The Zombie Knight

Hector was anxious. At this point, it was starting to seem like the reports from Vantalay were being purposely designed to test his patience. The Rainlords kept saying that they would be returning soon. Soon. Always soon.

Apparently, they’d encountered another Vanguardian field marshal, this one named Graves, but things had worked out with the guy. It was nothing to worry about. Everything was under control.

Supposedly.

The more they told him that, the less inclined he was to believe it.

Not to mention, they’d consulted him for his opinion about an offer from the freaking Monster of the East--who’d apparently popped over there, too. But no, it was fine. Nothing to worry about. They hadn’t accepted that offer.

But now there was a new offer, this one from Graves. And they’d decided to stay a bit longer.

And Zeff was still missing, of course.

Ugh.

But what was he to do about any of it? He couldn’t justify leaving Warrenhold, right now. Not with Bloodeye still being a factor. While it seemed unlikely that another attack would arrive, they couldn’t simply assume that it wouldn’t. Especially if Bloodeye somehow caught wind that Hector had left the country. That might just provoke an attack all on its own.

He hated feeling so powerless. So uncertain. He much preferred when Warrenhold felt like a place of comfort for him, not when it was starting to make him worried and stir crazy.

He could make some trips out to Lorent, though, especially to talk to Abbas about his progress with the Candle. The Sunsmith had been working on it whenever Hector visited--and sometimes looking exhausted to the point of collapse.

More than once, Hector had all but forced the man to take a break and have a meal with him.

“Thank you for doing this again,” said Raheem Saqqaf, one of Abbas’ many sons. “And I apologize for him. I know this must be a hassle for you.”

“Don’t worry about it,” said Hector. They were standing outside together on a grassy hill, a short distance away from the great tree that housed Cocora’s Candle. “How’s he been doing?”

Raheem looked toward the tree with a heavy breath. “He’s still hardly letting anyone into the workshop with him. For our own safety, he says. But he looks more haggard by the day. I am not sure he is even sleeping.”

Taj reached out to his reaper. ‘Orolix? Where are you?’

‘I made it to the tunnel. I’m hiding. What’s your status?’

‘I’ve been captured by the locals. They’re talking to me, but I can’t understand their language.’

‘I see.’

And Taj waited, but the reaper said nothing more. ‘I sure could use a translator over here, Orolix...’

‘Hmm.’

‘Orolix...’

‘Taj.’

‘You’re not abandoning me, right?’

‘Of course not.’

And Taj waited again for elaboration which never arrived. ‘You’re abandoning me.’

‘I’m not. I’m tactically retreating in order to get help and rescue you later. So just hang in there until I return.’

Taj took a deep breath and sighed. The worm rider was still talking to him, and he was still not understanding a single word. He could see the other worm riders moving closer now, having apparently mopped up the Abolishers already.

Yep. He’d never learned the names of the Abolishers, but he could certainly recognize their faces, and now they were all stuck fast in moving prisons of worm flesh, just like him. They didn’t look too happy about it, either, with a couple of them shouting and yelling at their respective riders.

‘The locals have captured the Abolish servants, too,’ said Taj. ‘Orolix, if they can speak Hunese, they can lie to these guys and convince them that we’re in the wrong.’

‘Doubtful. I’m sure the Hun’Kui could tell who the aggressors were in that fight. You didn’t even attack anyone.’

The reaper was grasping at excuses now, Taj felt. ‘I don’t think these Hun’Kui will hurt you, Orolix.’

‘Better to not take the risk.’

The worst part was, he knew the reaper had a point. It wasn’t exactly pleasant, but this was the safest course of action for them.

But not necessarily for everyone else. ‘If they take Ivan’s head from me and free him, it won’t be good for anyone. I at least need someone who can tell them not to do that.’

‘Mrgh...’

The group started moving in unison. Taj strained to see if any of the other reapers had been captured, but he couldn’t tell for sure. There were even more worms present than he’d first thought, and their hulking bodies were blocking much of his view. They seemed to be heading toward the big plateau, though, so maybe this wasn’t the worst thing in the world.

‘Okay, I’ll teach you a simple Hunese phrase you can say,’ said Orolix.

Of course. Taj just sighed again.

He got a surprisingly good view of the action from this strange position. He couldn’t comprehend how this giant thing was able to move so fast with part of its body still coiled around him. It felt like speeding down the road on a motorcycle, and when yet another gallium boulder came flying toward them, the worm’s long tail surged forward and spiked it right back at the attacker like a volleyball.

They’d gotten close enough now for Taj to make out the look of surprise on the Abolish servant’s face just before his own boulder clobbered him. The rock dug into the road and stuck there, hissing with steam.

If the Abolisher was still alive under there, then he would probably need a while to recover and dig himself free, but apparently, he wasn’t going to get that much time.

A third worm appeared from over the line buildings along the right side of the street and went straight for the embedded boulder, coiling around it and smothering it. He could see another Hun’Kui riding atop it.

And Taj squinted, because he again found himself questioning what his eyes were telling him. A dark ooze emerged from the worm’s body, coating the rock and seeping down into in the road.

Was that the fabled sludge? It must’ve been. So even though these worms were smaller, they could still generate sludge like the bigger ones.

