Pearl, Gold, Blood, and Bone [WHF]

[aLarkInTheDark]

Chapter 1​

The onset of the evening storm was surprisingly beautiful.

I peered into the blue-tinged glades, blinking every so often as lightning burst forth from swollen skies in the distance. Far below was a sea of mist, obscuring the ground in a haze of white. On occasion, I could see the flash of movement—a shadowy silhouette—in the corner of my eyes, of an alien creature darting through the undergrowth.

It approached—inexorable, relentless, inescapable. First, there came the gentle pitter-patter of droplets against leaves, drumming against the broad leaves so far above me. Slowly, it grew to a steady rumble as the droplets became fat and numerous. They ran together down in thick rivulets through the moss growing on the trees' monstrous trunks.

And all around came a buzzing drone. Insects, unable to fly for fear of collision with raindrops half their size, called out endlessly on from their holes, inviting a curious would-be predator to investigate. Only then would the predator find it was in fact the prey.

I closed my eyes, just to feel and listen.

Past the insects and the endless pounding of rain was the burble of a growing river. The weedy stream was filling quickly as the water that fell past the layers and layers of canopy above flowed into the natural canal. Up here, lying upon the arching root of a gargantuan tree, I was safe, at least from the water.

My legs tensed as wood snapped not too far to the south. Wind, water, or the muscle of one of this place's many monsters could be the cause. In my condition, I would not be able to escape from a fresh pursuer's gnashing teeth.

I heard the crashing of branches tearing through branches, and then the great thump of a tree falling to the earth. The chittering of the smaller creatures in the underbrush faded for a moment before resuming. I relaxed my body, but then something tugged at my chest.

"Ay! Apologies. Apologies."

I looked down to see bone and dark-red tissue. Blood pooled in and out of the open wound, spilling down my side to my back in a warm, sticky mess. Sitting atop my body, just below my ribs, was a contraption of wood and steel, its flat palps keeping the flaps of my skin from closing together.

I then turned to look at the man kneeling next to me, his fingers and apron stained with my blood. He wore a hood, already sopping wet in the rain despite our natural shelter. In his right hand, he held a scissor-like tool. In his left, a wooden spoon. He smiled with concern as he noticed my attention.

"Still alive?"

I nodded.

"Almost done," he gently said before he got back to work. He reached down, using his fourth and fifth-fingers on his spoon-wielding hand to widen the pulsing gap. He then pushed the other tool in, deftly pinching his controlling fingers to open and close the tool's small mouth, clamping it upon something deep inside. And then, he pulled.

Several minutes later, I was holding a small, jagged rock in both hands. I turned it over, letting it stain my hands only more so with my own blood. This side was no different than the other so I splayed my arms out, letting them bathe in the still-falling curtains of water. I drew them back a few seconds later, cleansed of the filth.

"You're a strong one."

I met the physician's eyes. He nodded to me. I frowned. "Something to numb the pain would have been nice."

"Months gone. It doesn't keep, especially in this air."

Warm and humid. I understood. Yet, having an answer does not always solve a problem. Each pass of the needle through my flesh drew a blink from me, but after it was done I felt relief. Finally. Finally gone. I could feel the absence already.

"Here," he said. He held a small pouch of torn cloth before him. His eyes flicked to my hands, at the stone I held. I reached over, putting my hand and cargo over the pouch, then hesitated.

"Is something wrong?"

I turned my hand over, and opened my fingers. Upon my palm sat the stone, its hue a malignant dark-green. I stared at it for a moment longer, then looked at the physician's confused smile. Quietly, he asked me, "Do you know what this is?"

"Yes," I replied.

"Then you know its dangers. Firsthand, I suppose. Please, do not let it hurt you any longer. I must dispose of it."

He lifted the pouch ever so slightly. I dropped it in, then watched as he folded it away.

I paused, once again with my ears open to the world around me. The river was rising, but still, not a threat. The shuffle of creatures in the night would be nightmare inducing if it weren't for the company I was now keeping. I turned.

Dark shadows surrounded a dancing fire. I walked toward the sight, letting the physician pack away his kit on his own. As I approached, the murmur of conversation momentarily grew before dying off. Most of the figures turned toward me. "Still kicking, huh?" the one at the forefront asked. "Didn't hear any screaming. Did Diego even do anything?"

Vogel, I remembered his name was. A man of average height, at least for his people. A giant bear of a man, in comparison to myself. A brief introduction earlier, and then a rush to make camp before the storm prevented me from learning much more.

"Surgery," another voice said. I started, then stepped to the side as a shadow glided in. An even larger man, so quiet despite his size, stepped into the light, gripping a spear and a shield emblazoned with a crouching lion.

"Hm."

I looked around. Twenty-odd people loitered around the camp. Two were setting an additional fire while another man was butchering the rear half of a scaled creature. The remainder of the camp was watching me, but not for long.

Vogel waved me forward and toward the central fire, the flames now high and hissing as small droplets of rain survived the gauntlet of the leaves above only to vaporize upon an unfortunate fall. I could feel eyes turning away as some went back to their interrupted tasks. Vogel and a small set of others, however, still had me to deal with. This wasn't the most decorous of settings for a conversation, but at least there was little chance of them killing me now, not after having their physician treat me so well.

"Li, was it?"

"Correct."

"Have a seat."

Vogel sat, crossing his legs and resting his chin in one hand. I sat as well, not quite directly across from the flame—its obstruction not conducive for conversation. Next to Vogel stood the spearman, his mouth covered by the guard of his helmet but his eyes were clearly visible and full of suspicion. A woman, one of the rare few in this camp and yet somehow taller than both Vogel and the spearman, sat directly across the fire from me, comfortable in her capacity to see me over the light-giving obstacle.

The physician strode back into the camp and positioned himself at a neutral distance, midway between myself and Vogel around the arc of the camp circle. Another pair, a man and a woman, stood on the other side from him.

Leaders, perhaps, within this odd group. That, or those with nothing better to do. None here wore uniforms and they had yet to explain to me their reasons for being here, and neither did I to them. It was obvious what they wanted from me.

"Why are you here?" Vogel bluntly asked after a second of silence. "How did you even get so far inland?"

It was a long story. One I didn't feel like explaining. My body was just opened up by knife, clamp, and spoon, and I had yet to eat anything; but, it was clear he would not appreciate refusal.

I began my tale—the one I had prepared as I suffered under the supposedly benevolent ministrations. However, I must admit it now; just as they did not trust me, I did not trust them. I neglected to tell them everything. I only told them what I thought they needed to know.

In hindsight, perhaps all that came after could have been avoided if I had told the full truth.

 

[aLarkInTheDark]

Chapter 2​

This jungle was not the same as those of my homeland. I spent little time there, in the southern regions, but my third brother would take me on short trips when I visited. He, unlike myself and the majority of our family, took to the heat with aplomb. Yet, here, I suspect even he would do poorly.

I staggered through the undergrowth, the clothing I still retained catching upon all the sticks, spines, thorns, and leaves. The rest, I had dumped not long after my arrival, being entirely inappropriate for this climate. The brush here was more aggressive than my brother's jungle. The air, thicker and warmer, was as heavy with water as with biting insects. The fauna, meaner and more numerous. I'd already had the supremely unpleasant sensation of small teeth closing around my ankles twice. Both times, I stomped the animal's skull into the dirt before moving on, afraid that the noise would draw yet more attention.

I kept my ears open as I moved. Far above, I could hear the hoots and calls of a troupe of monkeys, on the hunt for either fruits or easy prey. Three days prior, I'd had a run in with their like. They'd dropped down upon me, stones clutched in their four-fingered hands which they pounded into my guarding arms. It was a nasty ambush, and if I'd not had my innate advantages of size and strength, they could have been my end. Even so, they'd done some damage before I drove them off, bruising my body even more than it already was. I could not afford more than that, considering the hole in my abdomen slowing me down.

I froze under the fronds of a hanging fern, waiting for this group to pass. The sounds of their hunt soon faded into the distance, so I moved. I ripped my arm out of the hungry grasp of my brief shelter and pushed my way back to the animal trail I'd been following.

I continued east.

Down in the shade of these gargantuan trees, it felt almost like perpetual dusk. Little light filtered through the layers of canopy above, leaving only the barest of traces to leak through when the wind blew just right. If I had been able to make my own, I would have. Even if that had made me a target for the roaming monsters, I would have felt more assured.

But I couldn't. I'd lost myself. I'd failed in my duty, in my judgment, in my ability. I didn't mean to come here. I didn't even know where here truly was.

It was nearly a relief when the monster leaped out of the bushes to my right. I needed the distraction.

It was thrice as long as I was tall, colored a mottled green and, as most creatures in this land were, covered in scales harder than lacquered wood. Its mouth was already open, readying for a bone-shattering bite and revealing its sharp, yellowed teeth. In an instant, I'd dropped to the ground, digging my fingers into the layers of decomposing leaves. The monster's foot smashed into my side, tripping the beast and sending it rolling head-over-tail. While it left burning gashes behind, at least I did not lose my head to a single bite. Having rolled into yet another carnivorous fern, I was forced to crawl out of its grasp before climbing back to my feet, only to see my ambusher already charging once again.

