pressing back against him, not wanting to be drawn any further into the liquid. When finally he could do no more, he drew himself back from cauldron and let his knees buckle, lying on the stone floor below.

    Conten was kind, and gave him a few minutes to recover. It was nearly unique within the University to have such strong physical reactions to working the glass, but he¡¯d been given generous leeway by the senior researchers. It made him feel distant somehow, as if the tendons and muscles guiding his body were miles long, andstanding took an age waiting for the right response.

    When he did rise, Conten already had his meagre showing in hand. A bird¡¯s nest of crystal cables, small enough to fit within his palm, and braided to hold together despite their short length. He leaned on the old researcher as they stepped over to the alcove, but pulled himself together enough to make the throw. Conten¡¯s eyes sparkled with interest as he wrenched his arm forward, crystal shattering against the wall and-

    Melting. It spattered against the stone like it had never been solid at all, and slowly dripped down to the floor. They waited, breath held, but there was nothing. Just a pitiful dripping from the rough walls.

    They exchanged glances. ¡°It was an effect, at least,¡± Conten hedged. Corinth just held a hand to his head, feeling an ache starting that wouldn¡¯t soon let up.

    ¡°What was it? Reversion, maybe, or liquefaction? It doesn¡¯t feel right. That doesn¡¯t feel like Kain at all.¡± Corinth leaned back, bracing himself against a table as the voices exclaimed in his head. ¡°There¡¯s something important to be found.¡±

    Conten walked forward slowly, sniffing at the air like a dog. He seemed paranoid of foul air, it seemed to Corinth, as if he¡¯d been caught by it before. A common effect of the glass nests?

    ¡°Careful where you step, wouldn¡¯t want you slipping in a puddle of mystery.¡± Corinth called out.

    Conten placed a foot in one of the puddles and slid it across the floor, before drawing his foot back. He raised it for another step, but paused as he saw the ground below. He stepped back fully and raised a hand. ¡°Come look, boy. I think my eyes are failing in my old age.¡±

    The student walked to his mentor¡¯s side, examining the lines carved into the stone below. ¡°What am I looking at, how it filled the depression here?¡±

    ¡°There was no depression before,¡± Conten answered quietly.

    Again they exchanged glances, and Corinth reached out to the wall near the point of impact. As his fingers brushed the surface, he felt the stone give way, and pressed divots into the rough wall. He could see Conten¡¯s eyes widen, but was too distracted by the surging noise to respond.

    ¡°It¡¯s been weakened under the impact. Is it loosened or liquefied like I thought?¡± Corinth mumbled, hardly able to frame his thoughts under the incessant calls. Suddenly, the first sigil flashed through his mind and the pieces came together. ¡°Consumption. It consumed an aspect of the stone, its strength.¡±

    He spoke, and heard the roaring approval of the voices in his head. ¡°Consumption, Corruption, and Decay. Those are the aspects of my god.¡±

 1.10b - Conquest

    The construct was simple once he¡¯d understood Kain¡¯s corrupting aspect. He¡¯d tried for months to make something that could channel energy, but the transparent crystal always spilled over with wasted power. Just the feedback had rotted through tables and clouded the laden waters, rendering it useless to any task he could think of. In the end, though, he hadn¡¯t been the one to find a suitable corruption.

    Years earlier, Conten had discovered how to make a glass structure that could withstand heavy blows, that took divine purpose and made it solid. The cube still stood on a high shelf in his office surrounded by later components, a monument to his ingenuity and his failure.

    The first time Corinth had sat down at a basin of rockglass fluid, he¡¯d created a simple shard with Kain¡¯s power to see if it would hold. The water darkened beneath his hands, opaque threads spooling into a thin black cylinder of glass, turning clear and sparkling when he withdrew it. He let another pulse run through. Under Conten¡¯s watchful gaze and with Kain¡¯s own presence, the glass darkened and shadows seeped from the other side, unhindered by the intervening crystal. His first success.

    And again, the design came to him as a moment of simplicity: the largest school of constructs used guided light to channel Teph¡¯s power, so Kain could be invoked by the corruption of their methods.

    Corinth pressed a prism from the crystal, shaking it dry in the air above the basin. He called for a sliver of presence, and shadow suffused the glass until it seemed to be a shard of darkness, of deep-earth stone. He gestured his mentor back, and with a savage grin he twisted the glass in form and nature. It shattered, but the magic refused to let the shards fall, binding them together in a slow spiral. Beneath his feet the earth rung with a terrible blow, as if the bones of the earth had fractured with it.

    Undeterred, Corinth held it in a cupped hand, deaf to Conten¡¯s comments even before the mental clamour. He couldn¡¯t look away. Smoke was pouring from it, oily and thick, rolling across the floor and swallowing the rough stone. In moments it¡¯d spread through the room and risen like a ceaseless tide, flowing past his shoulders and drowning him in boiling vapour.

    ¡°It works,¡± he called out. ¡°I think it makes the darkness physical, an airborne element. It¡¯ll probably last much longer than when I channel it directly.¡±

    He waited, but no answer came. He wasn¡¯t expecting excitement from his teacher ¨C Conten was used to light-stealing tests by now ¨C but to receive no response at all was unusual. He turned and looked through the smoke, seeing the man¡¯s eyes closed in the darkness and lips moving soundlessly. He frowned.

    ¡°Conten!¡± He shouted, but saw no reaction to the noise. Corinth put the crystal down and walked over, calling out all the while. Even from a pace away, Conten could neither see nor hear him. Corinth thought the old man was getting antsy, his head twitching despite closed eyes and his mouth opening wider as he spoke. He gently took the researcher¡¯s shaking hand and led him to the door.

    The smoke poured out when they stepped into the hallway, dispersing into the unmarred air. Conten was panting heavily. ¡°Was it breathable for you?¡± Corinth asked, suddenly anxious.

    Conten took a few more breaths, visibly steadying himself. ¡°It was¡­ fine. Just reminiscent of some old memories.¡± He frowned. ¡°Why didn¡¯t you answer?¡±

    ¡°It stole the sound too! I couldn¡¯t hear you, nor you my shouting.¡± He looked down the hallway at the lingering smoke. ¡°And it seems to last much longer than the raw darkness. Very interesting.¡± It was hard not to slip away into thought, with voices whispering gleefully in his ears and an entire field of construct design opening before him. He forced himself to focus, feeling that familiar grin slip onto his face.

    ¡°What should I try next?¡±

    -

    The chorus rose to shrieks, terrified voices clamouring to be heard, to be saved! Corinth held his head in his hands, trying to block out the agony of piercing screams, but nothing would silence the sounds inside him. He felt hands grabbing at him as his muscles stiffened and twitched.

    Eventually the voices started to recede, but with them went the seeping presence he¡¯d known for the last years. The hands lowered him to the ground, letting him rest on the smooth stone as his muscles unknotted.

    He was empty, bereft of the voices and the presence of Kain, but he realized with a start that he felt whole. Something had been taken from him for all those years, some caution or restraint, some rational piece of himself that had been shouting amidst the chorus all this time.

    He sat in the basement, feeling the worry in Conten¡¯s gaze, and smiled without reservation for the first time in years. He was free, he was himself, and he could-

    The darkness hit like a hammer blow. The screeching returned in his mind, but this was not the chorus he had known. This was Kain himself, screaming bloody murder in his mind as smoke poured from his hands. His skull cracked against the floor as he twitched, writhing in the devouring maw that sought to take him once and for all.Stolen novel; please report.

    In a desperate, stumbling prayer he rushed to the basin of rockglass and threw his hands in, pouring the all-consuming energy into the crystal. Twisting wires wound, miles of filigree weaving into glass cords thicker around than his arms, tying into knots and burning even the fluid gaps into solid form. When the screaming finally quieted, when the presence gave up on consuming him and faded into broken weeping behind his eyes, he withdrew his hands from the basin.

    This time Conten wasn¡¯t fast enough to catch him, and Corinth landed heavily as shadows clouded his mind.

    -

    He woke to torchlight.

    ¡°Are you finally coming around? It¡¯s about time, your darkness has kept me trapped here for the better part of the afternoon.¡±

    Corinth rolled over blearily, trying to shade his eyes from the stabbing flames. He could hear Conten¡¯s continued complaints, but knew there was no real venom in them. The man was dispassionate by nature, but not uncaring.

    Sure enough, he felt a hand under his elbow as his mentor helped him rise. The pounding in his head was distracting, but more than made up for by the absent chorus. He let the old man guide him to a chair, feeling fingers probe his scalp for injury. He couldn¡¯t find it within him to twitch even when pain flared.

    ¡°You wouldn¡¯t be so tranquil with a fractured skull, so we¡¯ll count that blessing at least. The barber upstairs will shave and patch the rest.¡±

    Corinth nodded, lurching as the motion threw off his balance, when his gaze latched onto the basin. ¡°The fluid, did you¡­?¡±

    ¡°I haven¡¯t looked,¡± Conten said. He walked around the chair and came into view. Corinth noted his paleness, his drawn expression, and it dawned on him how worried the man must have been.

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry,¡± Corinth started. He wasn¡¯t sure what he was apologizing for, but had to for the lines creasing the man¡¯s brow. ¡°I don¡¯t know what happened there. It felt like, like I was abandoned, and then run through by Kain¡¯s attention.¡± Conten only grunted in reply, until Corinth continued. ¡°And the whispers are gone.¡±

    Now the researcher looked up from the basin, and his gaze was piercing as he stared his student down. ¡°Gone? All of them?¡±

    Corinth grinned weakly. ¡°All of them. I don¡¯t even feel Kain right now.¡± He swayed again in his seat, and his eyes were drawn back to the basin. It seemed to grow blurrier as he stared. ¡°Well, what¡¯s in there? I had to use your braiding wires to absorb enough of the energy. That construct might be the biggest bomb you¡¯ve ever seen.¡±

    Conten frowned, and pulled a stopper from the basin¡¯s side. A thin trickle flowed down into a lower catchment, leaving the glass above.

    ¡°Wrong, I¡¯m afraid.¡± Conten remained expressionless as he looked down, and Corinth tried with shaking hands to lever himself up so he could see. He immediately regretted the decision as the room spun, and slouched back into the chair. Even the outline of the basin was blurring, clouded by tears rolling down his cheeks. His hands trembled, and he was rocking slightly in his chair as the channelling aftershocks made his muscles twitch. The intensity of the experience had numbed him but the shock was fading, and a raw, visceral terror was rising, his throat closing over and his breath coming in gasps as the magnitude of what had happened struck him.

    His god was gone. The voices, everything granted and afflicted upon him had been scoured away, but even still he felt corrupted. His body was the charred husk of a lightning-struck tree, still burning within and unknowing of the depths of damage caused. He felt his focus on the construct waver, realizing that he had been hiding his fear through redirected focus.

