《REDCROWN – A Post-Apocalyptic Fantasy Western》


 1. Battle at the Gully

    1. Battle at the Gully - Friday January 9th, Year 216


    Four figures, all similarly dressed in cotton shirts and pants with open leather jackets marched up a dusty hill, rifles swaying with their steps and pistols jostling likewise in their holsters. Between the four of them, a dozen sheep trotted merrily along, unaware of their role to play this day.


    Cresting the top, the late afternoon sun greeted them with a spiteful glare shining straight into their eyes. The view ahead was a familiar one. It was the third time this day they saw it and the fourth day they¡¯d been here.


    In front of them, downhill, there was an arroyo surrounded by sparse and dried out looking bush, tree and grass vegetation, feeding off the residual water retained from the previous spring floods, now three-quarters of a year past. Following the dry riverbed left and upward there was a wide gully or small ravine between two hills. The one on left side ¨C their side ¨C of the river was as barren and earthen as the one they stood on, while the other only had a smattering of dust atop a tiered, rocky mount, like a mesa buried in haste. Beyond them were more dusty and rocky hills, stretching onwards until they become dusty and rocky mountains.


    The gully between the hills was bathed in shadow caused by the low-hanging sun, making the rocky hill overlooking it a perfect place to stage an ambush.


    Or, in their case, to be ambushed.


    Sally herded the sheep over and slightly down the hill, setting them to graze while her mentor and senior Warden, Niall, remained at the top and pulled out his compact telescope to scout the rocky hill. Marcy and Tarak, the other two Wardens, moved off to the side a dozen or so feet away, taking out their own monocular to scout the other.


    After settling the sheep and making sure they stopped trying to eat her pants ¨C to their disgruntled beeeh¡¯s ¨C she walked back up the hill toward her mentor.


    ¡°So, what is it? Shykes? Bloodfiends? Skinners?¡± Sally asked, before leaning in, back of hand beside her mouth, wiggling eyebrows and whispering in faux-conspiracy: ¡°Erlings?¡±


    She¡¯d made her opinion quite clear the past three days.


    The grump of a man ¨C grey of beard, hair and mind ¨C gave her an unamused grunt and a stink-eye, lowered the compact telescope and passed it to her.


    Taking care not to look straight into the sun, Sally scanned the hill, looking for any sign of their predators. It didn¡¯t take much to catch them.


    Two skinny, pale skinned, long-limbed and eerily humanoid figures she knew to be taller than they looked were bunched up behind a rock and a bush much too small to hide their frames. Their long claws bore an unnaturally sharp edge, capable of slicing all along the edge rather than tearing with the tip. Although unseen behind their hiding spots, she knew from previous encounters their faces bore little feature beyond two holes for eyes and a circular, lamprey-like mouth.


    ¡°Skinners? Really?¡± She said, both annoyed and surprised. They¡¯d gone through this much effort just for skinners?


    The Palters Villa ¨C which Niall and her called home ¨C and the Guha Villa ¨C the home of the other duo of Warden¡¯s ¨C had both lost a number of sheep and goats the past weeks. This was a common enough occurrence, there were plenty of predators haunting the Grand Circuit, even in their own little corner in the northwest. That they had done so without leaving a trace was rarer, true, but not so much as to be alarming.


    What was, though, was the fact that the Guha had lost a farmer last week without a trace. No screams, no body, no blood, no trail at all to go by, and all within line of sight of the villa itself. That spoke to something more than base animal cunning.


    That was why they here. Because while lost herd and even lost kin was unfortunate, it was part of living in the communities making their home around the Circuits. To lose someone within throwing distance of their most guarded places, without alarm or even a trace? That was not just dangerous, but an active threat.


    Hence, Erlings. They might not be human, but the vicious furballs were definitely intelligent, belligerent and resourceful enough to pull it off. They also often sent scouts in advance of their raiding parties, attempting to gather intel on whatever defenses the Villas had built for their arrival. It would not be impossible for them to pull something like this off, though for what purpose was anybody¡¯s guess. It was not like they could interrogate their victim for information.


    The other thing to cast doubt was the timing. It was the beginning of January; winter had barely started. Normally, they would descend in the latter half of the season, when food and water were scarce and a supply raid on the Villas would be a success no matter the outcome; either they gained resources, lost mouths to feed, or both.


    They were intelligent enough to build up food stocks, she knew, and unless something had happened to their farms these past months ¨C which Warden¡¯s would and had scouted for ¨C the timing was strange. But it could easily be that the Warden¡¯s had, in fact, missed something that set them off.


    Either way, Erlings made the most sense. Not skinners.


    ¡°Was sure it was Erlings,¡± she grumbled, lowering the monocular and moving to hand it back. ¡°Should be Erlings.¡±


    ¡°Look again,¡± he chided. ¡°Carefully this time.¡±


    Accepting the critique with grace and only a slight roll of the eyes, she did.


    The same lanky forms, pale skin, sharp claws and pathetic skills at hiding. Twisting the dials, she zoomed in on one in particular, and once properly looking, it was easy to see what her mentor alluded to.


    What she assumed was pale skin mottled with dust, in fact, fur, and while she still could not see their heads, a pair of irregular patches she had not noticed changed slightly as she looked. A set of ears, twisting ever so slightly in an attempt to catch sounds.


    ¡°Skinner-wolves,¡± Sally said. Damn, she didn¡¯t say.


    ¡°How many do you see?¡± Niall replied.


    She zoomed out a bit, looking more carefully at other bushes, rocks and trees. Beside the two obvious ¨C were they even hiding, or purposefully visible in order to misdirect? ¨C she spotted two more, and maybe a third slightly behind the hill. Perhaps not so pathetic at hiding, then.


    ¡°Five. Expect around ten?¡±


    ¡°At least.¡± He rumbled, gesturing for the monocular, and moved toward the other two wardens. Sally followed.


    It explained his dour mood, and soured her own.


    When a skinner catches an animal, it sometimes, well, skins them ¨C thus the name ¨C and attaches parts of it to themselves to assume some of its characteristics. In the case of wolves, skinners transform from near-solitary individuals only hunting larger prey in small groups of up to four, into large packs ranging up to twenty individuals. They also become cannier, more tactically minded, more coordinated and much more cautious.


    They were rare. Not only does a skinner need to catch a wolf, it needs to catch and kill a whole pack and somehow convince other pre-wolved skinners to follow them. Which meant that at least one a particularly intelligent skinner was leading the pack. Considering the feats the skinners pulled so far, including evading them the past four days¡­


    This was worse than a few Erling scouts. Much worse.


    X


    ¡°So, what, we leave?¡± Marcy said, barely controlling her temper. ¡°We still have the initiative, and the plan is solid.¡±


    The plan being: sheep in the gully at the front, two Wardens behind them deeper inside and two on the hill opposite that of the skinner-wolves.


    ¡°And then what? We cannot hunt them quickly. Nor without risk. We simply do not have the firepower,¡± Niall argued. ¡°Patience is key. We can come back later with more people, more rifles, a better plan and do this cleanly.¡±This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.


    ¡°We¡¯re dealing with skinner-wolves here, they¡¯re cowards,¡± Marcy countered ¡°There¡¯s no way they¡¯ll attack such a large group. Hell, they¡¯ve probably been observing us for the past three days, if we change behavior now the leader will know somethings up. And they won¡¯t stop hunting us and ours till they¡¯re dealt with.¡±


    ¡°We¡¯ll die here, and the Villas would be without Wardens. Better double our watch, maybe reach out to the Zjevik-Ong and lay down a better trap, one with a fallback.¡±


    Sally sat on the ground, rifle in front of her and idly petting a sheep as the back and forth went on and on for minutes. It was pointless anyhow. She was all in favor for the bold-and-daring approach, but she knew Niall. He¡¯d made up his mind and would rather walk away on his lonesome than participate in what he sees as a doomed plan. She¡¯d leave with Niall regardless of her own wants and there is no way Marcy and Tarak would do this on their own.


    As Marcy got more heated and Niall grew a cold anger, she got more ticked off by the second. She hated pointless debates like these, where continuing wouldn¡¯t make a difference besides more hurt feelings and such.


    In fact, she should make their stupidity clear. The quicker she did, the quicker they could-


    ¡°I-I brought explosives,¡± Tarak mumbled somewhat sheepishly.


    Sally, Marcy and Niall near snapped their necks to stare at Tarak. Their gaze prompted something within him and he opened his jacket.


    Strapped on either side of the jacket with leather bands were two times four odd-looking rods.


    Marcy sighed and rubbed her forehead. ¡°Tarak¡­¡±


    ¡°W-well, Sally kept talking about Erlings yesterday, and I still had this from when that trader ¨C remember, with the excess ammunition-¡±


    ¡°Why didn¡¯t you say this earlier?¡± Niall questioned incredulously. ¡°We could¡¯ve been-¡±


    ¡°Alright, new plan.¡± Marcy interjected. ¡°Me and Tarak on the hill with six of the bombs, you and Sally in the gully with two, just in case. You-¡± Marcy grabbed the bombs from Tarak¡¯s jacket and tossed them over while continuing ¡°-lure the skinner-wolves in with the sheep- wait, are they still-¡± Marcy quickly grabbed her monocular ¡°good, still there. You move deep into the gully with the sheep, we watch them sneak up, throw our bombs and shoot who we can. Either they die or become too frightened and run away, hopefully for good. Any questions? Objections? No, okay let¡¯s get going.¡± The bullheaded woman grabbed Tarak by the arm and stomped away, Tarak practically being dragged in her wake.


    Sally watched her mentor as he stood silently, somewhat wide-eyed at Marcy¡¯s momentum, before sighing and looking at Sally.


    She shrugged, slung her rifle over her shoulder and began herding the sheep towards the gully.


    From behind she heard another sigh, before he too began guiding the sheep into the gully.


    X


    They walked into and toward end of the ravine, before the bend turned around the rocky hill. Niall took position near the wall of said bent while Sally went to a larger rock stranded in the riverbed. It, along with a wall of sheep, would hopefully protect them from the explosives. Niall gave Marcy a hand sign, the image of nonchalant stoicism while Marcy nodded back before disappearing from view.


    The wait was grating on her nerves. The darkening shadows cast by the setting sun, the shuffle and bleating of the sheep and her own impatience playing tricks on her mind. Any one of these shuffles could be a skinner-wolf missed by their overwatch, rush toward them and slice them to bits. And she could not wait before it actually happened.


    There was no place she¡¯d rather be. While the anxiety was annoying, it made her feel like a strung bow, taut, waiting to be pulled and then, finally, released.


    That release was why she was here. Why she used to do the kind of stupid stunts from atop the Villa that made her parents clutch their hearts. Why she would, as a teen, sneak out during the night with her father¡¯s gun to hunt monsters by the river. Why she quickly become angry, was quick to pick a fight, and wished to leave and run the Circuits in her early adolescence.


    Why her parents convinced her to become a Warden, rather than go elsewhere to seek that thrill. To get that feeling, yet still contribute, still belong somewhere.


    After about ten minutes, she spotted something moving at the mouth of the ravine. Beyond the sheep, nearly hidden behind their mass, she a different form. One longer, lower to the ground and moving with purpose. With humanoid limbs ending in knives. With a wolf¡¯s head.


    She unslung the rifle, checked her belt for her sidearm, knife and gifted explosive and turned toward Niall. He¡¯d done the same and gave her a nod.


    The silence lasted for a minute longer, more shapes creeping down from the covered mesa and into the gully. They were quiet and difficult to spot, clearly ambush predators, but eventually one of the sheep poked its head up from the grazing herd and gave out a single warning bleat. The heads of the rest snaped up, glanced at the skinner-wolves before scarpering away.


    ¡°Fire in the hole!¡± Marcy yelled and Sally took cover behind the rock.


    A deafening series of dual explosions cascaded along the wall of the ravine while it rained pellets, sand and rock. The sheep screamed and began running in earnest panic along with pained howls and yowls of the false wolves. Once, twice, thrice this happened, the cacophony lasting for what felt like minutes, though was likely less than half of one. Then, the explosions stopped and all she heard was the buzzing in her own ear.


    Five seconds passed in near-silence before being broken by the return of the soft cries in the distance from running sheep, the skinner-wolves unheard. Before long a few cracks of gunfire sounded from up the hill and a skinner-wolf howled in pain. Sally took that as her que.


    She poked her head up steadied her rifle on the rock, making a quick survey of the field. A series of six small holes in the dry river bed was dotted with five forms of dead sheep and seven dead skinner-wolves. An eighth was wriggling on the ground in its dying throes. Five more remained upright, some on two legs while others remained on all fours, and were hunched up and looking around disoriented by the loud noises and dying pack members.


    Sally took aim with an anticipatory ¨C predatory ¨C grin, ready to vent her irritation of the past four days. She targeted the chest of one of them, fired and scored a hit. She pushed the lever of her rifle, chambering another round while two other cracks sounded, one from her left and another from above. Both hit the same target and was enough to put it down, joining the other eight.


    Only four more to go, and with more than enough ammo between them, what once looked overwhelming was quickly turning into an easy butchering. I should thank Tarak for this. Without his grenades this wouldn¡¯t¡¯ve turned into target practice.


    But, as if hearing her thoughts, a yell came from above.


    ¡°Behind!¡± Tarak warned.


    In one fluid motion she went from a crouch to facing the new threat, rifle at the ready.


    Erlings. I fucking knew it. She hated being right sometimes.


    They were between three to four feet in height, covered in fur colored anywhere from bright reds to dull browns and their foxlike heads ended in a pointed snout. About twenty of the creatures were sneaking up from behind, roughly fifty feet away, having probably hidden behind another hill further up the arroyo. Clad in simple belted tunics reaching barely past their hips, they were armed with metal knives and spears of mostly simple make, though a few were clearly loot from previous raids.


    This wasn¡¯t just an advance scout, it was a full raiding party.


    If there was time she would¡¯ve spat on the ground and curse at them, and then herself. It didn¡¯t make sense they were here, not with the discovery of the skinner-wolves. Did they plan the ambush around them? She knew Erlings were smart, but not like this.


    The creatures, realizing the jig was up, began their charge. Their lips curled and mouths full of overly large and sharp interlocking teeth emerged, a predatory grin. Yips and snarls were added to the battlefield chorus of growls, bleats and rifle fire.


    Sally scowled and fired her second round, quickly pushed the lever, shifted aim and fired a third. Both shots hit, though only one of the Erlings fell. The other only briefly stumbling before running on. She heard five more shots, but only three more fell.


    At least sixteen others were still rushing them, distance shrinking fast. The fifty feet gap had shrunk to less than thirty. Soon they¡¯d be on them and their numbers would see them dead right quick.


    This day¡¯s quickly gone to hell, but perhaps she could turn it around. With Tarak¡¯s gift, she could-


    ¡°Duck!¡± Sally only saw a glimpse of the thing, a precious second wasted trying to comprehend what was happening. Niall had been quicker on the uptake, having grabbed his grenade after firing only a single shot.


    Nerves and neurons firing on all cylinders, Sally did a mad flip over her new favorite rock and landed painfully on her back behind it, pebbles and rocks digging sharply into her spine.


    An explosion quickly followed and the familiar rain of sand, rock and pellets descended amongst the yelps of foxes. Behind her, she heard the shrapnel digging into the rock.


    Good rock, she thought, taking quick breaths at the close call, the best.


    She sat up and before her mind could digest what she saw, instinct took over. Pushing the lever, chambering the round, Sally fired once more, her fourth. The bullet slammed into the head of a charging skinner-wolf. Its body slid the remaining few feet between them, coming to a stop at her outstretched legs.


    They were still here?! She¡¯d hoped Marcy and Tarak had taken care of them, or that they¡¯d run off like the cowards Marcy professed them to be.


    She had a sinking feeling as the thought passed through her had. How many shots had she heard? How many skinner-wolves were left? How many Erlings? What happened to the other Wardens? Why didn¡¯t she hear any more shots? Were they still fighting?


    Were they even still alive?


    Dread turned to panic, threatening to overtake her, her breaths becoming shallow and quick. She¡¯d been a junior Warden for five years and had trained to become one for three more. Since age thirteen she¡¯d hunted and killed many things, from mountain lions to corrupted alligators and devil-eels from the poisoned rivers, to skinners and all their variants, like skinner-snakes and harpies. Bandits and batkings, sheepstealers and shykes and all manner of demon inhabiting the Circuits, be they human or beast, she¡¯d hunted and killed.


    Yet she always had the upper hand, always a sense of what was going on and even at her most daring, Niall was there, a safety net ready to catch her when she slipped. And she¡¯d slipped numerous times, each adding a number of scars on her chest, legs, sides and one even biting off a piece of her left ear.


    But not here. She had no information, no knowledge of how many remained or where they were. No Niall nor either of the other Wardens. She might well be alone for this, the burden of responsibility solely on her. Perhaps this was her trial by fire, the culmination of all that effort. Survive this and she might confidently state she was a full Warden, ready to protect her community. Her final exam.


    I can do this, she told herself. This is what I trained for, what I was made for. The thought was calming enough, and a sense of self returned. I am where I¡¯m meant to be. She pushed herself up on her feet only to be presented with another crisis.


