Mobilization!
• • • • • • • • A Week Later • • • • • • • •
Winds battered against the combat ships as they pushed further into the Verdant Corridor, the Northern Armada had reached the south. A forward guard continued on as requisitioned Navigator-barges flooded out for evacuations; the government had learned from its previous attempts at Iylmirix, choosing instead to transport evacuee’s to a series of military camps in the Northern Territories. Following the situation was a veritable Army of surveyors sent to assess the damage. While slow to start, their reports would all follow a similar pattern: Initial damage to irrigation and transport works was followed quickly by intense flooding, all on account of the earthquake months prior. The exact death toll from the floods, only exacerbated from damage to water control projects, was unknown.
Reports from refugee’s showed that the Black Horde, whose tell was a dark substance in the water which stifled its usual glow, appeared shortly after the quake; it was repelled by the Garrison at the administrative Thaur of Ixthenpijn, but its affect on the water, as well as disease that followed, flowed on as far as the southern entrance to the Verdant corridor before finally dispersing. The effects affected areas differently based on how active their watershed was, with more stagnant areas reporting disease and crop blight, an affect nicknamed the “affliction”. People fleeing afflicted lands would only quicken the spread of disease, forcing the Army to divide refugee camps into quarantine zones, refusing to transport afflicted peoples North.
As for the Southern Army, it was learned that Southern Garrisons were rallying to it at Takahn Thaur, but its actual status was unknown. At the same time, the Provisional government under Lawspeaker Izah was facing problems of its own. The Lawspeaker, on charges of lot against the State, had forcibly expelled almost a quarter of the Curates members while at the same time suspending the process of replacing those positions. Likewise, while fruitful at first, the Lawspeakers call to arms had begun to die down significantly. While she was a popular figurehead amongst the common northern patriarchs, her status amongst the Matriarchs of the Corridor, or anyone in the astern territories for that matter, was simply pitiful, and with her forces and attention occupied as it was, she lacked the hand for a more thorough conscription effort. She needed volunteers, but had nothing to give in return. To make matters worse was the issue of the growing refugee crisis. Already thousands of laborers had been evacuated, and as reports on the number of people coming began to grow, it became obvious that organizing them in camps wasn’t even a good temporary solution. The threat of disease could be managed, but that solution presented food-shortage issues. Evacuees’s were also leaving due to the affliction; what the government needed wasn’t more time, but more land.
• • • • • • • • The Southern Armada • • • • • • • •
The troops were silent as the armada moved down the southern Cavern toward Zoulmekt, sleek combat ships sliding quietly down the night-black water. They were only just beginning to notice it, but there was a fog in the air; it felt like they were being watched.
• • • • • • • • Takahm - Armada Flagship • • • • • • • •
“My thoughts?” Alzeih looked back at A’yill, confused.
“Exactly; it is, after all, customary for men of my rank to question their aids, regardless of Caste. You must have
something to say on this news.”
She thought for a moment, “where’s the other law speaker?”
“And why haven’t they started the Ahnsijn process?” One of the commanders asked gruffly.
A’yill grinned, “so it’s not just me who feels uncomfortable with a lackey of the Kaaviin like Izah in sole control of the Capital.”
“But what can really be done, authority rests on her to begin the Ahnsijn process?” One of the priests spoke up.
“She holds no authority on her own, and we lack the other law speaker.” A commander interjected.
“Nothing we can do to change that though!” She spoke up again, she didn’t like where this conversation was going.
“Are you sure?” A’yill spoke up.
Surprise washed over the priests face. “You…can’t be serious.” Surprise turned to shock as the various Commanders in the room remained unmoving. “You all are talking about starting a civil war here!”
“Against who? The Eastern Territories? I’m genuinely surprised the northern army stayed loyal this long themselves.”
“General Kír is good at keeping them in line.”
“General Kír is a war hero put in power to stave off mass defection,” A’yill countered, “he’s on our side.”
“So what are you going to do then?” She was panicking at this point, “Dance into the capital? Massacre the High Curate?”
A’yill glanced toward his commanders, comfortable with their support he answered simply: “I’m going to start the Ahnsijn process.”
• • • • • • • • • • • • • • • •
All 20 of them, the various commanders of the Southern Fleet, sat in a circle in the generals hall of the armada flagship. Each represented another garrison of troops southern officials had managed to gather together while separated from their overseers in the Capital. In total their forces capped to almost 200,000, a staggering force in comparison to the warrior-caste battalions sent so many months ago. Now the question was, what to do with them? It was A’yill who made the first move, motioning for silence in amongst the group as they finished filing into his quarters. First was to discuss recent happenings:
To start, they knew the horde’s influence was waining; attacks were becoming infrequent and paled in comparison to the bloodbath it triggered at Ixaleft or Ixthenpijn. What’s more, the horde seemed to genuinely flee at the sign of the southern reinforcements during the most recent battle; it brought them to a genuine question on the nature of their enemy, a point where the non-residents of Takahm became beyond useful. Many of them happened to be refugees from further south, a settlement called Zoulmekt.
Zoulmekt, they claimed, was where the Horde started, some alchemist gone mad
While they could never be sure, based on information from the reports as well as the Horde’s attack pattern garnered from information from the reinforcements, the Command Council concluded that it had originated, somehow, in Zoulmekt, and seemed linked to someone by the name of “Shy’koen”, an Alchemist stationed there for a misdemeanor. The Priest’s records showed that he’d been stationed their some time ago. A’yill in particular liked the idea, a single man guiding the horde would make sense, given how it directly targeted Ixthenpijn while at the same time ignoring the string of settlements in-between Zoulmekt and the south’s administrative Capital. It would also present a new way to beat the horde; that is, a way separate from the original plan of “hunt and eradicate” strategy.
For the first time in months it seemed like an actual plan was coming into place; now it was just a matter to see if the hunch was right.
• • • • • • • • The Southern Armada • • • • • • • •
They’d been traveling north now for almost a day unchallenged, either the Horde was in a worse shape than they’d thought, or they were going in the wrong direction, and A’yill didn’t know what was worse. He stepped out of his cabin onto the top deck, one of two decks on the ship given that most of it lay beneath its ironclad hull. Each moment the fog grew thicker, it wasn’t a good sign. Zoulmekt was an exterior Thaur, notes on it showed a main settlement and a wet, swamp region taking up much of where rivers would usually have gone, attempts had apparently been made to dig formal canals into the region, but the project was abandoned as southern planners expertise were moved elsewhere. From what they knew, the actual settlement was fairly isolated. The cavern itself could fit roughly five boats in a line while still leaving enough room for dynamic transport. They’d travelled for roughly 3 cycles at this point, soldiers switching between waking-shifts to keep the armada moving constantly. The convoy was set up in a similar fashion to the Kyasii armies of the ‘Reorganization’, with a series of scouts pulling ahead of a tight boat formation with command ships located in the core, the flagship in the dead center of the formation. The entire formation using military horns and whistles to remain organized.
That’s when they heard it, the single horn call practically every ear had been listening for for the last 72 hours: “Land.” In an instant the entire Armada came to a halt, all eyes trained outward toward the cavern walls and the river below them; artillery along the fortified turtle-ships trained out in every direction. By this point the fog was a thick black regardless of the light shone on it, and the crews had been relying on sound to guide their ways along the cavern. A’yill’s fist clenched tightly, what was he supposed to do? They’d prepared for a formal landing but this was insane, not a sign of the enemy anywhere in cycles, it could easily be a trap, or a ruse, or a false reading.