He was both fascinated and repulsed.

A string of explosions arrived from down the road, along with a flurry of flaming acid and flying material. They pelted the oozing worm that was presumably trying to retrieve and capture the buried servant.

Taj saw the new attackers. They were still rather far away, but they must have been the rest of the Abolishers, having finally caught up.

The attacks seemed largely ineffectual against the preoccupied worm, but they still did not last very long, as Taj saw worms with riders appear over the building and convene on the enemy. Within moments, the servants were being jackhammered into the ground and smothered.

It didn’t take much longer before they were restrained, much like himself.

And Taj was finally beginning to get the picture. These worm riders were some kind of peacekeeping force here. And clearly quite powerful.

The rider for his worm was talking to him again, this time with less intensity.

And before anyone could recover, an earthquake arrived.

From there, Taj lost track of what was happening. His feet no longer touched the ground. Rocks flew up around him. Something passed by his vision. A hulking thing, the size of a bus. And there was a loud voice in the air, but it was distorted as through a bullhorn, and he couldn’t make out what it was saying in the slightest. Whether that was because of said distortion or because the voice was simply speaking an entirely foreign language, he also could not tell.

But he did get plenty of time to think about it, because he abruptly found himself stuck fast, suspended in midair and unable to move any of his limbs.

He didn’t understand. Was this Abolish’s doing? It took a few more moments of futile struggling before he realized that he wasn’t merely stuck: there was something wrapped around him. Something huge and serpentine.

Something breathing.

It made a low noise, too. An almost clicking sound. Repeating, too.

Where had the alarm gone? He didn’t hear it, anymore. A new voice arrived, however. This one was much crisper, though he still could not understand what it was saying.

It was coming from above, which made him look up to see a Hun’Kui man there, sitting atop whatever this... hulking thing was. The man was shouting at him, and Taj had no idea how to respond, so he merely said nothing.

Then the aluminum maze that Taj had been building came crashing down as another gallium boulder flew through multiple walls.

Another hulking serpent appeared in Taj’s vision and blocked the flying boulder before it got any closer.

Taj still didn’t understand. It had blocked it with its body--and been no worse for wear, seemingly.

Then, finally, as he saw the boulder be quickly absorbed into the monster’s body, he realized that these were not serpents at all.

These were worms.

He’d never seen one before, but he’d certainly heard the stories. There were countless different types of them. The more infamous and terrifying ones were supposedly like gargantuan mountains of sludge, but these ones here, while still quite large, seemed much more normal. He could feel its coarse flesh against his own. It did feel rather sticky and gross, but it certainly wasn’t sludge.

The worm holding him began to move, and so he went along for the ride.

And that was no trivial matter, because in every previous encounter, this enemy--whose name he still did not know--had used the splashing to conceal further attacks. The freshly melted gallium would be cool to the touch and largely harmless, but when they tossed some boiling hot gallium into the mix, too, it became much more difficult to simply ignore the splashing.

Not to mention, against Taj’s aluminum materialization--and many other metals for that matter--gallium had a corrosive effect. Normally, such corrosion required considerable time to take effect--days or weeks--but whoever was wielding it now was able to enhance its reactive properties, causing embrittlement to occur within seconds.

Taj knew they had to flee. These attacks were just from one of their pursuers, who’d apparently grown confident enough to not even bother waiting for their comrades to catch up. He could see the figure in the distance, surging toward them on a moving platform from far down the street.

Taj raised a large aluminum wall. It wouldn’t stop them, of course, but it would block their sight, at least. While there was only one enemy to worry about, their odds of escape were still good. He grabbed one of the others by the hand, shouted for everyone to follow, and began sprinting for the open tunnel.

Going in there was a risk. If it was a dead end, then they would be forced to fight their way back out again. So to help mitigate that danger, he raised more walls behind them as he ran, making sure to provide plenty of space between each one so as not to accidentally trap any of his kin.

He aimed to create a maze, to further obstruct the enemy’s vision. If it worked, then their pursuer might not even realize that they’d gone into the tunnel for quite some time, which was all they really needed, right now: time.

Great crashing sounds arrived from behind him, which was probably from his materialized walls getting destroyed. He thought he could hear even more than that, though, like that of buildings collapsing. He couldn’t afford to turn around and look, though. The walls were obscuring his vision, and even if something really important was going on back there, Orolix would warn him.

Before they could reach the tunnel, however, an alarm blared. Its ear-splitting pitch was enough to make Taj flinch and stagger, and he was not the only one. He could see his kin doing the same--and even the reapers, too, writhing in the air.

And to that end, that big fortress in the middle of the city might’ve been their best bet.

After a while longer of letting his thoughts stew in his own mind, he decided to make clear his intentions to the others.

None argued with his reasoning, not even the reapers.

Now they just needed to find a way up there. A materialized platform would certainly do the trick, but that would also make quite the spectacle. Taj didn’t want to resort to that just yet. There had to be a method by which normal citizens could reach that palace.

Or maybe not.

Even as they began to near the base of the grand plateau on which their new objective sat, they still did not encounter a single soul. The overgrown streets had ample space for enormous crowds, yet they remained entirely empty.