    An Erling war cry came from behind. She turned around to see one of the creatures leap from her rock with knife in hand. Her newfound calm remained and she hit him with the butt of her rifle. The Erling cried and dropped to the ground.


    A quick push of the lever chambered her final round. Another Erling had rushed her, this time from the right ¨C where Niall should¡¯ve been, something whispered ¨C with a spear in hand. She took aim and shot, but the Erling timed its dodge and she missed.


    Without lingering on it she let the rifle drop and drew her pistol, switched off safety and put two rounds in its chest. She turned around, instinct guiding her and was faced with a bipedal skinner-wolf rushing toward her, right arm mid swing and knife-like claw heading toward her head.


    She leaned into the attack with her shoulder. Although she didn¡¯t have to mass to throw off her attacker, it interrupted the swing and surprised the beast enough to send both of them tumbling to the ground, it on top of her. Before it could recover and take a bite Sally dumped the rest of her rounds into the beast¡¯s chest, the gun slipping from her blood-soaked hands.


    An Erling spear came from an oblique angle and she shifted accordingly. Rather than pierce the center of her chest and into her left lung, it hit her right ribs protected by her leather jacket, glancing off and hitting the ground.


    Ignoring the blossoming pain, she grabbed the spear¡¯s haft and leveraged it to slide out partway from under the body of the skinner-wolf. The Erling growled and yanked the spear in an attempt to get it back. She allowed it for a fraction of a second, causing the Erling to stumble back out of balance before she yanked it, making the creature fall toward her.


    She let go of the spear and grappled the Erling, succeeding in putting her right arm around its throat and turning on her side, positioning the thing in front of her body. Other Erlings had begun to surround her, though with a dead skinner-wolf covering the lower half of her body and the thrashing Erling covering the rest, they seemed unsure of what to do.


    Still, it was but a matter of time. The thrashing of the Erling became wilder and began tearing into her arm with its nails. Her position didn¡¯t allow her to get a good enough grip to reliably hold it. Sooner or later she¡¯d be forced let it go. Not that it mattered, its comrades would begin stabbing soon.


    She was already dead, she realized. She had heard no other gunshots since Niall threw his grenade and Erlings had approached her from both sides of the gully. There was no rescue forthcoming.


    Still, she had one last play to make.


    With her left arm, pinned half underneath her own body, she reached for Harak¡¯s grenade on her belt and pulled whatever it was that passed for a pin. With a final heave and grunt and cry of pain ¨C the spear had hurt her more than she realized, apparently ¨C she twisted her body to the right, squishing the thrashing Erling in her hold.


    Grenade in hand, she thrust her left arm upward to the sky, a vindictive smile as three spear-bearing Erlings jabbed their spears into her.


    A final explosion and a brief searing pain passing from hand to body to head was the last thing she remembered.


    Until she snorted a nose-full of water.

 2. Villa Guha

    Grenade in hand, she thrust her left arm upward to the sky, a vindictive smile as three spear-bearing Erlings jabbed their spears into her. A final explosion and a brief searing pain passing from hand to body to head was the last thing she remembered.


    Until she snorted a nose-full of water.


    2. Villa Guha - ??, Year 216


    The sharp pain woke Sally up faster than the ice-cold temperature of the water itself did. She tried pushing herself up to hands and knees in order to catch some air, but barely got an inch before losing her balance and falling on her left side. Instead, she turned it into a clumsy roll and situated herself on her back. Thankfully, the water was shallow enough that this was enough for her head to be above the water.


    After taking some greedy gulps of air, coughing all the while, she opened her eyes and immediately regretted it. The overly bright sun seared straight through her eyes and into her head, activating the pounding headache that had been lurking unnoticed.


    Her whole body was both aching like a torn muscle and completely numb, her lungs were burning like she¡¯d inhaled smoke and her head was throbbing like it was ready to leak out of her ears. She felt like she was dying, which she might well be, and her body began to quickly give way to a deep lethargy. Unable to hold them open, she closed her eyes and instead focused on not falling asleep.


    For a couple of seconds ¨C or minutes, or hours even for all she cared ¨C Sally remained on her back, her breathing calming and deepening with each breath. Death seemed not yet ready to claim her, and the lure of the deep sleep lessened by every moment that passed. Both the ache and numbness subsided and she felt the cold water glide past her body, hearing it flow by her ear.


    With her focus returning, she attempted to figure out what was going on.


    Replaying the memory of their doomed hunt didn¡¯t help. The last thing she remembered ¨C the grenade ¨C should¡¯ve killed her one way or another, either through sheer force or by shrapnel. Even if that hadn¡¯t done her in, she blacked out after being stabbed any number of times by the Erlings. She should have bled out before even the idea of rescue could have materialized, let alone arrived.


    And she clearly hadn¡¯t been rescued, or she wouldn¡¯t be lying in a river ¨C which made even less sense. How would she end up in a river? The arroyo had been dry and the closest ever-flowing river was at least two miles away. Furthermore, these were poisonous and who would bother dragging a still-living body that far just in order to get rid of them?


    Every thought brought only more questions and no answers.


    So, better stop thinking and start planning. The Guha Villa was nearest, roughly seven miles from the gully ¨C if that was indeed where she was. If any of the others survived that was where they would go, and at the very least she should inform the Villa about what happened while trying to figure things out.


    Plan now set, she should really try and get out of the river. Despite the water¡¯s cold temperature, she felt rather comfortable, but she shouldn¡¯t trust her body right now. Her headache was all but gone, her breathing was steadier and the lethargy was replaced with energy, but her memory said this should not be. So, better to get out while she still could.


    She sat up, experienced a brief bout of vertigo before wiping the water from her face with her left-


    She didn¡¯t have a left arm.


    Sally stilled in confusion before turning to look at her left shoulder. There was nothing there, not even a mangled stump as there should¡¯ve been after having a grenade explode in her hand. It was as if someone had cleanly detached the arm from its socket, shoulder blade and collar bone unharmed.


    Well, at least it is healed, somehow, she thought.


    For a moment, she thought about what it meant to lose her left arm. Rapid fire images shot through her mind about things she couldn¡¯t do anymore, things that would be substantially more difficult, before deciding to ignore all of it. She didn¡¯t have time for this. She¡¯d see things as they come.


    Sally wiped the water off of her face with her right arm and stood up. A quick check revealed that her clothes were in tatters. Her jacket was practically gone, its remains barely clinging to her right shoulder and extending over only half her ribs, leaving her arms bare. Her shirt was better, covering her whole body and right arm, though it was riddled with holes from Erling spears and grenade shrapnel. Her belt was still attached, thankfully, and though her gun holster was regrettably empty, her knife was still there. Her pants and shoes were best off of the bunch, presumably because the body of the skinner-wolf protected it.


    Another thing that was curiously missing: the bodies. She did a quick look around and found that, indeed, she was still in the same ravine as yesterday ¨C favorite rock and all ¨C but no sign of the battle remained. No bodies, no pits from the grenades or red patches of blood. Nothing remained, as if washed away with the arrival of the miracle water.


    Her unease kept growing.


    Thankfully, aside from the arm, the rest of her body looked and felt fine. There were no wounds, nor cuts, and not even blood stained her anymore. She felt remarkably good all things considered.


    ¡°Miracle water indeed,¡± her voice sounded hoarse and was barely above a whisper. Then why couldn¡¯t it heal her arm? She ignored the bitter thought. Gift horses and all that.


    She bent and spooned some water into her mouth. It was fresh and cold, rejuvenating to her parched throat. Tastes like spring, she thought, not liking the implication. She kept drinking.


    Before long, she was sated and looked southward.


    Seven miles, she thought, three hours, give or take. She looked toward the sun, high in the sky though not directly above. Should arrive before dusk.


    Without any baggage to worry about, she set off.


    In three hours, she would know more.


    X


    Sally crested another hill, one of dozens along the way, though this one would be the last for now. The sun hung lower than it had before, though higher than she expected. The orange glow and long shadows of a setting sun were yet to come. Despite the rough terrain, her pace had apparently been great despite her dark mood.


    During the journey, questions had kept plaguing her, and while she remained firm in her refusal to let them consume her, it had certainly worn her down. She felt like she walked on the thinnest of ropes, held together by only a few threads that were rapidly fraying. If the questions kept haunting her, she¡¯d collapse sooner rather than later.


    Though the answers might be worse, she thought.


    But the answers would come, and soon at that.


    In front of her, within shooting distance was the Villa Guha. Its cube-like grey stone structure should be a sight for sore eyes to all living in the Villas, and its tower jutting from the top a welcoming beacon. It, along with the extensive works underground, had housed the Guha family for generations, ever since the Days of the Long Sun. All thirteen Villas had this same structure, the same layout, making it easy for everyone to feel at home even in whilst a guest with different families.


    No such feeling came to Sally, unfortunately. Because ¨C of course ¨C something was wrong.


    The tower was more of a nub and she could see a quarter of the structure had completely collapsed in on itself.


    Furthermore, surrounding the Villa itself were a large number of tents which, in turn, were further surrounded by barbed wire fencing. Two more small wooden towers served as an entrance to the newly constructed base.


    Within its confines were men in dressed in appropriately brown-colored army fatigues. They were marching, training, maintaining arms and armor, cleaning or shoveling dirt, or watching others perform these things. It was a bustle of activity normally unseen outside the Villa itself.


    Further out from the base, farmers in clothing very different from the usual Villayet wear were tending fields that weren¡¯t theirs, herding sheep and goats that might be theirs and driving cattle that were definitively theirs, though equally unwelcome.


    These were Grandies, people from the Grand Central Union, the large state west of the Circuits.


    Relations with them were usually good, at least relative to other communities outside the Circuits. Their caravans, entering from Gadeon and travelling the Gold Circuit before reaching the Villas, brought them much needed supplies in greater abundance than the Anteer cities around Lake Prior to the south and east. And usually at a lower cost, too, for the western Villas at least.This tale has been unlawfully lifted without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.


    But relations were certainly not good enough for an army to host itself in front of a Villa, let alone allow them to use precious farm- and grazeland so freely. That the Villa was ruined implied the worst.


    She felt anger, sadness and confusion at the sight. She¡¯d been here recently, it couldn¡¯t have changed this quickly.


    Another layer of dread was added to the pile, her tightrope a degree narrower.


    Sally marched up toward the entrance. The guards at the entrance and up the towers spotted her with ease, but made no moves yet. They become more wary as she approached, perhaps suspicious because of her shabby outfit, and one of the ones up in the tower drew a bead on her with his modern-looking automatic rifle.


    ¡°Halt,¡± one of the two guards, a woman, at the entrance commanded Sally. The other flicked the safety off of his rifle, though did not raise it. ¡°This is military property. State your name and purpose for visiting.¡±


    ¡°And who are you to ask that?¡± she replied, unwilling to keep the indignation out of her voice. ¡°Where are the Guhas?¡±


    The two guards shared a brief look, the man raising an eyebrow.


    ¡°Once again, state your name and reason for visiting Station Guha.¡± The woman said, a bit harsher though also somewhat confused, putting an emphasis on the final two words. The guard in the second tower also began aiming at her.


    Sally doubted the name Guha would remain if they had conquered the Villa. They would probably name it Fort Victory, or something, she thought, though the humor fell flat even to her. Still, she decided to remain diplomatic.


    ¡°Sarah Olivia Palters, junior Warden of the Villa Palter,¡± she stated.


    ¡°Me, my mentor Niall, and Tarak and Marcella Guha ¨C you know, this Villa¡¯s Wardens¡± she couldn¡¯t help but add acidly ¡°were performing an investigation into a missing Guha farmer. Now, shit¡¯s gone to shit and I would like to at least inform their family of their loss.¡±


    Anger was getting the best of her. So much for diplomacy, she thought. I should be better than this. But her control was shot.


    ¡°Now, what is your reason for barring my entry?!¡± She all but spat at them.


    There was a long moment of silence, neither side really knowing how to continue.


    Meanwhile, they¡¯d begun attracting attention. Men and women had left their duties and were watching her from behind the barbwire fence, murmuring and pointing at her.


    She felt herself begin to shake and flush red from the anger, the anxiety, the shame at the loss of control, the weight of the stares and the ever-mounting feeling of terror. Thankfully, before she could either curl into a ball or begin yelling again, a voice came from the back.


    ¡°Now, what is going on over here,¡± a man, small in stature but apparently large in rank, said as he moved through the crowd. His voice was smooth and calm, but authoritative all the same. Sophisticated, maybe. It was at least very unlike the regular tones of Circuit dwellers.


    He looked at the crowd, before focusing briefly focusing on Sally, then shifting to the gate guard. ¡°And who is she?¡±


    ¡°A ¡®Sarah Olivia Palters¡¯, sir. Supposedly the junior Warden of Villa Palters,¡± the female guard replied, skepticism clear in her voice.


    Sally scoffed in indignation, ready to tear into them again.


    ¡°Hmm,¡± the officer scratched his chin, ¡°badge number?¡±


    The comment caught Sally off-guard. Ironically, the non-sequitur snapped her out of her spiraling, and calmed down. Still confused, but calm


    ¡°What?¡± She replied.


    ¡°Your badge number, your identification as a Warden,¡± the man answered.


    ¡°We don¡¯t have those. We are known to the community,¡± she stated in a somewhat bewildered tone. She had no idea where he was going with this.


    The man gave her a nod and turned back to the female guard.


    ¡°Grab Ensign Zjevik-Ong, would you.¡± The woman gave him a salute, before marching off.


    Sally blinked at the name.


    The Zjevik-Ong were the third family occupying the western part of Villa territory. It was not exactly rare for a member of the Villas to leave and do their own thing ¨C she considered doing much the same when she was younger ¨C and not strange for some to end up joining the army of the Grandies.


    She doubted that even after they left, a member of the Villas would join in warring against their former community, nor be stationed in their ruins there after a hostile takeover.


    They waited in silence, not exactly tense but neither engaging to talk, before the female guard returned with a man in tow.


    ¡°Yes, Major?¡± The man said with a salute.


    ¡°Ensign, do you recognize this woman? Or the name Sarah Palters?¡±


    Sally doubted he would. While the man wasn¡¯t old, he wasn¡¯t young either, early thirties she guessed despite his somewhat pretty-boy look. She¡¯s only been a junior Warden for five years and doubted he had been with there when she was announced, let alone later during the times when she visited their Villa in the course of her duties.


    Thus, it came a surprise that the man did, in fact, recognize her. By name at least.


    ¡°Yessir, I¡¯ve heard the name. Came up during the defense in talks with the other Wardens. She and the other Guha and Palters Wardens had supposedly disappeared sometime before the Erlings descended. To investigate disappearance of a farmer and some herd.¡±


    Disappeared sometime before, she noted. She swallowed the lump forming in her throat.


    ¡°That¡¯s consistent with what she told me, sir¡±, the female guard jumped in. The guard¡¯s gaze then shifted to Sally, a look of pity in her eyes. ¡°More or less,¡± she finished quietly.


    Sally liked that even less.


    ¡°Very well. Warden Palters, if you¡¯d please follow me to the command tent. Ensign, tag along.¡± He turned to face the crowd. ¡°The rest of you, return to your duties,¡± he commanded with a raised voice before walking away. The crowd complied with a mumbled chorus of yessirs.


    Sally began to follow, the ensign walking beside her.


    ¡°It¡¯s good to hear someone survived, you know?¡± The man began with a smile. ¡°We feared that-¡±


    ¡°Wait until we¡¯re in the tent, Makilas,¡± the major interrupted.


    The ensign looked oddly sheepish, tugging at his curly hair before giving her an apologetic look.


    The signs were painting a very bad picture indeed.


    It wasn¡¯t long before they arrived at the center of the camp, an unlit firepit surrounded by seven large tents, three to either side and one in front of them. The command center, no doubt.


    They entered the one in the center, the ensign holding the entrance flap open for her. Inside was a small office complete with chair and desk front and center, with a number of racks with shelves occupied by miscellaneous equipment to her left and a duo filing cabinets to her right.


    ¡°Please, have a seat,¡± the major said, gesturing toward the chair in front of the desk while he went to the filing cabinets. The ensign went to stand in front of the equipment racks instead of seating himself beside her.


    Sally didn¡¯t budge.


    ¡°Why all this¡­ secrecy?¡± She asked, frustrated and suspicious.


    ¡°Not secrecy, Sarah,¡± the ensign replied, ¡°Empathy.¡±


    She looked at them and was, again, met with a pitying gaze. It seems everyone knows but me, the bitter thought rang.


    ¡°Indeed, Warden, the privacy is not for us.¡± The major finished fishing in the cabinets and pulled out a file from the bottom drawer before moving toward the chair behind the desk. They were apparently well-organized.


    She hesitated for moment before moving the chair in front of her.


    ¡°It¡¯s Sally, by the way,¡± she said. ¡°Not Sarah.¡± She received a nod from both men as she sat down on the chair.


    ¡°You may refer to me as Charles, and that is Makilas, as you probably heard earlier. Or Major Frelik and Ensign Zjevik-Ong, if you prefer the formalities.¡± She wasn¡¯t in the mood for anything.