    ¡°Conten,¡± he said softly, ¡°I- I can¡¯t do this. I need to rest. And think. I don¡¯t know what- I think I might be breaking.¡±

    The old man looked up, and traced the weeping mess that was his pupil. Corinth could see him decide, his expression shifting and his stance turning away from the water; he nodded and left the glass, offering an arm. ¡°It will keep.¡± Conten answered.

    There was no voice, no whisper in his mind as he walked. Yet he could feel an anger building at the questions unanswered, and unanswerable. What was this act of god that had struck him and sought to burn a hole through his body? Why had it happened, and why now? If his voice was one fragment in the chorus, where were the rest?

    They only rang louder when he woke in the night, coughing up blood.

    -

    He woke the next day wracked with thirst, as the morning light crept through his window. He stood. His legs gave out.

    Conten came by two hours later to find him lying on the floor, shivering under a sheet. He hadn¡¯t had the strength to get back in bed. In the end he slept for most of the day, waking to eat and drink as friendly faces brought things for him. Even bedridden, he couldn¡¯t help but laugh at them when they refused to turn their backs to his altar.

    Even his mother came by, informed through a few proxies and gossipers that he wasn¡¯t well. She stayed until past sunset, sitting at his bedside and reading while he dozed. Later that night, he woke in darkness and she wasn¡¯t there.

    Corinth wasn¡¯t upset, really. He wouldn¡¯t want her to stay in the University; it wasn¡¯t a place of comfort for her and his hideous room even less so. He was trying to piece his mind together and make sense of things, and was reaching out for something to steady himself, he thought. He dried his eyes and tried to sleep, feeling his body ache.

    His breathing steadied after a while, and he noted how time seemed to lose its consistency in the night. Without an easy way to distinguish the passing seconds, moments seemed to drag on horribly. On the other hand, he could watch the moonbeam drifting through his window under the orb¡¯s procession, and trace its path over seconds to minutes to hours without even noticing the span of time passing. Eventually it sunk enough to shine on his bed, bright in the pre-dawn hush.

    Good sense told him to turn away, to roll over and sleep, but questions still demanded answers. And there was one, at least, he could answer now. He breathed deep and reached for Kain¡¯s presence to blot out the light.

    Pain was immediate, wracking his muscles and burning his lungs. He wheezed, twitched, spluttered, hands clenching at the sheets as he bit back a scream. He waited for it to recede, but it held steady as he lay in the bed. He had to let most of the power go, until there was only a thin trickle running through him and a mild ache in the back of his skull.

    He looked around the room to see if the telltale shade had sprung forth, and grinned at the detailed darkness. His gaze swept the room, then returned to the moon panning through the sky over black treetops behind rising chimneys. He nodded and released the shadows, watching the room snap back into light. Along with the window ledge outside. And the chimneys in the village. And the treetops.

 1.10c - Conquest

    No one had noticed the pitch dark that passed for a few moments in the night. No surprise; few were even awake past midnight, let alone watching the skies. He practiced in the night for a few days before convincing Conten to join him at the testing range. He wouldn¡¯t have managed the walk any earlier.

    It wasn¡¯t easy to get the man to go. He didn¡¯t see the point, as Corinth hadn¡¯t made a new construct to test there. Corinth eventually had to guarantee him that it would be worth his time; the researcher¡¯s long-practiced scepticism was offended enough to accept.

    It was nearly noon when they arrived, Conten having insisted on finishing a few experiments first and dismissing the importance of the trip. When Corinth didn¡¯t even bring a construct to show, the old man sighed and muttered to himself about wasted time. There was a glimmer of interest there though, not quite hidden under the heavy doubt.

    They stood amid the scarred trees he¡¯d walked through years ago. Corinth breathed deep and drew on Kain¡¯s magic, and had to bite his tongue as it flowed. It held no resistance at all to the call; moderation had been imposed on its depth before and he was still learning to cope. He tapered it down to a trickle, noticing Conten¡¯s gritted teeth and stillness. He hadn¡¯t hid the pain well, it seemed.

    When he had enough magic pooled, he let it bloom into devouring shadows, a pane of darkness at waist height. He wanted Conten to see the span, be forced to acknowledge it. Darkness swam around the tree-trunks and out of sight, covering an acre or more of the range with black.

    He looked back at his mentor, seeing him try to keep his expression neutral, and laughed through the pain. ¡°So how¡¯d that guarantee work out?¡±

    -

    He had argued with Conten, then, the first time he¡¯d placed his opinions and beliefs on the level of his mentor¡¯s and truly fought for their recognition. Without a god to obey, without others who shared Kain¡¯s affinity, without answers to the event that could give deep insight to the workings of the gods themselves¡­ He didn¡¯t see how any action but an expedition could be the answer. He had to find the others who had been calling in that chorus and work with them, learn from them at the very least.

    Instead, he had been dismissed. Political realities don¡¯t allow it, they said, as if the merchant council of Myranel or the petty Commodores of the coasts had the sway to stop him. As if he should simply study his magic and write tomes of useless knowledge never to be read by one who could wield it. As if he should content himself with tiny mysteries and meaningless discoveries, only for them to be swept away by the mortality of time.

    So today he¡¯d invited the most respected researchers to the University roof, to give them one final chance at grasping their mistake. He¡¯d carried up all he would need in advance: a single twisted prism, to demonstrate his point; a rockglass sword, to make clear his commitment; and the construct he¡¯d made on the night things changed, never tested despite Conten¡¯s demands since.

    He¡¯d refused to test it on the grounds that he didn¡¯t have enough control over the magic yet, regardless of how much he could channel, and Conten had grumbled but not forced the issue. Instead they¡¯d re-evaluated the other sigil-constructs he¡¯d been working on before the chorus and the dreams had gone. His mentor¡¯s patience had frayed over the weeks when no progress was made there either.

    It was a lie, though. His control was better, unreasonably so. It seemed to him that the magic had lost its guiding hand, the inherent control of Kain that limited his followers to his purpose. Instead, it was reaching for any meaning that was offered, and obeyed without restraint. The only thing that kept him from using it with the delicacy needed was the thought-shattering pain that came with it as his body was devoured from within. That little detail.

    With luck, he¡¯d learn to channel more efficiently in time and it wouldn¡¯t be as big a factor, negated as well by a rising tolerance to pain, but for now he could hardly do more than offer the magic a single goal and try not to let it slip his grasp in the madness.

    The first of the researchers stepped out of the stairwell onto the roof, and Corinth forced himself to focus on the present. Demonstrate, dictate, compel.

    ¡°Welcome, and thank you for joining me here,¡± he called out, watching the woman bask in the sunlight. He wondered why the researchers avoided the roof even though they always seemed refreshed when they stepped out. Maybe it was the height? ¡°I expect the others will arrive shortly.¡±

    She smiled, but didn¡¯t respond. Likely a Seeker, he thought. He¡¯d found Porial¡¯s devout tended not to chat, content with communing with their own internal chorus and whispers.

    More were emerging from the stairwell now. He¡¯d requested the presence of the twelve most notable and respected researchers. They didn¡¯t run the University, exactly, but it was well known that for anything significant to change they would have to be consulted. It wasn¡¯t unheard of for them appear together, but he¡¯d never heard of it happening because of a lowly student like himself. His sceptical side hadn¡¯t even expected them to show up. Probably Conten¡¯s work.

    Within a few minutes they¡¯d all arrived and exchanged pleasantries, and then their attention gathered. Corinth felt his back prickling with sweat, his hands shaking, nerves getting riled from the importance of the moment. He took a few breaths, letting the seconds pass even as they waited, then nodded to himself and met their eyes.

    ¡°Thank you for meeting my request,¡± he started, ready to regret every word. He glanced at Conten, but the man¡¯s face was blank. ¡°For your sympathy I would offer you three things. First, a demonstration to pique your interest and inform later discussions. Second, a proposal based on the newfound capabilities shown in the first. Without further delay, then¡­¡±

    He brought out his twisted prism, noting the suspicion on the faces of Teph¡¯s followers whose design he¡¯d warped, and raised it with a flourish. He tried to start with a bare trickle as he¡¯d practiced to avoid any screaming in the face of the crowd.

    ¡°What¡¯s the third thing?¡± One of the researchers interrupted.

    Corinth paused, and answered in a strained voice. ¡°A surprise, sir. I trust you¡¯ll humour me a little longer?¡±

    The man frowned, but nodded. ¡°Proceed, then,¡± he said, waving a hand.Unauthorized use: this story is on Amazon without permission from the author. Report any sightings.

    Corinth sighed, and let oily fog burst outwards, covering the rooftop in an instant. A twist of effort had the billows laying low, rolling off the roof and outwards from the building rather than blind the researchers completely.

    As it ebbed down, patches began to thin and evaporate. Teph¡¯s speakers had brought their own prisms and were burning the darkness away. He pressed a little harder and the shadows dropped below chest height, low enough that he could see stony gazes staring back at him.

    ¡°This concludes the first part of the demonstration,¡± he said, trying to pitch his voice louder without yelling. The fog would swallow his words more than the bare stone had before. ¡°Next will be a slightly more interesting construct.¡±

    He pressed out with a hand and the fog receded, pulling back like a falling tide in a wide circle around him. He let it sit just at the researchers¡¯ feet, lapping in small waves borne by the wind. Behind him was a simple wooden test stand, cut from a stool he¡¯d stolen from the kitchens. And behind that was a sheet covering a lumpy object that made his heart race to look at. He brought them both forward, placing them in the center of the circle. He took his rockglass sword in one hand, and pulled the sheet off with the other.

    Corinth paused for a moment, grinning at the gasps and curses from the researchers around him, then lifted the construct. For most this was their first time seeing it, and as with many of Kain¡¯s works it was not for the faint of heart.

    The glass had wrought Kain¡¯s sigil, writ large in the world rather than a mere transcribed image. A gaping maw of teeth opened in crystal, all pointing into the throat as if to stop a meal from escaping, and dark pulses rolled throughout without any need to power them. It was barely more than a foot across, yet within it seemed to fall into an endless abyss, down a gullet with no end. He set it on the stand, drew his sword, and dropped it in.

    It took a few seconds, far longer than it seemed it should, but eventually the sword fell out the underside. What emerged from the construct seemed unchanged, a glass sword with crystal edges, but the light caught it wrong. Under bright sunlight it shone with shadows, and behind the glass movement could be seen, but it matched no motion on the rooftop.