It made him uneasy. Perhaps they really had evacuated. And if so, why? What in the world had happened here?

Finally, something caught his eye at the base of the massive plateau. A tunnel. It was narrower than the street but still large enough for vehicles to enter. Perhaps it would lead them to a lift or staircase, though he already wasn’t looking forward to making such a trek on foot. That had to be, what? Two hundred meters? He’d seen skyscrapers that weren’t as tall as this plateau.

Oh, man.

Nothing for it, though. They had to go.

Before they could reach the tunnel, however, Orolix’s urgent voice rang out publicly. ‘Behind us!’

Taj turned just in time to see a steaming, car-sized boulder clobber one of his companions. He didn’t have time to panic, either, because he could already see another one coming for him.

Rather than trying to dodge, he instantly dropped to the ground and slapped it with his right hand, materializing a metal slope for the boulder to launch off of.

Which it did. It sailed straight into the rock wall of the plateau behind them and bounced off, leaving only a scuff mark behind.

Taj had grown quite familiar with such boulders over the course of this long chase. It was composed of the element gallium, which had a low enough melting point that the boulder couldn’t hold its shape for long here in the Undercrust.

Which might’ve seemed like a good thing, but it made these fights extra messy the longer they drew out, with liquid gallium splashing all over the place.

‘You shouldn’t go touching strange materials,’ said Orolix, still wrapped in the echo of privacy. ‘These trees could be dangerous.’

He supposed that was true, but it was a bit late to be fussing over it. He gripped the tree a little harder. Yeah. Definitely felt like there was metal in there. ‘This town could be an even better hiding spot than we hoped for,’ he said, not taking his eyes away from the greenery. ‘All the buildings and trees will conceal us from the enemy.’

‘True,’ said Orolix. ‘But that may also make things much worse for the people here. If our pursuers have proved one thing to us, it is that they are not going to give up. If they truly lose track of us, I have no doubt that they will begin to tear this place apart until they find us again.’

Damn. Couldn’t really argue with that logic. And this group wasn’t exactly in a position to protect the hapless citizenry, either.

As they continued onward, deeper into the city, Taj wrestled with his uncertainty.

Agh. What should they be doing here? Hiding might work for a little while, but it clearly wasn’t a long-term solution. He tried to think. He’d had discussed their objective with Orolix repeatedly on the way here--just as the reapers had discussed it with each other--and it was clear enough that they needed to get topside again, but how were they to accomplish that, precisely?

The reapers knew of various great holes that led back up to the surface, but actually reaching them was another matter. Not to mention, the closest ones were also the most dangerous. There was apparently one that led up to the Swallow’s Nest in Egas, but did they really want to return to Sair, right now? Certainly not. That would be a death sentence, unless they somehow got confirmation that Egas had not been overrun by Abolish.

Furthermore, according to the reapers, the chances of finding a great hole that was not already under someone’s control were virtually nil. And since all of the holes that the Sandlords controlled could not be trusted, it was not going to be a simple matter to secure safe passage through one.

But he supposed that was a starting point, at least. If they were going to have to parley with or beg someone powerful in order to get back up to the surface, then the first task was to find such a person, no?

As they descended the steps and neared the edge of the city, Taj began to feel a change in the air. And smell it, too.

This familiar freshness. It wasn’t quite the same as being back up on the surface, but it was definitely much more comparable to it. Thus far, the Undercrust’s air had been, at best, stagnant and stale. At worst, it had been filled with deadly fumes that threatened to burn his eyes out of his skull and his lungs out of his chest.

And for a few of the others in their group, those fumes had succeeded in doing both. More than once, even.

But this place. This feeling. It was hard to call it comforting when the temperature was still so damn high, but after everything they’d been through lately, he couldn’t think of a more appropriate word.

If nothing else, it was certainly a welcome surprise. Almost like the city itself was inviting them in.

The first proper street that they found seemed to be empty. No Hun’Kui in sight yet.

That was both good and bad, Taj felt. Good because it meant no one was barring them entry and bad because it meant there were no crowds to hide in. They had to keep pushing. Acacero wouldn’t make for very good cover if they couldn’t find anyone.

Whatever had caused the city look like this, Taj prayed to the Eternal Oasis that it hadn’t made all the inhabitants evacuate.

‘Can you sense anyone in these buildings?’ asked Taj privately.

‘They are infused with ardor, so no,’ said Orolix. ‘And these trees are not helping, either. Everything is so clouded.’

Not what he wanted to hear.

The number of trees only seemed to be increasing as they continued onward. Denser and denser forest. Soon, he could see the root systems taking over the ground. Where before it had been only rock and pavement, now roots covered the ground.

And yet it was not entirely gnarled and uneven. The edges of the road were indeed so, but the middle remained perfectly smooth and flat. Maybe even more than before. Little saplings were sprouting along the edges, too, providing an extra line of illumination for the road.

In spite of himself, Taj slowed his pace a bit in order to inspect the wall of glowing trees more closely. And he saw something peculiar. Or thought he did, at least.

The lights made it hard to tell, but he could’ve sworn the bark had a slight sheen to it. The metallic kind. But there was clearly wood in there, too. He could see that much. And even feel it, upon reaching out and touching it.