    The major opened the file and asked: ¡°It states here that you and your group went on an expedition, starting on January six and were last seen on the ninth, correct?¡± She nodded, though found the word ¡®expedition¡¯ a bit too grand. ¡°And is that Friday the last day you remembered?¡± She nodded again, bracing for the news.


    ¡°Today is July seventeen.¡±


    July seventeen, the word echoed in her mind.


    She¡¯d been gone for over six months.


    Her first instinct was to deny it. She knew by now that she¡¯d been gone for longer than a day, but six months? That was beyond insane, it was simply impossible. If it were true, she would have been beyond deader than dead. Even her bones would have been eaten by some beast and that beast would have likely been eaten in turn by that time. She wouldn¡¯t be here, couldn¡¯t be here if six months had passed.


    But even it was just a day, let alone a whole week ¨C the maximum she could imagine being realistic ¨C she should not be alive, and the longer timeline fit her other observations better. The warmth, the spring¨C or rather, summer meltwater in the arroyo, the brightness of the sun, its position relative to the time of day. The fact that the Grandies had finished setting up shop in the Guha¡¯s home and had filled up at least one whole filing cabinet already¡­


    Her vision began to darken at the edges and she felt a mug being pushed into her hand. She took a sip of the water. It steadied her somewhat.


    ¡°Sally,¡± Charles said. She didn¡¯t look up at him. ¡°Can you tell me what happened?¡±


    Thankful for the distraction, she began telling them of their days searching, their plans for baiting their prey and the discovery of the skinner-wolves. She explained the revised plan and how their ambush, in turn, counter-ambushed by the Erlings. She told them of her final act ¨C the one she¡¯d presumably lost an arm for ¨C and her blacking out before waking up, apparently, six months later.


    They¡¯d remained quiet as she told her story, the water and retelling helping her come over the shock.


    ¡°The mysteries of the new world are boundless and unpredictable,¡± the major mumbled once she finished. It sounded almost religious the way he said it, but when she looked up he looked at her only with compassion.


    Before a dark look took over his features.


    ¡°Unfortunately, your encounter was not the result of circumstance. Somehow, the Erlings, led by some form of shaman-figure, had managed to either tame or create packs of skinner-wolves. A couple weeks after your encounter, they went down the mountains not to raid, but to migrate.¡±


    Photographs, the first time she¡¯d seen such things, were picked from the file and shoved toward her side of the table. They depicted familiar bodies of skinner-wolves and Erlings side by side.


    ¡°They struck hard and fast, and with the element of surprise at their side. The Wardens had only just begun to set up defenses, but were not prepared for the scale of the incursion. By the time they figured out what was going on, the Erlings had already penetrated deep, deep toward the south, up to and including parts of the Gold and Red Circuits.¡±


    More pictures, this time of dead horses and people along with wrecked carts. Trading caravans, most likely.


    ¡°It eventually took the combined forces of the Wardens, the city of Gadeon, a number of the Anteer cities and a detachment of our own Frontiersmen to halt their advance. Thankfully, after the Wardens managed to track down and kill their shaman, they splintered and we managed to drive them back completely. But not immediately, and not without cost.¡±


    New photographs, depicting familiar buildings in familiar places.


    ¡°Now, being the most northwestern Villa and the first to be struck, Villa Guha was quickly overwhelmed. The Wardens attempted to halt the tide at the Villa Palters, but as they were the next to be struck they did not yet know the full scope of the problem.¡±


    Her home, in ruins. Destroyed by a threat she¡¯d been investigating. A threat she¡¯d faced on the field, hoped to face, even, these Erlings. She had teased her mentor with it, spooked Tarak with it, and she had gotten her wish.


    They should¡¯ve listened to Niall when he told them to retreat, to create a better plan, to ask for reinforcements from the Zjevik-Ong Wardens, to create a fallback plan. But they hadn¡¯t, because she spooked Tarak into bringing his homemade explosives, which convinced Marcy to go ahead. They were just skinner-wolves after all, right? A rare and dangerous threat, but manageable.


    They¡¯d lost not only the battle ¨C something to be expected considering what she now knew ¨C but had failed to survive, failed to deliver a warning. When she had gained the inkling she might be the last alive, instead of trying her hardest to run away, she¡¯d doubled down in pride and lust for battle and revenge.


    But the major wasn¡¯t done yet.


    ¡°Now, we¡¯ve searched both Villas, every corner, every closet, behind every door and under every bed from tower to basement,¡± Charles said. Sally raised her head and looked into his eyes. ¡°I¡¯m sorry, Sally. We¡¯ve found no survivors.¡±


    She¡¯d failed her community, her parents, her siblings, all those baring the name Palters and beyond. And now they¡¯re all dead.


    That was the final straw.


    X


    ¡°What¡¯ll you do now?¡± Makilas asked. ¡°Return to your Villa?¡±


    It had been a few days since Sally broke down into an embarrassing blubbery, teary mess. The now-dubbed Station Guha had been a kind host, more than kind. Beyond food, water and shelter, they¡¯d given her clothes ¨C the legacy of the Guha, she winced at the unfair thought. There would be more to their legacy than the clothes on her back.


    They¡¯d even gone ahead and given her a pistol similar to her previous one, a Guardsman .45, along with a good amount of spare ammo. Apparently, it was not standard for most of their firearms and was instead used for visiting Wardens needing resupply. Which was what they saw her as, she supposed, although in her heart couldn¡¯t agree.


    ¡°No,¡± she replied, a bit tersely. He didn¡¯t deserve it, he¡¯d been nothing but kind, but he kept trying to convince her to return to that ruin. To mourn or get some sort of closure, he¡¯d said. But she won¡¯t, she couldn¡¯t handle it. Not yet.


    ¡°Will you return to the Wardens? I could probably guide you to the Zjevik-Ong at least. Maybe even further if I convince Charles, make it sound like some kinda relationship-building thing with the Villas and Wardens.¡± He offered.


    It was kind of him. It was clear he was worried to let her go alone, but that was exactly what she wished to be.


    ¡°I have a brother in the Arcanist guild in one of the Anteer cities,¡± she said, though she couldn¡¯t recall which. She finished packing her stuff and slung the bag across from left hip to right shoulder. ¡°I¡¯ll try to find him, I suppose. Let him know that there is another Palters.¡±


    She walked out the front gate, the same guards that greeted her three days prior giving her a solemn nod.


    ¡°Do come back sometime, alright? I¡¯ve yet to show you all the things we¡¯ve done around here. The defenses we built, the plans we made for the region.¡±


    Sally turned back one final time. Makilas was looking at her with concern.


    She deliberated for a second, looking skyward and scratching her throat.


    ¡°Maybe,¡± she replied, unsure of anything right now. The past days had been tough, and despite the kindness she was shown, this place would likely turn into a bad memory before long.


    She could only hope it wouldn¡¯t remain that way.

 3. To Cross a River

    3. To Cross a River ¨C July 22, Year 216


    A sheepstealer is a bird of prey ripped straight from the nightmares of a child. In fact, Sally remembered having plenty of nightmares featuring the bird, no doubt because of the sayings and stories her mother told her about naughty children leaving the Villa without an adult.


    And now, her nightmare had materialized. Well, partly.


    The bird was about a hundred feet or so out in front of the rocky overhang she¡¯d slept under. It had a large, hooked beak capable of tearing apart the toughest hides and strong claws with a grip easily capable of cracking skulls. It was completely white, including its beak, and had eerily piercing sky-blue eyes. Its wingspan was around twenty feet ¨C nearly four times her length!


    The sheepstealer was thus a popular boogeyman for parents to tell their children. Their coloring and method of hunting meant it was nearly impossible to spot it before it dove, while their strength was such that it could swoop down, grab a sheep and take off with them in the blink of an eye. Children would be easy prey for them.


    Such a thing had never happened. Or, at least, she had never seen or heard of it happening, and her mentor had told her neither he nor other Wardens had to deal with a case in which it actually happened. It was always some other animal, like a simple wolf, that was to blame. But truth never stopped stories from spreading, certainly not when it scared children into listening to their elders.


    Or, maybe, was the fact it never happened that it was used to scare children? True tales of children gone missing might be a bit too gruesome.


    Regardless, despite its impressive size, the thing was just an animal rather than some form of demon or another, and thus tended to avoid humans like most animals. Apart from the occasional theft of some of their flock, of course. The only time they hunted people was when one approached them while they were grounded, or when people encroached on their territory.


    The one in front of Sally had spread its large wings around its prey: an elk calf. The sheepstealer had dropped it from up high and the thud it made on impact was what had woken her up.


    Now, normally, that would be it. She would carefully sneak away while it was busy devouring its prey, and while she might not be successful, the noise of a gunshot would likely be enough to scare it off. Generally, hunting it wasn¡¯t worth it, since outside of bragging rights or selling its feathers ¨C neither of which Wardens really concerned themselves with ¨C there was no reason to do so. And while she could use the money, it wasn¡¯t dire enough for her to try and hunt a sheepstealer. Besides, plucking the thing was too much of a hassle, one-armed as she was. The reasonable thing to do would be to just sneak away while it was busy eating.


    But it was her second day of travel and she had yet to encounter something suitable to practice her aim on; a practice she sorely needed. She had never been a great shot with a pistol ¨C good, but not great ¨C and she was certain she would never shoot a rifle again. She needed to get used to firing a pistol with only her right arm and at great distance, and she now needed to be exceptional. Survival, professional pride and, presumably, her future career depended on it.


    Plus, she was feeling just a tiny bit vindictive for it interrupting her sleep.


    So instead, she snuck closer to the bird. She couldn¡¯t make the rocks stop crunching, but she wasn¡¯t heavy and knew how to make her steps land lightly. It was also busy enjoying its meal, complete with tearing of flesh, clacking of beaks, snapping of bones and thrills of satisfaction, hindering its otherwise great hearing, and it was facing away from her. Altogether, it was relatively easy to sneak up on the bird.


    She didn¡¯t have to travel far, of course. That would defeat the purpose of the exercise. So, when she got within seventy feet, she stopped. Drawing her Guardsman .45, she switched off the safety and took aim at its back.


    It felt awkward, holding it with only one hand. She¡¯d been drilled time and again to always, if possible, fire with both. While she also ¨C thankfully ¨C had some training in how to shoot it with single-handed, it hadn¡¯t become second nature. The one-armed training had focused on shooting in case of emergencies only, and at a much shorter distance of ten feet.


    Well, there¡¯s a first time for everything, she thought. A final look down the barrel, adjustment of the aim and a deep breath later, she fired.


    And missed completely. She expected a poor performance, but to not even clip its wing? She hadn¡¯t even seen where the bullet landed hit the dirt!


    She winced at her poor showing. That stings, she thought. Niall would¡¯ve chewed her out.


    The bird startled from its meal and, without even glancing at Sally, beat its wings and leapt into the air. For a second, she debated firing another round, but her pride was wounded enough. Besides, while she had plenty of spare ammunition thanks to the Grandies, conservation of resources was always more important than pride.


    Watching the bird fly away, Sally holstered her gun and returned to her camp.


    The sheepstealer would probably hang around the area for a while, she knew, waiting for her to leave her shelter and strike down from above. But this wasn¡¯t its territory ¨C their usual haunts were much further up the mountains ¨C and as long as she remained underneath the overhang, it would not approach her, cautious as it was.


    Besides, it had undoubtedly eaten the best parts of the calf, and sheepstealers were notoriously picky eaters. The carcasses they leave behind often have plenty left for scavengers to enjoy.


    Once back at her hideaway, she debated going back to sleep; the bird had woken her up uncomfortably early. But she didn¡¯t really feel tired, just annoyed at the rude wake-up call.


    Instead, she took the coat used as blanket and put it on, then grabbed her bag and pulled out a green-brown canteen full of fresh water and a cup. She filled the cup and side it aside before pulling out some cheese and tack.


    It was time for breakfast.


    X


    After breakfast, Sally continued her journey. She had made good time yesterday, roughly twenty miles in spite of a somewhat sluggish pace and the rough terrain. It had come as some surprise when she reached the Graidle river yesterday. She had expected to arrive at around the start of noon on the second day at the earliest. Instead, she had arrived there at sunset and doubled back to find a good place to rest for the night.


    Thus, it didn¡¯t take long before she saw the river again.


    Like most rivers flowed all year round, the Graidle was poisonous and looked the part. It looked sluggish, a meandering thing with ugly, slate-grey water flowing eastward to Lake Prior, merging with the Gesker river along the way. It also looked like it had the consistency of gruel, adding to its sluggish looks.


    In reality, it neither sluggish nor did it feel like gruel. The water had a deceptively strong current, especially at the center, where it could drag under and drown anything attempting to cross it, be they man or beast. There were only a few select locations where it could be crossed, and even then only carefully.


    Because of this, the Graidle river acted as a natural boundary of sorts, the closest thing to a ¡®border¡¯ the Villas had. There was very little in the way of formal borders within the Grand Circuit, simply because holding land too far outside of your local area was both too difficult to maintain and essentially worthless; all worthwhile pieces of land were already occupied by their own inhabitants.


    Conquering these lands likewise wasn¡¯t worth it. Maintaining an army was costly, and resources in the Grand Circuit always scarce. Furthermore, any force send to attack another community was one not protecting their own, and there were threats out there that always knew when a community left itself undefended, somehow. Even the Anteer cities, by far the most resourceful and safest places in the Circuits, wouldn¡¯t risk it.


    In fact, the Wardens are the largest intercommunal fighting force within the Grand Circuit, and it is only a loose association rather than a formal army belonging to a state. They rarely had to kill people at all, barring the occasional band of bandits, and never an army from one of the other cities or Villas. There were plenty of threats and natural barriers ¨C such as the Graidle ¨C to stop such things from happening.Support the creativity of authors by visiting Royal Road for this novel and more.


    Sally stood in front of a gap in that natural barrier, on the riverbank. It was a particularly wide ¨C and thus shallow ¨C stretch of the river, some distance still before it bend, and littered with large rocks in its course to break up the flow of the river.


    Looking at its grey waters churn and flow around these rocks, she felt strangely nervous. Not of the crossing itself ¨C she had done that part plenty of times. It was dangerous, yes, but not difficult so long as you knew the right spots to do so, and Niall had made sure she knew. The water might be poisonous, but unlike some other rivers, it wasn¡¯t the kind of poison that ate your skin, flesh and bones within seconds; that one was further south, lining the Red Circuit.


    No, there was something else, something she couldn¡¯t quite put her finger on. Was it because it she was doing it alone? Niall had always been there with her, watching over her, ready to catch her if she fell.


    But it wasn¡¯t loneliness or loss that gripped her ¨C at least, not more than normal these past few days ¨C nor was it simply fear. It felt like she was committing a form of transgression, the breaking of a sacred oath.


    It made her want to turn back, but then what? There is nothing to go back to, Sally argued to herself, only forward.


    Taking of her socks and shoes, rolling up her pants and steeling her will, she marched down the riverbank and into the water.


    The water was quite cold, but not as cold as the meltwater she had woken up in five days before. She felt coarse particles ¨C salt from the plains on the other side of the river ¨C bite into her skin, less like sand during a sandstorm and more like dried sweat after a particularly intense work-out.


    As she stepped further into the river, it deepened and grew stronger. Even at the crossing, the water still came up to just below her knees and the current had a vicious pull to it, but it was manageable with the rocks as cover. Before she knew it, she¡¯d reached the other side; it was only two dozen feet wide, after all.


    She felt odd, having reached the other side. She felt neither relief nor guilt, either of which she had expected. Instead, she just felt¡­ okay.


    After a final look at the river, she shrugged. She waited some time her legs to dry before rubbing the salt off her skin. Then she put her socks and shoes back on and continued her journey.


    X


    The Gold Circuit was the ancient, one-hundred-fifty-mile-long road on which she would continue the journey, though thankfully she only had to travel ten of them. It lay but a mile out from the river crossing and was a monument from the Old World, one of the few that survived the Long Sun. Over forty feet wide and covered in greyish-brown dust, underneath it was an oily-black road of unknown substance, thoroughly cracked not like rock, but like glass. Within this mesh network of cracks was another unknown material, a clear substance glueing it together and giving the road its oily sheen.


    Stepping on it, Sally felt an odd current running through the soles of her feet and tickling the inside of her scalp. Run, it seemed to say, run away! It was as if the road had a mind of its own and didn¡¯t appreciate being stepped upon.


    The impulse wasn¡¯t strong, however. More a feeling of restlessness, of unease rather than anxiety or outright fear. Easily ignored even by the dumbest of pack-animals used by various trading caravans, as long as they were somewhat trained and conditioned for the journey.


    It was enough to deter most demons and other monstrosities from approaching it under normal circumstances. All Circuits acted as a containment circle of sorts ¨C albeit with effects specific to them ¨C and kept the worst of the worst prison within its confines, only spilling it in rare events. It was the reason the vast majority of people lived on the outer rim of the Circuits rather than inside it, barring a few exceptions and these exceptions were, to some, not even people to begin with.


    Directly south of the part she entered at ¨C to her right, as she was heading eastward ¨C Sally kept a wary eye for any movement while journeying onward. The Greysalt Plains covered half the territory within the Gold Circuit and was home to many different threats, two of which in particular were often found at the edges of their prison, ready to snack the unwary traveler.