    ¡°Myranel sits in the mouth of the valley that leads to this mountain abode,¡± he called out. ¡°As such, it claims a tithe of the crystal and coin that pass from here, and has raised costs endlessly on tools and food and the things this university needs. And when I asked permission to make an expedition, I was told I¡¯d never get past the city, that they¡¯d turn me back unless I gave my weight in glass.¡± Corinth pushed the trickle of magic he was holding into the sword, watching ink roll down from the hilt to the tip.

    ¡°My proposal is this: why not show the merchant lords they have no ownership of this place? With a single prism I could cover the city in darkness, and Conten¡¯s workshop alone could level it in a day. Why do you allow them to infringe on the lives here when you hold such power in your hands? Let me go to them with a dozen of the students here and return with mandates undone.¡±

    For a moment it was silent, and he hoped in spite of the amused expressions that the researchers were considering his proposal. As a few chuckles slipped out, his heart sank. Of course not.

    A tall researcher with a thick beard stepped forward. ¡°I think I can safely speak for many of the researchers here: No. You will do no such thing. Strong in magic we might be here, but invincible we are not. This university was founded as a place to study magic and the glassworks within, not as a place for warmongers and petty tyrants.¡±

    Corinth gritted his teeth, trying to make it look like a smile. ¡°The university was founded to find a use for the glass, and that has been done. It wasn¡¯t to be a place where those ideas would live and die. You¡¯ve made tools without ever intending to use them!¡± He could feel his control slipping and tried to calm down. Already more fog was seeping from the prism, filling the circle around him.

    ¡°And do you think no mages exist outside of here?¡± The bearded man asked. ¡°Strivers, Speakers, and Seekers all practice their craft beyond these walls, and I think you¡¯ll find them harder to quell.¡±

    ¡°Against the constructs made here? Their magic is unfocused and easily beaten. Just look at the depth of fog flowing past you. No mage alive could match its output.¡± Corinth scoffed, and raised the prism again. Smoke poured out, and the rooftop rippled with waves of blackness.

    One of the Speakers threw a beam of light, cutting through the roiling fog and illuminating the stone below. ¡°You would do well to remember we are mages too,¡± she growled.

    Corinth smiled wider, feeling the hunting grin coming over him. ¡°Quite right, though I doubt any of you could channel enough power to refute my works wholly. Still, I would be outmatched against a dozen mages in the seat of their power.¡± He shook his head and took a step back towards the maw.

    ¡°And thus we introduce the final piece of this demonstration.¡± He gestured to the pulsing gullet. ¡°I haven¡¯t tested it, but I believe this construct contains a piece of the very aspect of Kain¡¯s will. Forging it was¡­ unpleasant, but I doubt I¡¯ll have to do so again.¡±

    ¡°Let¡¯s try it out.¡±

    The researchers drew on their magic, but none could stop him before he laid a hand on the glass. He drew more magic than he could handle, muscles aching and bones twisting beneath his skin. He closed his eyes and slapped his palm down on a jagged glass tooth, crying out in pain as his hand skewered down. Consume, he willed it, and the maw obeyed.

    Ripples passed through the ground around them. The earth shook, as it had many a time in this place of channelling, and the bones of the earth ground beneath their feet. Hills rose and fell, the University¡¯s stones shifting against one another as waves passed through the mountainside like ripples over a waterfall.

    Corinth laughed at the panicked expressions of the researchers, clinging to the rooftop crenelations like they were any safer. The waves receded, and the mages gaped. Where before the University had stood on a light slope on the mountain, now there was a plateau. The ridges and cliffs had been sheared away, sunk into the earth or raised from the building, and the protruding stone nearby had been ground to gravel.

    Corinth winced, and released another burst of black fog to clear the last of the magic from his body. ¡°Now let¡¯s find out, how strong are these greatest mages of our age?¡±

    He waited, but no magic came. No voices spoke to the researchers, no power was granted. Like a cloud over the sun, their connection was simply¡­ gone.

    ¡°There¡¯s your last revelation for today. Kain¡¯s sigils weren¡¯t happenstance, they weren¡¯t aspects loosely connected, and they certainly weren¡¯t agreements formed like your pantheon. Kain is the god of consumption, and his prey is the divine.¡±

    Corinth lifted his ink-black sword. ¡°I guess that means I¡¯m the only mage left. I have a goal, a plan, and a sword. Who would stop me?¡±

    He tried to keep his legs from shaking, and hoped that they would give in before he threw up on the rooftop. His fog was already fading away, and he¡¯d simply neglected to mention that his connection was gone too. The sword would throw darkness, but beyond that it was a half-crippled, one-handed man with a glass blade against a dozen very angry opponents.

    He stared at the crowd, hoping someone¡¯s will would break. Slowly, the youngest of the researchers knelt. ¡°Very well. If power like this has been freely given, I¡¯d like to know its source. Porial forgive me, but I¡¯m a Seeker ¡®till the last.¡± The dam was broken, and soon he looked at eleven kneeling experts, and Conten.

    ¡°Will you make me kneel, then?¡± His mentor asked. ¡°I would much rather a discussion than dictatum.¡±

    Corinth sighed, and the hungry grin slipped from his face. ¡°I won¡¯t make you, no. I¡¯m not that far gone.¡± And it was his own voice in the back of his head that whispered this time. Not yet.

    -

    Three days later the people of Myranel woke to find black clouds overhead. Dawn never broke, but by nightfall the power of the city had been taken, devout cast down and merchant lords beggared. In fear of this new power, they pledged themselves to the cause of the man whose shadow had shrouded their city. Myranel became the city of Corinth, and from then would hold as the seat of his power, forever unaware of how it was broken.

 1.11a - Withering

    The wagon struggled over dense sand, trundling along the trough between dunes. Sojo, Eyn, and Brehen walked ahead of the horses. The animals disliked walking in the sand, and tended to slow if they didn¡¯t have someone to keep pace with; the wagon was a heavier burden than before.

    They¡¯d had to carve up one of the water barrels to widen the wheels, as without the extra span it would dig into the ground anytime the sand loosened. They¡¯d set out with three of the containers, and had nearly emptied the barrel before it had been repurposed, but seeing even a trickle of water seeping into the sands stung.

    And losing the barrel hadn¡¯t diminished the load. The cloth-wrapped parcel that nobody would look at or acknowledge still weighed heavy to the horses. To them, though, it was simply one burden added to the many they¡¯d been subjected to on the trek. No dreams of rebellion stirred in their minds ¨C not so long as Brehen¡¯s kind hands and attentive care still lingered. For the three other voyagers, however, thoughts were varied.

    Brehen no longer slept well. He woke at the slightest whispers in the night and sometimes thought he could hear a wry voice calling to him. He¡¯d always slept soundly before this, hard ground and rough weather only bothering him when he woke to aches and creaking joints, but now each day was a fugue of checking Sow and Fallow and trying to think when questions were asked of him.

    Thinking of his restless nights made his chest ache, and he tried to banish the notion before it could confront him. Walking so close with the others, he wouldn¡¯t be able to hide if his vision blurred and he had to blink back tears. Eyn had consoled him on the one evening he hadn¡¯t been able to control it, and he expected Sojo would do the same, but how could he impose his grief on them? To force those grieving to care for another seemed unjust, to him, so he held his gaze firm and walked on. Time blurred instead, but in the desert sands it felt as if time never really passed.

    Eyn, on the other hand, was well aware of the days they spent walking. She was constantly considering the rations they had, tracking how far they¡¯d gone and in which direction, and contemplating what they¡¯d need to make the trip back. Without someone to plan out their meals-

    Eyn had taken over cooking for the party. It wouldn¡¯t have been her preference, but Brehen was obviously incapable and Sojo could barely light a fire on her own. She¡¯d been trained in preparing meals from limited supplies, and was scraping at every remembered lesson to make things palatable. It helped that she was only cooking for two-

    It helped that Brehen wouldn¡¯t touch her food, even if she worried about his health. He was getting thinner, noticeably so. She just made the food how she liked it, and Sojo tried to manage spices herself. Of the two women, their decisive leader was the pickiest about her meals.

    It also let Eyn prepare and pack a few bags in the wagon without undue suspicion. She¡¯d charted out the distance covered, and it didn¡¯t look good. There was no way she could cover that much ground or carry enough supplies on her own. Even to get to Eastgate would be a stretch, and she¡¯d likely have to travel by night to conserve water. Every day they walked she couldn¡¯t help but track the hours, each second stepping in the wrong direction.

    Sojo had none of these worries. To her, the dunes were a curtain slowly being pulled back, to inevitably reveal the wonders of this forgotten land. Their rations, water stores, draw-horses, even the health of the party members fell by the wayside to the beating drums inside her chest. A certainty born of equal parts desperation and disbelief called to her, leading her over the sandy wastes and ever further into the heart of the sink, where she knew there must be a place of the grandest importance waiting.

    But her determination waxed and waned, as it must in the face of another wall of sand behind each one the party surpassed. In her lower moments, she remembered a face staring up at her in the soft starlight, unrepentant yet somehow also desperate for absolution by her hand, staring at her as she realized there would be no mending what was done. She could trace the shapes mouthed by those lips, as if to read a final message unspoken in the dead of night. None had been grasped at the time, nor would they be revealed now.

    But slowly the cart rose along the back of a great wave, and her hopes budded despite being cut down time and time again. The party crested the dune to see an endless ocean of sand unchanged before them, and she sighed as they began the slow path down. She knew that one of these times, there would be a grand temple laid bare before them, and she would break the clay seal ravaged by time¡¯s hand, stepping through a window to the past and returning with the artefacts of a former glory, to be the bedrock of her own.

    She knew this somehow, and it kept her spirits light as they began the slow march down. She was the only one.

    -

    Night fell in the desert, shrouding the party in shadow for the fourth time. Nearly sixty miles behind them rose the stone walls of the Sink, well out of sight behind the rolling dunes, and marking the break in the evening sky where purple streaks coloured the air overhead. The group was accustomed to crimson sunsets by now, but it was hard not to be discomfited all the same.

    Sojo sat in the middle of the pitched tents as sunset faded. She¡¯d been the only one awake enough to keep first watch and had sent the others off to bed, watching the colours darken as the moon rose. As she stared at the stars blooming overhead, she could almost see the wisps in the night sky where those coloured lines would be. She imagined them as a heat shimmer, like she saw in the air above the campfire. Something exuded from the desert sands and flowing out of the shallow bowl, nigh-invisible but bountiful.A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

    She sighed. Hers were not the only sounds in the night, but they were the only ones of concern. Eyn snored and Brehen rolled over every few minutes, nothing more. They hadn¡¯t heard sounds outside their camp since¡­

    Not for four nights. Sojo let her gaze fall back to the dunes, ignoring the tears lining her cheeks. They¡¯d dry eventually, in the empty air. She stretched to muted pops of joints and bones under her skin, and felt a rush of energy pass through her. She wanted to be marching onwards, each step closer to the discovery she could feel waiting for her.