“Scouts, full ahead.” His message read, now came the waiting game.
“Sir, are you sure we shouldn’t continue with the landing?” One of his aids called out.
“Something about this doesn’t feel right; no visibility, no enemy attack, dead silence all around.” He gritted his teeth, this was wrong, he was sure of it.
The Armada waited a full hour before a whistle call brought all attention back to the target at hand. The survey company sent out had returned. There were five of them moving quickly toward the shore, the other scouts calling out for a formal report, before one of them noticed something wrong. The scouts were unarmed, and they were moving strangely, a fast walking pace with all five of them in a straight line, unfazed by the landscape. They remained completely in unison, step by step, never changing speed, and they moved inhumanely fast but their gate was that of a walking person, their hands fastened across their waists. “Crew Report?” One of the scout ships called out. “Repeat, company 3, Crew Report?” The group didn’t stop moving, their speed unchanged; the scouts aboard their boats drew crossbows when the group of five moved curved waist deep into the water, not changing pace, never breaking their perfect line. “Crew 3 halt immediately.” They didn’t, the scouts fired a warning shot, then another; the second round flashed purple before lighting on fire, and in response every front-line ship opened fire, the five crumpling to the shoreline as their magical shield dissolved around them, glowing blood pooling into the water. The scouts froze, when one of the heads twisted up, its eyes deathly pale.
“We seek audience.” His voice groaned across the cavern-space.
The frontline opened fire again.
“General A’yill, we seek audience.” The voice was low and graveling, it was inhuman.
“They seek
what?!” A’yill sat stunned as the whistle call relayed in the events. His mind was racing, what on god’s name was he supposed to do? The cavern shook, and a purple light shown out in front of them.
“A’YILL,” The low voice boomed over the armada, a purple aura flaring out from the cavern ahead, “WE SEEK AUDIENCE.”
• • • • • • • • • • • • • • • •
“It’s got to be joking.” One of the commanders stepped forward as the core members of the fleet’s command council convened.
“Exactly,” another spoke up, “it’s obviously a trap.”
“See, that’s the thing, why even try?” A’yill posited, and was met by blank stares from his commanders. He stepped over to a table by the wall, opening a thick yet small chest and pulling out an ornate metal vial. “The horde corrupted the scouts, that’s how they know my name, so they must know what we think of it? On God, our lives as Warriors are built around
annihilating it, and still it attempts something like this?” The other commanders shook their heads in confusion before another cannon shot rang out. The group of them rushed onto the observation deck to a flurry of whistle calls echoing out to get a hold of the situation. A’yill listened intently as the response came in, “Problem. Enemy refuses to die.”
“Repeat that frontline?”
“A single enemy unit has refused to die. It continues to stand and requests the presence of General A’yill.” The commanders were shocked at that, none of them saying a word until A’yill finally spoke up, “arm every vessel, prepare for an immediate attack. In the event of any motion from the water, open fire without hesitation. Commander Kiriv, you’re in charge.”
“Sir you can’t be serious?” Kiris barked back as A’yill ordered his communicator to send the word to set up bridge-ladders to give him a pathway to the frontline. The General ignored him and continued on, moving from one boat to another, walking over the combat-ships deck covers toward the frontline. He stopped as he reached the final boat and saw what was ahead of them, a thin channel peppered with patches of swamp, the remnants of an abandoned canal project. He looked over the bough to see a single man standing below him in the thick, black water. Half his face was missing, alongside most of his right arm, and massive chunks of the rest of his body. Shifting purple energy seemed to stitch his outline, holding him together.
“A…yill?” Its mouth opened and closed, thin streams of purple energy holding its jaw together as the same, low, hoarse voice strung out.
“I am General A’yill of the Southern Armada for the protection of the Holy Land.”
The man, thing, grinned, its mouth pulling back like it was on strings. The water around its shins began to swirl, flowing up toward its waist before its arms swung out like it was on a cross, a column of thick, black, swirling water hoisted the creature up to eye-level with the General. A’yill leant back in surprise as the mans pale eyes looked unblinkingly into his, its smiling pulling back unnaturally far and head slumped to the left. “We seek an audience.” It groaned, not really speaking as moving its jaw up and down.
“Well, I’m here, what do you wish to discu—“
“YOU WILL FOLLOW.” Its jaw dropped open as the voice screamed out. The column of water pulled back as a second wave pulled up to the bough, the surface solidifying like glass, forming a thin panel for him to step onto. As if confused, the man’s head cocked to other the side, the sudden movement tearing at what little remained of the skin on its throat. “You know killing me won’t break us, even without me the Armada will march on. Our fires will still burn.”
“We will not…kill.” The,
things, voice seemed hoarse, stuttering out of the corpse.
“Then what do you call that?” He gestured to the thing in front of him, grimacing as the corpses mouth dropped open.
“Salvation.” It sputtered, “You…killed….we…saved…”
“You’re insane.”
“FOLLOW.” The corpse crumpled into the vortex of water, the whole structure splashing harmlessly back into river. A’yill grimaced in response, fingering the small vial from the flagship. They had a contingency, killing him wouldn’t make any difference, but at the same time, he was nervous. He swallowed before stepping onto the platform. The drop caught his breath as he was lowered to the rivers’s surface, the water solidifying under his feet as he stepped forward tentatively. He raised a fist to the men above him to show everything was alright before continuing forward. The water was smooth like class, barely compressing under his weight as he continued onward. On either side of him, thin patches of moss turned into a full shoreline; he paused for a moment as he passed by the scout boat, what did the horde
do to them? His breath shot in as a thick shape moved serpent-like underneath him, just below the water. Were those under the fleet?
He continued down the solid river, the fog getting thicker and thicker until the first signs of settlement began to appear around him. A’yill stopped for a moment, it was all wrong. Terraces of land curved along the mossy earth on either bank, thick purple bulbs growing in rough plots, their inky black roots sprawling out like spiderwebs over the cavern wall, plots, and down into the jet-black water. Each one seemed to shrink and inflate again, black mist, the fog around him, bubbling up from their surfaces. But then there was the people, it took him a moment to see them but they were there, and they were frozen. He shuddered as he realized they were all around him, their faint outlines stacked in orderly positions along the farming plots, one after the other, unmoving, all facing toward him. It was like he was in a statue garden. He took a tentative step forward, eying the…things, around him.
“General A’yill.”
He froze again as another figure began to appear in front of him, but the voice seemed to emanate from all around.
“General A’yill.” They repeated; the figures around the coast were talking too.
“That does in this instance happen to be me.”
In unison all of the figures heads cocked to one side before responding, “we seek audience.”
“And low, I am here.”
He blinked as the figure stepped forward; he was human, blueish skin and all, the fog seemingly solidifying around him like a cloak. “Fo…allow.” It graveled in the same hoarse voice as before. The pair of them continued onward, the outlines of the heads of the people following their movements.
“What are you?” A’yill asked, “I said, what are you?” He asked again when met with no response.
The thing paused before continuing, “Sa…alvation.”
“How can you call this salvation? You corrupt the land, the water, these people?”