I had no weapon. A bladed instrument would have been nice. If not, then a staff would do. I'd searched for an appropriate tree branch to serve the combined purpose of weapon and walking stick, but I'd had no luck, for every time I'd reached for a fallen branch, I'd discovered a tremendously displeased creature writhing in my hands. Those were tossed at the nearest hungry plant. I'd then found a young tree—so young in fact that its upper branches would barely clear the roof of a magistrate's house. I'd approached it, my eyes scanning the ground for yet more fallen limbs, and to my surprise I did find quite a few. Those, however, had rotting flesh upon them, and so I'd turned and left without my prize.

I swept my leg to the side and stayed low, readying my stance. The monster's feet pounded across the jungle floor, shoving its body through the plants that gave me so much trouble. As it approached, I took note of its balance—of the way its flank swung side-to-side along with its thick tail. I could see the steam parting from its face, the rush of air with each hot breath. In the next heartbeat, it slowed, then leaped, its massively clawed rear legs rising up toward me.

I stepped away from the attack, shifting my own balance along my stretched leg. I fell into what I hoped to be its blind spot beneath its snout, and as it sailed past once again I immediately began my pursuit.

As it turned, shaking its head as it attempted to reacquire me, I struck. I planted one leg, twisted my body, and kicked out with the other. I caught the monster on its upper lip, smashing the bones forming its nasal cavity and sending it tumbling backward to thud against a tree. Satisfied, I set my leg back down, then turned to face the other four that had appeared behind me.

I never understood the thrill some get from the rush of combat. It completes me, they say. It makes me feel alive. They feel harmony in the dance of blades and clubs, in the flow of energy through their mortal bodies. They exalt in honor and glory, forgetting the pain of bloodshed and the lives lost at their side.

Was it a challenge that they sought? Was it entertainment? Combat was neither one for me.

I left the broken bodies where they lay, letting the jungle reclaim them on its own terms. I had no way of butchering or storing the meat, and already others were on their way, attracted to the roars of rage and pain, and the scent of the freshly dead. They, however, would have to compete with the plants and fungi.

It would be odd, I supposed, for the flora here not to be as hungry as the fauna. It was perpetually dark—the leaves and twisting vines high above blocked almost all light from reaching the plants at their feet. These plants, therefore, must find their energy in the gristle of prey. Turning toward the nearest tree, one taller even than the northern Walls, I wondered: what prey did this one consume?

I only discovered a few clearings as I limped further eastward. There, it was not that the trees did not grow, but had grown and were now knocked over, exposing their innards to the world. Something had come by—perhaps the sources of the distant roars I heard every night—and took umbrage with the position of these trees.

Wars had broken out in these openings. For a time, I sat and watched as the plants moved into the vacated space. They crawled over themselves and the fallen, covering the fungus and the insects vying for the same space. They wrapped around each other and choked their foes, all within the space of a day. And yet, it was all for nought, for the brothers of the fallen simply leaned over, spreading their arms across the hole in the canopy. The light disappeared and I moved on.

The trail continued for several more li before diverging significantly from my desired direction. I looked up, searching for those traces of remaining light and finding none, decided to make camp for the night.

Where to find shelter though? On some nights, I'd dug my way beneath the feet of the great trees, using the thick, nobbly roots as defense against questing predators. I'd only nearly drowned in midnight rains once before establishing the concept of a drainage tunnel, and now I felt confident that I could recreate my bunker yet again.

On other nights, I'd climbed. A cradle could be formed in the boughs of the trees high above. Not too high, or the rains would fall upon me and the flying lizards would snatch me from my roost. Not too low or the more agile creatures stalking the undergrowth could clamber their way up.

The bruises across my shoulders and the scratches in my side decided for me. I was not capable of climbing without an unacceptable risk of falling. So I bent my back and dug.

The next day, I left the path, following the rays of sunlight until they disappeared once more. I moved slower, my legs tangling all too easily in stems and branches. Still, I continued east, hurrying along as best I could. On that night and ever since, I felt eyes on my back.

 

[aLarkInTheDark]

Chapter 3​

I sat stock still, listening to the fire crackle as Vogel considered my words. The fire burned a brilliant orange and gold, sending barely a trace of smoke into the sky. They must have done something to the fuel; nearly all the flammable material around was rather water-logged. Did they carry this wood with them? Or was one of them adept in the command of the elements? The Winds blew strong here, flush with life, death, and the cycle in between. This jungle, despite its terrible desire to eliminate all intruders, was in surprising harmony.

"Is that it?"

I smiled evenly at Vogel, keeping my hands open and unthreatening in my lap. He leaned forward, his face lit in dramatic relief by the dancing flame.

He narrowed his eyes, staring deep into my own. "I want to know how you got to Lustria in the first place. Why did you come here?"

I nodded slowly. I understood. I suppose I was not entirely honest in my estimation of my displacement. I knew, at the very least, that I was far to the south, but not which continent I'd arrived upon. The heat gave it away and I had suspicions, but no real certainty. Vogel, thankfully, finally gave me the confirmation I needed.

"I was scouting," I said. "I was to prepare the land—purge it of threats and ready it for later conquest."

"You?"

I turned to the new voice, staring at the woman across the fire. "Yes. I'm stronger than I appear." Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Diego, the physician, nodding at my words. I mimicked Vogel's stance, narrowing my eyes in turn and leaning slightly forward. "Isn't that what you all are doing too?"

"Scouting?" she said, bemused. "No. Or, yes, in a way." She looked over at the pair off to my right. "We're 'ere because of zem."

The two were an odd pair. They sat a body's width apart from one another, each one occupied with something in their hands. The woman was shorter than I, her yellow hair cropped at the base of her neck. She was dressed in baggy clothing: gray sleeved shirts and brown trousers originally sized too large then cut down and quickly tailored to her size. It was not an unprofessional job—I could barely make out the stitching and from what I could tell, it was done with a deft hand. Likely not hers though, for she did not look the type to have the patience for such a task.

The man was not much bigger and was dressed in very similar clothing. Not a uniform, but seemingly sourced from the same tailors, though his were perfectly adjusted to his size. He wore a sapphire blue scarf around his neck despite the heat, and clutched in his hands was a stick of charcoal and sheaf of bound paper.

"Emma," the other one hissed, leaning over and driving his elbow into the woman's side. "Emma!"

"Ach! Hey, you almost… What?" The woman glanced up from the objects in her hands. A brush, I saw, and fine parchment. High quality. She saw me looking and smiled, her teeth gleaming in the dark. "Hallo! I'm Emma and this is Oddr… What was the question?"

Oddr whispered something into her ear and she brightened, her eyes shining as bright as her smile. "Adventure!" she crowed, raising a fist into the air. Oddr's face fell into his hands to my amusement, but Emma carried on.

"We are naturalists, here to represent the Society for Professional Adventuring and Exploration—not at all associated with those greedy bastards at the League—to seek knowledge in the mysterious depths of the savage Lustrian jungle," she proudly declared. "I, and my esteemed colleague here, shall provide record and proof of the myriad wonders of this New World, expanding the Society's vaults a thousandfold!"

"Impressive," I said. "All the way here, into such danger, for knowledge? You are quite dedicated scholars."

"Why, thank you!" Emma grinned, her teeth flaring again. I couldn't help but notice Oddr shaking his head, however. It seemed he did not share the same motivations.

"So," I said, turning back to Vogel. "I see your weapons and, I hope not to offend, but you do not look the scholarly type. Are you their guards?"

Vogel nodded, his eyes still burning into me. Unlike the others, he and the spear-wielder did not yet let down their guard. They shared a glance, then he spoke once more above the din of the downpour.

"You did not come alone, did you? How many are you? Where are the rest of your people?"

"I did have a… a team. You can likely guess their fates," I said, closing my eyes. I blinked them open again. The heat of flames dries them out all too quickly.

"I'm sorry for your loss."

"Mm. Thank you."

The circle was quiet for a minute. I listened to the rain, the thunder and the snap of flames punctuating the air on occasion.

"This place is a death trap," Vogel suddenly said. "We've lost a third of our number too."

"I am sorry as well."

He nodded again. "We do not have a priest, but we were able to recover all their bodies and their possessions. Those will go back to their families along with their shares of their pay."

"You've carried their bodies with you?" I asked, eyes raised.

"No," he replied without explanation. I knew little about his people's rites and customs, but I assumed he at least buried or burned them. If the jungle consumes its own so quickly, it surely would do the same of any dead Human.

"Apologies for the interruption," Diego said, breaking the tension, "but how did you get so injured?"

"My travels," I said. "What else? As he said, this place is deadly."

"I see," he said, nodding, but clearly not satisfied. That would have to do. I was not yet ready to speak of my mistakes. Thankfully, he didn't press it. "Señor Vogel, it has been a long day. We should eat—" he gestured at the other campfire, over which a large iron pot was hung, "—and get some rest. I'm sure our friend here could certainly use it."

I, of course, agreed, but did Vogel? I watched him carefully.

"Fair enough," he said, ending the interrogation. He stood and with one last glance at me, he turned toward the food now being doled out. The spearman, however, continued his vigil. I met his gaze for a moment, then was forced to look away.