Before they even reached Acacero, however, the reapers began giving them warnings about something being strange with the city.

‘What in the world am I sensing?’ said Orolix publicly.

‘I sense it, too,’ said Juda’s reaper, name of Arigaja. ‘What is that? A forest? Impossible. We didn’t go in the wrong direction, did we?’

‘Even if we had, there still shouldn’t be a forest down here. At least, not that kind of forest.’

The uncertainty made little difference, though. Everyone already knew that they couldn’t turn back. Whatever was awaiting them in Acacero, they would have to deal with it.

When the city finally came into view, the reapers’ questions only seemed to increase.

The cave let out onto a ledge with a narrow, winding path that led down onto a major road below. But the view that the ledge provided was truly something else. Taj’s hazel eyes widened as he absorbed the scene before them.

It did indeed appear to be a forest in the middle of the city, trees as tall as any of the buildings. But they glowed green and white, illuminating the greater cavern in which the city sat, revealing many other tunnels high up on the walls and even in the ceiling.

There were great rocky pillars, too, but they were less apparent than in the previous cities they’d passed through. These ones were adorned with more glowing foliage, and not all of them reached all the way up to the ceiling, either. Some of them merely plateaued higher up and had buildings of their own on top of them.

In fact, one plateau in particular was more noticeable than the rest. Right there in the center of the city, it didn’t rise as high as the others, but an enormous structure sat upon it. What was that? A stadium? No.

He had to squint at this distance, but he could see turreted towers. Long banners hanging from battlements.

That was a fortress. A palace, even.

The trees all around its exterior made it luminous and verdant, the vibrant centerpiece of the entire city.

‘...This city is not how I remember it,’ said Arigaja.

‘I’ve never seen this type of flora in the Undercrust,’ said one of the other reapers, name of Elbadon.

Taj was as confused as anyone, but his mind was still consumed with a sense of urgency. “We can’t stand around here gawking,” he said, starting down the pathway. “Let’s go see things up close.”

It took another full day to get there. Perhaps they could have gone faster if they were taking a more obvious path--one of the bigger tunnels, for example--but they preferred to stick to the narrower ones. The abundance of the ardor in the rock made it more difficult for the enemy to keep track of them here, and if they got lucky, the bastards might even lose track of them completely.

That was the hope, anyway. It hadn’t exactly worked out so far.

Taj struggled to keep himself steady. On task. In charge.

There were only five others left, not including each of their reapers, but he could see the way they were all watching him now. Looking to him for leadership.

What a farce. He was barely old enough to withstand the heat down here unaided. He could barely protect himself, let alone anyone else. Four of the others were constantly fighting the heat, perpetually sweating and being clearly uncomfortable. A couple were even in visible pain, having to constantly materialize--or have materialized for them--a cooled metal coating.

The last one, Juda Mateen, was only better off because he’d apparently managed to snag a climate suit for himself before escaping.

At first, there’d been some noticeable resentment toward him from the others. Taj had thought that it was simple jealousy--and perhaps it was, in part--but after listening to an earlier argument, he realized that there was a bit more to it.

Juda wearing that suit meant that a non-servant wasn’t wearing it.

In other words, he’d taken the place of a non-combatant who could have potentially escaped down here with them.

But in recent days, that resentment seemed to have died off. And Taj could understand why. If it wasn’t clear before, it certainly was now.

Any non-servant that might have taken Juda’s suit would almost certainly be dead by now. And they couldn’t have afforded to slow down for them, either. If they’d tried, they would’ve all been killed a long time ago.

Or at least, that was how Taj saw things. Maybe he was overthinking it. Maybe the others were just too tired to fight among themselves now. He certainly wouldn’t blame them if that was the case. Even on the rare occasions when they were able to sleep, he never felt rested after waking up.

In particular, magma pools were their best friends. The ardor that emanated from those things could sometimes be so strong that it entirely blinded reapers who got too close.

Of course, that also made the pools terribly dangerous for their own reapers. Multiple times, Taj had noticed Orolix visibly hesitate when they were near one. While reapers didn’t exactly feel “pain” in the same way that corporeal beings did, they apparently still regarded being incinerated in a pool of magma as quite a horrible way to die.

“Nightmarishly painful, just in a different sense,” was how Orolix had described it to him.

He hadn’t yet gotten clarification on that. Nor was he even sure that he wanted it.

Beyond that, there was only one other method of hiding that they had been using--and even then, they’d been rather reluctant to do so. Not only was it sometimes ineffective; it was also dangerous, for them and those around them.

Because it involved crowds.

When all else failed, trying to hide their souls among a large group of other souls was an option. Unless a soul was particularly powerful, reapers would often have trouble singling it out, even if they’d already memorized its soul signature.

But of course, if they still managed to--and if they were of Abolish--then a fight would immediately break out, and civilian casualties were all but guaranteed.

Taj and his kin hated resorting to that tactic. They’d been trying to avoid it as much as they could, but it had saved their lives in the city of Karetito. And it had gotten some hapless Hun’Kui passersby killed in the city of Noromonga.

It made for a difficult decision now, because according to Orolix, they were nearing another city called Acacero.

This current network of caves they were in had thus far proved quite barren. No magma pools to try to conceal themselves near, nor any convenient ardor-infused rock formations to provide cover for a while.