“We save…eacho…other…” The thing gestured to the land around it, that’s when the fog began, ever so gently, to disperse. A’yill watched as the people around him tilled the soil, each stroke downward with their hoes was in unison, they were like a water clock. “W…we come with…gifts…”
“What kind of gifts? What kind of gift is this?”
“Salvation.”
“STOP SAYING THAT! You’re a conquerer, just like all outsiders that come to our lands!”
“WE BRING ORDER.” The thing and its followers turned to him, their mouths opening as the voice boomed, deep and ragged, over him. “We have much here to eat…much to drink…we need no sus…ten…ance…We are…paradise…”
“You’re insane.”
“See…your…self…”
“What?” A’yill didn’t have time to react before the figure turned around, his thumb pressing into the general’s forehead.
Color punched into his mind, a dazzling array of light flashing around him. He felt like he was floating, and he could only watch as each of his appendages began to split apart, unravelling into a million strings of golden light pulled in every direction deep into the muddled, colorful void around him. But he was calm, he felt the tension in his muscles relax, the air escape his lips as his body disappeared. It was warm, it felt…warm. His eyes were gone but he could see…everything. He wasn’t just surrounded by the rainbow mist, he
was it, a wave in the liquid-mercury eternity. He felt all of it, every shred of hope, despair, anguish, anger, and glee, he saw and heard, experienced, every memory of the souls around him, the continuum he was joining; and they him, he saw a thousand eyes poking into him and each other. He saw outward, pockets of gold across the holland, the cities of his people, and further still to those along the surface, to a sea of golden stars amassing along foreign plains. He felt their minds, their hopes, their dreams. He yearned for them…
He caught his breath as he solidified, he saw from every eye, each of the followers, of the man in front of him; and they saw from his. We all have the same goal, they thought in unison, a powerful, deep voice emanating from all of them at once. We all dream for the same dream. “A union with God.” A’yill said in line. He found himself following them, deep into their city, he saw the bodies of the followers following in unison, their bodies locked in labor but their minds running free. He followed them to the old temple, the Diamonds of Kīyn burnt away and replaced with a simple circle of the new deity, of the unison of the chaos by many names; Namra, Yuar, Yrutas…
When they finished all filing inside A’yill understood; energy piped from a structure the center of the floor, warp alchemic runes glowing a deep violet; an indescribable shape glowed hotly in the center, the half-open eye of…something, peering out from behind it. This was why they were here, they were here to save us, all of us…he thought. He let his mind wander with the groups, swaying in unison with them, his mind flowing along the river of thoughts between each of them. He felt what he wanted to feel, the warm smell of home, of his time in training, the happiest years of his life. The oath he swore.
A single tear dripped from his eye, now for a moment separate from the whole. He felt the confusion of those around him as his thoughts became erratic and confused. This was paradise.
“I’m sorry.” Another tear dropped from his eyes as he pressed down on the vial in his had; a collective scream shattered his mind as a thin stream of blue liquid poured out transforming into a spinning whirl of fire. A shockwave punched A’yill backward and back into reality, his back crunching against the stone temple walls. His eyes were half blinded by the flash of blue as alchemic fire leapt from person to person; his tired muscles smashed against the door, his last glimpses of the interior blinded as a magical shockwave firing out from the rest of the followers to contain the fire itself lit spectacularly. He practically fell down the small hill before the second shockwave erupted out, a wave of blue energy pushing him out. His vision went blank, everything was hot; his hands stung as they touched something. Water! With the last bits of energy he pushed himself forward the river around him sloshing aggressively as the fire raged along its surface. Then, everything went black.
• • • • • • • • • • • • • • • •
A’yill’s eyes opened to a murky brown, he was covered in singed vegetation, his body pushed deep into the mud of riverbank, his left arm pinned under the weight of the earth. Shapes moved around him before his eyes began to focus; a stream of combat ships were moving up the river in front of him; he felt the footsteps of men moving through the muck to his rear. There was someone above him. His eyes drifted lazily up to the familiar gambeson of a scouting division’s uniform, the boy’s eyes widened before a thin military whistle appeared out of his pocket before everything went back to black.
• • • • • • • • Kàhltchéht• • • • • • • •
“Get the eastern wing back into a formation and—“ the commanders words were cut short as a large boom erupted from a missed Kyran round, “return fire on those bastards!” He gritted his teeth as one of the supply ships caught fire, erupting spectacularly as fire sparked along. “Get the Western ring to open fire on the new ships coming from the passage, eliminate any that get past the alchemic fire. Have the Eastern flank curve around, half of them are to eliminate the rest of the enemies original naval forces, the rest target the occupied districts, level it to the ground.”
Whistles shrieked as the orders were relayed out, the entire eastern flank currently splitting off to avoid fire from the cities ports curved around into a backward-sickle formation, unloading on the occupied districts while relying on their maneuverability and hulls to defend against enemy fire. As ordered two of the four divisions broke from the pack, using their thick hulls and deck-coverings to get in close to enemy ships before opening fire, cannon shells shredding the re-purposed navigator barges. Primarily they began to concentrate canon fire along the ports to try and silence the enemy, familiar yellowish smoke from herding gas wafting up from progressively larger craters punched into the thin, artificial land of the city. At the same time, the advancing forces to the south continued to push up along the occupied districts, while those behind defenses pushed against the raiders with crossbows, spears, and a wall of shields. The Western Flank and the command ship pushed forward to catch the enemies reinforcements, unloading volley after volley to keep their ships concentrated in the outer-cave they’d travelled through.
A single shot rang through the cavern, smashing into one of the lower-caste housing complexes toward the interior of the occupied region. One of the tower batteries had just been restocked. “That’s music too my ears!” The commander cried out, have the eastern wing curve in, I want them to start pushing into the city, the rest of the eastern divisions too and—” another canon shot cracked out, ”and for that DAMN artillery to be focused back out on the water, I don’t want a single Kuora ship left behind our encirclement or single soldier hit with our own bombardment.” With orders relayed out, the tower-battery’s shells continued to pepper the occupied districts before turning out to sea, the eastern-lying naval companies beginning to move toward the occupied harbors, exchanging volleys with the raiders on the ground. One of the Kouran men screaming as he attempted to leap onto a ships hull, his armor splintering on the defensive metal spikes aligned across its protected hull.
Jihad II
• • • • • • • • Aliim’yhrall • • • • • • • •
Red and Gold banners waived ecstatically throughout the city, floods of people crowded the streets as the Tibür armies marched toward the main temple. The Temple themselves, not to be outdone, had organized horns and whistles on almost every barricade, as per the orders of the ‘Yhrall Curate, the air of the city would sing like a chorus. 50,000 men, two thirds of the great northern Ahkip’s standing troops positioned themselves in camps outside the city, meanwhile caravans arrived by the hour carrying supplies for the Great Struggle. By the next day smaller regiments, almost 15,000 in all arrived from the smaller nations under the northern Tibür’s sphere of allegiance. Entire keeps were emptied as artisans from across the country arrived to help make arms and armor, arrows and longbows, and enough rucksacks to carry a thousand-days rations. The first War-Bands of the Jihad were set to depart in a few days time, while almost a half-weeks prior, a single group of 2 was sent out by walker to rendezvous with the Lexidun at the meeting point in Quijain, all that was left now was to pray they made it in time, and that the free state of Karatha and the mighty Southern Ahkip held firm in the cause.