    She could see them even now, despite the perpetual winds flowing across the Greysalts, throwing up salty dust-clouds and obscuring traveler and demon alike. Worms wriggled in the distance, flashing gold in color whenever the rare ray sunlight pierced the grey veil. They were continuously diving in and out of the salty earth that made their homes in a frenzy as they battled the second most common creature threatening travelers of the Gold Circuit.


    Hovering over them were outsized flies encrusted in and partially made out of the very salt that made their home. They were the outriders, scouts and hunters of the Grey Hives lying deeper in the Greysalts¡¯ interior. These saltflies used their crystalline limbs as spears, jabbing at resurfacing goldworms and, if caught, carried them away to their homes deeper in the desert.


    Like all demons, they liked the taste of human flesh, though thankfully their fellow¡¯s flesh was an acceptable alternative. It was why travelling alone was generally the safest option on the roads of the Circuits. For your average trader, this limiting themselves to a very small group, mobile group, favoring speed and stealth over defense. On the other end of the spectrum were the large, foreign merchant caravans, great processions larger than entire Villas, numbering into the hundreds, and banking on firepower to survive their tracks.


    Since the goldworms and saltflies were busy fighting each other, Sally¡¯s journey remained smooth, even when she passed the confluence of the Graidle and the Gesker ¨C the river running from up north, through Villa territory, separating the Villas Guha and Palters from the Zjevik-Ong.


    The mixing of the two toxic rivers caused a great deal of rainbow-colored vapor to be thrown up, shrouding the confluence, but she could still see the devil-eels, siltspitters and alligators lurking in it. Thankfully, these were just animals and had no particular desire to eat people, though they still sometimes ventured onto the Gold Circuit when desperate enough, infected by some strange illness or parasite, or magically corrupted in some way.


    But with wary eyes, a bit of luck and the occasional veering off the Gold Circuit ¨C a group of devil-eels had crawled up the riverbank a bit too close for comfort ¨C she made the ten-mile journey easily enough, arriving at the crossing with the Red Circuit some time past noon.


    The plan was to rest at the crossing for a quick lunch, but Sally noticed two things as she approached. One of which was worrying.


    First was, of course, the road of the Red Circuit. Made of the same stuff as the Gold Circuit, the Red Circuit was wider at over fifty feet across, and a roundtrip would be three-hundred miles rather than a hundred-and-fifty.


    Unlike the Gold Circuit, however, stepping on it brought no particular emotion to mind. Instead, the black substance made your feet stick to the road, as if wanting to keep you on the road rather than off it, albeit without the mental influence the Gold Circuit had. Furthermore, it was cold to the touch ¨C very cold, with both effects increasing in strength the longer you walked on it.


    On occasion, you could spot a creature that had gotten stuck to the road and subsequently either starved or froze to dead in the blistering heat. There was no consistency as to why it happened, what caused it or how to prevent it from happening. Sure, sometimes it was because you walked the road too long, but other times things just got permanently stuck at random. The only reason it practically never happened to people is simply because they wore shoes; you could, in fact, sometimes find an imprint of a sole stuck to the road, left behind by some unfortunate soul.


    The only thing you can do is walk beside the road as often as possible, and make the moments on the road as short as possible.


    Still, encountering such a corpse was very rare, not only because it was uncommon in and of itself, but because of the scavengers, both animal and human. They were always willing to take the small risk to get to these creatures for either a quick meal or a small profit.


    Such a frozen corpse wasn¡¯t the second thing Sally saw at the crossroads, however. Instead, it was smoke.


    She was still some distance away. Unfortunately, the Grandies hadn¡¯t gifted her telescope ¨C understandable, really, they were expensive ¨C so there was only one thing to do. Drawing her trusty sidearm, she began slowly moving toward the crossroads.


    She saw no movement, nor were there any shouts or cries, growls or roars or anything else indicating life or an active fight. As she got closer, the smoke seemed to come from the smoldering remains of a small number of tents. It was apparent that it had been quite some time since the attack; there were no active flames and the tents were mostly ashes.


    Still, she remained wary and as she approached, she saw the cause of the destruction: a bloodfiend.


    Much like a skinner, bloodfiends have a stereotypically demonic appearance: hairless, lanky with long limbs and a somewhat hunched figure, although much thinner than a skinner. Instead of pale white skin, bloodfiends have dark grey skin with a somewhat blueish hue to them. They have a broad, human-like grin without any teeth. They also lacked the sharp, slicing claws on their hands like skinners possessed. Instead, they have a tongue with a barb, fang or tooth at its tip, capable of penetrating through flesh and bone and through which they sucked the blood out of its victims.


    Bloodfiends were solitary hunters, always. They hunted only at night and their color made it very difficult to spot them. Battles with them were rare, simply because their stealth made it likely their prey was dead before it could realize the danger.


    If it did come to battle though, bloodfiends were far from helpless. Their speed was incredible, the fastest of all creatures she knew. If you blinked during a battle with them, you would either lose sight of them or crossed whatever distance you and them.


    Thankfully, she encountered this one during the day, and after it had a feast, if the desiccated husks she spotted were anything to go by. The burned-out tents also meant there had been a battle, though she could not see any wounds on the bloodfiend. Even if it wasn¡¯t wounded, the bloodfiend would be slow and tired, likely resting or even asleep currently.


    With its back facing towards her, Sally had no trouble getting closer to it, stopping at fifty feet instead of the seventy she¡¯d done with the sheepstealer.


    Taking aim and remembering the lesson from earlier today, she fired once more.


    It was a hit. Not exactly where she aimed, but a hit nonetheless.


    The demon¡¯s shrill scream filled the air for a second, arching its back, its tongue spasming into the air as if attempting to taste where she was.


    Sally fired once more, but this time she missed the demon, seeing the bullet hit the ground a few inches beside it.


    Then it stood up and turned around.


    Only now did she begin to realize how stupid of an idea it was to engage the demon. Her pistol wasn¡¯t particularly powerful, nor did it have the range to fire at a bloodfiend from a safe distance ¨C for as much as a safe distance existed when facing the thing. Nor did she have backup or fallback plan in case her first plan failed, which it did because she didn¡¯t have a plan. Failure meant death. She shouldn¡¯t have started this fight at all.


    It was as if all Niall had taught her had been forgotten.


    Do I have some kind of a death wish? But there was no time to respond to that thought. The bloodfiend charged her.


    She shouldn¡¯t be able to respond. A moving bloodfiend was less a quick dash and more short-distance teleportation. Her life, which had been miraculously recovered by the waters of the arroyo, was forfeit once more.


    But either by grace, fate, divine will or some ancestral blessing, Sally could respond, and did.


    The demon¡¯s tongue lashed out towards her sternum. She ducked underneath it and before the bloodfiend could respond ¨C and wasn¡¯t that a thought, faster than a bloodfiend! ¨C her Guardsman was under what passed for its chin. Blood running cold, she fired up once, twice and, seeing the bullet enter and blood leave, gave it a final kick.


    The bloodfiend toppled over, dead.


    Holy-


    She stood still for a second, a chill coursing through her veins before being replaced by fire and a shiver crawling from head to toe. Sweat broke out in buckets and she began panting. Her face became pallid, and nausea and vertigo got a hold over her. She fell on her ass.


    Whatever it was that passed over her had taken much of her energy in return, but it didn¡¯t matter.


    Ancestors preserve me. And perhaps they had, for what else could have?


    X


    She had cut out the fang on the tip of the bloodfiend¡¯s tongue ¨C it could fetch a decent price in Cardinar ¨C and looted what she could off of the corpses and the rest of the camp: some ammo, coin, two rifles and four pistols. Apparently, it had been a small caravan of sorts, complete with pack animals but very low on guards ¨C a mistake that had clearly cost them.


    Sally had never travelled with a caravan, and thought them a big waste. They always lost something during their travels, whether it be lives, livestock, resources or, most often, all of the above. It was a very un-Circuit like way of doing business, but she could understand that it was a cold calculation of profits and loss.


    What these people had done was straight off-the-wall and, in very Circuit-like fashion, they had paid the price.


    That she almost paid the same price with her own stupidity was ignored, for now.

 4. City of Light, City of Magic!

    4. City of Light, City of Magic! ¨C July 22, Year 216


    With the sun done setting, the city of Cardinar became all the more visible despite still being miles away.


    Before Sally could see the walls, a multicolored haze appeared over the horizon, a kaleidoscopic rainbow of magical light. The city of Cardinar did this every night, a not inexpensive thing to do. It was one of the things the city famous for, and was tied into its other claim to fame: the Grand Circuit chapter headquarters of the Arcanist¡¯s Guild.


    It made for a grand display of prosperity and magical power, an invitation to all weary and harried travelers. A dazzling sign of civilization after travelling de desolate and hostile wastes of the Circuits.


    It had left her mentor less than impressed. When they visited during her first year as a junior Warden, Niall had remarked that they were recent thing, and a sign of a decline of the Circuits¡¯ autonomy. The Arcanist¡¯s Guild was, after all, a thing of the far South, of the League of Independent Cities, formerly known as the League of Light, and before that as the Swords of Saint Leucothoe.


    ¡®Recently¡¯ for him had meant ¡®about two decades ago¡¯. Before that, Cardinar was famous for being the front-gate to the Anteer cities, and was consequently the premier military power of the Anteer cities, despite being the smallest of them.


    Niall had known that proud city, but Sally hadn¡¯t, let alone what it had meant for the ¡®autonomy¡¯ of the Circuits. She thought that the addition of magical power only helped it, but she was known to have a relatively positive approach to magic, regardless of negative encounters with some of its practitioners.


    In opposition to her mentor, Sally had been impressed.


    At the time it had practically been her first look at a large-scale display of magic ¨C and what a display it was! She¡¯d been entranced and excited like a girl ten years younger. It had made her remember why she wanted to leave her Villa and run the Circuits in the first place; to travel the wide world and experience all it had to offer.


    The Villas weren¡¯t known for their magical prowess, shunning the practice almost entirely. It was one of the reasons her brother had left for Cardinar in the first place, to pursue this passion for the arcane. It was something she could empathize with.


    Through the years, her feelings had soured toward the display. Seeing it again reaffirmed that feeling and made her empathize more with Niall¡¯s point of view. It was a frivolous thing, it served no real purpose and, worst of all, was a beacon to all the malignant forces lingering within the Red Wastes beyond Lake Prior.


    The symbol ¨C rather than the magic itself ¨C felt disrespectful, like an attack on what it meant to be a Warden and the Circuit as a while stood for. They ¨C the Wardens, the Villa, the cities, every Circuit community including Cardinar ¨C had struggled for generations to make a safe place, to survive and thrive in the harsh and blighted deserts of the Circuits. And now, with a bit of foreign wealth and foreign expertise, they threw it away and blasted light across the sky to attract the very forces their ancestors died against.


    It felt cheap. Expensive, yes, but cheap all the same.


    Besides, she had seen what such an amount of magical power could be twisted into, by will or by accident. Even if her outlook on magic was more positive than most, it was still a thing to be wary of. Something to be treated with care and respect. Otherwise, someone would inevitably screw up or abuse it for themselves, and everyone else would have to deal with it.


    By the time she had walked the last miles to the city, the lightshow had thankfully stopped and the glow had settled to a less-intense orange-white of streetlight.


    The walls of the city were, much like the city inside it, of local quarry, and thus a simple light-brown sandstone. The men and women guarding it ¨C four of whom she saw, standing by the gate ¨C were more interesting by comparison.


    Unlike the Grandies in their army fatigues, the Cardinar guard were colorful and, for lack of a better word, ornamented. The black berets on their heads had a small metal bird on their front, with a tiny red gem for an eye. The steel cuirass they wore bore elaborate motifs and, although the wear and tear had made most of them fade already, looked recent and with purpose beyond decoration. The red robes worn underneath them had small symbols made of gold thread on their hem. Their rifles were made of a plain, bone-white wood and a silver barrel etched with geometric patterns.


    It was a new look for them compared to four years ago. To Sally, it made them look overly ornamental, but she doubted this impression was correct. There was likely some magical or mystical purpose to it all.


    Support the author by searching for the original publication of this novel.


    As she walked to the gate, the guards kept an eye on her, but didn¡¯t stop her. She¡¯d thankfully arrived before the gate closed for the night, but only just. She was the only and maybe last person to enter this city this late.


    While Cardinar was the smallest of the Anteer cities, it was densely packed. Most buildings had two stories to them and some went up to four or five stories high. The illuminated streets leading from the gate to the central plaza were lined with brightly lit stalls, shops and stores for both personal and larger commercial purchases.


    Behind the buildings to her right were the caravan grounds. This late in the evening they¡¯d undoubtedly be filled with caravans looking for a safe place to pass the night, but she could only catch rare glimpses of them through alleys.


    Behind the buildings to her left were residences and farmland. The former were becoming increasingly tightly packed together, while the latter slowly decreased accordingly. The city¡¯s prosperity meant that more and more people wished to live there, requiring more buildings, decreasing the amount of farm land inside the city walls. This increased the demand for trade, allowed for more people to focus on producing goods to sell to the increase in traders, which would allow the city prosper and more people to live in it, decreasing land, etcetera. A feedback loop that would inevitably drive people up the wall. The city walls, to be exact.


    There were still many people wandering the street this late in the evening, looking for places to eat or already purchasing provisions for tomorrow. But the streets were built wide, so she didn¡¯t have to maneuver or shove people around to get to the central plaza.


    The central plaza itself was just that: a large, open circle where the major streets met. The street to her left went to the eastern gate ¨C she¡¯d arrived at the northwestern one ¨C while the street she¡¯d walked continued to the docks, churches, industry and filtration plants surrounding the shores of Lake Prior. The road to her right passed led to and beyond the aforementioned caravan ground, ending at the only hill in the city, on top of and surrounding which were the military and other government buildings.


    From what Niall had told her back in the day, the city had about two thousand permanent residents ¨C almost all the Villas combined! ¨C and played host to up to a thousand more traders travelling the Grand Circuit. She imagined it had only increased these past years.


    It was no surprise, then, that the plaza was a chaotic mess of people running to and fro, animals dragging carts and carriages ¨C both filled and empty ones ¨C with groups patrolling guards keeping an eye on everything.


    Thankfully, Sally didn¡¯t have to cross it; her destination was to her direct left.


    Lining the plaza between the main street and the road to the eastern gate were the three largest buildings of the city: the Arcanist¡¯s Guild, the Red Bazaar and the Circuit Runner¡¯s Guild. The Arcanist¡¯s and Circuit Runner¡¯s Guilds were built tall with five stories, but compared to the Red Bazaar looked small. The Red Bazaar meanwhile was less tall at three stories in height, but could comfortably fit both guilds twice within its bulk.


    Sally went opened the door and went inside the Arcanist¡¯s Guild. The interior was very closed off and simple: a waiting room of chairs and tables on both sides, and a large desk with a single clerk at the center. The rest of the compound was hidden from view by walls and doors.


    A little bell jingled and the clerk ¨C a gaunt, middle-aged bald man wearing black robes ¨C looked up.


    ¡°Welcome to the Cardinar branch of the Great Leagueran Arcanist Association, Grand Circuit chapter. How may I help you?¡± Despite the man¡¯s stern and somber appearance, the rehearsed lines and rough voice, the man¡¯s tone was kind and sounded genuine. A good skill for a receptionist to have.


    Sally walked to the desk.


    ¡°I¡¯m looking for my brother, he¡¯s supposed to be some kind of mage here?¡± She was never quite clear what he did; the break from the family had been thorough and her visit from four years ago had been a short and cold one. ¡°Goes by Caldwell. Palters, maybe.¡±


    The man stared at her for a second, oddly judging.


    Did I say something wrong?


    ¡°I do know of a Caldwell, he¡¯s a sorcerer associated with the Guild,¡± the man emphasized. ¡°You say you are his sister?¡±


    ¡°Yes? Sarah Olivia Palters. Or Sally, if he mentioned me by that name.¡± She replied, not expecting the pushback. ¡°I¡¯ve been here before, about four years ago. Don¡¯t you keep a registry or record or something?¡± They certainly seem the type to keep track every little thing.


    His gaze made her twitchy, hands itching towards her holster subconsciously. She certainly wasn¡¯t planning on using it, but she was strangely on edge. Maybe it¡¯s the magic?


    ¡°Mister Caldwell certainly did mention you, and your family ¨C but nothing positive, I assure you. Now, is there a reason behind this unexpected visit? If not, the door is right behind.¡± The judgement clearer now, and would be understandable if it weren¡¯t for the circumstances.


    ¡°A reason? You think telling him his sister survived that genocide isn¡¯t reason enough?¡± She asked, part of her surprised and part of her getting increasingly angry.


    Wasn¡¯t it good news he still had at least one family member left, despite the split? Surely Caldwell wouldn¡¯t be that spiteful.


    ¡°What?¡± The clerk blinked, leaning backward and hostility fading to incomprehension.


    ¡°What ¡®what¡¯?¡± She leaned in, venom on her lips.  ¡°The Erling incursions, the death of two Villas, the Palters name, nothing rings a bell? You been living under a rock or something? The city guard- hell, members of your own guild were mobilized to deal with it! What do you mean ¡®what¡¯?¡±


    A moment of silence reigned over both of them, the dampened noise from the plaza softly filtering in.