Fair enough, I repeated to myself. I wouldn't trust myself either. I couldn't trust myself now.

I was given a bowl and a spoon—hopefully not the one held by Diego earlier. I found myself sitting next to Emma and Oddr as I ate, which was perhaps fortunate for without Emma's conversation I would have consumed my share far too quickly to be decent.

"Those beasts travel in packs," she explained to me. "And hunt. You are so lucky to have been so close to one!"

"I would not call that luck," I replied.

"Providence, then. Taal must have blessed you."

Oddr made a strange sound, but kept his eyes down at his food when I glanced over at him. Emma continued to speak, ignoring the both of us. "Tell me! You must tell me of how they looked. Oh! Or better yet, could you sketch for me? I must know its shape, for then I can bring it to life the next time we stop for rest."

Long ago, I did submerge myself in the visual arts. It'd been years since I'd last put a brush to parchment for that purpose, but I obliged. I gently accepted the sheet she gave me, then took the ink-soaked brush from her fingers. Slowly, I recalled my opponents, tracing the lines I could remember.

"What else did you see?" Emma asked as I worked. She had another set of supplies before her, and surprisingly, I noticed Oddr did as well. He, however, was filling his sheets with his people's letters. He was writing; recording my words.

I spoke of the other creatures I'd seen. Blue-tinged reptiles and brightly-colored millipedes, longer than a sea-vessel's oar. The swinging monkeys, so aggressive in their seemingly playful hunts. The fish, their teeth needle thin and just as sharp. The flying monsters, their great green wings flashing across the few holes open to the sky.

"We almost lost Siegfried to one of those," Emma remarked, her hand and brush pausing. She waved a hand, swinging it downward fingers spread. "It swooped down and just grabbed him! Its talons stabbed him right through the gut. Landulf pulled his guns and must have shot the thing in the leg 'cause it dropped Siegfried right after."

"The ones I saw weren't big enough to carry a man," I noted. "They must have been children."

"Juveniles," Oddr muttered, his stick of charcoal a blur.

"Or maybe a different creature altogether!" Emma said with excitement. She looked down at her painting, her mouth wide with another grin.

"Which one is Siegfried?" I asked, looking around at the men and women sitting about. I saw many with bandages or wounds, but none with such a grievous injury.

"He was Emma's superior," Oddr replied. "He didn't survive."

"I thought he was 'almost' lost to the monster."

"Landulf accidentally hit him. Right in the heart."

"Ah."

"Wouldn't have mattered anyway. His body fell far enough he wouldn't have survived."

With that morbid statement, he went back to his writing, leaving me to Emma once more. I signaled my completion, the sketch as detailed as I could get it. She leaned over, her head bumping into my chin in her excitement to inspect my work.

As I rubbed at my new bruise, she snatched the parchment out of my hands. "Hmm. Not bad," she mumbled. "You've a steady hand. I'll finish this later. Tell me more!"

"More?" I asked tiredly.

"More."

And so I spoke again, blinking away my exhaustion. I'd certainly seen more. I spoke of the plants: the sweet-scented flowers, the crawling vines, the spiny knee-high grasses. I spoke of the ants, fat with stolen bee's syrup, marching up and down the trees in long columns. I'd seen bat-like things, their screeches torture to my eardrums as I'd tried to sleep. I'd killed hundreds of biting, stinging, and blood-sucking insects, and I regaled her of as many of those tales as I could in hopes of boring her.

And of course, the rats.

"Rats?" Emma said. "Like those in the streets of Altdorf?"

"Likely," I said. "And under half the cities of the Empire. Can… can I rest now?"

It was rather unbecoming to beg, but I truly needed it. My eyes were already closed. My spoon and bowl had been ported away by a very considerate Oddr earlier, which meant that my lax fingers thankfully could not drop them to the ground.

"Oh, very well," she said. I smiled in relief, then lay back where I sat, too tired to make my way closer to the fire. I was safe for once—relatively that is. Somebody was on watch; I was surrounded by those who meant me far less harm than all other beings in this jungle. Even having to suffer through two full rounds of interrogation was far more agreeable than another night curled up under a tree or crawling through pitch-black tunnels.

I opened my eyes one last time to assure myself this was not a dream. I found I could still see the gleam of armor under the fire light. Spears, helms, swords, and hammers. They all shined, almost like they were solid gold.

 

[aLarkInTheDark]

Chapter 4​

It was autumn the last time I saw my sister. I was in the area on my mother's behalf, but I did not expect to receive the summons delivered to me by hand.

I remember it to be a cool day—ever so typical for the northern lands—but the trees had only just begun to shed their leaves. I arrived in a more formal garb than what most would deem necessary, but I knew my second sister. She was always such a stickler for the petty rules of propriety. Still, I was perfectly comfortable. The pure white silk lay smooth upon my skin, loose enough to not feel constricting, but snug such that the shenyi did not reveal too much of my underskirt.

As I walked down the brick-laid path, stepping only on the blues and greens, I held a hand out to catch one of the first few leaves to fall. I marveled at its skeletal remains for a moment, then discarded it off to the side. Soon, many more would fall from the tilia trees lining the road, winding its way like the Dragon River up to the gates ahead.

With a smile, I spun, sweeping my arm before me as I stepped into a remembered dance. I moved forward with my eyes closed, letting the growing winds guide me for the next few steps, then pivoted and spread my arms wide when I heard a polite cough behind me. Gathering myself, I continued on, the path now clear of leaves, but only momentarily so. The year's cycle would always turn, the leaves would continue to fall, and the many gardeners of these expansive grounds would follow. They already had a great challenge ahead of them: maintaining these and the more sensitive osmanthus trees within the rear garden in the bitter chills of the near future. They would be handsomely compensated for their labors, however, as some of the greatest devotees of the Empress.

I lifted the dragon-faced knocker on the gates, giggling quietly to myself as I let go of the tongue. Dark brown eyes and the fearsome end of a polearm peeked over the intricately carved zitan fortifications before wavering and disappearing. The gates swung open half a minute later, two guards hurrying to bow in greeting. I admit, I was perhaps a bit early for our meeting. It was my joke to play—practically a duty—as the younger sibling.

I could hear the chime of little bells behind bamboo walls, rung rapidly one after another as servants passed a message faster than a crow could fly. I glanced over my shoulder, my lips twisting upward yet again as Sun Zhihai silently shook his head. He knew me all too well.

I was led into a modest tea room, the more ostentatious one apparently occupied by my sister and her current visitor. Here, I would wait in comfort until my sister was ready, attended to in the meantime by her army of servants. I kneeled before the low table at the center of the room, placed my hands upon my thighs and closed my eyes as I waited.

Zhihai stayed standing behind me and to my right, ready and attentive as ever. His quantiejia was made exquisitely; its overlapping steel plates folded perfectly over one another, the dyes and etchings glimmering under the light from the paper-covered oil lamps, the hardened leather sitting neatly upon his frame. It fit well and he should have been just as comfortable as I, except that it must have weighed half as much as me. I blinked at him, then tilted my head at the floor next to me, but he ignored me, refusing to be anything less than an exceptionally shiny armor-stand.

A quarter dual-hour later, the door slid open. A servant, dressed nearly as finely as myself, stepped to the side, and my sister finally made her appearance. I stood as would be polite, a greeting upon my lips, but before I could say anything, she glared at Zhihai.

"Out," she commanded, then before he even complied, she was sitting down, as if expecting her order to be immediately carried out. I inwardly sighed. It was always like this. At my nod, he departed, striding out the door and disappearing from sight as it slid closed behind him. I was alone with my sister.

"You are too trusting," she said, frowning at me. "Is he your only attendant?"

"No. I have more," I responded, lowering myself again.

The untouched teapot in the middle of the table was taken away and another came to replace it. I waited patiently as my sister did me the honor, pouring cups for the both of us. She sipped from her own, her eyes closing momentarily, then she looked at me with the slightest tinge of satisfaction. I tapped two-fingered on the table in thanks, then followed suit.

It was a stronger brew than she favored. I set my cup down.

"Why did you call me here?" I asked.

"I wanted to see you before you go."

"That's it?" I asked, eyebrows raised. "And, where am I to go? Mother sent me here. I am not yet finished."

She sighed unhappily—something I knew she would never normally do. I frowned and straightened my back, glancing around and focusing my senses.

This room was not what I originally thought it to be. I could hear far less outside of it than I normally would be able to. The heavy silks lining the wall weren't just decorative, but were excellent at catching sound. When I pushed my hand into the fabrics of the floor, they found dense stone rather than hard wood beneath. The typical sounds of servants' shallow breathing and the occasional word were entirely absent. We were more isolated than I'd suspected.

"What's wrong?" I asked, leaning forward. "Are you alright?"

My sister's eyes suddenly hardened. The proud woman I'd always known returned in an instant. "I've told you again and again. You are far too trusting." We stared at each other for a minute, our breaths falling into sync. My mind raced as I retraced my steps, my words and moves. Had I done something wrong?