Karatha, Asil
“Ahmed…” Bakahn dropped his pack to the hard, earthen ground, arms grasping tight at the young man running into his arms, “my boy…” The smell of Karthagite Conifers filled his nose, dusty ground, moss, and ferns dotted the landscape around him, and the familiar bright blue waters of his fatherland sparkled not a ways off. “My boy… you’ve grown so big…”
“Ihlma?” Bakahn looked up, still scruffing his sons hair, he hadn’t heard that name (husband) in a while.
“Ihilm (wife)?” he responded hesitantly. He stepped closer as if she were a mirage, the sound of crinkling coals stopped him as he stepped into the fire pit. Hopping to the left he balanced on one foot for a moment before looking sheepishly at the young, now old, fool that had married him. She grinned, grey hairs running through her thick curled hair. They embraced for a moment, “I didn’t know if I’d see you again,” he spoke low,
“You always say that.” She smiled, not letting go, her hands running through his wisened hair.
“This time it was different.”
His hands ran through the soft lambskin of their mattress, eyes remembering his sons first kill hanging over the mantle of the fireplace. His gear dropped to the ground with a heavy thud as he unfastened it, placing the spear (wrapped tightly in cloth) on his bed. He walked back outside after changing —at long last— out of his armor, pine needles crackling against his bare feet. “Widen your stance boy!” He barked to his son, shooting arrows at a carved tree stump, “That’s it, angle your head with the arrow, your eye with its tip!” He smiled as he continued on, it felt alien to be home already. Dropping the rest of his clothes on one of the hot stones by the shore he fell into the small river running out toward the sea, the water around him turning brown for a few moments as he scrubbed his tight hair. He laughed for a moment. He was home.
“No no no, none of that you always add too much ______,” His Ihilm giggled as she pushed him away from the cooking stove.
“I always thought it was the perfect amount.”
“Because you’ve lost taste in your mouth from all those ishma-root eating challenges.”
“That’d explain why the Westerners food tasted like cold slop.” They both laughed, “No, now see your cutting the Misha too thick it won’t dissolve like that.”
“Don’t you tell me how to make
my families stew!” She growled
“I will if you’re doing it wrong.”
“Get out of here I’m doing it fine!”
“My god beloved look at that chopping work, you’ve grown sloppy in my time away.”
“I’ll start chopping you old-man.”
“To hear such disrespect from my noble wife!”
“I’ve prayed every day and night for your return and an end to my struggle! But it turns out my struggle was
you the whole time!” Bakahn laughed at that as she chased at him with a cleaver. They heard a yell as a thin book smashed into the side of their wall. “You,” his wife said, “go,,,help him with that and leave me be.”
“Bakahn chuckled as he walked up to the book, opening it to see lines upon lines of ‘kahet’ (the “ka” letter in Karthagite) characters. “Is the wall your teacher now?” He asked
“No,” his youngest sons temperament was as active as ever it seems.
“Then why do you keep handing it your book, son?”
“My strokes are always too big, it IMPOSSIBLE to write, I HATE it!”
“Where’s your brother now?”
“Outside.”
“Can he help you?”
“No, I get what it means,
just I can’t do it.”
“Hmm,” he sat down on the floor below his son, back resting against the bed frame, “This makes no sense to me, explain it.”
“This ones Kahet, it makes the Ka sound like in AhKAm.”
“What are the little dots everywhere?”
“Those make it Qha, like in Qhamud. But it’s SO stupid, it’s always Ka or K’a or Qha until you put it in the middle of a word and then it’s drawn COMPLETELY differently and makes a Ku sound. Why do I have to learn this?!”
“You’ve been given a great opportunity, with this you can learn the speech of our ancestors, find a life amongst the shore cities. With an education the world is at your fingertips. You won’t be like me.”
“But I WANT to be like you, going off on adventures, slaying bandit kings!”
“Killing men is my own struggle boy, know to learn yours. No death is honorable.”
• • • • • • • • • • • • • • • •
Bakahn let out a deep sigh as he leaned up on the side of the fireplace, the holy weapon resting on his lap. “That speech didn’t sound like the prideful mercenary who left so long ago.” He looked up to see his wife kneeling in front of the fire. He looked away, “why do you torment me woman.”
“Don’t joke now.” “His face remained still as she spoke, “somethings wrong, isn’t it Ihlma?” He didn’t answer, “you know you can tell me.”
“I have nothing to tell.”
“Don’t lie.” She said sternly as his hands began to unwrap the weapon.
“I do not, my struggle is not with words,” he said, a flash of hot white light spilling into the room, his wife’s eyes widening. He stood up, walking toward the door,, “I am the champion of the Muse-God, I’ve come home not to stay but to rally our kin.” He turned around expecting anything other than his wife’s reaction, she sat still. Unmoving. Bakahn turned back around, he didn’t even know what to say.
“I had heard the westerners had found a Messiah amongst our kin. The Deep folk have gone silent in your absence, it’s all the western and eastern traders can talk about. Somethings happening, isn’t it Ihlma.”
He turned back around, kneeling down in front of her, “I don’t know what to do…I-I don’t even know wh…who I’m supposed to be now…I.”
“Enough of that my joyful mercenary.” He looked up to catch her gaze, “the man I married, when each time he left I prayed to every one of the Divines for his safe travel, and each time he returned home to me. Your struggle is your own, but our family and our kin are always with you no matter how far away you journey. An-and,” she stuttered for a moment, “if your struggle is to hunt kyran bandit kings to pay for our children’s lives, then I felt sorry for the King whose armies had to face your fury,” his eyes fell to the floor, “and if it was to act as mercenary for foreign men, then I felt pride for each mother who’s son was to her, destined to return.” she cupped his head in her hands, “and if it is your struggle to fight as champion of the God of the Clay, then I see it only fit to pray to the Warfather for the safe passage of the Great Demon, for it is he who is going to need it.”
• • • • • • • • Three Days Later; il-Māghrrāb • • • • • • • •
The huge oak doors closed behind him with a low thud, ambient light filtering from above from slits where the wall met the ceiling. “Bakahn of the Märrëd.” The rest of the room came into view as he stepped forward. It was a fairly simple meeting hall, a blazing hearth in the center and fourteen wooden pillars holding up the ceiling, thick wooden walls draped in red cloth in the traditional Karthagite style, and an array of mats were lain across the ground. “So it’s true,” Bakahn looked at the odd 20 old men staring at him, the townships elders, “a child of the Māghrrāb has been chosen as the champion of the Western God.”
“Fathers,” Bakahn said, kneeling to the ground in front of the hearth fire, unharnessing his spear and resting it in front of him, “I’ve come to ask for your guidance.”
“I have reason to believe you’ve come for more than that.” One retorted
“Did you think your priesthood wouldn’t send out word too our people?”
“You’ve come to ask us to vouch on your behalf, to convince our Kin-Brothers to rally under the banner of their ‘gilded temples’.”
“How do you mean ‘my priesthood’.” Bakahn asked, “and yes I have fathers of that I can’t lie, but I do so out of necessity.”
“Well with your ascendance under their lord, would it not be natural for us too assume you had joined their ranks as well?”
“Yes it would, Fathers I’ve come here now to garner your attention to the threat upon our doorstep, but I bow first and foremost for your guidance in these most troubling times. I have fought for my kin on all fronts but I know stand on a new pathway I know nothing of. I’m being asked to follow a doctrine I’ve never read, for a God I’ve never worshipped, I stand now on the precipice of a new age.”