    The clerk scratched his cheek, embarrassed. ¡°He never did say his family name. Nor that he was from the Villas.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, well, I¡¯m not surprised.¡± She calmed down and leaned back. A wave of depression snuffed out whatever indignation she¡¯d felt.


    Another moment of silence, then the clerk cleared his throat.


    ¡°Yes, well, unfortunately, he is not here.¡± The clerk said, tone much softer than before. ¡°Left quite a while back, not long after your visit if I recall correctly.¡± The man said before reaching into his desk, grabbing some paper and dipping his pen in an inkwell.


    She repressed a sigh and crossed her arms. Nothing can ever be easy, can it.


    ¡°Well, where is he now?¡± She asked, sneaking a glance at the man¡¯s writing.


    ¡°Lovesse,¡± He put a final dot on the paper card, ¡°here, this should help when you get there.¡± He handed her the card, before diving back under the desk, looking for something else.


    She looked at the card. It seemed to be some kind of pre-penned proof or statement of legitimacy, signed with ¡®Mage Arlan Jaamsh, Administrator Arcanae Cardinar¡¯.


    ¡°Thanks,¡± She murmured and put the card in her pocket.


    ¡°And if you would, could you do me a favor?¡± Arlan rose back up from under the desk and handed her a scroll-case along with a letter. ¡°Could you deliver this to him? I meant to send it by runner, but had yet to find the time. It is something he¡¯s been wanting for some time now.¡±


    Sally contemplated the request for a second. He hadn¡¯t made a good impression on her, though she could admit it was through no fault of his own. Perhaps in return for giving her that card?


    ¡°Could help you reconnect?¡± He said, seeing her hesitate.


    ¡°Fine,¡± she said. She whipped her shoulder bag to her front, opened the zipper and pushed it forward. Arlan deposited both items in the bag. ¡°Thanks for the card.¡± She turned around and headed for the door.


    ¡°Have a safe journey. And give him my regards.¡±


    She gave the man a thumbs up before stepping outside, the noise of busy people greeting her. She still had a number of things to do, but for now, she just wanted some rest.

 5. Getting a Job

    ¡°Fine,¡± she said. She whipped her shoulder bag to her front, opened the zipper and pushed it forward. Arlan deposited both items in the bag. ¡°Thanks for the card.¡± She turned around and headed for the door.


    ¡°Have a safe journey. And give him my regards.¡±


    She gave the man a thumbs up before stepping outside, the noise of busy people greeting her. She still had a number of things to do, but for now, she just wanted some rest.


    5. Getting a Job ¨C July 23, Year 216


    Sally paid the innkeeper with some of the coin looted from the burned-out caravan, along with a relatively generous tip. She¡¯d slept in and missed breakfast, but they¡¯d been willing to whip up something for her regardless, and a large breakfast at that. They¡¯d more than earned it.


    Stepping onto the plaza once more, she headed toward the Circuit Runner¡¯s Guild. While she had been lucky to get some loot she could sell from the caravan and the bloodfiend, she needed to buy extra provisions ¨C preferably something more than cheese and hardtack ¨C along with camping supplies, like a bedroll and a simple flamer to cook on. It would probably take all she had. Furthermore, she had her future to consider, as unready for it as she was.


    In short, she had to get a job.


    The ground floor of the Circuit Runner¡¯s Guild was practically the opposite to the Arcanist¡¯s one. Rather than a quiet, closed-off room with a single clerk, the Circuit Runner¡¯s Guild was a bar filled with rough people in rougher clothes, all sitting on cushions at stone tables busy talking, eating and arguing with each other.


    Having never been here before, she didn¡¯t quite know where to go in order to apply, get assigned or whatever it was they did with newcomers. Lacking directions, she went to the most likely source to give her answers: the publican.


    Marching up to the counter and seeing the woman wasn¡¯t particularly busy, simply pouring drinks and grabbing plates from the kitchen through a broad window to the kitchen, Sally simply asked: ¡°Where do I need to go to get a job?¡±


    The woman gave her a glance, eyes lingering briefly but notably at the cut-off and tied-up left sleeve. Sally set her jaw, ready to argue back, but the bartend thankfully decided not to start one.


    ¡°Third floor, any open door will do,¡± she said, pointing at the staircase to the right of the room, before turning back to her duties.


    ¡°Thanks,¡± Sally replied simply, if a bit brusquely.


    As she went up the stairs, she saw glimpses of what the rest of the building contained. The first floor was an open space filled with desks which half-encircled their occupants, on which lay a variety of papers and books, along with pen and ink. Manning these desks were people in some form of black-and-white uniform, looking much less rough than the people she saw in the bar. They were either busy writing things down, searching things in their books or talking with the much more varied people in front of them.


    The business floor, most like.


    The second floor was simpler and much less open. There were two corridors from the stairs, on either side of which were numerous doors but a couple of feet from one another. Most people were like those on the ground floor ¨C rough, skinny, wiry; clearly the runners of the guilds ¨C milling about and gathering their things, with a smaller number of the uniformed people talking to a few of the runners. Some of the doors were still open, through which Sally could see simple rooms with simpler beds.


    Temporary lodgings for guild runners, she supposed. She certainly hoped they weren¡¯t their permanent residences.


    The third floor was like a combination of both previous floors, and also not like them at all. It had a much higher ceiling, for one. The sides contained larger doors, each with a name scribbled on a metal plaque. Lining the space between the doors were a number of cushioned wooden benches with small tables attached to them, while at the center of the floor were was a small garden of cacti, bushes and even a small tree. There was even a river in miniature meandering through it.


    Sally wondered if the water was drinkable. In any other place it would most likely be fresh simply to add to the extravagance. But the Anteer cities had a particular, religious reverence for the waters of Lake Prior, which everyone could drink, but only once without dying for certain. It would not be surprising for this to be untreated, but unlikely considering the foreign guests. Wouldn¡¯t want someone to have an accident, after all.


    Most doors were closed, but she spotted one half-open on the other side of the garden and walked towards it. ¡®Alain Teschel¡¯, the sign on the door read. She knocked and pushed it open.


    Behind it was an impressive room. Most things seemed to be made of wood ¨C the chairs, the table in the center of the room itself, the bookcases lining the left wall furthest from the door, all of it. On the central table there was a glass pitcher filled with water, with a number of smaller glasses on a platter. The desk at the back, nearest to a window, was a desk larger than those of on the first floor and of a darker wood.


    Behind the desk, on an elaborate wooden chair, sat an older man with a conventionally attractive look and a head full of greying-blond hair coiffed to the side. Looking up from whatever he was writing, she was met with an inquisitive, though professionally friendly gaze.


    ¡°Welcome. It is always a pleasant surprise for my appointments to arrive early.¡±


    Sally scratched her cheek. ¡°Sorry, didn¡¯t know you were expecting someone. I¡¯m Sally, I was directed here by the publican?¡±


    Stolen story; please report.


    The man smirked. ¡°I figured, ¡®twas a joke. They never arrive early.¡± The man laid the pen down on and waved his hand at the chair in front of him. Sally took the invitation and sat down, bag on her lap.


    The desk wasn¡¯t particularly large, but it felt like she could barely look over it. Combined with her small height, the man on the other felt larger, more intimidating than he was. It left her feeling both discomfited and annoyed.


    ¡°Now then, how can I help you?¡± Alain continued.


    ¡°I¡¯m looking for work, specifically for the duration of my journey to Lovesse, and perhaps beyond.¡±


    ¡°You aren¡¯t a runner with the Guild, I take it?¡±


    ¡°No, sir.¡± When was the last time I addressed someone as sir?


    The man was silent and simply stared at her, though not without a quick but pointed glance at tied-up half-sleeve.


    ¡°Then I¡¯m afraid I cannot help you. Only those affiliated with the Guild one way or the another can take on assignments. I¡¯m sorry, but there is nothing I can do.¡±


    ¡°Easy, I can join the guild. I¡¯ve been a Warden for five years ¨C eight if you count my training before that. I know the threats, I¡¯ve fought the threats, and I know the Circuits and can travel them fast, I¡¯ve-¡±


    Alain held up his hand to cut her off. Annoyingly, it worked.


    ¡°Look, even if you were a Warden, there is a method to these things,¡± his voice remained neutral, although a steel had crept into it. ¡°To become a runner, you either need an apprenticeship, a letter of recommendation or a sponsorship from a notable, neither of which you have or you¡¯d have mentioned it. And I doubt anyone would give you one.¡± This time, the look at her sleeve was purposefully obvious.


    Sally bit down the anger at his dismissal. ¡°I¡¯ve travelled forty miles in two days, from the Villas to the Gold and Red and then here.¡± She rummaged through her bag to get the bloodfiend tongue-fang. The man tensed for a second and reached for something underneath the desk, but she didn¡¯t care.


    ¡°In the past two days ¨C let alone the past eight years ¨C I¡¯ve crossed the Graidle, alone. Scared off a sheepstealer, alone. I¡¯ve been attacked by a bloodfiend,¡± she held up the demon¡¯s fang ¡°and not only lived, I killed it. Alone.¡±


    It was somewhat of a misrepresentation, but she didn¡¯t care.


    Alain looked about to say something, before freezing for a second. ¡°May I?¡± He asked, hands outstretched. She gave him the fang.


    Alain looked at it ponderously. He seemed frustrated, though this time not at her.


    ¡°What did you say your last name was?¡±


    She hadn¡¯t, but replied: ¡°Palters.¡±


    A shallow sigh left his lips.


    ¡°And do you plan to take the Gold or Red Circuit on your way to Lovesse?¡± He asked as he handed the fang back to her.


    Taking and storing it again, Sally replied: ¡°I thought on taking the Red, but can go through Gadeon, if that is what you¡¯re asking. Or continue on to Bridgers, or Southwall.¡±


    She didn¡¯t know what had changed, bet she¡¯d take it.


    Alain waved her off. ¡°No, no, that¡¯s fine. Or, well, it¡¯s not, but there¡¯s nothing I can do about it.¡±


    He grabbed a small piece of paper from his desk, wrote something and signed it before passing it to her.


    D¨¦j¨¤ vu, she thought, accepting the note. It said: ¡®This individual is representing the Cardinar Circuit Runner¡¯s Guild¡¯ and signed ¡®Alain Taschel, senior manager¡¯.


    ¡°So, I have a job now?¡±


    ¡°Two weeks ago, my wife¡¯s niece came to visit.¡± A strange non-squitter, but she didn¡¯t stop him. ¡°She was planning some form of ¡®spiritual journey¡¯ to the great lakes of the Grand Circuit ¨C even Dread Lake. She¡¯s a priest, a Dekantist, you see, and somewhat odd even for them.¡± There was some real bitterness in his voice and he became more animated as he talked, gesturing out his frustrations.


    ¡°Now, my wife was obviously not happy, but it was fine; pilgrimages happen all the time and it meant she would rise in standing in the church. What was not fine, though, is that she wouldn¡¯t be joining them. Now, my wife loves her, so I, of course, offered a band of runners to travel with her for safekeeping. To my consternation ¨C and my dear wife¡¯s horror ¨C she refused! Said she had to do it alone!¡±


    She¡¯d leaned back in her chair at the unexpected rant.


    Not that he seemed to notice her anymore. He¡¯d begun pacing around in anger. He grabbed a bottle of brown liquid out of the cabinet near the window and poured himself some. Then, immediately downed half of it, then turned around and pointed at her, glass in hand.


    ¡°Then, suddenly, she got a glazed look in her eyes and said: ¡®One fang in one hand, send the last of the Palters to me¡¯ or some such nonsense. All in that whispery, hard-to-hear tone of hers. Now, I can see that you don¡¯t know anything-¡± she was mildly offended at the phrasing ¡°or you¡¯d have said something about it. ¡®Twas probably that damned lake again.¡± He whispered the last part.


    He looked a bit disheveled, some of his hairs falling into his eyes before smoothing them back in place. He¡¯d begun to calm down and retook the seat behind his desk.


    ¡°Don¡¯t get me wrong, I like her well enough, but she can be just so¡­ much sometimes.¡± He downed the other half of his drink, letting the silence linger for a moment.


    ¡°Now, I don¡¯t know for sure what she¡¯ll ask you, but it seems obvious. You agree to it, guide her and make sure she¡¯s safe, got it?¡±


    She nodded and before she could broach the subject, Alain reached into some drawer and handed her a pouch. From the feel and weight of it, it was filled with coin and paper money, and not a small amount of it either.


    ¡°Upon completion, you¡¯ll get the other half alongside a letter of recommendation. Meaning you¡¯ll be a full member of the Guild.¡±


    He looked at her, glare significantly intensifying.


    ¡°If you fail, do not set in foot in Cardinar again or the only foot you¡¯ll know is six underground. Am I clear?¡±


    The man wasn¡¯t particularly intimidating ¨C he looked like too much of a bureaucrat for her to feel that danger ¨C but the threat was clear, real and within his means.


    ¡°Got it,¡± Sally responded, rising from her seat.


    ¡°Good.¡± Some of the manic energy had left the man, making him look tired, far more than when she walked in. ¡°You know the way to the church?¡±


    ¡°Yep, down main from west, towards the lake.¡±


    She got up and left, nothing further needing to be said.


    It was time to do some shopping.


    X


    The Red Bazaar was, of course, just next door. A grand, circular building over thirty yards in diameter, the inside of it was packed with market stalls and the people wandering between them. Counting the ground floor, there were three levels to it. The roof was open, albeit covered in a tarp of some kind to block the sun. Due to the open ceiling, the first and second floor were smaller and not as busy, but the further up the more expensive the goods.


    The cloying smells, loud noises and dazzling lights of glassware glinting in the sparse sunlight while the rest of the room lingered in the tarp¡¯s shadow; all of it overwhelmed her senses. And yet within the nausea, she ironically found something comforting.


    Her home had been a bit like this. All of her family, all of the men and women bearing the Palters name, living in a compact cube and underground tunnels, talking, eating, working and living together. She¡¯d found it claustrophobic at times; another reason she wished to leave for the Circuits. Another reason for why she had become a Warden.


    A thing she would never truly experience again, only false memories jumpstarted by parallels.


    Nevertheless, she had a reason for being here and got to it.


    Selling the handguns and rifles along with ammunition she¡¯d looted from the caravan was an easy thing; weapons were always in demand. She kept one of the rifles, though, along with its accompanying ammunition. She did not know if her companion-to-be had her own weapons, but she figured a priest wouldn¡¯t normally keep one on hand.


    The rifle she kept was a Scarab .308 lever-action, a slightly less powerful rifle than the lever-action she was used to. Hopefully, the priest could help with some ranged support.


    The bloodfiend fang was a bit more difficult to sell. She knew it could be done ¨C Niall had told her about what parts of what demons were worth something ¨C but she didn¡¯t quite know where to sell. The more generalist stores offered little compared to what she¡¯d been told, and had been unwilling to bargain or barter. Eventually, she did find an alchemist on the second floor who did.


    It was a vocation unfamiliar to her, but apparently it was a specialized form of a Villa medician ¨C a healer with a slightly magical twist. One of the few exceptions to the no-magic-allowed attitude of the Villas.


    With money in hand, she could now start purchasing. A brown leather, military-style duffle bag was the first, to sling on her back while her other, smaller backpack would go to her front. A second and third set of clothes and underwear, all of either cotton and linen. Some extra .45 and .308 ammunition. Extra waterbags, both for her and the priest.


    Her most important purchase, however, was a fully-charged burner with a skillet and a cooking pot. She even purchased some refills for it, the small charged metal easy enough to carry. Now she could finally prepare something other tack, cheese and salted meats, or at the very least make them taste better with some vegetables in a stew.


    All in all, she felt ready for the journey to come. Hopefully, the priest would be too, or this could quickly turn into a months-long nightmare.

 6. Faith and Fate

    All in all, she felt ready for the journey to come. Hopefully, the priest would be too, or this could quickly turn into a months-long nightmare.


    6. Faith and Fate ¨C July 23, Year 216


    The plaza had become less populated as morning passed into noon. Late morning hadn¡¯t been a particularly busy time at the plaza, certainly nothing compared to the evening before, but when Sally stepped out of the Circuit Runner¡¯s Guild at the start of noon, it was almost deserted.


    When she thought about it, it shouldn¡¯t be a surprise. It was noon in July, the height of summer. The heat was draining and the sun deadly.


    There were no animals dragging carts about, no people running across the breadth of the plaza. Most caravans leaving today would¡¯ve already left at dawn; they wouldn¡¯t be running around to sell their wares, stock up on traditions, acquire new inventory or negotiate contracts at noon. The people present ¨C including the guards ¨C stuck close to the building, either seated on the patios of the many buildings surrounding the plaza, or they were standing in alleys, all seeking the shade. The few people not doing so were semi-hurriedly walking towards their destination.


    What was surprising was how unaffected she was. It had not really occurred to her that it was summer, her mind still stuck in the winter she¡¯d fought the Erlings. From what she recalled, she hadn¡¯t really sweat either, and the journey to Cardinar was effortless, barring the strange, rapid fight with the bloodfiend. Only afterward had she felt tired and in need of rest.