    Instead, she thought of the temple she¡¯d find rising from the desert floor, faced by tall pillars. The surfaces would be worn by the blowing sands, inscriptions smoothed over as if to dull the edges of the harsh words sculpted into the rock.

    She dreamed of the shattered mosaics lining the temple floors, a grand eight-sided room with an altar on each wall save the entranceway, the house of a seven-faced god. They would be ornately decorated with different stone, jade, marble, granite, obsidian, letting the subtle earthen hues and whirling patterns within the rocks form backdrops to the symbols of these deities.

    In her dreams there was a pale man standing within the temple, trying to explain to her the names and roles of the gods she¡¯d found. He spoke in a quick voice but she knew nothing of the language, and his words faded until she heard nothing from him at all. He stood in front of the altar opposite the doorway, a rough affair with dark, jagged lines, and-

    She jolted upwards as the sounds from Brehen¡¯s tent grew louder. The rustling grew more pronounced, until the flap opened and the tall man stepped out. His eyes were bleary and thick with sleep, but he stood all the same and lurched over to sit beside her.

    ¡°You¡¯re up,¡± she remarked, trying to gauge in the moonlight whether he¡¯d be functional to speak to. He grunted in return but his eyes stayed open.

    ¡°Couldn¡¯t sleep,¡± he whispered.

    Sojo paused, wondering if he¡¯d come for a particular purpose, but he just looked at her as if waiting for something.

    ¡°It¡¯s been quiet tonight,¡± Sojo said, even as Eyn¡¯s snoring continued from her tent. ¡°No sounds from outside our camp. I¡¯m not tired yet, but my mind has been wandering far.¡±

    Brehen nodded, and his face seemed to invite her to continue. His vision seemed glazed even as he focused on her, but maybe if she kept speaking he¡¯d come to.

    ¡°I¡¯ve noticed it since we started the first week, I¡¯m drawn down different paths of reminiscence every time. I think I remember more of my life at home now than I did when I lived there.¡± She smiled lightly under the twinkling stars. ¡°Maybe it¡¯s just the lack of distractions that lets the thoughts go. Today it¡¯s mostly been about what¡¯s ahead, though. I¡¯ve been having the most vivid imaginings of the temple we¡¯ll find.¡±

    ¡°Temple?¡± he asked, his voice rusty. She noticed a gleam had come into his eyes, some interest sparked, but his expression was unusual. It didn¡¯t match his face as she remembered it, with something cold in the gleam. It was the first time his eyes had looked anything but kind to her.

    She shook her head. ¡°Yeah, a temple. I¡¯m entirely certain that we¡¯ll find one within the next week or so. Don¡¯t you think?¡±

    Brehen didn¡¯t answer.

    ¡°Okay, maybe that seems like a weird claim, but let me explain.¡± She stretched again and grinned, marshalling her thoughts to persuade. ¡°I think we can agree that the Sink is a place to inspire awe. The massive cliffs of stone, rolling waves hundreds of miles from the nearest sea, it¡¯s an unbelievable sight. The second thing is that, even in such an arid and desolate land, I can¡¯t imagine we¡¯re the only ones who¡¯ve ever journeyed here. At some point, there must have been a nomadic people that passed through, at the very least.

    ¡°And when I first laid eyes on it, the idea that it sparked to me was a battlefield of the gods. As if massive hands had reached together and smote the earth itself, crushing the land beneath. It¡¯s a place to inspire belief, because the features themselves are so unbelievable. With that in mind, what do you think would happen if a people settled near here?¡±

    Brehen still didn¡¯t answer.

    ¡°It would cause a pilgrimage,¡± she continued. ¡°People would travel to see the Sink and imbue it with meaning. So I think there¡¯s going to be a temple here. Convinced?¡±

    He stared at her placidly, his shoulders rising and falling with each breath, almost audible in the still air. She tried one more time.

    ¡°So the people who lived here, they would have naturally found the centre of it the best place to build. That¡¯s where the temple will lie. And these dunes run nearly straight across the Sink, so following them should bring us to the right place. Just over a hundred miles to the centre, two weeks there and back. We have the food, the water, and the time.¡± She lay back in the sand, staring up at the night sky.

    ¡°I keep getting images of it, altars of stone showing the faces of foreign gods. In my head there¡¯s a guide there trying to tell us about it, but not even my imagination thinks they¡¯d speak our language.¡± She turned towards him, eyes beaming. ¡°I can¡¯t be the only one who¡¯s imagined this, right?¡±

    Brehen didn¡¯t answer. At first. His eyes were still sharp, and he seemed to be choosing his words. ¡°Have you noticed anything¡­ that made you think we¡¯ve been imagining this?¡±

    She scratched the back of her head. ¡°Not really, but I was assuming there were more reasons to be¡­ unenthused.¡±

    ¡°We have noticed, you know,¡± he continued, raising a hand to keep her from interrupting. ¡°That you¡¯ve been more energetic, more spirited. That you¡¯re at the front of the party every day, tireless almost.¡± He gingerly started to de-sock a foot, breaking eye contact. ¡°We¡¯ve noticed that you don¡¯t blister anymore.¡±

    She looked at his foot, words lost. It was a mess of raw skin and scabs, blistered by the sand. Parts were salved and bandaged, but even what he¡¯d decided to leave untended was ugly to see.

    ¡°The salve doesn¡¯t work right, not anymore. It doesn¡¯t work here. Except for you. As we¡¯ve gone further in, you¡¯ve gotten better. And I don¡¯t think you¡¯ve noticed, but we¡¯re getting worse. We tire faster, think slower, make rash decisions and lose our tempers. Just not you.¡±

    Their eyes met, and Sojo could feel her heart fluttering, her breath coming in ragged gasps despite her efforts to control herself. Then, as suddenly as it had come, the light in his eyes went out.

    ¡°I should sleep,¡± he muttered, and the tall man tenderly replaced his sock. He levered himself up and stumbled to the tent, disappearing inside with a quiet sound as Sojo tried to breathe.

    They found the temple the next day.

 1.11b - Withering

    Dawn rose bright as ever over the makeshift camp as the travellers stowed their tents. Eyn and Brehen were stooped under the weight of their weariness as they put their gear in the wagon.

    ¡°How was your sleep?¡± Sojo asked them. Brehen only grunted and shuffled to the horses, but Eyn was awake enough.

    ¡°Unbroken,¡± she answered. ¡°Did you and Brehen take shifts?¡±

    ¡°He did wake up and talk for a bit after sunset, but I took the rest. I haven¡¯t actually slept yet,¡± Sojo said with a smile. ¡°He pointed out how tired you two were getting, I figured I could handle it.¡±

    The small scout blinked at her, sharp eyes tracing from foot to face. ¡°Aren¡¯t you tired, though?¡±

    Sojo scratched the back of her head, grinning sheepishly. ¡°No, actually. You see, Brehen was telling me about the blisters you¡¯ve both been getting, and pointed out how I¡¯m not. Once he mentioned it, I realized that I wasn¡¯t getting tired anymore. It¡¯s like he opened the shutters and the light¡¯s pouring in; I haven¡¯t stifled a yawn in hours.¡±

    Eyn heaved a tired sigh and turned to the wagon, but looked back for a moment. ¡°Hopefully it lasts.¡±

    Sojo took her normal place ahead of the wagon, feeling no worse for her night shift. The sound of footsteps crunched behind her under the creaks of the wagon axles. Eyn had been worried the sand would get into the joints, but it was holding up fine so far.

    The horses were another matter. Every day they slowed a little more, even as their load of food and water lightened, and Brehen had been talking about a day of rest for them since they¡¯d entered the desert sands. She was hoping they¡¯d hold out until the centre, when they¡¯d have a better idea for planning the trip back; it would only be a few days more, after all.

    There was a chill in the air of their campsite in the trough of a great dune, and every step up its spine brought them further into the heat and sun. When the light finally crested over the dune peak, it struck down the lingering coolness and warmed her bones, bringing with it the renewed fervour of a day¡¯s work. She closed her eyes and walked forward, letting it bake the heat into her skin, and under her feet she felt the ground level and fall. Another dune, another step forward, another tiny piece closer to-

    ¡°Teph¡¯s light, what is that?¡±

    -

    They stopped the cart next to the half-sunken building, a grand dome of carved stone rising in the shadow of the sandy slope beside. The dune they¡¯d crested had started to envelop it, sand rising up the north walls as if pushed by a frozen tide, but the other half was clear of obstruction. There was a doorway visible on the west of the building, with sand encroaching but not yet covered, and they led the horses there before settling them down.

    Sojo was bouncing on her toes as they marched. She traced her hands over the fa?ade, feeling remnants of inscriptions and imagery worn from the stone. The sun¡¯s shadow threw these minor etchings into relief on a small stretch of the dome, light and darkness revealing transient images of giant figures and bowing masses. As the sun shifted, these bloomed and wilted on the rock face.

    The others seemed just as amazed, gazing up the arching walls, but when she met Brehen¡¯s eyes and smirked, his expression was more worried than happy. ¡°What¡¯s wrong?¡± she asked, throwing her arms wide and smiling madly. ¡°We found a temple, just like I told you!¡±

    Brehen rolled his eyes, brushing Fallow¡¯s side automatically as they walked. ¡°It¡¯s certainly something,¡± he replied, ¡°but we¡¯ll have to see the inside before we can judge your instincts to be true. For all we know, this is just a small domicile, fit only for housing a few labourers.¡±

    Sojo looked up at the fifty-foot tall, arching dome, and then back to his deadpan face. ¡°I suppose it could be nothing of import,¡± she lied in return. ¡°What do you think, Eyn?¡±

    The scout looked between the two and shook her head. ¡°I think it¡¯s a tragedy,¡± she said, and went back to ogling the carved walls as they walked the last paces to the doorway.

    Brehen unhitched the horses, offering them water and oats and giving them a cursory brushing down before turning back to the others. ¡°This is timely for giving them a rest, at least.¡±

    Sojo murmured an agreement from the entranceway, a dark stone door sadly without any unbroken seal for her to deface. There were no visible hinges, just a break in the stone panels running down the centre. She pressed her hands to it and pushed, the rock tipping slowly backwards into the temple. She pressed harder and the slab passed its tipping point, toppling onto the floor behind with a shattering thud. A few bits of stone skittered across the floor, throwing echoes in the vast space. She stepped inside, squinting to see in the gloom of the cavernous room.