“Do you ask us pity?”
“I ask ye wizened men for advice. I have not lived the holiest life, nor one of righteousness nor fortitude. I have fought for foreign men, slain foreign enemies, and travelled foreign lands, but I have done so to face the struggles of my family and kinfolk. I faced my struggle each day knowing it brought food to the table of my wife and sons. I am tasked now with a new challenge I know not if I can face.”
The men were silent for a moment before one of them spoke up, “I have deliberated against you, son, I ask your forgiveness.”
Bakahn looked up at the man in a bit of surprise, “of course father.”
“You’ve been burdened with a challenge under foreign masters, and under these masters you must serve. There is little in the way of guidance we can grant, as you now walk a different path than our own.” Bakahn looked to the floor, “But from my own experience, I will give you this: remember your kin and place trust in those worthy of their respect. One man is strong, a family is stronger.”
“Thank you father.”
“Members of this council we cannot forget why our Son has returned home in the first place, not to settle with his family and folk but to draw us into battle.” A great murmur seeped around the room, “and I say that our brothers and sisters have fought too much, first against the invading Tibür, then against the Kyran attackers. We have only survived as a people thus far by our strength at home.”
“Father if I may, I call upon our arms because they are the best of our land, not a months time prior I fought the forces of the great demo—“
“We know well of what you’ve done.” The man retorted.
“Then you know of the danger!”
“I know, that it is yet another threat to wash upon our land, a threat best dealt with at home. We should defend ourselves and our kin as we always have, not bow to the whims of a foreign god to fight in foreign wars.”
“This is no such foreign war! Yrutas threatens all life! We must take up arms!”
“And that we shall do, our lands will be well defended.”
Bakahn looked in shock as the elders began to agree with the words of the one speaking, “You coward.” Fury bit at his tongue as he spoke, “Ye are not the men I fought for.”
“What you call cowardliness, I call strategy, a tried and true method.”
“You are a coward Father! I may fight amongst foreign men, but I do now more than you ever will for my people!”
• • • • • • • • Quijain • • • • • • • •
The Walker rumbled nervously as the Kyran soldiers stepped out of its way, two men on its back staring down at the sight below them, hundreds of individual war camps spread out in every direction. The rider cooed the animal as he pulled on its harness, driving it to stop. The other one tugged on one of the ropes and began to repel down the 23 meter monster to meet the men on the ground. He was approached by a few Kyrans, “What’s your business here?” One of them asked gruffly, eying the beastie above him as it let out a rumble like two wet pieces of wood sliding together.
“I come as a messenger from the Gilded Temple in Asil,” he responded in Ilsien tal-Gwerra, “Where is the command tent?”
Still clipped to the beast he allowed himself to be guided to the center of camp, smiling as the looks he was getting from the different people around them. He recognized the banners of the Conquest Column, he’d seen them too many times before, but these other folk? White skin and blue banners, they must’ve been from the Western Kingdom? Not after long they reached the main tent in the center of camp, one of the guards outside rushing in. Not long afterward a group of people came outside wearing an array of uniforms, some Kyran, some Western. The beasts rider repelled down after few moments, handing his compatriot a thick scroll. The Rohzai cleared his throat before speaking in Common;
“I bring word from the Gilded Temple of the Great City, Aliim’yhrall. Hear this and know these words come directly from the Speakers of the House of God. The Messiah of God travels now across our country, first to the land of the great Northern Ahkip of Tibür. Tibür armies and those in their association ally themselves now in the Great City, 25,000 men total. 10,000 Artisans and Scribes from the Northern Ahkipates and each of the Trade Cities gather now underneath the Gilded Temple, fastening arms for this Jihad. Those conscripted so far offer arrowheads, blast powder, swords, daggers, mail, and non-perishable foodstuffs in offer to the cause of the crusaders should they be needed. These 10,000 offer themselves up as War Engineers, bringing their knowledge to aid your own in fastening weapons, setting up defenses, and tearing down those of the enemy. Hear now that the Karthagite Messiah Bakahn travels yet to his fatherland of Karatha, and that agents of the Gilded Temple travel to the Southern Ahkipates under the guidance of the Gōgher nation. In total 75,000 men are set to join you in full force in a fortnights time for Jihad against the Great Demon.”
Mark of the Yuar II
• • • • • • • • Aliim’yhrall • • • • • • • •
His mind burned, the soles of his feet aching as he passed nervously back and fourth throughout his study. It was completely insane, all of it; ‘Do not trust your god?’,
your God as if it expects me to believe there are what, others?! He sat down again on one of the stone benches protruding from the cavern wall, green light from his glow-crystal shining calm blue-green light over the room. It couldn’t seriously expect him to believe it? Take it to the capital? To do what, trigger another horde attack in the center of the country? There was a knock on the sliding door;
“Eldest Brother? You’ve received a message from the—“
“Shut it!” Idiotic Scribes, this Godforsaken place lacks any discipline, “just, just slide it through the message-port like I’d asked you
not four minutes ago.” On God what was he going to do? He couldn’t just leave the man here, but where could he take him? He had the authority to send word directly to the Curate but…and what had the man said? “The Great Demon”. God DAMNIT there were too many unknowns. The Yuar was a force, a chaos,
a sickness, what did he mean the “demon”. His eyes fell to the floor as the conclusion he knew was coming for the last half-hour dawned in his mind. He was going to half to take him to the Capital, it was the only place with the power to potentially contain him. He stood slowly, then turned to pack his things. Opening the door he stepped right into the wide eyes of a Scribe,
“Elder, er, Eldest my apologies I was just—“
“Ignoring my orders of my own sequestration for no less than the eight time today, it’s as if you your deaf as well as dumb.”
“My, well, Eldest I,” the lad stuttered again as Kva pushed passed him, “Eldest where are you going?”
“To the apothecary, send word to the stables to ready a
Vuòar, and a large one this time, if I have chitin pushing up my side again I’ll have you all hanged.”
“Erm, elder…eldest!” The scribe protested as Kva continued down through the caves side tunnel, resting his hand on one of the stalagmites, “were are you going!” He called out
“To the Capital,” Kva yelled back, not turning around, “Personally!”
• • • • • • • • • • • • • • • •
Tiyn shot up with a start as four armed guards entered into his room, “what’s going on?”
“You’ve been recalled to the Capital, Elder Kva will escort you back into the countries interior.”
Tiyn looked shocked for a moment before obeying, putting on his standard robes and allowing himself to be escorted out of the infirmary ward of the cities apothecary. He’d never really seen the interior of Iskàhem before, given that he was unconscious for most of his time in the city; In a daze he allowed himself to be almost dragged deeper into the city before finally reaching the stables, a huge chamber with a main channel and two side caverns pushing off into the distance. Behind him the support walls of the City lay adorned with calligraphy of the cities exterior and an array of Kòav, a large beetle species with a palanquin resting on its back. He was really going back wasn’t he.
The soldiers directed him to one beetle ready to go in front of the main chamber leading deeper underground. Inside the beast was Kva, waving him inside. “I’m glad you made it here on time, and my apologies for the early start, but with the Iylmirix in place my abilities to travel have been, well reduced to say the least.”
“Not a problem.”