Tentatively, I hazarded a guess. "Is… is this because of my intrusion? I apologize, in that case. It was necessary, and I thought Mother had—"

"No." My sister's voice lashed out, cutting away my tongue. I watched her, still uncertain of what to do. She blinked, and then, as fast as her seeming anger appeared, it blew away like a summer storm. "Do not apologize for that. She did notify me. I should be the one to apologize for failing to receive you earlier. You are always welcome here. I especially would never begrudge you entrance for your duties."

"Then…"

"Here," she said. A tube of bamboo capped at either end with bronze caps rolled across the table, stopping against the tips of my fingers. "This arrived by crowman. Part of it is for you."

I understood the gravity of that statement. Immediately, I unrolled it and read its contents. "Shang-Yang?" I said, a moment later. "But, what of—"

"I will handle it," she said. "These are my people."

I nodded. She could set the pride away for my sake, but it would always come roaring back. I looked again at the message. "Then why can't our brother deal with this?"

She scoffed. "Him? His brain has already been rotted by the sun, sand, and… and those ridiculous practices of his. Do you really think he could deal with this on his own? Besides, you are the one with the greatest talent for this."

That was partially true. Not only that, but this was part of my duty. Plans began to form in my head: where to travel, who to speak with, how to complete this new task.

"If you must speak with him," she continued, "then simply say it is a visit. He will believe you. You know how he is."

I was not so sure about that, but I did not argue the point. "I will depart tonight," I declared, solemn and ceremonial.

"Very well. I will prepare what you need."

We were in agreement. The tea, I found, was already gone, whisked away from my hands. The lanterns were dimming and the smoke was spiraling above us, gathered into a cloud by my sister's exerted will. I noticed then just how hot and stifling the room felt—the price to be paid for such privacy. Together we stood and walked to the room's only entrance, but before I could get the door, I was stopped by my sister. She turned to me one more time, her arm outstretched, blocking our exit.

"Be careful of whom you trust," she reminded me yet again. "We may live in harmony with them—" she waved her hand in a small, encompassing circle, "—but you must remember we are not like them. Be careful."

"I will," I promised her. "I will."

* * *​

The rains, contrary to my hopes, grew stronger over the night. The jungle thrashed with their forces, the sweeping gales shaking the tops of the trees and sending branches crashing down all around. As the behemoth we rested against groaned under the weight of the rain, I prepared myself, readying to run from the falling timber if needed.

And yet, all the while, Emma continued to chatter. When she wasn't absorbed in her paintings, she would speak to me, asking me more about the creatures, fungi, and plants I'd seen on the other side of the mountains. The rodents had been forgotten already—too mundane, I suppose.

"Vogel won't let us keep going!" she complained to me. "There must be so much more beyond those peaks! I'm sure of it."

"You were lucky," Oddr quietly said, wincing at the sound of crashing thunder. He clutched his notes closer to his body, shielding them from the sheets of rain that had begun to fling themselves near-sideways with the wind. "We almost turned around two days ago when we saw how close we were to the mountains, but Emma pestered Vogel enough for him to agree to just one more day of progress."

"I see," I said, shifting to face him. Something was bothering me. "I don't mean to be rude, but I notice you don't seem to share the same enthusiasm as Emma."

Oddr furtively looked away from his colleague, though it appeared she was not bothered by that observation. She was bobbing her head, looking at him not with criticism but more with pity. I waited as Oddr gathered himself enough to answer.

"Well," he said, "neither of us actually volunteered to come here. None of us did; not even Siegfried or Karl. Emma probably would have volunteered for it if we were given the choice—" she nodded fervently at his words, "—but I wouldn't have."

"I can imagine why," I said, peering out at the dark around us.

It was nearly black as tar, darker even than most of the nights now that thick clouds had rolled in to cover the skies. Where most days were already dim—the upper levels casting the lower into unprecedented gloom—the days and nights of continuous storm plunged everything into one perpetual eclipse. The first few days in this land, I'd felt most confused. The rhythm of the day felt tremendously off, diverging so significantly from my body's natural cycle. But, I couldn't trust my body. It was difficult to adjust.

"We were just the assistants," Oddr continued. "If only I'd refused." His words devolved into additional complaints from there. Too soon, I had had enough and excused myself. I hoped to find better company amongst the others of this weary camp.

I had not been introduced to the majority of the faces that I saw and it appeared I would not be any time soon. They looked upon me with suspicion, my vague stories of the prior evening having done more against my credibility than for. I wandered through their lines, my eyes up and searching. There. Vogel was standing a few paces off from the trunk. Before him was a veritable waterfall, the clear liquid flowing along the bark, catching upon the wooden crevices, and splashing against the smaller plants nestled into the cracks. I circled about and approached him from his side, purposely in his peripherals. He saw me and turned, a grim expression clouding his face.

"Rested well?" he asked.

"Yes," I replied. I bowed. "Thank you for your gracious hospitality. It has been such a long while since I could rest so peacefully."

He raised an eyebrow at my act of decorum, failing to reciprocate. Ah, yes. Not one of their customs. I gestured at the fires burning merrily despite the great humidity, then at the pile of logs and kindling not too far from the flames. "I have a question about those."

"The wood?"

"Yes."

He eyed my object of inquiry, then turned back to me, his understanding clear in his eyes. "Wizard. Over there." He pointed at a Human lying by the fire, an ochre robe draped across him. "One of those pyromancers."

The sleeping man, the wizard, was turned away, giving me a view of his back. High up on his exposed shoulder, I could see a web of red ink, almost like angry scars. They burned like the fires beside him, brightening with each swell of the embers. A wielder of that Wind.

"Is that it?"

"Yes," I said. "Thank you."

Vogel's eyes followed me as I walked toward the center of the camp. I ignored him. He was the patriarch of this little herd, watching out for those under his nominal protection. I was the outsider, not yet accepted despite the ministrations offered in my time of need. Did I want to fold myself into his group? I did not see much of a choice, but I was… uncertain.

Trust. Trust is a narrow river. It must be shared for trade to flow, for two peoples to forge bonds across a distance untravelable otherwise. If dammed, then nothing can flow.

I avoided the fire, walking past the sleeping wizard and to the edge of the camp once more. There, I found the tall woman from before, her elegant, willowy frame hunched into a squat as she stared out into the dark. As lightning flashed, her eyes would dart to and fro, searching in that brief moment of illumination before settling into a rest, in wait for the next heavenly crash to come. The tiny muscles in her ears twitched at my footfalls, subtly angling to track me. Her right hand, wrapped around the string of her curved bow, unconsciously began to pull at an already nocked arrow.

"Hello," I said, again stopping a safe distance away. "May I sit with you for a moment?"

Lightning flashed again, revealing the twisting landscape once again in bright white relief. I blinked, then held my breath as the booming thunder followed two seconds later. The woman's head swiveled, her body held absolutely still in place. It dipped, then raised. I kneeled next to her, as if I was again before the tea table.

Her head turned once again, out to the black scenery. The both of us were silent for the next two flashes. When I opened my mouth, I was forestalled.

"Go ahead," a musical voice floated past me. "You may say it."

I tilted my head in confusion. "I'm sorry. I don't know what you mean."

She was silent, as if daring me to say more. I watched her, the prairie mouse staring up at the steppe-soaring redhawk. She ignored me, waiting for bigger prey.

"I truly do not know."

"Mm."

I rocked back onto the balls of my feet, standing up in one smooth motion. The twinge of pain next to my stomach was far less than it used to be already. I could afford to move with less care.

I glanced down at the woman whose name I still did not know. I frowned, my hand already moving before I could stop myself. From her hair I plucked two of many small green leaves, finding them to be attached to twigs that too came free.

"Ah. My apologies," I said when she whipped around, her own hand going up to feel at the back of her head. "Were these decorative?" I held out my stolen prize.

"No," she said, taking them from me. She cast them out into the void with a sharp flick of the wrist. "Ze trees 'ate me."

She stood, towering above me. I felt almost as if I were before a great Sentinel before her stoic facade broke, her lips parting as she spoke. "Camille," she said, her hand held out in a dainty fashion.

I took her hand and, unsure of what to do, simply held it for a moment. Her fingers were rough, the callouses on her index and middle fingers telling me a long story. Another follower of the Empress? No. I discarded the notion. Her accent declared her western origins. I let go.

She pulled her hand back, a faint smile of amusement growing on her lips. Taking the chance, I looked her up and down. She was, like most here, dressed sensibly for the environment. Her clothing was encompassing but thin, hopefully capable of warding off the smaller of the airborne pests without causing overheating. Hardened leather armor was loosely strapped over her chest and gut, ready to be either tightened or shorn in an emergency. I realized I was staring rather shamefully as I glanced up again, finding her mouth to be stretched into a wider smile.

I glanced down at my own state of dress, then back up at hers. "Do you happen to have spare clothing?" I asked.

"Not in your size," she said, her voice carefully held even.

"Anything would be better than this."

"I will see what can be done."

I nearly bowed again before catching myself. "Thank you."

I left Camille to her watch, still wondering as to the meaning behind her earlier words. Perhaps it was something personal. Perhaps it was something only one of her kind would understand. I slowly let out a breath. Even after so many years, I still had much to learn.