And hell, even if there were, the enemy had clearly grown wise to those tricks by now. They wouldn’t pass by any magma or large accumulations of ardor without investigating those areas thoroughly. Perhaps that was why their pursuit had seemed to slow for a little while there, as they’d become extra cautious.

Regardless, it wasn’t worth the risk. And being the strongest member of this group now, the others were looking to him to make that decision now.

So they kept on toward Acacero, where he suspected that things would either go well or very, very badly.

There was an image burned into Taj’s brain now. An image of Jafar and his reaper, Karexa, standing there, facing down the enemy alone so that the rest of them could continue fleeing.

He didn’t think he would ever forget that man. In fact, if he somehow lived through this, he was going to make his cousin’s incredible bravery known to everyone he could. Somehow.

But that was a task for his future self. For now, he was still dedicating all of his effort to surviving their current predicament.

And while he was not one given to looking on the bright side, he knew that things were not yet hopeless. They’d managed to evade their pursuers this long, after all. And that was no fluke. His cousin and the reapers had taught him much about the nature of these sorts of chases.

The core problem, as one might expect, was the enemy reapers. Once they memorize their targets’ soul signatures, a chase becomes much more dangerous. It becomes virtually impossible to lose them via hiding spots in the topography, and when they focus, they can sense souls across truly vast distances.

In the face of such problems, the group had been employing various methods of countering. None had worked flawlessly thus far, but there had been downtime here and there. Opportunities to sleep and eat, even. Luxuries for servants in the thick of battle, Orolix said.

Their first method of counter had been to infuse their souls into the environment as much as possible. If the soul power and ardor in the topography were too minuscule to interfere with an enemy reaper’s sense, then the solution was to add more. As much as possible. Spread it around and lead them on a wild goose chase. It helped even more when they split up and sent the enemy in different directions.

But splitting up was dangerous, too, of course. And naturally, it couldn’t last forever. Infused soul power dissipated over time, and it also took considerable skill to infuse it into objects across larger and larger distances. So in the end, that trick wasn’t much use when the enemy reapers were already far away. In fact, it might’ve just made things worse, like leaving behind a giant trail of blood for them to follow. It was better for confusing the senses of reapers who were already close by.

When they already had more distance to work with, the better method was to hunt down localized sources of ardor. Which, mercifully, the Undercrust had in much greater abundance than the surface. He could understand why the decision was made to flee down here.

It had been a complete madhouse. Explosions and earthquakes. Battles breaking out in the middle of crowds. Blood and screaming and running and fighting.

Worse still, he knew now in retrospect that he himself had been among the luckier ones, too. Not only did he manage to escape, but the timing of things could have been far worse for him. He’d only been visiting the Golden Fort for a few days, serving as an apprentice to his much older cousin, who happened to be Lord Hamza’s second son. If he hadn’t been at the Golden Fort, he would have been back in Zebul, most likely in his little hut along the outskirts of Qalatin Castle.

And Zebul was much closer to the border with Calthos than Kuros was. If things had been that bad at the Golden Fort of all places, then he couldn’t even imagine what Qalatin looked like now. He just hoped it was still standing. And that he would see it again, one day.

He’d been trying not to dwell on it too much, though. His reaper, Orolix, had been trying to keep him focused. News would come in time. Whenever they managed to get back up to the surface, most likely. It was more important to stay alert.

Logically, Taj knew the reaper was right. And he tried to listen.

But it was so difficult. He knew only too well that he wasn’t the correct person for this job. This wasn’t supposed to be his role.

Thus far, Taj had only ever been meant to observe and learn from his more experienced kin. And to do as he was told. Silently.

And most certainly, he had not been meant to end up in the custodianship of Ivan, the Salesman of Death.

But that is exactly what happened. Instead of returning home to Zebul, he’d been tasked with protecting a frozen head and thrown into a giant hole.

Far from ideal, to say the least.

Even now, he still didn’t know what had become of his Hahl. Of his cousins or even Lord Hamza himself. The group of people he’d managed to escape with into the Undercrust had been hounded incessantly by Abolish pursuers, and now, there were only a handful of them left.

At this point, he was the most powerful warrior in their little troupe.

Which was terrifying.

His elder cousin, Jafar Dagher, had been the one leading them until only two days ago, when their pursuers had caught up to them again.

His flaws? Asad still didn’t understand. This was all too much. Far, far too much. He wanted to sleep. Or was he already sleeping? Was that not what was meant by resting?

Agh. He’d never felt so tired.

“Oh no. I fear I am failing to restore your strength and instead merely sapping it away. Damn my weakness. Even now, my failures continue to grow.”

Huh?

“This cannot happen. I will not allow it. Come along, Young Lion. You are not ready for where I am about to take you, but I do not see a better option. Clearly, you cannot stay with me, nor can I return you in your current state.”

Ugh, so many new questions were bubbling rebelliously into his exhausted mind. They were going somewhere new? Why? In fact, where were they now? What was wrong with this place?

“We will go to a place that I have found along the path of my great search. I do not know if things will be better or worse for you there, but I promise that I will do my utmost to protect you.”

Protect? From...? Hmm...