    She would be grateful of it if it didn¡¯t lead to more questions. Questions she neither had the time, knowledge nor currently the desire to answer. She had things to do. She could wait until Lovesse.


    She moved toward the street leading to the shores of Lake Prior. On the way, she spotted several manufactories of all kinds to her left and right, the scant sounds of metalwork echoing from them. There were also the wharfs to her left, a number of boats still docked but the majority of them out at the lake. The lake water might not be drinkable, but unlike the many other poisoned waters of the Grand Circuit, its fish were both edible, numerous and relatively safe acquire. Another one of the reasons Lake Prior plays host to the largest and most numerous population centers in the Grand Circuit.


    Outside of those, there were a number of large buildings straddling the shoreline. Three of them were practically the same and one was distinctly different from all surrounding buildings.


    The similar ones, located on the far right of the shores, were the water treatment facilities. Massive, monstrous buildings unlike any of the others in the city. They were also, by far, the oldest. In fact, they were the first buildings around Lake Prior, and the reasons the Anteer cities were where they were.


    Depending on who you, there were two explanations for their existence. To some, especially those outside the Circuits, they were simply remnants of the Old World, one of the few saved from destruction by the Last of the Angels, the Protector of All-Children and the reason humanity survived its darkest days. What Sally knew as the Warden of the World.


    Or they were made by the Ante, the prophet of the Dekantists, the Ten-Time Drinker, Granter of Visions and Miracle-Maker. They were the ancestor, patron and protector of the Anteer cities and the Anteeri themselves. The figure around which the religion formed.


    The other building, to her direct left, was a cathedral by the aptly-named Church of the Evergraced. It was a large stone building with four towers: two in front, one at the center and one at the back. On top of the central spire was a cross, an older symbol repurposed by the Church of the Evergraced.


    It was covered in painted mosaic and had numerous stained-glass windows, all of them depicting ¨C either symbolically or directly ¨C a scene of one of these Evergraced performing their holy deeds. Many of them were about Evergraced teaching their disciples about survival, engineering, manufacturing or a variety of other vital skills, with others depicting more straightforward acts like killing demons, healing children and so forth.


    The Church was not native to the Circuits. It came from the West, from the Grand Central Union, brought by its traders much like the Arcanist¡¯s Guild. Much like the Prophet Ante and the Dekantists were the communal heart of the Anteeri, the Evergraced and its church was that of the Grandies.


    Despite Alain directing her to a ¡®church¡¯, this wasn¡¯t her destination. No, hers was the ¡®church¡¯ ¨C called a temple by everyone else ¨C of the Dekantists at the end of the road.


    The temple was located in the center of the city¡¯s shores, its stone causeway jutting out from it much like the piers further to the left. The stone path was about four people wide and eventually split in two paths of equal width, meeting again after some distance to form a sizeable square.


    Unlike the initial causeway, the square part of the temple complex was roofed with triangular, blue ¨C painted, she presumed ¨C tiles with wooden poles acting as support. On the right edge of the central square was a larger, two storied building serving as the main temple, attended to by the Dekantists¡¯ priests. This temple was made entirely of wood, marking it as a comparatively newer addition to the complex.


    On the furthest edge from the shore, at the end of another causeway going further into the lake, was a much smaller, likely older stone shrine with a flat stone roof. The left edge of the square was left, granting an overview of the lake.


    The entirety of the temple complex was, barring a ceiling to ward off the sun, completely open. Even the main temple had no walls, only pillars on which its second floor and grand roof rested. The entire complex was built close to water-level, allowing the occasional wave to flow over it. Thankfully, the path was treated by the priests so it wouldn¡¯t become slick.


    There were very few people inside the complex. The only ones present were at the main temple, being attended to by a priest dressed in white robes with a blue sash and a red, V-shaped hat covering his head and ears. He held a staff of sorts in one hand, occasionally waving it over the small crowd or taping it on their head, and a pitcher in the other.


    Sally was planning to go to the priest, until she saw a figure half-obscured by the roof-bearing poles, sitting at the upper-left corner of the square with their legs in the lake.


    From what she could tell at a distance, the figure was dressed in a blue robe and carried a large bag, one undoubtedly meant for travel. Sally figured that was the person she sought.


    Sally approached her, but right before she could address the figure, they spoke.


    ¡°When you look into the water, what do you see?¡± The figure ¨C a woman ¨C asked without turning her head.


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    She¡¯s bald, was the first thought that entered Sally¡¯s mind. Perhaps a bit unkind, but women of the Circuits ¨C and men, if they could help it ¨C were rarely bald. That was more of a Southern thing, women sorcerers in particular, from what she understood. The sun wasn¡¯t kind on the bald and the woman in front of her didn¡¯t even wear a hat to ward off the sun, thus risking a heatstroke.


    Sally knew what she was really asking, but decided to indulge her. Stepping beside the woman, she looked into the water.


    For a moment she saw her own face. Dull brown eyes, short brown hair and scarred brown skin, before that vision faded and was replaced with another one. A vision she¡¯d seen before.


    ¡°A city in lake¡¯s black depth. Lustrous, if not for the rust. Breathless, if not for its death.¡± The reply was a bit poetic for her taste, but Sally didn¡¯t choose it. No one did. Whatever vision you saw comes with words and these were always wholly unique to a person, and always somewhat dramatic.


    Not that the vision didn¡¯t earn its drama. The first time she¡¯d seen it, she, much like anyone else, had been struck by it. Buildings reaching towards the sky ¨C or the surface ¨C the streets and alleys between them filled with moving lights and people beyond counting, carried in its own tide like sands in a river. All drowned in a blue, watery veil, stuck in endless night. A necropolis.


    It was a vision of the Old World, where all the people in the Circuits would hardly make up more than a small township. Where a single man could hoard the wealth of nations. Where one could drink water on demand and get food on command. Where people shot more lead for sport than the new world did for survival.


    A vision to hope for, aspire to and, most of all, to be wary of. While striking, it had always given her the creeps, and now especially. It was a city of the dead, and probably dead for a reason. The lake was a lure for the foolish to fall into, a lure which many had fallen for.


    After the First Sip, this vision would fade, either into something else ¨C which indicated that you could risk the Second ¨C or into simple reflection, which meant your next would be your last. Not that it would be safe if a different vision revealed itself; any one beyond the First was always a risk.


    ¡°You have yet to take the First Sip, then?¡± The woman turned her head, surprise clear in both her voice and eyes.


    They were wide, green and inquisitive, but without edge. A genuine curiosity seemed to be fixed within them, permanently. To be fair, the woman did just ask a question, but Sally felt nonetheless the impression was a right one.


    ¡°Yes. Is that shocking?¡±


    Sally watched the women pinch her chin for a second, before again turning to look out over the lake.


    ¡°Maybe, kinda. I figured a vision and task given by the Ante would be about another of the faithful. But why should it? Makes more sense that it wouldn¡¯t be another believer, now that I think about it.¡± A moment of silence, before the woman turned to Sally once more. ¡°Will you take the Sip?¡±


    She¡¯d been tempted to before, but Niall always said it wasn¡¯t the time and she¡¯d never been at the lake without him. And now she certainly wasn¡¯t in the mood. Some had seen visions of the future, others had gained skills or knowledge they otherwise would never have gotten, while others still would see something about themselves, their future or their past.


    She didn¡¯t want any of it.


    ¡°Is that your task, then? To convince me to take the plunge? Here I thought I was to guide you to the great lakes of the Circuits.¡± Sally asked, armes crossed.


    The woman shrugged in response. ¡°It was just a question. And maybe it was part of my task, who knows? Couldn¡¯t hurt to ask.¡±


    ¡°I suppose that fits a priest,¡± Sally replied.


    The woman gave a rueful grin. ¡°Alain sees religion as a pyramid, with each step upward more holy than the other, and with a more sacred ¨C and specific ¨C title. A common thing for men from the East, even when they¡¯ve lived half their lives within this city. A priest is what he assumed someone of my stature to be, so a priest is what I am, to him.¡±


    ¡°Who are you, then?¡±


    The woman stood up, water dripping from her robes.


    She¡¯s taller than me.


    ¡°Luciana Orta,¡± she thrust out her hand. ¡°But call me Lucy.¡±


    Sally looked at the hand for a second, before grabbing and shaking it.


    ¡°Sarah Olivia Palters, call me Sally,¡± they shook. ¡°But I suppose you already knew that.¡±


    Lucy gave her a bright smile. ¡°I did not, in fact, know that. Well, beyond the last name. Visions are rarely that specific, but you¡¯re an exception apparently. It showed a one-armed woman, last of a Villa, with one large tooth. I assumed the last one to be metaphorical.¡± She tilted her head for a second and leaned in toward Sally, jokingly inspecting her before giving a self-satisfied nod with a slight smirk. ¡°Seems I was right.¡±


    Sally gave a small smile in response. ¡°Not so metaphorical, actually. I had the fang of a bloodfiend with me when I went to your uncle, had to show it to convince him. Got right annoyed afterward.¡±


    ¡°Ha! I remember when I told him about my vision. Had to go all loopy and dreamily. Should¡¯ve seen his face, like he was sucking down fish-guts! Always fun to mess with him.¡±


    ¡°So, you didn¡¯t get the vision ¨C or prophecy or whatever ¨C then and there?¡±


    ¡°Nope, only when taking the Sip. Every Anteeri knows that, but Alain doesn¡¯t so it¡¯s become a bit of an in-joke. My aunt finds it funny too, though she won¡¯t admit it.¡± Lucy grinned.


    A moment of silence, before Sally broke it. ¡°So¡­ What¡¯ll we be doing, then?¡±


    ¡°You guessed correct earlier. We¡¯ll journey to all the great lakes, do a circle of the Red and Green Circuits, and then we return here. Alain has already paid half, right?¡± Sally gave a nod. ¡°Well, you¡¯ll get the other half when we return, and that¡¯ll be it.¡±


    Sally was a bit baffled. ¡°That¡¯s it? No vague ¡®things will reveal in time, or ¡®knowing is its own reward¡¯ or some such? Seems a bit straightforward for a spiritual journey.¡±


    Lucy shrugged in response, and Sally gave a small huff. ¡°Did the vision show so little? Not even why I am necessary for your journey?¡±


    ¡°It doesn¡¯t really show anything, really. Just a feeling, some vague knowledge of how to get where you need to go, what you need. Always enough to get you to do something, but never enough to know why to do it. Maybe otherwise, it wouldn¡¯t need to be done anymore? Or something like that,¡± Lucy replied.


    ¡°And no caravans? No runners or guards?¡±


    ¡°Nope, just us two. Did tell me that. Besides, it is our spirit journey. Wouldn¡¯t be right with other people.¡± Again, Lucy gave a bright smile in response. It seemed to be a habit.


    Sally groaned in response.


    ¡°Please tell me you¡¯ve travelled the Circuits? Fired a gun, at least?¡± It was almost a plea.


    Lucy, to her disappointment, waggled her hand. ¡°Only the Red, and only around Lake Prior. Does that count? I think it counts. I travel it a lot, and I do it alone. I¡¯ve shot a rifle a couple of times, even hit something with it once.¡± Again, a bright smile.


    She hoped that last part was a joke.


    ¡°This is for you, then.¡± Sally gave her the rifle, though she did find it somewhat odd Lucy didn¡¯t carry one. ¡°I¡¯ll give you the spare ammo for it later.¡±


    Lucy gave the rifle a one-over and then slung it on her back.


    ¡°Do you have everything packed or do we have to go by your house or something?¡± Sally asked.


    ¡°Don¡¯t have a house, so I got all I need right here.¡± Lucy replied, patting her bag. ¡°Besides, this is the right time to leave.¡± Lucy nod to herself and motioned for her to go.


    Sally didn¡¯t question it, shrugged and began to move back toward the city, Lucy stepping beside her.


    X


    The roads were still clear, the heat having yet to dissipate. Passing the gate took a bit longer. Two caravans, one going in and the other going out, were trying to pass each other while their leaders were talking with the guard. Together, they were blocking the gate, but seeing as no one but them was going in or out, no one seemed ready to hurry them along.


    All in all, the journey to get out of the city was a short one, albeit one filled with conversation.


    Lucy had gone first, feeling it¡¯d be her chance to get some info out of Sally. So, Sally told her some things about her past, never stepping on the too recent emotional landmines of the Erling incursion, her miraculous survival or the destruction of her Villa. She mostly told the woman about her skills and some of her experiences as a junior Warden, what the Villas were like and mostly kept things vague, before finding an opportunity to turn the questions back on Lucy.


    ¡°So, what do you do for a living? You said you weren¡¯t a priest,¡± Sally asked.


    ¡°Well, not really, though I suppose I do perform clerical duties. I travel from city to city, all along Lake Prior from the Bite to Cardinar. I help out what needs helping, preach what needs preaching, advise who needs advising. That sort of thing,¡± Lucy answered.


    ¡°You travel from city to city without weapons?¡± If she did that regularly, she should begin to doubt her partner¡¯s sanity. More than she already did.


    ¡°Oh, I do have weapons, but they¡¯re all right here.¡± Lucy replied, tapping her temple, before reconsidering and laying a hand over her heart. ¡°Or maybe here? It¡¯s not quite clear to me.¡±


    That surprised Sally, and she raised her eyebrows. ¡°You do magic?¡± She didn¡¯t know priests ¨C or whatever she was ¨C did that.


    ¡°Sort of? It is not arcane magic like the Guild practices. It was a blessing I received from my Fourth Sip. Proper term is miracles, I suppose, though I¡¯m not quite clear on the difference.¡± Lucy gave her a side eye, before leaning toward her in mock conspiracy. ¡°Don¡¯t tell anyone I said that. It¡¯s ¡®bad for our image¡¯¡± Lucy moved back. ¡°Or something like that.¡±


    Fourth Sip. The thought struck Sally, and she was almost hesitant to ask.


    ¡°How many times have you drank?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m on my sixth now. After our journey¡¯s over, I plan to take my seventh.¡±


    That¡­ ¡°¡®S a lot, right?¡± Sally asked quietly.


    Sally looked at her new companion again, taking in the new information. Every Sip after the First decreased the likelihood of surviving the next by a substantial margin, even with the information one could gain from looking into the lake.


    She couldn¡¯t even begin to comprehend the calculations necessary to determine the odds.


    ¡°Oh yes, left quite an impact Ancora.¡± Lucy gave her the by-now familiar bright smile. ¡°Young girl like me, blessed more times than over half the Praesidia? At my age? Unheard of, really!¡± Loud laughter followed.


    ¡°Just wait until after I take the Seventh! I¡¯ll be up there with the high-most of them! Probably give them all a heart attack! Ha, that¡¯d be quite the coup!¡±


    Sally realized she wasn¡¯t just travelling with ¡®some priest¡¯, but, if Lucy was to be believed, a bona fide saint-in-the-making. A soon-to-be head of her religion.


    And, if that was true, what did it mean for her to have a vision specifically about Sally?

 7. Wandering the Red and Finding Silver

    ¡°Just wait until after I take the Seventh! I¡¯ll be up there with the high-most of them! Probably give them all a heart attack! Ha, that¡¯d be quite the coup!¡±


    Sally realized she wasn¡¯t just travelling with ¡®some priest¡¯, but, if Lucy was to be believed, a bona fide saint-in-the-making. A soon-to-be head of her religion.


    And, if that was true, what did it mean for her to have a vision specifically about Sally?


    7. Wandering the Red and Finding Silver ¨C July 26, Year 216


    They were travelling the western road of the Red Circuit, the second most dangerous part of the Red Circuit and the third most dangerous on the Circuits as a whole. On the western side lay the Greysalt, while the eastern side held the Red Wastes ¨C an endless expanse of red sand dunes, containing the least, yet certainly the worst of the Circuits.


    Threats here from both sides and it being a Red Circuit road meant the road itself was another one. If it weren¡¯t for the river Mylard forming a secondary border between the wastes of the Red and Gold Circuits, the road might¡¯ve been unusable. But with it, it turned a one-hundred-and-fifteen miles journey along the Gold into a less than sixty miles one. Seeing as the longer route had their own set of dangers, the shorter route remained well travelled, if not exactly popular.


    As the end of the fourth day of their conjoined journey came to an end, Sally found herself increasingly agitated.


    The pace had slowed down a lot with Lucy around. Gone were the twenty-miles-a-day, they¡¯d barely made thirty in three. It wasn¡¯t quite as slow as a caravan¡¯s pace of travel, but certainly slower than a group of circuit runners, let alone Sally by herself.


    Not that Sally was annoyed at the slower pace. She¡¯d expected it, especially after realizing just how far the blessing brought by her survival went. Thirty miles in three days ¨C three and a half, really, they¡¯d left at noon on the twenty-third ¨C was not great, but at the height of summer and on such a dangerous road, it was good enough.


    Nor was she annoyed at Lucy. The excentric pilgrim ¨C the term she decided fit the woman most, for now ¨C might be a bit of a chatterbox, prone to asking questions about everything and anything, but she never complained about or slacked off on her duties.