    The floor had no mosaic as it had in her visions. There were patterns carved onto it as decoration, but no colourful depictions of a land¡¯s history or artwork with any meaning. Six scarred altars stood around them on the walls, spaced at intervals around the room with gaps like missing teeth where the doorway stood and opposite it in the hall. The far wall, lying between them and the desert centre they¡¯d been marching towards, held no altar. Instead, black stone fragments lay on the floor where some stone furnishing had been smashed.This novel is published on a different platform. Support the original author by finding the official source.

    She stepped to her left, starting a slow circuit of the room as the others walked inside. The lingering echoes of the fallen door mingled with the sound of their footsteps in the hush. She felt the quiet dissipate like mist under the day¡¯s sun, its grasp on the room fading, and let herself breathe easier. There were no enemies here, no traps left for them to stumble into or threats in the dark. She removed the stones from window-alcoves as she passed them, and the room brightened by shades.

    She met the first altar under half-light, an affair of carved branches and travelling figures. She could trace the paths of characters across the carved span, children aging, changing, growing old, and dying to pass along the final path leading off the altar¡¯s edge. The branches, though, she couldn¡¯t follow. She winced at her earlier thought of defacing the room¡¯s seal: despite being closed and preserved, there were patches of stone where claw-marks had been carved in, shredding the myriad pathways and branches and striking down aging figures. It was clear the altar hadn¡¯t truly been attacked, as no animal could claw through solid rock, but the markings had exquisitely mimicked it.

    She stepped back from the artwork and compared the rest of the altars from a distance. All seemed to be carved from solid blocks, and none would be remotely feasible to cart back. Nor did they have the tools to remove a piece of the artwork. She resumed her walk with eyes on the shattered pieces of the far altar.

    The others were quite different in depiction, but all alike in damage. Clawmarks, slashes, even puncture wounds like the bite of steel jaws adorned the relics, contrasting the beautifully carved and painstakingly detailed images. She met Brehen at the shattered black, having gone opposite ways.

    ¡°How are those three?¡± she asked, bending to look at the shards.

    ¡°The carving looked fine to me, but by Eyn¡¯s random exclamations I think it¡¯s more impressive than I know to appreciate. None too useful, though.¡±

    ¡°Did they have the claw-marks?¡±

    Brehen nodded, examining a shard like a giant tooth, serrated and ugly. ¡°All of them, with no pattern to how they were marked that I could tell.¡±

    Sojo sighed, and sat amidst the pieces. ¡°I don¡¯t know that we can salvage anything from this. The only thing small enough to haul is this shattered rock¡­ thing.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s obsidian, I think,¡± Eyn murmured from behind them. ¡°Commonly used for weapon-making when metal isn¡¯t at hand. The scouts have had to deal with it in arrowheads and the like, shatters and splinters like nothing else. Horrid wounds.¡±

    ¡°Well this was clearly a large sculpture at one point. Whatever shattered it couldn¡¯t hide the detailing done.¡± Sojo picked up a few pieces with the most obvious ornamentation. ¡°Do you think this would convince folk that we found something real out here?¡±

    Eyn grimaced, fingers tracing what lines could be distinguished on the shards. ¡°None would doubt this was worked stone, but anyone could have done this. If we could reassemble something of the original work, maybe¡­¡± She stared at the wreckage and trailed off, clearly savouring the puzzle at hand.

    Brehen nodded, staring at the shards. ¡°Anything more than four hundred pounds and we¡¯ll be at a crawl, the horses can¡¯t handle it in the sand. They could take a couple hundred without issue, we set off with more than that. Really, the question is whether we can make something worthwhile from assembling only that much stone.¡±

    Sojo clapped and smiled. ¡°Then we have a plan. I¡¯ll take a look through the rest of the building, see if there¡¯s anything else to be found. Brehen, you get the horses properly set up, fed and rested. Once we¡¯re done, we come back here to help Eyn reassemble. With luck, we¡¯ll know if there¡¯s merit to this sculpture by tonight.¡±

    -

    ¡°Well, this is useless.¡±

    Sojo looked at the scattered lumps of darkness, still unmended despite hours of effort and searching. Whatever had shattered the stone had done so thoroughly, enough that they¡¯d barely found two pieces that fit in the ensuing time. Eyn was standing, eyes flickering over the pieces desperately, while Brehen had long since gone to set up camp and lie down.

    ¡°It¡¯s the colour, it makes it impossible to see what should fit,¡± Eyn groaned. ¡°You can¡¯t see the ridges unless you hold it right out the window.¡±

    Sojo patted her on the back. They walked outside, where Brehen had a fire waiting for them to cook by, and sunset passed in silence. They left the next morning as the sun rose, Eyn having measured and marked out exactly where the dome was in the Sink.

    As she crested the dune, Sojo shaded her eyes to the sun¡¯s glare. The dunes seemed a touch smaller perhaps, but the view was otherwise identical to every peak behind them. She frowned, and started the walk down the other side, when she heard a soft clacking from behind her.

    ¡°Have you started those endless puzzles again, then?¡± she asked, looking back at Eyn¡¯s fingers fumbling over wooden pieces.

    ¡°Just the one puzzle now,¡± Eyn corrected, ¡°the other came apart a while ago. And I think I¡¯ve almost got this one.¡±

    ¡°Really?¡± Sojo asked, pausing to let the scout catch up. ¡°What¡¯s the trick?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m trying a similar twisting pattern as solved the other one. They seem to almost mirror each other, so I figure I can get this to work. I just need to¡­¡±

    ¡°You know that the separate halves of each puzzle can be rejoined after, right? There¡¯s another puzzle when you¡¯re done.¡± Sojo smirked as Eyn¡¯s eyes widened, but her fingers weren¡¯t moving frantically any more. Her movements were deliberate, pushing the interlinked wooden rings around each other, curved edges almost seeming to pass through each other. Finally, they fell apart with a final clack, falling into her palms as distinct, unjoined sections.

    ¡°I did-¡±

    ¡°Whoa!¡± Brehen shouted, and the women turned to the sound of frantic whinnying. They jumped to the side as the cart slid by, wheels losing grip in the sliding sands. Brehen was clinging to the side of the cart, his weight the only thing keeping it from overturning, but the horses were being dragged sideways down the hill. As it passed her, Sojo watched Brehen drag himself up the cart to the horses¡¯ leads, fingers scrabbling at the knotted cords.

    One of the ropes let go, and the horse tumbled in the sand before recovering its footing on the slope. Before he could free the other, the cart overturned and dragged the frantic creature with it, rolling for several terrible seconds before coming to rest at the bottom. Sojo felt her heart sink as the horse shrieked, and she wasn¡¯t even back on her feet before Brehen had sprinted down the slope to check it over.

    She ran down to him, feet churning in the sticky sand, following the red that dotted a thin line down the dune. When she reached the bottom, she saw his hands shaking, stroking Sow¡¯s mane above a mangled leg and uncloaked bone.

    ¡°What do we do?¡± She asked quietly, her hand on his shoulder.

    ¡°Only one thing to do,¡± he sighed. ¡°Eyn? Pass me your knife.¡±

 1.12 - Rot

    The roiling void that was his shadow flowed across the battlefield, smothering cries and hiding troop movements from desperate eyes. He watched through the cloud as the other side tightened their lines, waiting for a rush of soldiers to emerge from the darkness. Instead, a volley of arrows caught them from the side, keeping them confused and static as the knots of fighters near them fell, shouting unheard for reinforcements.

    The applications of his darkness in battle seemed endless, even if he mainly used the same tricks. Blind, separate, surround, surprise, or even retreat unseen when the enemy was too numerous to engage safely. It was no wonder that he¡¯d been undefeated in his campaign. Enemy commanders could do little against someone who could hide the flow of battle.

    Corinth sighed and turned away. This would seize the last shore-holdings of the Commodores, and the islands would revolt without the supplies and luxuries brought from the mainland. Conten had assured him of it. Politically, his old mentor was more snake than person, with drawbacks and benefits both.

    Really, this endeavour would be written in stone if it weren¡¯t for the University mages. You¡¯d think striking the very foundation of their lives and rending the magic away from it would cow them, but apparently not. They rebuilt a half-mile down the road and were back to demands within a year.

    He could smother that over time by giving favour to meek researchers, offering power in exchange for loyalty, and breeding out resistance as their ranks died off. One generation of turnover and they¡¯d be an establishment tuned to his will. He could do it, if he weren¡¯t dying. Quite an annoyance, that.

    But it wasn¡¯t a surprise in any sense. He¡¯d limped away from the confrontation on the rooftop with high hopes, but the limp had never faded. After taking Myranel ¨C Corinth, now, a confusing state of affairs ¨C he¡¯d started to feel itches under his skin, and every city thereafter had taken its piece from him in return. His hands were arthritic, fingers forever bent to hold the constructs that granted him his power, and he was hunched from sunrise to sunset. His vision had even started to blur, distant objects refusing to come into focus unless he shrouded his eyes in black mist. That would have consequences, he knew.

    Still, the islands would hardly need his impetus to join the fold, and from there he was functionally without enemy. The leaders surrounding his small empire had been making overtures since he¡¯d savaged the first real army to stand against him. With the Commodores gone, he could turn east at last.

    Corinth limped into the command tent, a room filled with maps he didn¡¯t need and advisors he mostly ignored. Standard military practices had been routinely discarded in favour of magic and trickery. The only person he wanted was at the back, sitting on a small chair as if conserving his energy for the battle they would now fight.

    ¡°Conten,¡± Corinth said, ¡°the holdings are ours. We will be returning to the capital to plan the next push.¡±

    ¡°Could we have a word without the crowd, then?¡± Conten replied, deliberately raising his voice. ¡°There are a few things I think are worth mentioning about the north before we go.¡±

    Already they were the only ones staying still; by now people were past giving him what he wanted, and instead actively sought to please him. He wasn¡¯t sure he wanted to have this conversation, though. He had no intention of going north, and he was sure Conten knew that. He frowned, but held his tongue until the last person scurried out. Obvious discord was no better.

    ¡°What needs to be said now that couldn¡¯t be on the road?¡± he asked.

    Conten blinked, and Corinth was sure the man was picking his words carefully. ¡°Now that the coasts are claimed, I think it¡¯s worth discussing what you intend for the near future.¡± He paused, but didn¡¯t seem surprised when no answer was forthcoming. ¡°Worth discussing, that is, because there are likely to be some problems.¡±

    ¡°What kind of problems?¡± Corinth asked through gritted teeth. He¡¯d rarely seen his mentor so cagey, and this push was not an issue he wanted trouble on. He¡¯d been laying the groundwork for eastern action for nearly five years, in one way or another.