The voice sighed. “Alas, our ever-beleaguered kin. I fear you must abide these trials for some time yet.”

-+-+-+-+-

The blazing heat of the Undercrust was unfamiliar to him. He’d heard the stories from his cousins about this place, but actually being here for the first time was something else.

If only it had been under better circumstances.

He’d always intended to visit this place eventually, but never had he thought that the first time would be as a result of fleeing for his life.

From the mayhem at the Golden Fort.

Even now, all these weeks later, he still couldn’t quite wrap his head around it. Tensions had been building between Sair and Calthos for a while, but it had been so slow. Nothing ever really happened. At least, that was what it had felt like. It was just something that all the adults had been talking about ad nauseum, an ever-present fear that he and the other young Sandlords had grown accustomed to.

Grown to ignore, perhaps.

And then everything went to hell.

The seat of his people’s power, the Golden Fortress of Kuros, came under attack by the forces of Calthos and Abolish. By the fabled Mad Demon himself.

In his entire life, Taj Dagher had never been so terrified as he had on that day.

He felt something stir within him. An unwanted notion. A sense of urgency that betrayed this otherwise overwhelming desire to rest.

“They need help,” he said. Which surprised him, because that wasn’t the voice talking again. Not Rasalased. That was him. His own voice. Singular and distinct.

“Yes,” came the voice again. “But I have been monitoring them. And they have been managing. Perhaps this scene looks worse than it is.”

Ah. Asad saw what he meant. The pursuers were giving chase, but they were also themselves being chased by more members of Hahl Duxan. Walls of materialized metal appeared, barring their path, shielding innocents, and skewering the pursuers. It was the work of that one fellow in the back, Asad was fairly sure. Such a familiar face. The Lord Duxan’s eldest son. What was his name again?

Malik Duxan. Yes. A formidable young man, Asad had always thought. It was a relief to see him there--and alive, for that matter.

And then there was Jada. She was defending herself but still not drawing too much attention--in part, perhaps, because Imas was drawing so much attention in her stead.

It was a worrisome sight, to be sure. But they were handling themselves well. As he might’ve expected. They were Sandlords, after all.

The sense of urgency abated, and he felt his weariness wash over him again, somehow even stronger than before.

“Ah,” said the voice. “Dammit.”

Mm?

“Well,” the voice went, “I suppose this is fine, for now. You do need your rest. But there are many more scenes like this playing out--and far worse ones. The ruination of our ancestral homeland is a matter that cannot be ignored, forgotten, or forgiven. I would have you recover quickly, Young Lion, and not only rescue our scattered kin but take vengeance for them, as well.”

So many words. Agh. Too much to think about.

The voice sighed.

Asad did not understand why.

“If your condition degrades much further, I fear I may need to do something quite drastic.”

Degrade? Condition? Was he not resting? How could anything degrade while resting?

“A complicated matter, that. You must stay with me in order to recover, but the longer you stay, the more my soul will merge with yours. Which is not my desire. You must become a conduit for my power, not a vessel for my soul. No matter what anyone says, I am not a god. My flaws are too great and too numerous. I would not have you inherit them.”

His younger self did not reply.

Maybe he hadn’t really been listening. He recalled having quite a bit on his mind at this time.

From there, the scene faded to gray, then black.

“This moment mattered little to you,” said the voice. “But not to your brother. He took it to heart and has held it there ever since.”

Asad didn’t know what to think. Or if he should think anything at all. Was it not still better to simply watch? Less tiring, for certain.

“Rest is important, yes, but you need not suppress all emotion and thought while you do so. Ignoring everything will do you no favors.”

Mm. Perhaps the voice had a point.

Or perhaps it didn’t. Eh. He could figure it out later.

“You are beginning to annoy me, Young Lion.”

Asad missed breathing. Where had his breath gone? Was even alive, anymore? He wished he could feel his body, at least. He recalled that the ability to breathe had been so soothing, at times. It would’ve been lovely, right about now.

“Rgh. Let us move on.”

More speeding. Shifting and spinning. Beautiful lights and colors. Mm.

When the scene settled, he saw yet another familiar face. Two faces, actually. Who? It was hard to think.

Two women. They were running. And fighting. Not each other but a host of pursuers. And something in the sky. Something with wings. Bullets were flying everywhere, both at and from the fleeing women.

One was clearly younger.

His daughter. Jada. Yes.

And the older woman. White smoke billowed from her arms. A familiar sight.

His sister. Imas.

The pursuers closed in but Imas rebuffed them with a wall of smoke, which passed over two men like a tidal wave and left half-melted corpses behind.

Corpses which did not stop moving. They were clearly slowed, but their pursuit did not stop.

Where were they? Why were they fighting? And who?

“Remember, Young Lion,” said the voice. “The disastrous fight at Uego. You witnessed it in part. This is but one consequence.”

This was current? Jada and Imas were fighting, right now?

“Alas, there may be no such thing as ‘current’ in this place. But yes. They are still fleeing for their lives, even now. For their lives--and for the lives around them.”

Asad saw. They were not alone. There were other warriors. Other familiar faces. Sandlords. Hahl Duxan?

So hard to remember.

But there were non-warriors, too. Children, even. Also fleeing.