 

[aLarkInTheDark]

Chapter 5​

When have I ever felt like prey? I cannot recall a time before my entrance to this place. As a babe, I was protected from the world until I grew strong and wise enough to protect others. However, whilst I ducked through the valleys of roots and soil, I could not help but feel as if ever-present eyes were locked on my back. I was small and light, but most certainly injured. With every passing day, my pace was slowing. My injuries were getting worse.

My natural constitution was keeping me going. Where a Human would have succumbed to the rot and disease plaguing my body a week ago, I was still moving.

But I couldn't keep it up forever.

My fever was rising. Though it felt barely warmer than the heat of the jungle, I knew this was only the beginning. The tears in my flesh had been wrapped in my soiled clothing. I'd plunged through pools of foul water innumerable times. It was inevitable that the wounds would become infected, and there was nothing I could do about it now.

It all centered around the broken blade—the one buried deep within my abdomen. Try as I might, I could not get it out. I'd quested fingers into the hole in an attempt to pluck it out, but it had only buried deeper. I'd contorted my body, hoping vainly that it would fall out, pushed by some internal muscle or bone. I'd tried my magics, but…

No. Failure. I couldn't concentrate. I couldn't do it.

And so I plodded on. Bleeding. Rotting. Failing. Slowing.

I believe another week passed—I could barely tell at that point; the days had melded together, a blur of darkness and deeper darkness. I would occasionally find myself under attack, some creature or other leaping out of the foliage only to meet my fist or foot. I ate on the move, my meals coming to me more often than not.

And all the while, I was being watched.

"Who's there?" I questioned the darkness. Shapes swirled before me, forming a hundred different faces.

My sisters. My brothers. Ma and Ba. Servants, here to take away the cooled tea. Attendants, here to pick up my papers, gathering them for the fire. My advisor, his bright, hopeful words breaking my heart and my head.

"Go away," I moaned, falling to my knees. I landed with a wet squelch, my shins sinking into the mud at the edge of a small pond. I held my head in one hand, the other too preoccupied with scratching, alternating between my uncountable bug bites and the weeping wound.

Something rose before me. Shadows positioned themselves around me. I closed my eyes.

I could hear the rain falling upon the reeds.

A crane's rattling-then-crooning cry pierced the air. It came swooping in, its feet landing upon bowed grasses, as soft and silent as an owl's wingbeat. It stalked through the water, seeking the lightless shallows. There, the fish would gather.

It was my favorite place. The warmth of the sun fell upon my smiling cheeks, turning them into their own little rising stars. I leaned back, letting my outstretched hands support me. I could sit here forever.

The marshlands had long been tamed. Fields of rice grew, their shoots not yet reaching two fingers' length. There were still workers in these fields, but they had proceeded into the west, working closer to their homes. I sat at the very edge, where the ground rose up, its thighs of stone too much of a challenge yet to expand beyond. Behind me rose the call of the evening's performers, their mating calls surely unmissable.

Off in the distance, I could hear the tapping of small feet. They crunched through the green growths on the water's edge, heading home to the nearby village from an afternoon's play. A splash of water alerted me to the crane's victory. Its head reared backward. I could hear it swallowing in primal satisfaction.

Another splash. I was on my feet. I surged through the fields and water and in seconds I had my own prey in my grasp. "The water here is deep," I said to the leg and foot. My other arm came about and I righted the boy, placing him on his feet upon the embankment. "Here," I said. I plucked a conical hat from the rippling waves, then upon drying it in a beam of light, set it upon his head. Huge, unblinking eyes met my own. One darted left as the other went right.

A shadow fell over me. The sun should not have set so quickly. I spun around, my fist lashing out. I felt an impact, only to see a fallen shuiniu. Its massive horns dipped through the water and into the loamy soil beneath, gouging out deep furrows and carrying the newborn shoots to the surface. I frowned at the intrusive beast, stepping forth to chide it. Only, I found I was unable to wake it. Perhaps I had struck it too hard, or it was so exhausted from the hard and hot day that it greatly needed this rest. I knelt to place a hand upon its scaly cheek and smiled.

"I am sorry. Rest well," I commanded.

I turned back to the boy, only to find that he was gone, and so I stood and stretched, then continued east.

* * *​

I swum between coherency and witlessness as I continued my march. Eventually, I came upon another trail. This one was much wider and considerably fresher than the last. Something large had come this way.

I stepped into a dip in the ground and looked down. It was a footprint—three-toed, clawed, and deep. Gray-brown water gathered within, already teeming with miniscule life. The monster had moved in great, lumbering steps, confident in its primacy within this dangerous land. If it found me, it would be capable of reaching down and swallowing me in one gulp.

My own feet were pathetically small. I looked down at the worn leather of my boots, at the tears and holes throughout it. I'd long since ripped the leopard fur out as they gathered heat and burrowing insects too easily. What remained was still sturdy, but even mastercrafted footwear could not survive the endless punishment it was now receiving.

I nearly tripped as I stepped out of the print, then almost fell again as I stumbled upon the next. The same creature. Its steps were not exceptionally wide, or…

I paused, looking back and measuring the spacing by eye. This monster could in fact be quadrupedal. The spread and gait of its walk greatly suggested it, almost reminding me of the constructs of home.

Perhaps a Guardian Lion could compete in size. When I'd left Nan-Gau, heading south and west for my new task, I had passed a pair sitting still and silent before the gates of the city, surrounded by soldiers paying their respects. Sitting on their haunches, they towered over the rows of warriors, gazing down with jade and jet eyes. They were dormant now, but would come to life at the city's need, ready to smite foes with tooth and claw.

Unseen to the soldiers, hidden by the bulk of the stone creatures, a girl-child was clambering up Lion's back. She'd escaped her sisters and had found the tail of the Lion of Yin, hauling herself up with childish exuberance. We'd left the city by the gates. My standard method of travel was far too conspicuous, so I'd borrowed some horses for myself and Zhihai. Though I wished for the winged kind, the lungma, that would clearly have defeated the purpose. I saw the girl as she scaled the Lion's spine, her body silhouetted against the sky. Slowing, I signaled Zhihai with a low whistle, then waited for him to come up alongside me.

"See her?" I said, tilting my head at the child so high above us.

"Yes. That is a rather precarious position," he noted. At my look, he gave an infinitesimal sigh. "Must I?"

"Please."

The shugengan halted his horse, swung his leg over, and dropped to the ground. He advanced in long, inexorable strides, pushing through the line of peasants waiting to enter the city for the market to emerge on the other side. He paused outside the ring of soldiers, looking up in thought. Meanwhile, I'd taken his dropped reins and guided the two beasts to the side of the road, having them step over the carved crystal curbs and onto the cropped grasses beyond. A guard gave me an admonishing glare, but blinked and ducked his head upon realization of my identity. I smiled in response, then turned to watch my advisor.

Zhihai rounded the arc of soldiers, heading into the shadow of the Lion. There, he looked up at the mischievous monkey and in soft but carrying words, commanded her to come down.

I saw the petulant shake of her head, but I also spied the sudden tremble in her limbs. Now that she had turned her face away from the azure skies above, she could see the ground so far beneath her. I saw the fear actualize—her body freezing and fingers curling around curls of stone fur. I could not see Zhihai's expression past the steel feathers of his cheek guard, but I could imagine the tightening of his lips as he withheld his annoyance. I covered my own mouth with my hand as I laughed to myself, waiting for him to simply get on with it. Seemingly sensing my amusement, he turned to me, and with a suspiciously straight face, his fingers closed onto the Lion's tail. With stiff shoulders, he began to climb after the girl.

Suddenly, a resounding crack broke the air. Conversation halted, as did the line of peasants. We all watched with horror as both Lions began to shift, their great heads shaking as their mouths opened into a silent roar. The girl-child was tossed into the air, her fingers scrabbling at the walls beyond her reach. I began to move, gathering both inner and outer energy, but my faithful attendant was already there. With a mighty heave, he launched himself up and onto the black-coated Lion's back, then took three rapid steps and leaped into the air. His arms closed around the child as he reached the apex of his arc, then he began to fall as well.

A circle of dust flew into the air as he landed, his knees bending so far that he was almost sitting upon his heels. I strode toward him. My confidence in him was renewed as he revealed his catch: the girl, still trembling with fear but utterly unharmed.

The Lions, I knew, would not move any further. They should not have awoken, but from what I could tell, they were content to wait for commands. I could feel their bare stone eyes tracking me as I crossed the road, the magic inside their bodies immediately recognizing my local authority.

Sleep, I signaled them, and they obeyed.

The child was delivered to her sisters' arms, though she clung adorably to Zhihai's hand asking him questions about his missing finger—the digit lost decades ago in some accident, he'd related to me. As he passed her over, the two girls bowed, flustered and embarrassed, but clearly relieved. The baskets clutched in their hands nearly fell to the ground as they took their younger sibling by the wrists, leading her off for inevitable punishment. She would learn, though I hoped they would not be too harsh on her spirit.

"Well done," I praised Zhihai. I handed back the reins to him, and together we rode on, ignoring the crowds of panicked soldiers and peasantry. I hoped my sister could handle this problem; it would be up to her to determine why the Lions awoke.

"Was that a test?"

"Hm?" I gave my attendant a questioning look. His face was shadowed by his helm but I could make out his knitted brows. "Of course not."