The journey was going to be a long one, at least a half-day’s journey as they travelled deeper underground. Tiyn watched almost nervously as the caves shifted from bubbly sandstone to the hard, earthen fractures of his homeland. Glow-crystals dotted the way every few meters, keeping the two of them on course. Three hours later the air began to warm, the familiar, flowery smell of Anáb trees wafting over them as they emerged from the exterior caverns onto a cliff-face overlooking the Tàovīyn Interior, the canyon stretching on for miles in each direction, open space halted only by the dotting islands of stone holding up the cavern ceiling. The blue water shimmered below them like a spiderweb as the two travelers continued on. It only took another two hours before the black-dots of ships along the river below transformed from a continuous stream to a maelstrom of activity, the bright blue water transforming into a myriad of dark spots as they reached the cities edge. In the distance they could see them, every few hundred meters another huge structure reaching to the cavern ceiling. Vōhlthazaan.
• • • • • • • • • • • • • • • •
What on God’s name was going on. Tiyn looked in shock as the boats they’d seen traversing in and out of the city turned out to be armed transports. Practically all movement along the roadways had been frozen and huge barges of military supplies crisscrossed every alleyway. A continuous stream of conscript battle-groups streamed around them as they made their way toward one of the massive temples of state they’d seen in the distance. Outside the structure, their palanquin stopped, dwarfed hilariously by the size of the just the support stones holding up the massive structure. They were surrounded quickly by a guard contingent before a few words from Kva led them inside the temple, from the Palanquin they were escorted into the structure, a thousand chambers and hallways branching off in every direction, a system of numerals marking almost every column relaying the Kemeht organizational structure. Tiyn recognized the Temple, it was the House of Wisdom, the Alchemists temple.
They found themselves on the fifth floor of the second tier located somewhat toward the core of the building, a circular room lined with dark, alchemic-bronze plating. A variety of instruments were placed into organized rows and cubicles around them. Kva quickly split off to communicate the situation to the growing group of Scholars that were surrounding them, revealing a small metal box, the anti magical container housing Tiyn’s amulet. The Headmaster’s eyes widened as the device was unlatched, clockwork gears spinning as the devices defenses were unwound, an a sharp white light spilled outward.
Her eyes latched onto Tiyns, “Start from the beginning.”
Slavers of the Belt III
• • • • • • • • Position 19 — Western Asilic Mire • • • • • • • •
“GOD ACTUAL DAMMIT.” Kawar yelled out as another blast of hot sand nocked against his mire walker, the rest of his own crew retreating into the tent-rigging set up along its spinal plates. The beast let out a low moan through its breathing ports, chitinous flaps shacking the dusty air as a rumble erupted outward. A Cher Purifier’s (Warrior-Caste) whistle, Temer, cried out from the walker behind them. What the hell does that idiot mean we gotta stop, this is the third dust storm in two days we can push through it. “No T-E-M, we’re sticking on course until we literally can’t.” He whistled back. He’d been getting this damn lip from Tem’ for the past 8 hours and he was growing tired of it, the Tabic Compasses put them in the right direction, they were damn near out of the western mires judging by previous caravan’s notes (thank god for the Sarmürn guild). He grunted again as another jetstream of mire-silt smacked against his wyrm-skin mask, “HELL.” The entire beastie below him buckled under the weight of the southward wind. Fucking hell!
A few hours later though, and the brunt of the storm had abated, shifting into a calmer dust cloud enveloping them; they were still riding blind but their course hadn’t deviated. “State Location?” A whistle call shrieked out in response, Temer. “4 meters on right, we’re moving into position 18.” He responded. “Awaiting confirmation.” Temer replied, Kawar let out a sigh of relief, smiling slightly as the orange light of the sun began to illuminate the dense mire-fog (a mixture of mist, sand, and silt flying around them), before turning round and unfastening the ropes of the tents outer rigging and slipping inside, replaced quickly by his side-hand Imahan, the young lad scurrying out to take his place.
The Walker was big enough that a sizable set-up could be sprawled out among the tents interior, several mats lay along the exposed chitin while the rest of the cargo the tent was fastening down had been turned into bedding, hammock posts, or tables. A small stove was light in the rough, concentric center of the would-be yurt, elevated off the chitin so as not to bother the beastie below them. “Advance toward N5.” Said Qhava
“Sieging it,” Nahzii said calmly
“Oh fuck me.” The woman retorted.
“I don’t know why you still challenge him to that game when your strategy’s worse than blindfolded Tibür.” Kawar quipped
“Shut it,” Nahzii retorted in Tibür, “what positions are we?”
“42° heading Southwest.” He retorted, pulling out the compass just to double check. It was a thick brass disk roughly the size of his hand, Kem runes lining the outside, and a compass needle with an enlarged, blue glowing rotation-dial spun for a few moments before its needle’s arrow, pointing in toward the dial, stopped spinning. The needles head pointed behind him, a good sign, while the arrow, located on the other side of the needle pointing in toward the center (representing the Tabes), sat them on the edge of Position 17, the rotation dial glowing a dull hue hinting at their Tabic distance.
“Hmm, it must be a weird season because the al-Khixam Mire doesn’t usually extend this far south.” Ibn said
“Everything a weird season nowadays, I wouldn’t be surprised if the southern tropics are underwater at this point.” Kawar retorted, he was having none of it.
“This better be worth it.” Nahzii grumbled, “this weathers insane.”
“Yes it’s gonna be worth it moron, you saw the reports, the Western Kingdom’s been getting rich off this southern group. Once we push through the western jungle region it’ll be smooth sailing to the Southern Peninsula.”
“What do we even know about these people?” Nahzii asked
“Well, they know common just like the Kuora and Westerners to start.”
“that should help.” The boy replied
“Exactly, they’re myratnis worshipping like the I think the phrase that the Westerners called them was something along the lines of ‘twin kingdoms’?”
“The notes say Dual.” Ibn jumped in.
“Dual Kingdoms, then.” He rolled his eyes, “the point is, is they’ve got a similar culture in theory to the West, and gold to trade with, in my eye two plus two equals four, yea?” Kawar perked his ears for a moment, speech in the tent stopped in an instant. Then he heard it again, a whistle call. “Temer?”
“Captain!” Imahan’s voice kept out; Kawar jumped up, pushed his way back outside, gusts of sandy-wind battering him as he maneuvered his way out. “Repeat Message.” He whistled back, waiting a few moments, “T-E-M-E-R?”
“He started contact up a little bit ago but I couldn’t catch what he was saying.” The boy said.
“Location Error. We’ve got a problem K-A-W-A-R.” Temer replied
“Issue?”
“Cannot confirm location in Position 17.”
“Repeat Message?”
“Both Spare Tabic-Compasses put us on the edge of Position 19, 56° Degrees heading hard west.”
Kawar froze, that would…that would, “freeze the Caravan,” he rushed back into the tent as Imahan relayed the order to the two walkers behind them, “pass me a map of the region.” Kawar barked
“W-what? Cap’. Is there something wrong?” Ibn stuttered
“Shut up and do it!” Kawar was frantic at this point, that’s two whole sections off-course, it couldn’t be. His mind froze as he took a look at the map. They were heading in the wrong direction, they weren’t on the southern edge of the al-Khixam they were passing through it’s
west.
“Kawar? What’s the deal?”