His younger self didn’t seem to be enjoying the view very much, however. He was hunched over and leaning on the railing, face buried between his hands.

He could see his tattoos--and Haqq’s, as well--so even though he couldn’t see his face, he could at least surmise that this must have taken place in his teenage years.

Ugh, too much thinking. Better to just watch.

“I don’t believe it,” said Haqq. He wasn’t facing Asad, but he was most certainly talking to him, as they were the only ones present.

His younger self made no response.

“It just makes no sense,” said Haqq. “My mind can’t accept it. Just like that? She’s gone? No explanation? Tiriala just releases her? I don’t buy it.”

Still, there was no reply.

“And because I can’t buy it, I can’t bring myself to mourn her, either. She can’t be gone. Not like this. She was... she is... it doesn’t...” The boy sighed.

Finally, the younger Asad decided to say something. “...This is how it always is.”

“What?” said Haqq.

“Historically. For our people. We’re lucky when we get an explanation. Frequently, we just disappear. Killed in action where no one ever finds us. Or killed in such a way that we’re reduced to dust. ‘Returned to the Great Sand,’ they used to call it. Qorvass told me about it.”

Haqq scoffed. “That’s his way of comforting you? Bastard.”

“No. It was a while ago. He’s been... perfectly nice to me.”

“Hmph.”

“...Do you think we’ll die like this?”

“She’s not dead.”

“Then do you think we’ll disappear like this, someday? Gone without a word or warning to everyone around us?”

“No. Our clan is too close-knit. This is extremely abnormal. Don’t let Qorvass try to convince you that it is.”

“That wasn’t what he was--I already said--agh. It doesn’t matter.”

And the two young men both fell silent for a time.

Asad felt like he was starting to remember this conversation. But only vaguely. Why was the voice showing it to him?

“This won’t happen to us,” said Haqq. “I can promise you that.”

“That’s a promise you can’t possibly keep. You don’t know the future, little brother.”

“Oh, but I do,” said the young Haqq with a chuckle. “It’s as clear to me as this conversation we’re having, right now.”

“Hah. Is that right?”

“It is. In the future, you become a great warrior. The likes of which our clan hasn’t seen in generations.”

“You’re just repeating the old stories about the Lion of the Desert.”

“No. I know it’s true. Because I’m going to help you every step of the way. Just like Mother wanted. Like she wants.”

Ah...

Who was that? Another familiar face.

“Your brother by blood,” said the voice.

Haqq. Right.

It was good to see him. After everything.

Everything? What was everything?

Eh... Too much work to recall.

Haqq was at a table, laboring over something as usual. Research notes, it looked like. The expression on his face spoke of frustration.

That, too, was quite normal, Asad knew. When it came to research, Haqq had always tried to keep up an appearance of ease and confidence, but Asad knew how hard his brother worked. How much effort he was constantly putting in.

And how miserable it made him, more often than not.

It was something that Asad had never really understood. Why pretend? Why not let more people know how difficult his work was? Personally, Asad had always appreciated his brother’s determination to keep pushing, even if he hadn’t always appreciated the inventions that resulted.

“You have never realized?” asked the voice.

Hmm? Realized what?

“Your brother believes that his reputation is everything. And where his work is concerned, he may be right. One is not regarded as a genius through hard work alone. One must achieve great results--and so much the better if it can be made to look easy in front of others.”

Reputation? Did Haqq really care about that so much? Asad had never gotten that impression. Haqq always seemed so detached from the world. So immersed in his projects.

“Ah. A pitiable blind spot, Young Lion.”

What?

“Your brother has lived beside the divine power of our clan for most of his life. Beside the new Lion of the Desert. Have you given not a thought to how that has impacted him?”

He was suddenly reminded of their youth, long before either of them became servants. Haqq had followed him everywhere, pestered him constantly, wanting to be involved in everything he did.

Quintessential behavior of a little brother.

Asad wanted to smile, but he wasn’t sure if he even possessed a mouth, right now.

“You have forgotten,” said the voice. “Perhaps that is not surprising.”

Forgotten? Forgotten what?

The world sped by again, but this time, when it slowed back down, Asad saw his younger self standing there. And Haqq, too.

They were on a balcony. A familiar one. Flanked by mounds of sand that twinkled in the morning sun.

Dunehall, he recalled. Yes. This was outside his childhood bedroom. One of his favored spots, growing up. The view of downtown Moaban from here was incredible, and the mountain of sand that covered most of the castle made this little balcony feel like a hiding spot, of sorts, what with the way it peeked out from a little hole in said mountain.

Searching, was it? Again, Asad didn’t understand. What purpose was there in searching? Everything was fine. Or soon would be. Or didn’t matter.

“Those are not your thoughts, Young Lion. Disregard them. Rest now, but do not forget yourself. Remember your own life, at least.”

Mm. His own life.

Hah.

He hadn’t forgotten that. Not one bit.

That was precisely why this place was great.

By comparison.

He remembered the stress. The worry. The constant fear and disappointment. In himself. In his accomplishments. In his wife. And yes, in his children, too.

Perhaps that was wrong to think. As a father, he should have been more understanding. More accepting. Of their faults. And their failures.

He’d tried to be. Had he ever succeeded?