He accepted that with a nod, but did not seek an explanation of the Lions' awakening. He understood that I did not know either. We carried on for another few minutes before he spoke again, in the shade of the evergreen trees.

"My apologies."

"Why?"

"My question… My accusation was preposterous. Can you forgive me?"

He was hunched with contrition, the weight of my potential judgment heavy upon him. I frowned, shifting in my saddle to face him. He should have known me better. "Of course," I said, then reached out to gently slap the side of his helmet. "Now sit up straight! Are you a child?"

Swaying in his saddle, he complied. I beamed in approval. He was a good attendant—the best I could ask for.

* * *​

I craned my head back and sighed.

It was one of my more lucid days. The memories and waking dreams came less frequently as a small few of my wounds began to heal. I'd discovered maggots crawling down my side the other day, having been eating away at my necrotized flesh. I'd been initially disgusted—actually, I still was—but they had cleared away some of what greatly ailed me. I'd then taken the leaves of a stinging plant and crushed them with my hands, then spread the juices upon the infested gashes. I'd doubled over in pain, but over the next day the poisons within did their work. The maggots' plump corpses were easily scooped out, and after climbing high into the canopy to sit under the sun's baking rays for another two days, the wounds had mostly closed.

But not all of my injuries could be handled so easily and I was gaining more cuts, scrapes, and bruises seemingly every day. There were still moments when my head began to boil, my thoughts evaporating as soon as they appeared. I made little progress on those days.

However, the challenge I was facing now would not go away with time and rest. It was solid, tall, and impossible to move. The peaks of the grand mountains before me were shrouded in mist such that I could not tell how high they stood. Did they rise up into crags and points like the Mountains of Heaven? Did they plateau like the Vermillion Roosts? Or perhaps they rose forever, up and up beyond the rim of the world.

I could not know. I didn't want to know. I didn't have the will to find out.

I could not summon up the strength within my mind, my soul, or my body. To climb would be to spend my strength for an unknown reward. I looked left, then right. The ranges swept into the distance in either direction. But, from what I could see, the mounts faded more quickly in the south whereas I could only see more peaks up to the north, reaching around to the west. I could go around, I reasoned. It could be far easier than climbing.

And so I turned south.

 

[aLarkInTheDark]

Chapter 6​

The storm abated the next day. I was woken by the rustle of clothing and opened my eyes to find a neatly folded pile before me. I looked up, a word of thanks on my lips, only to see a face that I did not recognize.

The man had a swarthy complexion and deep-set eyes. He gave me a wide smile, revealing a mouth of teeth on par with those owned by the merchants of Wei-Jin. Strapped to his chest were a pair of small firearms and at his hips were two more. I sat up, rubbing at my eyes with a grimy fist.

"Are these from Camille?" I asked.

"Yep," he said. "Asked me to make 'em fit you. Ah used to be a tailor."

"My thanks." I tallied another favor to repay. These mercenaries had done me numerous services over the past three days. When I got home—if I got home—I would reward them as I could.

"Ah'm Landulf, by the way," he said, his hand coming out. I clasped it with my own and endured the assault against my wrist and shoulder I had become used to, smiling through the pain. "Vogel also wanted you to know, we're moving out right after morning meal," he said. "Get yerself ready."

I changed, then followed him to the cooking fire to receive another bowl of the somewhat rancid soup we'd been having for all of our meals. I hoped now that the storm had broken, we could hunt something fresh. Still, I could not complain about something warm and fully cooked.

As I looked out into the jungle, I noted the terrain had changed significantly. The waters had risen as I had expected, swelling into rivers that ran turbulent through swaying roots. Ridges of soil and fallen debris had been pushed along, catching against the bases of trees, making for platforms I hoped we could walk upon.

I fished a chunk of bone out of my bowl and idly rolled it between my fingers. Was I ready? Did I truly feel ready to go?

I felt motion to my side, opposite of Landulf. A wall of red cloth and bronzed skin appeared in my peripheral vision. The wizard Vogel pointed out the day prior sat beside the two of us, sprawling out his tattooed legs with a sleepy sigh. I immediately noticed a set of chains falling from his shoulders, looped at his belly. Upon them were, oddly enough, a set of keys.

Landulf leaned away, his nose wrinkling as wisps of acrid smoke drifted by, sourced from the embers in the wizard's beard. I merely raised an eyebrow. Though they of the Celestial Court are often eccentric, the wizards I have met before have often been exceptional in their control and merit. Would this one be the same?

"Greetings," I said.

The wizard mumbled something in return, the words captured by the soup in his mouth. He swallowed, then gave me a tired, yet curious, look.

"Those Camille's?" he asked, pointing at what I now wore. I nodded. I now wore what could be generously called an oversized tunic, and I appeared to have taken fashion inspiration from Emma; the sleeves had been resized, the sleeves only covering my palms rather than fully enveloping my hands.

"Were Camille's," Landulf corrected him. "Won't fit her anymore."

The wizard chuckled, his voice low and throaty, as if he'd break out into ash-choked coughs at any second. "The chirurgeon's done a good job on you. Up and about already! Maybes I should see 'im next time I get cut."

"You'll have to beat Kurt to it," Landulf laughed.

I kept quiet, simply listening as the two began to chat and banter. Their conversation was familiar, in a way. They sounded like my own siblings, most of whom would begin bickering the moment they entered a room together. If asked, I would not know how many times I was called to break an argument, both combatants sure that I would take their side. I am not sure why I was chosen for such a role, and when I pressed, none would give me answers beyond flattery and platitudes. Even so, they could come to agreements on some things and, on rare occasions, would share an amusement.

If I closed my eyes and simply let the flow of words run up and down, past my head, I could almost imagine I was back home. The smell of smoke was like low-grade incense. The food, I could trick myself into believing was a light soup. I sat and ate, and I listened.

Vogel's warning call jerked me back into the present. I looked about, wary of danger, only to realize he only meant to remind us all it was soon time to move. I looked down at my empty bowl and stood.

"Oi. Li. You alright?" I saw the wizard—Conrad, as I heard Landulf call him—looking at me. He peered at me and I saw his eyes to be a flickering orange, almost like the embers of the fire smoldering behind him. "It were Li, yah?"

I nodded, and only then discovered the wetness of my own eyes. I wiped at them and brushed past the wizard and the tailor, making my way to where the others were gathering.

I missed them, I realized. I missed my family. I needed to go home. No matter what I felt in the moment, I needed to keep moving, and if these mercenaries could grant me the opportunity I needed, then I would seize onto it and not let go.

* * *​

Vogel held a compass in his hands, its casing made of a beautiful dark wood lined with twisting vines of silver. I'd have loved to take a closer look at it, but all I could do was watch from afar as he consulted it for our vector. He and Richter, the armored spearman, led the line of "adventurers"—as Emma was now calling us—from the front. I trekked along near the rear of our snaking formation, just ahead of Landulf and Conrad who were still in conversation.

We traveled vaguely eastward, stepping upon the trapped boughs I'd seen earlier. They bounced and shifted under our feet, making for poor footing. At times, I would have to twist my body, windmilling my arms, to manage my balance. Each time, I felt a twinge of pain from my convalescing wound.

It was still wrapped in a long bandage. The physician fortunately still retained a good number of such supplies, and would retrieve and clean used bandages from the numerous injured when possible. I'd done my best to avoid picking at it while I rested, so I hoped it would fully heal soon.

The physician, in fact, was walking just in front of me. He still wore his hood and would occasionally reach for the bark of a tree, taking handfuls from the rivers of water still running down and splashing his head. He was helping the man in front of him who had nearly fallen a few times, the great load upon the man's back clearly quite a challenge to balance.

"Here. A moment, please," I said, walking up behind the two of them. I bade them both stand still, then took a pair of bags off the larger man. I opened them to find these to contain cooking utensils which had shifted as the man had walked. I swiftly reorganized the items, then gave one bag back and hefted the other onto my own shoulder.

"Thanks, but are you sure about carrying that? You're, uh…" the man asked.

"Yes," I said, reaching down to grab the bag from beneath and resettle it more comfortably. "This is no trouble."

Diego leaned over, letting Conrad and Landulf pass us by. "Kurt has a point, Señorita Li. If the weight is too much, you could tear your stitches."

"That's not what—"

"I'll be fine," I cut in. Kurt's eyebrows were raised, but at Diego's shrug, he seemed to give up. I glanced down, then back up. "I'll be careful."

The weight was rather meaningless; I was more than strong enough to carry this for weeks if need be, but I followed my promise, taking extra care to keep myself steady to avoid torquing my body and causing myself more injury. We marched until a dual-hour past the brightest time of the day, rested, then marched some more. It was almost a novel experience, walking this far in the rear of a column, but it felt safe. I'd never realized before how comforting that was.

I was silent for most of the day, content to keep my ears open for the numerous dangers I knew were waiting in the waters to ambush us, but fortunately we were only attacked once. A long tentacle, something I first assumed to be a serpent, reached out of the water and wrapped itself around the leg of the last man in the line. He screamed in surprise as he was yanked off his feet, but was able to catch himself upon a pair of roots diving upward above the water.