    ¡°Let¡¯s begin with the logistics. The last report given by your Scouts was they were approaching one hundred and fifty miles of paved road a few months ago. At that point they¡¯d still found no signs of inhabitants, nor any rivers or lakes flowing eastward.¡± Conten was already relaxing in his chair, he noticed, having launched right into a lecture. ¡°From this the scouts infer that the land, though mostly flat, slopes slightly upwards to the east. If true, we¡¯ll be unlikely to find any easier mode of passage than paving the length.¡±

    Corinth nodded. They¡¯d hoped for an easier way, but ground-based convoys had always been likely. ¡°Well, what¡¯s the issue then?¡±

    ¡°The issue is that the scouts haven¡¯t seen any significant change besides more arid land and fewer clouds as they¡¯ve progressed. No weather that indicates mountains or even large hills, no obvious cloud patterns¡­ They aren¡¯t sure how much supplies will be needed, or what size convoy.¡±Support the creativity of authors by visiting Royal Road for this novel and more.

    ¡°Is that just the summers? We¡¯re nearly into winter, is it still so dry?¡±

    Conten frowned and looked away. ¡°There hasn¡¯t been any change worth mentioning.¡±

    Corinth let the silence hold for a moment. Something about the old man¡¯s posture felt wrong. ¡°Nothing to note, despite the seasons. You said that report was months ago, but what news has there been since?¡±

    Conten¡¯s lips twitched. ¡°There hasn¡¯t been any.¡±

    Slowly, the implication the man was dancing around started to sink in. ¡°Conten,¡± he said, speaking softly, ¡°where did you send my scouts?¡±

    Now the grin started to spread, revealing teeth one by one. ¡°North.¡±

    Corinth drew his blade of glass, marred now by a few notches in the blade, but still capable of cleaving flesh if the need arose. ¡°I think you should explain.¡±

    ¡°Let me start with a point that should clarify a few things.¡± The lined face had lost its smile, and his eyes were dead as shadow. ¡°You took my University from me, and that debt has never been forgotten.¡± He leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes, by all appearances uncaring of the world around him.

    ¡°Your expedition to the east, to learn about the culture your mother came from and find your answers? I¡¯ve done everything I can to deny you it, along with the other two of your Trifecta. The University will never be given free reign to research again, not under your rule or divorced from it. None will forget your wars of magic. So we¡¯ve had you craft a nation strong enough to defend it, while embroiling you in enough conflicts that you may never leave. Not now that you¡¯re known so widely as the empire¡¯s power on the battlefield.¡±

    Conten let the silence linger, waiting for some reaction from him. Slowly, Corinth sank the dirt floor, heart heavy with the implications of what Conten was saying.

    ¡°So the negotiations with our northern neighbours?¡±

    ¡°Deals either refused or so hard-bargained to be more tribute than trade. A few whispers let slip about your decision to send the Scouts northward bound those who thought they could endure alone. I daresay your rule will make a coalition of worthy opposition; more than any lasting peace, certainly.¡±

    In his chest, Corinth felt his heart slow beat by beat. A helplessness was washing through him, one not felt for years. Not since the days of the candles and endless failure. He remembered cast iron in his hands, burning until his they ached with the heat, but never alight, not for him. He remembered walking the outskirts of the University¡¯s stone walls and wishing for the power to mould this world. And within the apathy, he felt that same kindling anger rising, the madness that would consume the world rather than accept that terms may be dictated to him. He laughed, thin and reedy, and felt more broken than the wrinkled man sitting in from of him.

    Corinth rose from the dirt, forcing his joints to move through the pain and stiffness. ¡°I¡¯m cornered then,¡± he sighed, brushing a hooked hand through his hair. ¡°You¡¯re right, I¡¯m not sure I¡¯d make it to the east even if I set out today. But that doesn¡¯t mean my work is done, not yet. It just means I get to make one last gamble.¡±

    He looked at his mentor, the body position crafted to imply fearlessness, but saw the trembling in his hands. Corinth watched it worsen as the ink rolled down his sword, shadow mist wafting outwards like morning fog. He could imagine the heartbeat racing, a muscle desperately pulsing with death postponed. He raised his sword, and reached out to the only thing of importance in the room.

    His hand rested lightly on the glass maw, his last gambit. ¡°Hide,¡± he whispered, and for the first time the roiling shadow within it faltered. Before he could blink, the glass was just glass, crystalline and clear. He brought down his sword and the construct shattered.

    -

    Corinth sat in the workshop, watching jewellers sift through the chest of glass shards. He¡¯d asked for them to set the pieces by the hundreds, every type of jewelry given a grain of the maw. A fragment of a fragment, a shred of a god¡¯s will.

    He turned from their precise toil, making beauty from the smallest of things, and set to his own piece of art. This was less precise but no less subtle, and he had an inkling that the two combined would cause some heartache long in the future.

    In his bent hand he held a quill, dipping and scratching at the parchment with painful lethargy, but he felt at least one copy must be made by his hand. To make something of import, there had to be a corresponding sacrifice of time or effort or pain. And slowly, painfully, he made one.

    This empire we have built, I will not be leading for long. But while I may pass from these battlefields into the hands of our gods, know that our purpose remains beyond me. Know that there is more to be done.

    In the years to come we will face grave threats, armies that seek to oppose us and heretics that desire to cast down our gods. Through these trials, we shall trust in those who gave us the tools to forge this nation: the University of Derudt shall go on, an institution to arm and support our soldiers before all else. The Speakers, Strivers, and Seekers, the Fateweavers and Grievers, the Growers and the Bleeders; though some are known above the rest, it is magic that will lead this empire and guide it, and all who practice it must be revered.

    For this reason, I leave to the care of the Trifecta my sword. They are the caretakers of my empire, leading through wisdom and forethought until such time as one who can wield it emerges. When a sword edged in darkness rises atop their steps, then will our next leader have come.

    And I leave with a warning to those who shall come to be: let yourselves not grow complacent. Our grasp will not falter so long as we strive, and miracles may lie in other lands as we have found them here. Expand, conquer, and search; our future is ever further. Let all who live within these borders know.

    So it must be.

    -Corinth

    He looked up from the page, scrawled writing barely legible. He¡¯d have to have the scribes dictate their copies to him before they were sent out to ensure the wording matched.

    His mind rolled through the steps he¡¯d have to take, the precautions, and the means to his ends, but he cut it short. There¡¯d be time to worry later. As he looked down at the page, he felt laughter bubbling up, wry and full of satisfaction.

    ¡°That should set some wheels in motion,¡± he muttered to himself, and slowly walked from the room with the parchment in hand.

    And a scant few months later, he died.

 1.13 - Sunset

    Sojo walked happily through the fog. At least, that was how she thought of it, inasmuch as she was thinking at all. With every step her strength surged, energy building from the exertion rather than be expended. She felt herself grow lighter, breathe easier, and the fog in her mind thickened.

    Outside her head, the sun still beat down relentlessly and the sands burned bright yellow with the glare of noon. She couldn¡¯t quite recall if this was the second noon or the third. She¡¯d set out on the first to find the Sink¡¯s heart and claim something worthy of their suffering, but time was slipping by like sand beneath unbroken feet. She¡¯d be there soon, she hoped.

    The land blurred beneath her feet, dunes rising and falling like a passing tide. She saw faces trekking past, ducked under phantom arrows from battles long ago, caught a tear dripping from a robed man¡¯s chin as he stared at the sky in confusion and horror. And as she moved towards the center of the desert, as she climbed an endless pile of sand and crushed stone, she remembered her conversation with her grandmother, the story that should have ended the book she carried rather than Corinth¡¯s death.

    -

    She sat cross-legged at the old woman¡¯s feet, listening to the wispy voice recount with a measured cadence, words flowing into each other, a voice that she could dream to.

    ¡°My grandmother¡¯s mother worked at a small shop in Derudt, a family business for decades. None who had run it save the first were adventurous, as they had chosen to stay in that town, run that shop, and remain. Her father had once studied at the altar of Apothet, hoping to be one of the blessed, but had not been chosen.

    And it seemed that the same fate would be passed down to Nallia, son of Elnet, mother of our family¡¯s ways. She was not chosen. She had heard the call of long roads and faraway places but had felt it slip away every day. Her lot was to do as her family had done, make their living through care and diligence, straying little from the place she felt they¡¯d always known.

    The day things changed was the same as any other, with a bright sun rising through a cleft in the mountains and rousing the town from slumber. It was only when she first stepped through her arched doorway that she noticed the shadows deepening. The dark places grew darker, carving free of the world and shrouding their holdings from view. She watched the shadows ripple and melt, clouding the village grounds even as the sky darkened above. All the folk of Derudt knew what this meant. He was coming home.

    Then darkness fell. To walk the streets was to brave a twilight, a pre-dawn hush. The sun was in the sky, but it was a scrawled orb in the dusk. Soldiers started passing her along the roads, calling out happily to family and friends, disappearing into the fog. She was about to step back inside when a smaller form appeared. This one was hunched and armorless, with only a sheathed sword at its side. She stepped out of the way, but the man stopped to speak with her.

    ¡°Who are you, girl?¡± he asked. ¡°There aren¡¯t many who live here that I don¡¯t know, by now.¡±

    ¡°Nallia,¡± she answered, staring into eyes shrouded in shadow with only faint glimmers reflected. She felt there was something odd about this old man. Something familiar. She noticed the hilt of his sword was wrought glass when he called out.

    ¡°Young Nallia!¡± the man exclaimed, his voice filled with happy memories. ¡°Have I really been gone so long? You can¡¯t have been eight years old when I left, and here you are all grown.¡±

    She frowned, wondering how she¡¯d come to be known by someone with the wealth to own glassworks. She looked back to his face and peered closer, but still could see nothing in the darkness. ¡°You know me, sir?¡± she asked.

    ¡°We¡¯ve met before, yes. I remember you asking your parents about Myranel and the island cities.¡± She thought she saw the man smiling, but perhaps it was just the shadows wafting by. ¡°I remember you were rather insistent on seeing them yourself one day.¡±

    Nallia blushed, and looked away. ¡°A childish desire. Every year I see more clearly the place that waits for me here.¡±

    Now the man frowned, she was sure. ¡°So you¡¯ve given up this goal? I was hoping you¡¯d still be longing for the road. It would be a shame to hear that dreams are still dying in this town.¡±

    ¡°You were hoping? Why would you care for a child¡¯s daydreams?¡± There was a worry starting to bloom within her, and she glanced around. The street was empty. The passing fighters had vanished into the dark.

    ¡°Only because I fear this is the last time I¡¯ll be returning home, and I have some parting gifts to give. So tell me, have you truly lost your taste for the larger world?¡± The man sighed, and she saw him hunch a little further, as if his hopes had been dashed in turn.Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings.