“The deal is were fucked, Temer says both other spares put us in Position 19, heading a hard west.” Kawar’s face paled as he said it out loud, the entire room falling silent.
“Your shitting me.”
Kawar wasn’t listening, pushing his way based the tent flaps he whistled out again to Temer, “move your position, we’re linking up.”
“Message received.” A few moments later, the dark shape of a walker came into view as Qhava and Temer waived them down, the two tossing Kawar a rope as they guided their walker over to his, the third walker, a transport, tethered to their rear. Orange, dusty wind whipped against their tight, wyrm-leather suits as hooked onto Kawar’s walker’s rigging, hoisting themselves up as their captain and his pilot pushed themselves into the rigging-tent. Inside the entire team was in a circle around the tents interior, maps of the region were strewn about the floor. “This is the situation,” Kawar began, “our mission was to curve around the tabes, cutting south once we pushed into section 17. An error in our main compass has led to us continuing hard west into section 19. We are currently in unknown territory, the question now is, what do we do.”
“Why not simply curve south? We can tell where we are from the Map and the Southern Dual Kingdoms are meant to be along the coast, us simply running along the continents southwestern edge doesn’t seem to bad.”
“The problem is food.” Started Temer, “The original plan was to move south at a sharp angle to cut down on how many resupplies we’d need, so at this point we’d have to turn back, probably rendezvousing at Ahlm’yahiim, but first we have to worry about feeding the walkers, who now really need to feed given we were planning on being through the southern deserts at this point. If we turn back now the walkers might not have enough energy to continue, but if we cut south we might not either.”
“So what, it’s a catch-22? Can’t go back, can’t go onward?”
“Not necessarily, worse comes to worse, couldn’t we simply keep going this direction?” Qhava asked
“And go where? The regions completely uncharted.” Imahan replied, “Literally no map of the region exists, least not by my recollection.”
“Everybody calm down.” Kawar stood up, “Listen, were gonna get nowhere by panicking, Imahan and Temer I want you to run another check on our location, Temer you tell me what you find; Ibn and Qhava you repel over to the third walker and check up on supplies, see how we’re doing on water, Nahzii you head over with Temer’s group and start checking up on the secondary supplies, Imahan’ll join you when they’re done. I’m gonna try and get a read on where in God’s sight we are from the telescope. Regardless, I want us to hunker here until this storm lets up.”
• • • • • • • • • • • • • • • •
Kawar tugged twice on the repel line as he began his descent off the back of the Mire-Walker. All around them was still a light orange haze, but for the most part the storm had abated, now all that was left was for the air to settle so they could get a proper reading on their location. He tucked on the grapple-hook, a specialized gauntlet used to control the rappel speed, he looked confused at the ground below him. The Walker itself was almost 20 meters off the ground, plus all the dust and fog, so when Ibn had told him the ground looked funny he’d shrugged it off, but now he was starting to agree. He could just see it through the hot mist, weird dark blotches everywhere; and he’d put it too the back of his mind at the time but he swore he heard crunching sounds as they’d been walking earlier. He loosened his arm and began to descend again, after a few moments his boots squelched in the soft ground as it buckled underneath him. They were plants? All around him tiny grasses dotted the wet earth, and thick, succulent plants dotted the landscape. They weren’t in the mires. Sometime, somehow they’d moved into a completely different region, and they were so high up and so blinded by the dust in the air that they never noticed it. Where the hell were they?
• • • • • • • • • • • • • • • •
A few hours later and he was back outside, Imahan shouting to him that the dust had finally settled. Brushing the tent flap out of the way he squinted at the first sign of direct sunlight in days, twin ropes on his right showed Temer and Qhava repelling down to inspect the ground around them. Stretching his neck he extended the telescope, a Kemeht farseer, and began to look around. To their east, the all-too familiar sight of purple electricity marked the tabes, now only a flickering dot in the distance; south was marked lowlands, while he could spot foliage in the distance and maybe, was that water? Apart from that he didn’t recognize anything, no landmarks, no mountains or Aghrab trees marking mire-regions in the distance. They were in an alien land, he couldn’t even see Ahlm’yahiim they were so far west. God where were they?
What seemed like a thousand eyes looked back at him expectantly as he entered into the rigging tent for what seemed like the millionth time that day. “There’s foliage in the distance, not a half-days journey further west, the ground dips down too so maybe a river too. How are we doing on supplies?”
“We’ve still got two days left of water from the resupply at Ahlm’wahi, but foods running dangerously low, I’d say 4 to 5 days tops, maybe a week and a half or so if we ration.”
“We could drain water from the plants, they seemed succulent.” Ibn said, Kawar was thanking god every second for bringing along a Gōgher, the fools lived in some of the harshest wastes in Asil.
“First off, we should work on getting our crew to the foliage in the distance, if anything it’ll provide food for the walkers and water for us, if we’re lucky we’ll find a river and maybe a few settlements.”
“Captain, if you don’t mind me asking, how’d we get this far off track?” Qhava fingered his leather glove anxiously.
“With a busted compass we kept curving west instead of south, and my guess is with the insane weather we’ve been having we never noticed the environment change until now. It’s been wet this season too so my guess is the walkers were simply cruising, the wetter the soil the faster we move really.”
“So what’s our bet now?” Ibn asked
“I say head on to the foliage, hope for the best. But it’s your lives on the lives, not to mention your money on the table, so let’s put it too vote.” He waited for a few moments as the talks deliberated, “alright, to the foliage it is then.
• • • • • • • • • • • • • • • •
It was roughly midday when they finally reached the foreign grove, tufts of moss transforming into thick, rich-green grass. The men could only watch in surprise as the landscape changed from a plains to a mosaic, trees springing up all around them, that was then Temer spotted it, a glimmer in the distance. Kawar’s telescope proved it to be true; they’d found water. What followed was a mad scramble as the Rohzai pushed their tired muscles and tired beasts to the waters edge, Kawar being quick to repel down confirming that it the water was fresh, they’d happened upon a lake. They were exhausted by this point, almost 8 continuous hours of traveling and tracking their location starting from when they’d first gotten lost had drained them of all the energy they had left. It was these tired Rohzai that began to unbuckle their group supplies and repel down to the shoreline. Temer led the beasts out to graze while Kawar and the rest of the group began filling up water-sacks and setting up a fire pit.
The wet earth clung too his knees as Kawar splashed his face with water, his gaze widening out over the the lake. It was huge, unlike anything he’d ever seen. This was what it meant to travel, he grinned to himself. That’s when he noticed them, at first he thought they were a trick of the eye, or some animals in the distance, but then they started coming into view. He pulled out his telescope and sure enough, a group of individuals were standing by the shore not a few meters away. He could make out that, at least some of them, where wearing blue, and…
“Wait a minute…” Kawar double checked his telescope, “I know that sigil!”
• • • • • • • • • • • • • • • •
"HEY! HEYYYY" the group of men looked up in a blink of surprise as four strangers began sprinting toward them along the shoreline in the distance, one yelling out in Common while the others accompanied unintelligibly in a foreign language. The Lexidun woman barely had anytime to register what was happening before her guard detail drew their swords at the sprinting figure. Was that... common she was hearing? In the Caldives of all places? Squinting hard and continuing to blink in surprise, Ruby Hollins called out in response. “...hey?”