I dropped my bag, but before I could move further, arrows began to whizz through the air. Camille and two others had drawn their bows and were letting loose from up ahead. The arrows plunged into the water, and one or two must have met their mark with enough force that whatever was yanking on the poor man decided the meal was not worth the pain. The tentacle disappeared back into the murky waters without a sound, and then the creature was gone.

Diego and Kurt discussed the incident in hushed tones as we continued, nervous for the event that it could happen to them. As for me, the feeling of safety had disappeared—anything could happen at any time. I would need to be prepared.

However, that did not mean I couldn't allow myself some entertainment. I joined in some games of speech and recognition with the two of them, and though I lost most times, I fared on par with Diego. Kurt, having been taught this language from birth, was of course the champion, though he was gallant in his victory. He only gloated a little, and upon seeing Diego's expression began apologizing excessively.

"But I am very impressed," Kurt said to the two of us. "I barely know anything beyond Reikspiel. Just a bit of Bretonnian and the words you've taught me, Diego. Estalia's close enough and trades enough with us. That how you learned Reikspiel?"

"Sí. Yes," Diego said with a smile. "I traveled your lands many times, as well as those of lovely Bretonnia. You know this!"

"Right, right," Kurt said, waving him off. "But, what about you, er, Li? I've never heard your accent before. Where're you from anyway?"

"Hmm." I thought, unsure of how to say it. "I am from far to the east. The 'Far East,' I believe you could call it, though that is a rather bland description." I laughed a bit, then continued. "We call our nation Zhendan, but perhaps that is difficult for you to pronounce. We are Grand Cathay, the Celestial Empire."

"Celestial Empire?" Kurt said, a smile and a scoff on his lips. "Fancy name."

"Certainly. But don't you think your own Empire should have its own epithet?"

"I dunno," Kurt replied. "I've never thought 'Empire' wouldn't be enough. Guess I've not heard of yours before."

"Yes. As I said, it's far to your east. Very few of your people would ever visit," I said. I tugged at my new tunic, rubbing the fabric between my fingers. "Perhaps you have heard of silk before."

"Silk?"

Kurt shook his head, but Diego's eyes lit up. "Oh, yes," he said. "Ah! I remember! Yes. The Silk Road. I have heard of a trade route that travels east. The Tileans try to monopolize it, but certainly nobody can stop the flow of trade, especially when the dangers of that road are already so great and the rewards greater than proportional."

"Indeed. Yes, on the other end of that road lies the Celestial Empire. As silk flows west, great lengths of ivory come east." I thought for a moment, then added, "We call it the Ivory Road for that reason, in our own language."

"Ha! Makes sense to me," Kurt said. "So, what? Did you travel to the Empire as well?"

"No," I said, shaking my head. "I never got the chance. However, I studied the languages of trade over many years. The fortress city of Shang-Yang is a great hub for the silk and ivory trade. Merchants gather from all over to make their fortunes there. I, however, visited it quite often for the sake of my brother, and some of my duties carried me there for other tasks. Learning as many languages as possible was just… useful."

It really was. Whenever I walked the city, I would encounter merchants and otherwise. They would speak in their own tongues, stupidly believing that the city-dwellers would fail to understand. I, more often than not, would discover more than any of them would hope for me to know.

It was especially convenient for certain tasks. My last visit to Shang-Yang demonstrated that quite explicitly.

* * *​

Technically, the Ivory Road stretches past the city of Shang-Yang, splitting in two to reach up into the northern reaches of Cathay and to dive past the Lucky Forest toward Peng-Lo. Much further east, in the palace topping the city of Wei-Jin, are entire floors dedicated to mapping the entirety of the whole Empire. They are tied to the Wu Xing Compass, helping to direct its great energies across our vast territories. Mountains, rivers, forests, and cities are all meticulously marked and labeled across its leathery facade, maintained by my eldest brother and his aides.

When I was much younger and the map much smaller, I'd tread each ink-drawn line, imagining myself walking those roads. I would visit every city, leap across rivers and mountains, and dive into the Jade Sea. I memorized the trade routes and the dangers along them. I ingrained my homeland's borders into my soul.

And now I was laughing, thinking of how the administrators in the heart of the Empire would always argue, refusing to change their labels to match the land when clearly the lands should match their labels. The Ivory Road, by any west-facing merchant's reckoning, begins—or ends—in Shang-Yang.

The Celestial Empire is far too large to have merely one heart. Some animals, like the whales that delve the coasts of our lands, carry within them some of the largest hearts of this world. And yet, they can only grow so large. In an empire that has expanded so greatly that almost five distinct regions can be defined, each region has developed its own individual heart, suborned to that at the center. Shang-Yang is the heart of the west. It beats and pumps, sending out goods and bringing in wealth. This is where we of Zhendan can find singular connection to the supposedly civilized barbarians far past the Mountains of Mourn, and this was where I found myself, dusty with the sands of the Warpstone Desert, with my stoic attendant at my side.

It was just the two of us. With respect to the urgency of the situation, we'd left ahead of my agents. I'd sent commands to them, splitting their forces; half remained in Nan-Gau, assisting my sister in completing the tasks I'd left behind; the other half were racing to catch up and would arrive within the next few days. I ran my fingers through my hair, pushing the long mass upward to tie into a modest bun, then haphazardly pinned it in place with a tiaoxin as I looked up at the thick basalt walls.

Above me, a Jade Warrior dressed in thick overlapping plates of steel looked out over the lines of caravans waiting to enter, a repeating crossbow held loosely in her grip. She, much like many other girls and women of the Empire, likely trained for years to hone her skills. In the event of war, she would be ready to defend her home. Further along the wall was an expanded platform, upon which a grand cannon was mounted. It was properly maintained, its bulk shadowed from the sun to slow the inevitable expansion of its metal due to the heat. To its side, one of the one-horned ogre sell-swords was pulling on a rope the thickness of my waist, slowly hoisting a load of ammunition to the ready stores.

The city was a bastion. Though my elder sister would always complain, I knew my second brother would not neglect his duties. The city was in safe hands. Satisfied, I turned away, heading deeper into the city.

The markets were mercifully sheltered by sheets of colorful cloth hanging high above the packed streets. They cast the stalls into shadow, coloring the store owners hawking their wares in vibrant hues. I pushed Zhihai before me and slipped into the gap he broke in the crowds. His large frame and grand armor were a special sight to many here. None would dare block such an esteemed patron and he drew far more stares and calls than I, just as planned. Yet, on occasion, I would feel a light tug at my waist or my cloak as a thick-fingered thief attempted to find a mark. A few covert slaps and pinches, more brutal than they sound, and the would-be pickpockets began to learn.

On the far end of the market sat a stall like any other, except this one was closed, its owner saving his wares for dusk, when the market truly began to bloom. I tapped a finger against a jewel pinned to the heavy cloth that curtained the stall's entrance, then pushed the sheet to the side and walked inside. Zhihai joined me inside a moment later and positioned himself at the entrance, blocking the way for anybody who tried to follow. The back of the curtain, I noticed, was marked with the sigil of the House of Secrets. I ignored it. It was merely a red herring.

I walked to the rear of the stall, past the tables of glassware. The stall was backed against the wall of a larger building, its earthen bricks scorched by the sun. The difference in value was subtle, but it was made to be seen by those with the right eyes. I walked through the facade.

A figure wrapped in dark cloth greeted me on the other side of the false wall, green trim at his hems. He wore a mask of a crow's head, though its beak had been simplified into a short triangle. "Welcome, esteemed guest," he said, oh so mysteriously. "I have been waiting."

"Without the mystique, please," I said, my arms crossed. "And take off that ridiculous mask."

He hesitated a moment, then complied. He knew who I was; it was only right that I knew him too. And indeed, I did know the man who was once only a boy. Fifteen years ago, I'd visited this same market and this same stall. Here, I'd met another mysterious masked man, and beside him a child with the same eyes. Now, the child had replaced the man, grown into his position.

"What do you know?" I asked. He passed me a roll of parchment—three sheets wrapped together under a covering of sheepskin. I raised an eyebrow.

Clearing his throat, he explained. "We suspect our quarry frequents the following sites: the Central Bazaar, the Outer Silk Market, and the Exotics District, always at night."

"A weak one, then."

He nodded. "We hope, but it is possible his dealings are simply with those others that scurry through the night. Or, perhaps he just enjoys the whores."

My other eyebrow went up and he coughed again, looking away. He continued. "He's collecting things, and people. He has been at this for three moons already. Nearly four."

"Then we should hurry."

"Yes. The details are in there. We will move on your command."

I looked at the roll of parchment in my hands, then up again. "Keep in the shadows." I exited the room and, with Zhihai at my back, out of the stall. We would have much work to do.

First, we scouted. Much had changed since I'd last visited Shang-Yang. The city, the hub of so much trade, is also subject to great shifts in people and politics. Merchants come and set up shop, only to leave months later rich and happy. Ambassadors, travelers, and the ever-secretive alchemists likewise move in and out of the city, bringing with them retinues that fill the walls with new faces, new goods, and new sights to see.