He couldn’t recall. He could only remember the anxiety it caused him.

It was never enough. Nothing ever was.

“Stop,” said voice. “That is not resting. That is killing yourself. Do not do that. Especially not here. This is not a place to chastise oneself. And moreover, you have done nothing to deserve it. You have always been too hard on yourself.”

Had he? How would this voice know?

“Because I am Rasalased. And I have been observing you since the day you were born.”

Oh.

Huh.

Kinda creepy.

“I can only agree. This is not the afterlife that I had envisioned for myself. But here I am. And being able to stay connected to all our kin throughout the ages has been wonderful, in its own regard.”

Ah. So it wasn’t just Asad that he’d been spying on.

“Indeed. That is how I know that the Sunsmith will have need of your help.”

His help? Still, Asad didn’t understand. What help could he be?

“Ah. That is indeed the question, isn’t it? But that is alright. For now. I fear it may yet be quite some time before you offer it to him. He will have to manage on his own for a while longer. Unless, perhaps, you are able to surprise me and get your act together more quickly.”

Huh?

Huh...

Mm...

So tired...

“Yes, I thought as much. Let us move on.”

The world sped by again.

Asad just watched.

It was beautiful.

So bright and colorful. So much life and wonder. A moving painting. A living stream, filled with more than mere images. He could feel them as they passed. Touch them, almost. The temptation to reach out came over him, but he resisted.

Just observing was good enough.

The world. It was all around him. Streaming by him in a blur. Just waiting for him to look at it. All but asking him for his attention.

He couldn’t process any of it. But he could observe. Like an enormous television. And him, an unthinking couch potato. Passively watching.

Was he learning anything? Retaining anything?

Hard to say. Impossible, actually. Perhaps if he ever managed to leave this place, he would know. But here and now, no.

Asad Najir merely existed. Scarcely even aware of himself. A pebble floating in an ocean.

“That is okay,” came a voice. “Take your time, Young Lion. It is not as it seems, after all. There is much to do, and we cannot rush.”

He made no response. Could not make one.

But he could listen.

“We at last meet,” the voice went on. “This was not quite what I had in mind, but I suppose we must go through the doors that open to us. It is a relief merely to know that you have survived.”

Survived? Survived what?

Mm. Eh. Didn’t matter.

Ugh, he was so tired. Like he’d never felt before. And this place was so comfortable. A warm blanket.

“Good. Good. Yes. You need your rest. Worry not. And let me be your guide.”

Mm. Guide? He didn’t understand. Didn’t care, either.

“No, Lion. You must care. You cannot leave until you do. You must not become an incarnation of me. That is not the way. I have become convinced. You must retain yourself.”

What?

Oh, whatever.

“Rrgh. You are not going to make this easy, are you? Very well. Come along, then.”

For a moment, the world swooshed more quickly past him, and then it slowed. To a crawl, actually. Enough for him to get a very clear picture of the scene in front of him.

Who was that? A familiar face. Very familiar indeed.

“The Sunsmith,” said the voice. “You recognize him, of course. He toils daily, seeking the power to revitalize our people. And the wisdom to, as well.”

Asad saw.

Abbas Saqqaf was there, sweating profusely and panting with one hand on a giant glass orb. He looked like he might collapse.

And that orb. Such a gentle light emanated from it. Asad had never seen the like before.

“He is more adrift than he allows others to see,” said the voice. “His mind falters as much as his body does, and yet he pushes onward. Searching.”

House Garza had been struggling to restructure themselves, which had been further compounded by the battle at Logden Prison, where apparently the two most obvious successors to Socorro had both lost their lives, putting the family into an even more confused state once the dust had finally settled.

Blessedly, there had not been many casualties from that mess of a fight--and none at all from this current defense of Ridgemark--but that was small comfort for the Garzas right now, Diego knew.

Their new head, Valero Garza, was even younger than himself.

He’d met him many times over the years, and yet Diego still felt like he’d never really gotten to known him. At most, he’d gotten the impression that Valero was a very humble, unassuming guy; and looking at him now with those wide eyes, that assessment seemed to be spot on. Of all the assumptions Valero might’ve made about the trajectory of his own life, becoming the new head of his entire House had probably not been among them. Especially at such a young age.

Not to mention the war going on.

Diego felt for the poor fellow. What a time to be thrust into a leadership role.

To the man’s credit, though, he did manage to speak up and answer Lord Santos. “...I-I think th-that’s a sound plan, as well.”

And that was all, apparently.

Well.

It got the job done, Diego supposed. But he was pretty sure Lord Santos had been hoping for a bit more than that.

The Lady Evangelina Stroud filled the ensuing silence. “As for me, I like Diego’s idea well enough, but I still do not like the idea of staying in Vantalay to assist Graves. If he lets us leave without a fight, then I think we should just leave.”

“Then Evangelina and I are of the same mind,” said Rayen.

“It sounds like we are ready for a vote, then,” said Santos. “Assuming Graves passes our test, all in favor staying to assist him?” And he held up his right hand.

As did Grandma, Horatio, Dimas, and Valero.

Salvador, Evangelina, and Rayen did not.

“Five to three in favor,” said Lord Santos. “It would seem our course is set.”

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