    And the woman¡¯s duties, partly self-imposed as they were, were many. Lucy had taken it upon herself do most of the day tasks on their journey. Opening cans, cooking, pitching their tent ¨C Lucy¡¯s tent, since Sally had forgotten they might need one, used as she was to finding mountain alcoves to sleep in ¨C dividing water, clearing the camp and cleaning what needed cleaning; Lucy did it all.


    That was what Sally was annoyed by, although she couldn¡¯t explain the why behind it. At least, not logically. It was the best way to split duties like this, with Sally as guide, watching the roads and looking for ¨C and, if it ever came to it, dealing with ¨C threats.


    It reminded her of her time travelling with Niall. The tasks had been split similarly back then, of course with Sally filling the roll Lucy did currently. Niall would be on watch and tutoring her on what to watch out for: what clouds weren¡¯t clouds, what pieces of the river or sand moved oddly, where the best place to make camp was, when and where to hide, when and where to fight; all she¡¯d learned about travelling the Circuits came from him.


    Sally now did the same with Lucy, less out of obligation or a desire for an apprentice of some sort, but more to fill the time and stave off annoyance. And, of course, because Lucy asked about it. Constantly.


    Was that why she was irritated? Was it the reenactment of her memories with Niall that had her on edge? The constant recycling of things of the past? Or was it the reversal in roles itself, her in Niall¡¯s position, that was causing her pain masked in irritation and restlessness?


    Another option, one she liked even less, was that it felt like Lucy pitied her. She doubted it ¨C there were no such looks coming from Lucy, nor unasked-for comfort, offers to help or anything else that indicated something like pity coming from Lucy.


    It was rather a projection of her own self-pity, hurt pride, feeling of uselessness and insecurity about being one-armed. About being seen as a cripple, rather than the trained and competent ¨C albeit junior ¨C Warden she was.


    Or perhaps it was none of these things at all. Perhaps it was that she simply wished she was at Lovesse already, with her brother and hopefully getting some answers about the magical miracle that was her life now.


    Currently, Lucy and her had settled on the western side of the road, with Lucy inside their tent. The pilgrim was fast asleep, with Sally taking an elongated first watch. Seeing as Lucy did most other things and had by far the most difficulty travelling ¨C heat and weariness from travel still seemed to escape Sally, for better or worse ¨C Sally had decided to make sure that Lucy could get a full six hours of sleep uninterrupted before switching their watch. Afterward, Sally would sleep the few hours till sunrise, after which they would continue their journey.


    Sally didn¡¯t even know if she needed even that amount anymore. She didn¡¯t feel tired at the end of the day and while sleep certainly left her feeling refreshed, it felt more like having had a prolonged rest than a good sleep.


    That should¡¯ve been a good thing, but all these ¡®blessings¡¯ left her unsettled. She¡¯d built up a routine, extensive ones drilled deep into her bones, becoming part of her very being, and now she suddenly didn¡¯t need them anymore? ¡®Unsettled¡¯ was too weak a term for it; it left her feeling inhuman.


    And if she wasn¡¯t human, what was she?


    And why couldn¡¯t it have healed my arm?


    X


    Night stretched on, the Red Wastes and Greysalt illuminated only by the light of the stars and moon. It was thankfully enough light to see far enough out into both wastes to spot any threat from a good distance. And a threat Sally did spot, coming from the Greysalt. Though how much of a threat was up to debate.


    It was a single saltfly, likely a small one, even, but Sally couldn¡¯t be sure from this distance.


    It was a worrying sight regardless. It had passed the Mylard and while it wasn¡¯t heading their way, it could discover their camp. Alone it would not be able to do anything ¨C Sally could easily take it out if it entered firing range ¨C but there was no certainty it was alone. Worse, it could be a scout from a much larger war-party of the Grey Hives; the demons often had smaller, faster and stealthier individuals perform this role.


    It was unlikely that this was one. War-parties were rare and unlikely to travel at night. Unfortunately, they were also in a position where one would more likely be then anywhere else: the border between the two wastes. War-parties would cross into the Red Waste to hunt more powerful demons than their normal prey in the Greysalts, carrying their bounty back to the hives for reasons unknown. There was plenty of food in the Greysalts, after all.


    So, Sally deliberated for a second, before making a decision.


    Opening the flap to their shared tent, Sally shook Lucy awake. Groggily, the woman opened her bleary eyes and looked questioningly at Sally.


    ¡°We have to move. Grey Hive war-party might be in the area.¡±


    That woke her up fast. ¡°What, how close?!¡±


    ¡°Might, be in the area,¡± Sally emphasized, ¡°but better safe than sorry.¡±


    Lucy grumbled for a bit, laying her head back on the floor for a second and groaning loudly. But she didn¡¯t question her decision and eventually got up.


    They both packed as quickly as possible before moving out. Sally kept wary eyes on the lone saltfly for as long as she could. She thought she saw something moving further behind it, but could as likely be the movements of the river catching stray moon-and-starlight, or simply the darkness playing tricks on her.


    ¡°How far do we have to walk,¡± Lucy asked.


    ¡°Half-a-mile, at least,¡± Sally replied and pointed to a dune in the Red Wastes. ¡°We¡¯ll make camp behind that hill. Should be far enough and hidden enough.¡±


    ¡°In the Red Wastes? Why? Isn¡¯t that more dangerous than staying near the Grey?¡± Lucy inquired. ¡°I thought the demons in the Red were ¡®the worst of the lot¡¯?¡± She¡¯d told Lucy that the day before yesterday, if she recalled correctly.


    Sally shrugged, though she doubted Lucy could see it.


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    ¡°Better a bloodfiend or stonegroll than an army of bugs. Any of the greater threats we¡¯re unlikely to see.¡±


    Whilst answering, Sally¡¯d kept an eye out and saw a strange, silvery glow appearing over the horizon. A reflection of the moon off of the road, maybe?


    ¡°Do you think we¡¯ll¨C¡±


    ¡°Do you see that silver glow in the distance?¡± Sally interrupted, signaling for a halt.


    Lucy walked up beside her. ¡°I do. What do you think it is?¡±


    ¡°Might be nothing, but¨C¡±


    ¡°Yes, yes, better safe than sorry,¡± Lucy said, sighing. ¡°You said that one already.¡±


    Sally frowned. ¡°Don¡¯t be snarky. It¡¯s a good rule to live by, like¨C¡±


    ¡°Hope for the best, plan for the worst? You said that one yesterday already.¡± She could practically hear Lucy roll her eyes behind her.


    Sally huffed. ¡°So, you do listen,¡± she teased, before frowning. The light was coming closer.


    ¡°Come, we need to get off the road. It¡¯s moving towards us.¡±


    They did, moving down the slight incline and into the Red Wastes for a few dozen yards. The light was moving faster than expected and she motioned Lucy to lie down before doing so herself. Sally drew the gun from her holster and Lucy her rifle.


    Together they lay, half-buried in the sand, watching the silvery glow move closer and slowly begin to take shape. Even so, Sally had no idea what they were facing.


    ¡°Shit¡­¡± Lucy whispered.


    ¡°What?¡± Sally responded, equally quiet. Could that thing hear them from over there.


    ¡°Shit!¡± Lucy¡¯s whisper turned harsh. ¡°That¡¯s the Kispan Dalqa.¡±


    Sally searched her memory, but found nothing.


    ¡°The what?¡±


    ¡°The Kispan Dalqa, the Half-Knight?¡± Lucy said, apparently surprised Sally didn¡¯t recognize the name. ¡°It¡¯s a real, true, waters-curse-it capital-d Demon!¡±


    Sally had never encountered one. Niall had never encountered one. No Warden had ever encountered one. No-one she¡¯d ever known had encountered one before, nor heard of anyone else encountering one.


    During the Days of the Long Son, the End of Everything, there was, supposedly, also a War in Heaven, fought between those above, below and everything else in between.


    Records of it were vague ¨C another name for the Apocalypse, the Days without Records ¨C but stories of them remained. The true Demons, presumably beaten, lost against the Angels or whatnot, and were cast down onto the New World to suffer for the remainder of their days. They were supposedly the origin of all other demons, living in the Grey Hives, buried underneath mountains, hidden at the bottom of Lake Prior and other locations such as those; places no-one ever saw.


    But even if their names, appearance and homes were more legend than fact, their existence wasn¡¯t. Actually existing figures were said to have fought and even killed some of them, their corpses still preserved. Drinkers from the waters of Lake Prior had visions about those fights. The Evergraced, along with the armies of the nascent Grand Central Union, killed the one haunting their lands. Sorcerers of the southern League studied their remains, retrieved from the cursed ruins lying deep underneath their lands. The Merkahn Republic in the east was once ruled by one of them, before their slave rebellion turned revolution.


    That Demons still roamed the Grand Circuit came as no surprise. That there were rumors of a dozen of them in the Red Circuit alone was equally unsurprising.


    That they actually encountered one on the road was.


    The silver light was slowly approaching, revealing its form. The Kispan Dalqa consisted of the horse and its ride. Trailing it was a plume of silver fire, brightening and dimming in rhythm with the horse¡¯s gallop.


    It was a half-knight in the literal sense of the word; both the horse and the figure atop of it only had half a body. It made for an odd scene, seeing a horse with two legs run the same as one with four would. As if its other legs were still attached to it, but hidden somehow. The angle they were facing the Demon was from its cleaved-off side, revealing the disturbing network of burning organs and innards of both the horse and its rider.


    Then, the figure¡¯s speeding pace slowed to a canter, before coming to a full stop. The figure turned its head, looking over the sands for prey. For them.


    It was as if the world fell still all at once. Sally heard Lucy¡¯s breath hitch and her own heart pounding louder.


    The figure stepped off the road, zigzagging its way down, looking around.


    Its appearance was unexpectedly simple. Outside of its uniformly silver appearance ¨C unbroken even in the whites of its eyes and depths of its pupil ¨C it had no demonic markings as one would expect. There were no fangs, no hideous grin, no curving tusks ¨C nothing but a fair, if stoic visage of a young man sculpted out of quicksilver. The armor, the longsword, the everything looked like an ideal, if uninspired knight.


    As quietly as she could, Sally asked: ¡°How do we kill it?¡±


    ¡°We can¡¯t, it¡¯s a Demon! It takes more than bullets and some magic to kill that thing!¡± Lucy¡¯s voice trembled, the whisper on the edge of turning into a shout.


    She grabbed Lucy by the shoulder, giving her a reassuring squeeze. ¡°Then what can we do? There must be some way, or we would¡¯ve never known it existed.¡± Sally stared into the woman¡¯s panicked eyes with a gaze of steel, channeling the memories of her mentor doing the same to her.


    It seemed to work, and Lucy calmed. Her rapid breathing turned deep and steady. After a moment in thought, Lucy gave a nod and answered.


    ¡°They¡¯re more vulnerable, more wary of magic. I might know something to scare it off.¡± There was a looking of hesitation on her face. ¡°Just¡­ try to keep it away from me, if you can.¡± Lucy¡¯s voice sounded unsure, a tremor in her voice.


    If I can, huh, Sally thought. She gave Lucy a large, reassuring smile.


    The Demon¡¯s pace had remained slow, unhurried but inquisitive, like it was taking a stroll instead of hunting prey. Of course, inevitably, it happened.


    For a moment, the Demon stood still. Then, it slowly turned towards their location and stared. There was no expression on its face, neither joy nor fury nor triumph. It simply stared without emotion, before turning and giving its horse a kick. It whinnied and tossed its head, rearing back on its hind leg.


    Sally jumped up, getting in front of her charge, with Lucy taking a few steps back.


    The horse¡¯s front leg came down and the Demon started running toward them, hooves thundering and steady even in the soft sand. The half-knight was still over fifty yards away, but rapidly closing the distance.


    Sally began shooting while moving edging closer, putting extra distance between her and Lucy. The Demon was still in effective range, but knowing her aim a hit was unlikely. Still, it was better to shoot. Against a true Demon, conservation of resources was foolish.


    Lucy¡¯s rifle didn¡¯t fire. Instead, she focused on her task and begun to mutter ¨C a chant, undoubtedly.


    The distance between her and the Demon began shrinking rapidly. Fifty yards becoming forty, turning thirty¡­


    Sally ejected the now-empty magazine, slid the gun in her holster and grabbed another from her belt, slammed it into her Guardsman and flicked the slide lock. A move she¡¯d been practicing during their travels, now done in the heat of battle within seconds.


    The Demon had come within twenty yards, so she started focusing more on aim than blindly firing at the half-knight.


    The first three shots went towards the horse, hoping to take it down from under the Demon, but it had no effect, not even a stumble or a dodge. The bullets had simply seemed to vanish without a trace.


    There goes the easy way out, she thought. Without the horse, keeping the Demon from Lucy would¡¯ve been much easier.


    The next two went to its chest, the hits causing silver sparks to fly from it, but not much else. It didn¡¯t slow down, it didn¡¯t even look down at where the bullets hit. Neither could she spot any markings on it, but that could be due to the distance.


    Now within ten yards, she aimed at the rider¡¯s half-head. The first shot missed, not because of poor aim but because the Demon had dodged it, moving its head out of the way of the bullets path. Whether it predicted the trajectory or reacted to it, she couldn¡¯t tell


    Head it is. She fired her last shot, hoping to make it count. Faster than her eye could track, the demon swung its sword and caught the last on the flat of its blade, its expression unmoving.


    Simultaneously, Lucy had finished her spell. A powerful flash of light came from behind, bathing the Red Wastes in watery-blue light. A moment later three rapidly oscillating needles of blue light arrived, two down-low from around her legs and one over the top of her head.


    The horse reared up and an ugly neigh escaped its half-throat. The half-knight swung the sword down and up again, a light-trail following its arc. A curtain of silver fire emerged from the ground, blazing sideways and upwards, catching Lucy¡¯s spell and obscuring the Demon.


    Sally grinned. It was an encouraging sign, to see a Demon react to the magic.


    While reloading, Sally dashed to the Demon¡¯s left. Despite instinct telling her to remain in front of Lucy in order to protect her, she knew that she could easily be trampled under its charge, offering no more resistance than the sand underneath. Moving to the side of the Demon meant that, as long as Lucy could continue her spells ¨C and from the still-bright light behind her, it seemed she could ¨C the Demon would have to deal with attacks from two directions.


    Moving to the left of the Demon meant she might get a good shot at its fleshy bits. She gambled on it being its weak point.


    Before she got very far, however, the half-knight jumped through the silvery curtain and resumed its charge, gaze focused on Lucy.


    Thankfully, the short distance and its focus on the pilgrim had been enough to allow Sally a view of its missing half.


    As fast as she could, she fired all her rounds at the Demon. Three were aimed at the horse, two at the rider¡¯s chest and one at the head. Lucy had already fired another three-fold barrage of oscillating needles.


    Surrounded by gunfire and magic, the Demon attempted to reorient itself. The horse reared back again, the sword-and-light-trail arced to intercept and fire rose from the sands.


    This time, however, the attack was too quick and from too many directions. It managed to intercept the magic ¨C ever its focus since Lucy first fired ¨C but had failed to stop all the bullets.


    A half-tortured whinny the sound of tortured glass and tearing metal emerged from behind the fire-curtain. The silver fire collapsed inward and then turned into a pale cyclone around the Demon, consuming it in a flash fire.


    She reloaded again ¨C her final magazine. Adrenaline pumped through her veins, blood on fire, muscles taut and her breathing heavy. She was shaking heavily, fearful yet euphoric all the same. They were doing it! They were winning against a Demon!


    Warily but hopeful, Sally moved toward the inferno, eyes fixed on whatever came next.


    Over the course of a dozen or so seconds, the swirling flame gradually died down and revealed the Demon slowly getting up, half-dazed and its missing half now set aflame.


    Three more blue needles of light came from Lucy and the Demon swung at them, dispersing them with ease. Sally took the opportunity to fire two more rounds at its chest, but these too it caught with unnaturally swift movements of its blade.


    Then, it thrust its sword into the sky and for half a second, day turned to night.


    Fuck! Pain shot through her hand, her gun feeling as if it had come fresh out of hell. She immediately dropped it and instinctively began wiping her eyes, trying to get the spots out.


    As soon as she did, she saw the end of the Demon¡¯s lunge toward her, the point of the silver sword coming straight towards her chest. Its merciless, flat eyes bore into her soul, coldly judging and finding her wanting.


    Fear coursed through her cold, memories of the gully flashing through her mind.


    No! Not again!


    But instead of pain, her vision sharpened, spots vanishing in an instant and contrast increasing. Her body, in a movement preceding thought ¨C faster than a thought ¨C twisted sideways and to the right. The sword sliced across her chest, but didn¡¯t pierce. The flames from the Demon¡¯s lit side scorched her body, but she barely felt it.


    It was like with the bloodfiend, but extended, more refined. Her instinct and body were one, the years of drilling and movements instilled by training combined with her newfound new mystical might, allowing her body to operate beyond the speed of thought, without even the need of thought.


    Her hand shot toward her knife and stabbed into the flame. But even with her speed, the Demon was faster still and dodged backwards, simultaneously swiping at her.


    She instinctively caught it with her blade, but was thrown backward by the powerful blow. Her body flowed with the movement, turned it into a roll and she was back on her feet before her mind could comprehend the impact.