    Nallia thought then of a land beyond the mountains, of seeing the wonders she¡¯d heard stories of before bed. She thought of her life in Derudt, of passing the days as all her family had before. ¡°Wait!¡± she called out.

    ¡°I don¡¯t- I¡¯ve¡­¡± She couldn¡¯t find the words to explain the visions of a different path flooding her mind. ¡°I¡¯d given up on it. But that doesn¡¯t mean I¡¯ve forgotten.¡±

    The man nodded slightly and leaned forward. ¡°If you had the means, if the travel was bought and paid for, would you still want to go?¡±

    She nodded, then paused. ¡°Would I¡­ get to choose who I travel with?¡±

    He blinked, and then a rasping laughter emerged like a moth from a cocoon. ¡°Oh dear,¡± he said, breath coming in small wheezes. ¡°I¡¯m sorry, I¡¯ve explained this terribly. Let me show you.¡±

    He stepped to the side and suddenly there was a small chest behind him. Groaning, he knelt beside it and unlatched the lid. ¡°This is the gift I was talking about,¡± he said, and opened the box.

    Inside were sparkling rings and bangles, bracelets and earrings and broaches all in silver and glass. The finery was different for each piece, bears and boars and soaring birds, rosebuds and autumn leaves strewn without care.

    ¡°This is what I offer to you,¡± he said, and she could hardly believe the words as he spoke. ¡°In every town you pass, sell a few pieces so that your travels might continue. See the world and decide for yourself whether you should have gone.¡±

    She looked down into the chest of more riches than she¡¯d ever imagined seeing together. They sparkled, somehow, even in the shadows.

    ¡°Why are you doing this?¡± Nallia finally asked, standing frozen as if the dream might shatter at a touch.

    ¡°Because to escape this place cost my life, and I wouldn¡¯t have it cost yours too.¡±

    She leaned forward, kneeling beside the crouched man, and the shadows covering him fell away. He was bent and broken, but his face was not old. His eyes sparkled with a young man¡¯s dreams. Like a crystal prism coming into line, she understood. ¡°Corinth,¡± she breathed, and remembered seeing him from a distance as the University announced their plans to free themselves, and Derudt in the process.

    ¡°Hush, now. The gift is given, the terms are set. Will you take this?¡± he asked her.

    -

    ¡°Will you take this?¡±

    Sojo spoke to the desert, on her knees at the base of a dune. ¡°Will you take this gift, freely offered?¡±

    ¡°Yes,¡± the desert answered.

    -

    Eyn walked silently from the camp. Brehen was sleeping in his tent, had been for days now, but would wake at the slightest noise. When she judged she was out of earshot she started fiddling with the wooden puzzles again. There was something unique about these carved rings and spikes, she thought, that it could hold a mystery so slow to reveal itself. A pressure was mounting in her mind, as if the answer was sneaking closer but couldn¡¯t yet be seen or grasped.

    For the last three days, as Brehen had slept, she¡¯d been planning her escape from this place. She¡¯d counted up waterskins, packed rations into rucksacks, and gone over the maps she¡¯d marked a hundred times until the route and markers were unforgettable. There weren¡¯t enough details left to ponder at this point, and as the sun slipped lower in the sky she wondered if she shouldn¡¯t just go.

    She could have gone last night, she knew. Or the night before even. She was waiting on Sojo, but the idiot had walked into the desert without so much as a waterskin. Eyn didn¡¯t want to give up on her, but it didn¡¯t seem possible the woman was even alive by now. To wait was as crazy as walking into the desert herself.

    But she hadn¡¯t gone yet, couldn¡¯t go yet. She couldn¡¯t let Brehen sleep to death, Brehen wouldn¡¯t leave without Fallow, and Fallow couldn¡¯t pull the cart alone even loaded lightly. Something would have to give, and Eyn was waiting for her conscience to slip away. She thought, fiddled, and passed the time while it faded.

    And the pressure was growing.

    She felt the pieces start to glide under her fingers, aligning and turning without her even needing to guide them. She was so close, as if there was only one secret left she needed to understand the puzzle. Her fingers flew along the contraption, heart racing in her chest as if the truth of this place was about to reveal itself to her-

    The sound of shifting sand echoed in her ears. From all around her, footsteps through the dunes and the cascades of sand walls cried out to her, warned her of something approaching. She tried to freeze, but the puzzle wouldn¡¯t stop moving, her fingers kept flying. Until it, too, stopped.

    She looked down at the ridges and pieces, seeing a carved likeness of the little green plant Brehen had been warned about by the scouts. The tiny cactus that grew in these parts had lived on this very land where she stood, before it had turned to sand and ruin. She bent down and nestled it into the ground beside her, the trinket looking for all the world like a plant grown from seed in the barren soil.

    ¡°Was this your land, once?¡± she asked the orb, before realizing the absurdity of what she was saying. The sound of running sand grew louder. Eyn hesitated, and then lay down on the ground, ears straining to identify its source. There were distinct footsteps audible, several pairs at least. She felt her heart skip a beat. Brehen was asleep, unguarded!

    She rose to a crouch and crept back towards their supplies, feeling the beads of sweat run down her face. Why hadn¡¯t she gone? Why had she waited for the desert to stake its final violent claim upon them?

    The tents rose in front of her, the campsite empty of enemies, and she could hear Brehen¡¯s breathing through the fabric walls. She glanced around, seeing only the wavy tops of dunes around her; there was nothing but the dusky colours of the desert sands. She was still looking when the dunes stood up.

    A dozen figures rose around the camp, wrapped in sand-encrusted cloaks and holding spears and jagged swords. One of the strangers shouted and the group advanced, encircling the camp and closing in slowly.

    ¡°Brehen,¡± Eyn called out, ¡°I need you to wake up now.¡±

 1.14 - Midnight

    ¡°Will you take this gift, freely offered?¡±

    Sojo spoke to the desert. As she¡¯d marched the last few miles the sand had thickened beneath her feet. It felt like a paved road after all the days of shifting grains. Unlike the endless dunes this was a singular rise, a slope that stretched for miles and set the energy bestowed upon her to resounding, pounding a beat in tandem with her heart as she walked.

    The fog had thickened until she strode through memories as much as landscape. When it cleared she was kneeling in front of a pale man, a personification of the desert itself in robes of woven sand and holding a glowing spear.

    ¡°Yes,¡± the desert answered.

    She reached out to the man. He seemed surprised by the gesture but helped her to her feet. ¡°I am Dez, one of the few remaining to this place. Would you ask a boon from me, in return?¡±

    ¡°Please,¡± Sojo said, and she tried to clear her thoughts of the lingering fog. ¡°I¡¯ve had visions all through my travels here. I¡¯ve read stories of the only one of your people to travel to my country, and there was a question he was never able to answer. Even the fragments in my head can¡¯t seem to remember.¡± She looked up at the sky, at the streaks marring the pure blue all radiating from the center of the Sink. ¡°What happened here, to the land, to your people, to your god?¡±

    Dez nodded solemnly, and indicated that they should walk on, up the endless slope. ¡°Two hundred years ago, the leaders of the seven major sects met to discuss a worrying thing. The minor gods that filled roles in our pantheon were vanishing. At first it was only a few, those sworn to Kain and his purposes, but over time the minor presences were lost in all the sects. This worried the Sworn, though they felt no change in their masters.

    ¡°Kain¡¯s Sworn were unconcerned, they argued that they had been struck first but without great suffering or loss and reassured that no upheaval need come from it. The leaders dispersed and all thought the matter settled.

    ¡°But soon after, Laban¡¯s worshippers discovered someone had stolen symbols of their master from her altar in the dead of night. They laughed at the fools who would openly defy their god, whose very realm was that of fate and the paths of our choices, but also feared the purpose they might serve. It was not long after that her worshippers were found dead on the roads, bodies untouched save to take the artifacts they carried.

    ¡°In the end a communion was called of all her worshippers, and it was only the ill and unmovable who did not attend. They met to discuss and warn, prepare and predict, and for the most devoted to taste from the energies of the collective power to gaze into their future. No one knows what they found, as the building burned down with all inside.¡±

    Sojo walked silently beside him, not wanting to interrupt him for even a moment, but no words followed. Dez¡¯s face was grim as if he was remembering people he had lost himself, though she knew he couldn¡¯t be that old. He sighed, and spoke as they continued up the slope.

    ¡°Those who hadn¡¯t attended spoke of voices going silent, or whispering in the night the faintest of pleas. All mourned, and all searched for the culprits, but none would be found.

    ¡°You see, Kain had made a discovery. He had been biding his time for generations, rewarding those who would carry out his commands without hesitation; those who would be consumed by the power that he granted. When he had forged a group who would obey, the god of Consumption followed his nature. His people took the sigils of other gods and laid them on his altar. He corrupted the intent within, stole the power of minor gods, and eventually took their influence entirely.

    ¡°It was no accident his first prey was the god of fate. Without her guidance, and with the stolen power to gaze down many paths, he claimed each god in turn. Of course, his followers were hardly stronger than all others combined, but each sect he consumed increased their power.

    ¡°And it was clear he granted more than any other master to his Sworn, for they moved fast and struck hard. After each battle his enemies were fewer, and in desperation the remaining gods gave their people ever-greater gifts. But soon it was only Enaia who remained, goddess of war and patronage. She clad her Sworn in holy vestments and weapons with edges of burning light, declaring war on the darkness itself.Unauthorized use: this story is on Amazon without permission from the author. Report any sightings.

    ¡°Our greatest battlefield lies here in the heart of the Sink, and it is here you will find the end of our empire. We¡¯ll be at the summit soon.¡± Dez gestured ahead of them, as if looking at something beyond the continued rise. ¡°At the height of the battle, the mages felt a strength rush through their veins unlike any before. Their guiding whispers fell silent and Enaia¡¯s Sworn trembled. Raw fire flew through the air and the ether itself felt it might unravel, and take the world with it. With a crack of thunder and the cries of hundreds of doomed chattel, the world collapsed around them.

    ¡°Kain¡¯s sorcerers had taken all the symbols of the seven gods and burned them in the center of the field. God of war Enaia was, but no match for a pantheon corrupted to one will. Kain¡¯s last opponent was devoured, and only he remained.

    ¡°They fell, all the rest of them, as the world sunk. Hundreds of feet it slid, until it eventually found new purchase. In the center of the battlefield a spire of rock had been expelled and left a hole, vast and bottomless. A hole to the sole surviving god.

    ¡°All knelt. First, they saw the fist of Kain rise above, and fall to grip the earth. Then the other. He drew himself upwards, and as he passed through the portal his being became flesh, and he joined us mortals in agony. He roared in defiance that this world might harm him, and when he did not die he smiled. We saw in that smile our hopes betrayed, for it was a jackal¡¯s smile, the smile of a hungry beast gazing upon its meal.