“Shit! God they’re armed!” Ibn yelped in Gōgher
“Of course they’re armed you idiot we’re in the middle of nowhere.” Nahzii retorted. The four of them stopped running just in sight of the Lexidun, Kawar putting his hands up to try and ease the situation. “Time to put that silver tongue to use captain.” Qhava joked.
“Thousand apologies for the surprise friend, and no need for alarm, we’re only lightly armed,” he started in common, flashing his empty pockets, “Ah yes, I can see your escort is more than pleased to see us, but I must ask, those banners, they’re of the Wester-errrm, Lexidun Kingdom. Correct?”
"...correct." Ruby put away her notebook she had been absentmindedly scribbling in whilst searching for landmarks in the area. She wanted to make sure cartography in the area was the best it could be, this whole colonization effort was her pet project after all. She blinked again and began to recognize the men before them. Not personally but rather who they belonged to. Their accents and clothes were a dead giveaway. "Lower your weapons folks, these are Rohzai!" she gestured towards the shifty guards, their brows raised and sweaty.
"Apologies if we seem jumpy, we've been set upon by more wild creatures than you could possibly imagine." She gave a slight nod. "Ruby Hollins, leader of the Lexidus Expeditionary Company, branch of the Merchants Association of Lexidus." A small smile soon followed her nod.
"Pray tell. What on earth are Rohzai such as yourself doing in the Caldives?"
"Right right exactly! And to answer the question, what I believe to be the same thing as you! See we're explorers," he paused, "for hire, and with the rest of the Trade Guilds up and fussy about the discovery of some Messiah, we got to work reading the reports from the most recent expedition to your country. We got word of your very kingdom sending it's own expeditions south, I assume that's who you are, and finding quite a lucrative trade partner. The only issue is our compass broke and set us slightly off course, but if we managed to find you lot that means we must be going in a right direction."
"They mentioned maps, captain", Nahzii whispered in Gōgher.
"Ah, right of course; I feel it to be very gratuitous that we found you, so I must ask if you know much about this place or the surrounding area?"
Ruby paused. Word sure got around fast with these Rohzai, it was impressive really, Ruby thought to herself. "The area you find yourself in is, as previously stated, the Caldives. A newfound dominion of the Lexidun Empire and as such is Lexidun land. You'll find forts to the immediate west of where we are currently located." She showed them a map she has been working on, denoting their immediate location and relation to the rest of the Caldives. "Once you go past the forts you need only head west once more to find the Heartland Island. Civilization has found itself very quickly there and the surrounding river's coast. The entire south-eastern passage is filled with Lexidun colonies."
"To the west past the river you will find the land of Kanso-Oromi. A reclusive nation we've only recently made contact with. But, nonetheless we have established trade relations and the such." Ruby pondered the map before her, deciding to roll it up and present it to the Rohzai. "Here, consider it thanks from me to your people for what they did during the siege."
It was taking him physical energy not to panic and leap for joy, was this seriously exactly where they needed to go and they got there on accident. God worked in mysterious ways he had to admit it, "I don't know how to thank you, twice now our people have collided and twice they've led to a good exchange. I take it as a good omen, but I must say that my faith forbids accepting a payment not owed to me." Pulling off his satchel he emerged with several papers, what looked like maps of regions Ruby didn't recognize, "if you continue east you'll pass through relatively flat, soft-earthen lands until reaching the barren landscapes of my homeland. The region is frought with sand and thermal storm, the cause of the dense fogs you've most likely encountered by now. The journey to the next major settlement from here is roughly 8 days, should you will for it. I wish ye luck."
Ruby took the papers and made sure to shake the man's hand. The maps given to her would save her people weeks, no, rather months of work and funds. She smiled. "Many thanks! Good luck on your travels west; know that you are in the domain of friends. Before we part however, what are your names?"
Kawar blinked as he realized he'd skipped the first part of any deal, that's a way to thank heaven for guiding him this far, skimp out on proper ceremony. "Many apologies friend! I was so caught up in the moment i'd forgotten any pleasantries!" He was gonna get smote for this, "Mine is Kawar al-Imashd, and these are my compatriots with the Ghidami Guild: Ibn Ahalra, Qhava Uruk Il'waha, and Nahzii Ashirid. May I ask yours?"
She gave a polite chuckle, refraining from pointing out she had already told him her name, these gentlemen must have been exhausted and stressed. They were due a little leeway. "Ruberia Amanda Hollins. Everyone calls me Ruby though."
Hollins? Where'd he heard that name before, "It was a pleasure, Ruby Hollins, I hope divine providence joins our paths at a later date. "
• • • • • • • • That Evening • • • • • • • •
“Kansa-Urmi?” Qhava asked
“That’s close enough,” Kawar laughed, pray to god you never try to learn Common Qhava, he thought. “But yes,
Kanso-Oromi is a kingdom to the west of here along the coast that the Lexidun have opened trade relations with. It’s it guys, we fucking found it!”
“You mean to tell me that we got blasted off course only to arrive in the very location we were heading for in the first place.” Temer asked incredulously.
“Ye-hes! God’s on our side boy, this is the foreign kingdom the Lexidun had discovered, and from the looks of it we’re only about a weeks journey if we really haul ass! Plus any number of these encampments along the shore separating this western island from the continent could be the key to our food issue.”
“That’s the thing though, captain, how’re we supposed to even cross that?”
“Judging from some of the notes we got from this Ruby person, the river, or sea really, splitting the continent gets as shallow as 12 meters in some places.”
“The walkers could easily get through that.” Temer laughed.
They were going to make it.
• • • • • • • • • • • • • • • •
It would take them another half-week before they reached the western channel separating the land hosting Kanso Oromi from the main continent. During that time, they’d managed to terrify some Lexidun managing a general store at one of their channel settlements, finally restocking on food after about two weeks of rationing. To start with though, the map was wrong, with the shallowest portion available to the 17 meters rather than 12, the Rohzai glancing nervously to his side as water lapped up dangerously close to the underbellies of their Walkers, but finally, they made it across. Continuing to travel down the peninsula, the first curved up, meeting another Lexidun trading post to restock supplies before continuing west. The actual journey took another week before they were completely engulfed by jungle.
Lovestory II
• • • • • • • • Southern Abel, Lexidus • • • • • • • •
Túrm looked at the giggling mess on the ground, then back to the man behind the counter, then back to the mess, then back to the man, not really sure of how to react. Was she going to be okay? If it could even be called a she, it looked feminine enough but it was one of the man-beasts so he wasn’t completely sure. She’d said something about bread but he couldn’t really tell because of her slurring her words. “Listen kid,” Túrm looked back at the bartender, he’d just said something but he didn’t understand, “I dunno how to you help you. You understanding me? I,” he started taking with big gestures, “can’t speak with you, go out there,” he pointed outside, “go to library. You understand that, LIBRARY. They help you TALK.”
Go back out there, he kept saying a word, “library” but it’s not like he understand what that meant, was it a place, a person, a
thing. But He figured he’d have more luck asking outside, “hey, hey!” He turned back around in a jolt as the bartender started talking again, “better take her out of here too.” Túrm looked at him confused until he gestured toward the girl on the floor, “HER, OUTSIDE.” He had to be joking? He wasn’t joking. Fine. Túrm grunted as he grabbed the girls arm and started to help her outside.
“Jackass.” He responded in Faōhzāh before walking out of the building.