    She waited for the Demon to engage ¨C the goal was still to stall for Lucy, after all. And engage it did.


    Instead of a rapid forward lunge, it seemed to take things more cautiously, but also more skillfully. A swipe from right to left ¨C she dodged ¨C followed by a swipe up ¨C which she dodged as well. The sword then came down and she deflected it with her knife, after which the Demon drew back and stabbed forward.


    She was prepared to deflect the blow, but it quickly turned into an upward strike. She tried to compensate, but her speed was still, even now, behind that of the Demon. The strike landed awkwardly on her knife and her strength wasn¡¯t enough to force it downward. Her guard was blown open and the sword turned downward, ready to bisect.


    Thankfully, Lucy intervened with another barrage, but instead of the three needles, she saw hundreds of much smaller blue lights through the silver flames of the Demon. They moved like bugs to a lamp, falling towards the Demon.


    To Sally, it looked like a much weaker variant of Lucy¡¯s prior spells, but the Demon thought otherwise. Instead of slicing downward, the Demon let go of its sword, the momentum carrying it into an upwards. The silver flames spewing from the half-knight¡¯s side were dragged along with it, spiraling as if it was getting sucked into it.


    The roar of Demonfire increased exponentially, the flames twisting once more into an inferno, but much hotter than before. She could see Lucy staring at her, watching in horror as the flames were dragged upward.


    She gave her brief companion a bright smile, hoping that it came across as comforting and not the half-melted monstrosity it probably was. She hoped that if it were her last moments, Lucy would at least remember her smile.


    The flames exploded outward, engulfing her whole.


    X


    Sally found herself coming back not to the feeling of ice-water shooting up her nose, but the smell of stew.


    She opened her eyes and saw Lucy standing above her, a mixed look of anger and relief in her eyes.


    ¡°So, is the Demon dead?¡± Sally asked, mood still buoyed by the victory.


    ¡°About as dead as you,¡± came the deadpan reply.


    She groaned. Her last stands seemed doomed to fail.

 8. On Dying and Reviving

    Sally found herself coming back not to the feeling of ice-water shooting up her nose, but the smell of stew.


    She opened her eyes and saw Lucy standing above her, a mixed look of anger and relief in her eyes.


    ¡°So, is the Demon dead?¡± Sally asked, mood still buoyed by the victory.


    ¡°About as dead as you,¡± came the deadpan reply.


    She groaned. Her last stands seemed doomed to fail.


    8. On Dying and Reviving ¨C July 27, Year 216


    The ¡®stew¡¯ turned out to be more of a porridge made of dissolved hardtack, with a thrown together mix of salted pork, carrot and yam. It still tasted fine ¨C more than, even, since she felt hungrier than she¡¯d been since the seventeenth, the day she woke up.


    And wasn¡¯t that a thought, that everything had only been ten days? It felt much longer, though she figured last night¡¯s battle was a large contributing factor. The adrenaline, the feeling of dueling a true Demon, the feeling of victory turning into a near death¨C well, certain death experience, before waking up to a feeling of victory once more¡­


    It was a lot to take in, a repeat of her first revival in the waters of the arroyo combined with the bone-deep exhaustion of the bloodfiend battle, multiplied tenfold. Sally honestly doubted she would be moving this day at all. Even scooping food from the bowl in her lap and into her mouth took effort, let alone walking.


    All this compounded with the presence of another person, a woman she¡¯d met only four days ago and now wanted answers she didn¡¯t know she should give, even if she could. Thankfully, Lucy had staved off questioning after seeing her lay still on the ground, sweating and panting from the exertion of both the battle and subsequent revival.


    Sally wasn¡¯t sure what answers she should give anyhow. She¡¯d figured she would until Lovesse before spilling her experiences to her brother, and from there they could figure out to getter what was going on, fix what needed fixing and exploring the breadth of her changes.


    But something in her did want to let the pilgrim know about her. The woman was a mystic, and whatever had happened to her definitely fell more within Lucy¡¯s expertise than her own. It was likely her companion had more of an idea on what was going on than Sally herself had. Lucy had even seen her in a vision. Surely the woman must have seen something that could help her understand?


    But there was also the question of trust. They¡¯d spent only four days together, and while they¡¯d had plenty conversation during the journey, she¡¯d only just begun to get a grasp of the woman¡¯s personality. Deeply inquisitive to be certain, and a light-hearted, joyful demeanor most of the time. Simultaneously, she was a true believer in her religion, though thankfully without any of the rigidness, preachiness or zealotry that often came with the type.


    But there was also an ambition and an anger of some sort buried within her. Lucy had occasionally, though never directly, spoken about her dislike of the Praesidium, the elders tasked with ¡®overseeing¡¯ the Dekantist holy places. There¡¯d been a fire in her then, and though she kept the tone light-hearted and her smile bright, sometimes it had a vindictive, anticipatory edge to it.


    Could that ambition, that anger or desire for revenge or whatever it was, turn against Sally? See her as a tool to reach her goal? Beyond the tirelessness and other physical blessings, her revival ¨C now more than a one-off miracle ¨C combined with the visions Lucy had already received before, could certainly be twisted into a religious statement of some kind. Perhaps it didn¡¯t even need to be twisted, but simply told and let the truth do the rest.


    She doubted Lucy was that cold, it would go against the rest of her character, but fear and uncertainty were rarely logical. Sill, they¡¯d fought a damned Demon together. That has to count for something, right?


    So, she made a decision and halfway through her breakfast, and began the conversation with a soft opening.


    ¡°You said the Demon survived, right?¡±


    Lucy, seated just a few feet away from her under a linen cloth stretched out on tentpoles, turned to face her. For a second she remained silent, eyes scrutinizing, before turning her head back to her own breakfast.


    For a moment, Sally thought she¡¯d get the silent treatment, until Lucy replied.


    ¡°That explosion you were caught in¡­ It wasn¡¯t a suicidal last strike or something. It was to launch its sword into the sky and take off. It certainly didn¡¯t come down again.¡± Lucy said.


    ¡°But how do you know it survived?¡± Sally asked.


    Lucy gave a shrug in response. ¡°Those attacks I did¨C we both did, meant very little to it. That Demon¡¯s either too stupid or not alive enough to accurately guess at how much damage we could actually do to it. It was why I knew that last attack would cause it to flee so abruptly. It wasn¡¯t that it was strong, it simply looked overwhelming.¡± The woman scratched her cheek, tone softer and mildly embarrassed. ¡°Didn¡¯t know it would do it so explosively, though.¡±


    Lucy turned her head again and, seeing Sally¡¯s questioning look, explained further. ¡°Encounters with the Kispan Dalqa are rare, yes, but memory-visions about it do the rounds in the clergy, added by the not-so-tall tall-tales from travelers. I¡¯ve heard of it fleeing from such magic attacks a good dozen times, and surviving much, much stronger ones.¡± This time, Lucy¡¯s gaze remained on Sally, urging her to talk.


    She stalled for a few moments, before carefully beginning her story.


    ¡°You know about the Erling incursion, right? And the destruction of the Villas?¡± Seeing Lucy nod, Sally continued. ¡°I didn¡¯t, until ten days ago.¡± Her voice was softer than she meant to, but Lucy caught them nonetheless. Her gaze sharpened with interest.


    Sally cleared her throat, though her voice remained softer than she wished.


    This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.


    ¡°Over six months ago, in the second week of January, we ¨C my mentor Niall and another pair of Wardens from the Guhas ¨C went on an investigation.¡± Visions of the day played through her mind, still raw. ¡°Some herd had gone missing ¨C happens all the time, of course ¨C but one day a farmer was taken as well. In broad daylight, that close to the Villa itself? That¡¯s a problem.¡±


    Sally took the last bite of her porridge, staring at the metal container¡¯s bottom.


    ¡°We speculated on what did it. What creature had the intelligence to take make a person disappear? Were they bandits? Skinners? Shykes?¡±


    ¡°Erlings?¡± Lucy interjected.


    ¡°That was my guess, but not what we found. We spotted skinner-wolves attempting to lay an ambush for us ¨C we had set ourselves up as bait, you see? But we weren¡¯t prepared to fight a group of skinner-wolves and would¡¯ve left, if it weren¡¯t for one of the other wardens bringing explosives with him.¡± Because of me-, she halted the thought.


    Taking a deep breath, she continued. ¡°The new plan worked great. We lured them with the sheep we brought into a gully while the two Guhas provided overwatch, ready to drop the grenades. Niall and I waited in the gully for the signal. The demons went in, they blew them up and dazed them and we began shooting them. Like sitting ducks they were, really. Until the Erlings attacked from the rear, having laid an ambush for us. Like we were the ones supposed to be hunted!¡±


    Sally suppressed the shakes going through her hand. She remembered the surety with which she fired her rifle ¨C Ancestors, a rifle would¡¯ve been handy yesterday! ¨C and the feeling of a job well done, before everything went wrong.


    Suddenly, she felt something draping over her neck and left shoulder. Lost in memory, she tensed for a second, cold shock crawling up her spine and her fight or flight choosing to freeze instead, before she remembered where she was.


    Lucy had sat herself down beside her in the red sand, arm over her shoulder in a side hug.


    ¡°I was later told by the Grandie soldiers ¨C they own the former Guha compound, now. Turned into a whole military base! They told me that the leader of the incursion was some kind of shaman, and had some magic that could control them. Course, we didn¡¯t know that and the slaughter reversed. Niall threw his share of the grenades and it all became chaos.¡±


    Lucy¡¯s hug became tighter. ¡°Was that when you died the first time?¡±


    ¡°I did my best, but there were just too many! Both Erlings and skinner-wolves surrounded me, and when I noticed that at some point the Guha Wardens had stopped firing, I knew I was done. When I got stuck under a skinner-wolves corpse, I drew my grenade and took out whoever I could along with me.¡± The retelling done, a weight was lifted and she began breathing easy again. ¡°Then, I woke up six months later, in the same gully but filled this time, flowing with water.¡±


    They sat for a while in silence, listening to the winds caress the dunes, until Sally had calmed down.


    ¡°Reborn from the water, huh?¡± Lucy mused, giving a last reassuring squeeze before standing up, moving towards her side of the camp.


    That was what she took from it? It was an unfair thought, but still. ¡°You see any water around here?¡± Sally asked, hackles raised.


    Lucy turned around, showing a roll of her eyes. ¡°Yes, I can see that, but not what I meant. There was water involved in your first revival, and the first time is always more significant.¡±


    Sally¡¯s deadpan stare in response elicited a scoff from Lucy.


    ¡°Not what I meant. It¡¯s just¨C You died in a dried-out rive, and then renewed with the coming of new water, nourishing new life in the harsh desert. Its symbolic, you know, and with magic and miracle, that¡¯s important.¡± Lucy had found what she was looking for: two canteens. ¡°Would¡¯ve been even better if it were spring, you know?¡±


    She offered one of the canteens and Sally took it, twisting off the cap and taking a mouthful.


    ¡°Well, I¡¯ll promise I¡¯ll time it better next time we fight a demon.¡± Sally joked, her earlier spite gone. She didn¡¯t know about that symbolism stuff and unless it answered some questions, she didn¡¯t care.


    Lucy snorted before falling into silence. They sat together in the heat of the morning sun, Sally undoubtedly more comfortable than Lucy if the past days were anything to go by.


    ¡°It was strange, you know? Watching you survive that. Be revived.¡± Lucy broke the silence.


    ¡°How so?¡±


    ¡°You were nearly completely gun, a burned-out fleshly husk with bones. Then, I saw you be constructed bit by bit by these small rivulets of blood, crawling upward and carrying smaller chunks of you into place.¡± Lucy scrunched up her face. ¡°It was¡­ blegh, and kind of amazing. Where did the blood even come from? Seemed to just rise from¡­¡±


    Without warning, Lucy seemed to have an idea. She stood up and got in front of Sally, canteen still in hand and an odd look in her eyes.


    ¡°Can we try something?¡± Lucy asked, a pensive look on her face.


    Sally¡¯s eyebrows shot up. ¡°Sure?¡± she replied, unsure.


    ¡°Cup you hand for a bit, will you?¡±


    Sally did as asked and held up her hand. Lucy began slowly dripping water from the canteen into it, reciting something while doing so.


    ¡°With thy blessing, Saint Prior. Through thy rite, Prophet Ante. To thy ward, Unknown Angel. Through thy line, Ancestral Palters. By thy will, Water Spirits. Reveal the instrument, repair their snares, restore their form and let their destiny echo through their spirit.¡±


    Each drop added weight beyond the ordinary, a metaphysical one that her hand felt nonetheless. The water turned a blue deeper than even the deepest part of Lake Prior. The small puddle remained remarkably static and stable, refusing to slip through her fingers or overflow from the edges of her hand, even as more and more was poured into it.


    Sally raised her eyebrows. ¡°This isn¡¯t lake water, I hope?¡±


    Lucy shook her head. ¡°Tricking someone into taking the Sip can¡¯t be done. It is warded against deception, forceful feeding and even accidental intake.¡± Lucy raised the canteen back up, closing it with the cap. ¡°Besides, do you think I would trick you like that?¡±


    Lucy¡¯s eyes widened and an exaggerated pout on the pilgrim¡¯s lips. Sally snorted in response.


    She looked back at the water, forebodingly heavy and dark in her hand.


    ¡°So, just drink it?¡± She asked, looking up and seeing Lucy nod.


    She hesitated for a moment. Even by Villa standards, she was only barely religious, participating in the rites honoring the ancestors that build the Villas more by social convention than true belief. Her thanks during the rites were genuine, but more because it was deserved than as some form of worship.


    She simply didn¡¯t care about the Evergraced. They were too foreign, too removed from life in the Circuits to be anything but a legend of another land. Likewise, the Dekantist religion never attracted her. She didn¡¯t live around Lake Prior and while she could accept the water was special, it was just that: special water. She felt no connection to their Prophet, their reverence of water ¨C beyond it being fundamental to life, of course ¨C nor the teachings it espoused.


    She narrowed her eyes at Lucy. ¡°This isn¡¯t some kind of ¡®join my religion¡¯ thing, is it?¡± She certainly wasn¡¯t looking to join.


    ¡°No, it is more of a¡­ how to explain it? Like a test to see if something is cursed, how and why and by who, but instead focused on blessings connected to water? Specifically, water related to the Ante, but also the lineages of sainthood and angels, and one¡¯s ancestors?¡± Lucy shrugged, dissatisfied with her own explanation. ¡°Look, it¡¯s a vague thing, but it either works to your benefit and tells us something, or it does nothing it all.¡±


    Well, nothing ventured¡­


    She drank the water.


    It was an odd sensation. It felt slimy, yet not. Thick, yet like inhaling air. A weight like molten lead flowing down her throat, but with the taste and velocity of water. Slow and fast, hot and cold, light and heavy, mental and physical; it felt like all these things. It left her feeling refreshed, an energy that had been lacking restored.


    But that was all.


    Lucy kept staring at her, watching her like a sheepstealer does a goat, eyes tracing her body for any change or movement. Then, she asked: ¡°Well, what did you feel?¡±


    Sally explained, after which the woman just scratched her chin, then shrugged.


    ¡°Well, it certainly has nothing to do with the Ante, at least not directly. Maybe a tenuous connection to or through Lake Prior? Nothing to do with the Unknown Angel, but a clear connection to water, if only because it worked at all. But strangely nothing about to do with the Palters?¡± Lucy shook her head.


    A second of silence reigned as Sally watched with anticipation, only to be left wanting.


    ¡°What, that¡¯s it?¡± Sally asked, incredulous. She¡¯d certainly expected more.


    ¡°Well, it was a longshot. You can at least cross the Ante off your list, and the Unknown Angel and your ancestors. Has something to do with water, as I thought. That narrows it down somewhat.¡±


    Lucy went back to her place in the shade, Sally watching her with some amount of incredulity.


    X


    The rest of the day they barely did anything, only moving to the other side of the road ¨C leaving the Red Wastes ¨C and walking a few miles toward their destination. Sally¡¯s exhaustion was lessened by the ritual, but not gone until the end of the day. Lucy had a harder time recuperating, saying that the mental exertion of the last spell had cost her much.


    Thankfully, very little had been lost in the battle with the Kispan Dalqa, despite all the fire. Only her knife was slagged and the clothes she¡¯d worn had been burned, but she¡¯d brought spares. Her pistol had been buried deep enough and located far enough in the sand that it hadn¡¯t been affected by the blast. Apparently, the feeling of it melting in her hand had been more mental than physical, a spell focused on her perception rather than the weapon itself.


    Their stuff had been outside of the final blast¡¯s range, along with Lucy, so nothing was lost there.


    Still, despite the day being unproductive, she felt good about it. Even if the water ritual left her confused.


    It wasn¡¯t that she expected great answers, but this was, like, the inverse getting answers; they¡¯d answered questions she hadn¡¯t asked. And what did it mean that her ancestors had nothing to do with it? She hadn¡¯t known they could have had something to do with it. Were the Villa elders right? Were they something to be worshipped?


    Still, she supposed the pilgrim was right. It did narrow things down. Hopefully her brother could provide some answers.