    ¡°He stood tall, he smiled, and the earth betrayed him. The edge of the hole collapsed and he fell to the immaterial once more. From the shrieks, we knew his agony. From their slow silencing, not by a loss of pain, but by a loss of will, we know he did not recover.¡±

    Dez smiled, his face mirroring his god¡¯s. ¡°We know the truth: our gods, our final god, they are all dead. But as his flesh burns and decays, it spews forth the power of death. All that might have been of him is being released, in such potency that our land is reduced to sand and grit. Our people are no more, poisoned by these miasmic clouds, his holy effigy.

    ¡°Some, though, do not die. We are the last devout of Kain, who have turned from harnessing his magic to expelling it like the poison it has become. We are as the gods once were. Powerful, nigh-unchecked, but surviving only by our will not to indulge. All that remains to us is waiting for our power to fade, and life to return where now there is only sand.¡±

    Dez stopped and gestured forward. They had crested the summit and stared down at a crater crossed by a cracked pillar of stone. In the center was a ring of darkness, shadow hiding a void in the ground that descended into myth. Sojo stepped forward to look but felt Dez¡¯s hand grip her shoulder.

    ¡°I wouldn¡¯t go too close. Few return. There is a compulsion, staring into the god¡¯s abyss, to join them in a last communion. Only faith can say where that might end.¡±

    Sojo nodded and stepped back, feeling shivers run up her spine despite the heat. She was staring at something between religion and blasphemy, reality and dream. How would she ever explain this, when she went home?

    ¡°Is there something I can bring back, then, to show my people that these stories are true? Something to convince them?¡±

    The man looked at her curiously, eyes tinged with sadness. He reached out to tap the ring resting on her collarbone. ¡°Haven¡¯t you understood by now?¡± he asked softly. ¡°That trinket has protected you, given you shelter from Kain¡¯s curse because you brought it home. You¡¯ve marched for days without food or water, sustained only by its energy. You¡¯re dying here, like all of us.¡±

    Sojo shook her head. ¡°Can I take it back, then? Go back to the Sink¡¯s edge where I can survive, and give it to you there?¡±

    Dez frowned. ¡°You carry a shard of his essence, of the blessing of Kain. For hundreds of miles it protected you to return to these lands, to our hands, and now you expect to leave with it again?¡± He stepped closer, hand clenching tight around the ring on her necklace before she could blink. ¡°This is not yours. It never was. And it belongs in our hands.¡±

    He stepped back from her and snapped his fist to his chest, tearing the necklace away, and in her head the fog vanished. She looked around at the foreign landscape, sweeping her gaze from the man dressed in furs and across his fang-studded spear to the barren ground around her. The land felt suddenly alien to all her senses when the hammer-blow of weariness struck her. She teetered for a moment before collapsing onto the ground, an agony of aches exploding across her body. Sojo looked up to see Dez whisper to the inset glass.

    ¡°Thank you for your gift,¡± he said.

    As her vision swam a shimmering began to surround him, as if waves of heat were billowing from his feet. Oily blackness poured from his ring, wafting to the ground, with wisps rising like curls of steam. All began to darken and fade.

    Her vision was failing, and the last thing Sojo saw as the edges burned away was his grin, before shapeless void took the world. Then all went dark, and the light did not return.

 1.15 - Epilogue

    The Seers of the archipelago had requested an audience, and so Graen had gone to meet them. Though the Trifecta often refused their ordinary requests, an audience was always granted when it was sought. The union of Grievers and Fateweavers knew not to abuse it. Their temple searched for omens and told the future; they knew well what would be lost if it was misused.

    Graen normally wouldn¡¯t have gone himself. He was the senior of the current Trifecta members, after all. Tannel was the newest, but too new; he still needed tempering before he could be trusted. And there wasn¡¯t a chance that Graen would have let Arrek take the spot. The man was a schemer by nature, and Graen wouldn¡¯t get the truth of the meeting without weeks of trouble. So instead it was him that stepped off the ship at Branning Harbour to meet the small delegation sent to escort him.

    He cut the customary greetings short, uninterested as he was in the manoeuvring of underlings. He had no interest in their desires and made sure they knew it. The walk to the temple after that was quiet, with only the mandatory explanations of the history of the site they were to visit. He didn¡¯t bother to explain he¡¯d heard the speeches before.

    Instead, Graen amused himself by counting how many times they¡¯d sneak a glance at his glass eye. It wasn¡¯t disguised in the slightest, shimmering with the edges of Porial¡¯s sigil that lay in the place of an iris, and he¡¯d had the edges dyed to make it appear inverted; colours mixed and ran where there should have been whites, and only the center was the colourless glass of purposeful constructs. His guides had clearly been warned, but not well enough.

    Graen was the tallest of the party that walked up the rough path and the odd one out to even a cursory glance. His hair was long and bound back in a ponytail, the grey in it undisguised. He wore a thick jacket and trousers that were nearly leather armour and styled to appear more so. The clothes were well fitted and not cut to exaggerate or hide his physique, but the sewn lines on them seemed designed to distort where the normal lines of bones and joints would press. As a silhouette, he was unremarkable. In the daylight, he resembled more a human-shaped patchwork.

    But there were few around to notice this contradiction. The route was tended to but never paved, and the surroundings quickly changed from farms and cultivated forest to unkempt foliage, wild and impassable with undergrowth. And as they ascended the slope the ocean grew ever more visible, twinkling with shattered sunlight. There were fogbanks visible bordering other nearby islands, but he¡¯d found one of the few days of clear skies the western isles would know this year. He smiled at the warmth and increased his pace, heedless of the sweat running down the brows of his escorts.

    By the time he¡¯d arrived at the temple they were gasping for breath and had abandoned any attempt at meaningless chatter. He thanked them for their attention before they could recover and stepped inside.

    The building was the same as every other time he¡¯d come through, the same as it had been for centuries if you trusted the words of the Sages. The joists and beams that held up the high ceilings and curving roof were uncovered, showing the rugged construction from when the temple had been built. The walls were paper-thin panels of pine and he could hear the sound of shuffling steps around him. Elegantly painted prayers covered every beam and floorboard. He knew they were scoured and repainted at even the slightest damage, that rituals were held with ruthless adherence to time and place, and guests were only entertained in certain hours. The temple exuded a permanent sense of wariness. It would seem excessive, if the temple hadn¡¯t sat ten feet from an unmanaged forest for all those years without so much as a fallen limb breaking a gutter. Their devotion to the gods that wove fate had been rewarded, after a fashion.

    He took two paces in from the doorway, hesitated, and then stepped abruptly to the side in three short steps as he had every time before. He¡¯d designed his own ritual after hearing about their unyielding ways and would repeat it until the day he died. He¡¯d come for visions of a future, and it would be the soul of arrogance to muddle it by his inconsistent arrival.A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

    He¡¯d only waited a few minutes when a young Griever came to guide him onwards. He remained silent as he walked through the temple, but was observing his guide carefully. He¡¯d never been escorted by a Griever before, and was looking for differences in their garb and habits. Her cloak was dark grey and hooded, unlike the undyed tunics of the Fateweavers. He followed in her footsteps exactly, matching her cadence to hide the sound of his passage under her own. When he was brought into the empty meeting chamber, he sat in one of the two chairs and again waited.

    It was quite a display of power, he mused, to have a Trifecta member emulating your own rituals through only the force of reputation. He could imagine it cutting at the pride of visitors to be so thoroughly controlled, to be denied any form of impact on the managing of the temple. To have their very presence be mitigated rather than welcomed, an idea quite near to not being tolerated at all. But it fell apart at the realization that his ritual ended at their doorstep. The extent of their power was demanding his temporary presence, and their words could be ignored no matter how insightful.

    The most they could claim was a sort of independence within their walls, having cut off the outside world from any influence on the temple¡¯s actions. And it was only because they were allowed that independence that they could practice their craft at all.

    Graen cleared his thoughts, suppressing the urge to shake his head in the process. Instead, he recalled the pattern of conversation he¡¯d made in his previous visits. He was reviewing the sequence a second time when the door opened. Another Griever entered, and Graen felt a suspicion looming. He waited for her to sit opposite him before he spoke.

    ¡°Thank you for receiving me. Has a glimpse been granted to those who seek?¡± Graen remembered crafting the question when he waited the first time. It was a question that could only have one answer, and so would establish the pattern as a ritual. Moreover, it would be an indirect request to allow him, a Seeker, access to the knowledge of the Seers.

    ¡°Yes,¡± the Griever answered. Her head was bowed low, and he could see nothing of her face beneath the heavy hood.

    He suppressed the urge to nod. ¡°Will this glimpse shape the actions of our people?¡± he asked.

    ¡°Yes,¡± the Griever answered. Her voice was soft, though completely audible in the near-silence of the temple.

    ¡°May I pass along the glimpse as it is presented to me?¡±

    ¡°Yes,¡± the Griever answered.

    Graen felt himself relax a fraction. In the house of order, all was the same as it had ever been. The way he approached receiving these messages was likely unnecessary, but he felt that any morsel of approval granted by Ontam would be worth having. He would have been content, but it was not a Fateweaver of Ontam he spoke to. He continued on regardless.

    ¡°What has been foreseen?¡± he asked.

    ¡°A shadow from the east has been given form once again,¡± the woman answered. ¡°Soon it will darken our skies.¡±

    Graen paused. Just as he had used his questions to connect the people of the empire with the Seers, the wording of the glimpse was ambiguous. ¡°Where will this shadow be fought?¡± he asked.

    ¡°From the eastern grit to the gates of Derudt, the shadow will fight again.¡±

    Now Graen nodded. The warning was given, the scope explained. He¡¯d never known Ontam¡¯s worshippers to say more than they needed to, and this Griever seemed the same. ¡°Is there anything more that need be known?¡± he asked. As ever before, he would end by confirming that their words had been heard. It was validation of all they stood for, and a way for him to depart without the chance of insult or gaffe.

    ¡°Yes,¡± the Griever answered, and his breath caught.

    He froze for a moment, phrasing a question to ask for guidance without demanding what was not freely given. Before he could manage his reply, the Griever continued.

    ¡°An image was granted that must be known, and that we weep to see.¡± The woman sighed, and raised her head to have her gaze meet his eye. ¡°The shadow will reach the gates of Corinth, and will claim his sword.¡±

    Graen felt his glass eye twitch, turning in the socket to point back towards the capital. He sat, unwilling to move, as the Griever rose to leave the room. The door shut with a quiet tap, and he allowed himself to give voice to the churning of plans and fears inside him.

    ¡°That¡¯s not good.¡±