There are markets all over the city, built up and down with these tides of immigrants. Some are specialized. Many overlap. However, there is one market that never moves: the Central Bazaar. Still, while the location does not change, those within do, and so I still needed to see it with my own eyes. There, I strode openly with my advisor, though I'd asked him to shed his armor for the time being in order to better blend with the crowds. I had likewise changed into more native clothing: white and light silks that bared little of my body to the burning sun.

We strolled through the market, taking note of the terrain. As I stopped to peer down a suspicious alleyway, Zhihai distractedly bumped into me, causing the both of us to stumble. Children's laughter echoed down the dark path as I turned toward him.

"This isn't your first time here," I said to Zhihai. "Must you stare at the beasts so?"

"I've never seen one of those before," he said, pointing at a creature lying upon its side. It was a massive beast with equally large curved tusks, covered in thick wool—a terrible detriment in this heat. An ogre was standing atop its, pouring buckets of water across its hide in an attempt to cool it down. A stonehorn, as I recalled the ogre peoples calling it. I did not believe it would be possible to take this through the desert in the dead of summer, so the poor beast must have arrived long ago in a cooler season. Else, someone may have found a path through the Stone Sky Mountains to the north and came about from the long way, but if that had happened then surely the Storm Dragon would have closed it by now.

It was understandable that Zhihai would be so fascinated with the stonehorn, but surely he had seen more interesting creatures. He was from the eastern provinces of the Celestial Empire—the port of Beichai to be exact. The sea-dwelling monsters seen regularly by his people are typically far larger and more impressive. I pointed this out to him and he shrugged. "A creature of the sea can grow large as the water supports its body, as it does a junk. A creature of land and air only has its own legs to carry it. The greater the weight, the more troublesome it is to move and further grow."

A fair point, but further discussion of beasts would have to wait. We wandered through the bazaar, then moved further west into the Exotics District.

The Exotics District is for the trade of the useless or the unwanted. Trinkets, garbage, tasteless art, and everything in between can be found there. Of course, Zhihai objected to that description on principle, having obtained some jewelry the last time we'd visited. Those were gifted to his friends and family and are apparently treasured to this day. However, given that those shiny baubles were merely glass, I fail to see his point. Heat-treated sand can be found anywhere.

Barter is the primary means of transaction in the Exotics District. I watched a trapper attempt to trade a basketful of desert toads, still alive and warbling in panic, for a "dowsing rod," advertised to find water in even the driest of lands. Another man was offering up his own live catch as competition—a band of considerably incensed hobgoblins gagged and bound inside a series of wooden cages—but no party around seemed willing. Those pests are all too common anyway, and they are certain to come to you if you wander the steppes long enough.

Here, I was looking for anything particularly dangerous. Anything whose power or appearance could be turned toward nefarious ends would no doubt be attractive to the being I hunted. My eyes passed over stalls selling arms and armor; no doubt a sword would be far too mundane. In the end, I took mental note of a dozen points of interest.

Finally, we exited the city, heading further west to the Outer Silk Market. The Outer Silk Market was a collection of caravans and makeshift stalls. During the day, the more desperate silk traders would set up here along the path western caravaneers must take to enter the city, and in doing so would hope to find profits before any of their counterparts within the city. During the night, they would pack up and rush back into the safety of the walls, wary of the spirits that stalk the sands. One would think such risky commerce would invite their competition out to join them, but most caravaneers knew better. The walls of Shang-Yang offered security and there was only so much space within. Massive profits and great deals could still be made—why risk their lives further after making the exceptionally dangerous journey through the expansive badlands?

The desert whose sands can cause severe mutations in your body, the hordes of hobgoblin raiders who fall upon four out of every five caravan, the fire dwarfs who thirst for slaves to fuel their dreadful machines, the wild ogres who hunger for flesh and riches, and much more await a caravaneer. Imagine crossing such an expanse twice.

"Find anything interesting?" I asked Zhenhai as we passed through the western gates. I'd lost sight of him as we split up in our search for greater speed. Night was still a half dual-hour away, but we'd taken more time than I'd thought.

He was silent for a moment, his eyes locked on the collection of tents up ahead. Then, he reached into the bag slung across his chest and pulled something out. He opened his palm to show me an object wrapped in delicate paper. He teased the wrappings apart to reveal a small circle of silver.

"What's this?" I asked, curious. It was covered in gemstones and was absolutely gaudy. It must have taken a significant portion of the stipend I afforded him.

"It's a gift," Zhihai rumbled. "The trader spoke of some significance behind it, but I thought it looked nice. I will give it to a… a friend."

"A fine gift," I said as he carefully folded the ring back up and placed it into his bag. "Better than your last purchase too. This one has stones of actual worth."

I laughed at his noises of protest, apologizing before he could begin again to enumerate the value he placed upon those baubles. I shouldn't have brought that up—he'd never admit regret, instead opting to spout false reasoning until he tricked himself or any others.

We trekked along the road—the dry dirt compacted by thousands of wheels and feet. I could already see the moons, one waning and the other waxing. This month would not be too bad, but the night of Chaos would likely arrive in the next one. Still, there was light and therefore there was trade.

"Buying or selling?"

A boy was sitting on a tall stool, a crossbow in his hands. I knew his type. He was probably only fourteen summers old but was given responsibility and a weapon too soon. This was a native of Shang-Yang—one who never had to venture out on his own. I shook my head and walked on by, ignoring his sneer. I would give him one thing, however. He had far too much bravery or audacity in his heart, for he fully ignored the look Zhihai gave him.

At first glance, one may believe such a makeshift market could never be so civilized, but one would be deeply incorrect. Here, the sellers of silk were organized, pricing their goods evenly and perfectly competitive with the in-city sellers. I found it rather admirable until I realized that there was in fact one man running the show: a man with a gut nearly as great as an ogre's and the greed to match. He had his own mercenary guards on hand to keep everyone in line and was taking a cut off every trade. However, I imagine he was at least paying his dues to the city. Otherwise, this scheme of his would have been shut down long ago.

"Why here?" I heard Zhenhai mutter.

"Out of the way. Full of prey," I responded.

"But that can't be all."

"No," I said. "You're right. There must be something more. The question is what?"

We watched the proceedings until the sun began to set, then turned to head into the city with the bulk of the traders. And then I heard it, two voices speaking in quiet Tilean, in the midst of the crowd. I still am not sure how I picked out what they said under the jumble of noises, but what I heard was this:

"You are certain, yes? That is worth more than all the bolts of silk in the whole city!" one said, excitement and doubt both so clear and conflicting in her voice.

"Yes! I am. Just one more night, he said. We set it, and leave." said the other.

"But won't they try to stop us?"

"Not if they're trying to stop everything else."

I turned, hoping to find the owners of those voices, but in the crush of the crowd, I could not make them out. I almost lost Zhihai, but his hand snaked out from behind a mule to grab me by the arm.

"Tomorrow," I said. "There's something happening tomorrow."

 

[aLarkInTheDark]

Chapter 7​

We lost someone the next day. I'd not learned his name, though I'd sat across from him twice during the evening's meal. He stopped for a mere moment, stepping off the path Vogel cut into the thick brush while commenting on seeing something glinting in the distance. He tread on a vine and then he was gone, grabbed and yanked high into the air before anyone could react. His scream was cut off in a shower of blood.

Richter recovered the man's boots, charred from the bolt of fire Conrad flung at the bulbous plant in an act of vengeance. The feet were still inside. From the rear of our column, all I heard was a great commotion. The march stopped for a few minutes as people mourned the loss, and then we continued on.

Days passed as we made slow progress. The low lying plant matter on this side of the mountains was much thicker than I'd found on the other. Those at the front of the line were forced to distribute their packs to those behind, freeing them to clear the way. According to Oddr, this is what they'd done while heading west.

"Why do we not simply retrace your steps?" I asked him.

He shrugged, then waved behind us. "We are. Somewhat. But, it takes only hours for the forest to reclaim the land. Watch when we next make camp. Our entrance will be gone."

Indeed, he was correct. As we stopped for the night, I took note of where we entered this clearing. In the morning, it was gone, even without the prize of sunlight that the flora hungered so much for. However, what I could not tell was why we were never overrun by the foliage in our sleep. This, I asked about as well.

"I don't know," Oddr responded, as did the others I'd questioned. "Perhaps you can ask the natives. Have you seen their constructions?"

"Yes," I said. "Strange things."

"Those that we find are always overgrown, but not as much as they should be," Oddr continued. "Some force keeps the jungle away."

"And what does that have to do with our campsites?"

Oddr gave me a look. "Have you not noticed the soil? It is dry and compressed, as if something has sat there for the longest of times. Vogel looked for the sites where the natives once built their structures. We have mapped them, and now we are finding them once again."

"I see."

Once again, I kept my eyes open when we found camp that day. If I looked close enough, I could see long, rectangular shapes depressed into the ground. They were covered by loose dirt and fallen leaves, but after watching Vogel kick at the ground, muttering to himself, I could see exactly what he was looking for.

But, from there, I had yet more questions, which Oddr unfortunately could not answer for me. Why did I never come across these cleared sites west of the mountains, and where did the natives' structures go?

I'd heard stories of this land's inhabitants, though I'd yet to see any even after so long. Lizard-daemons, I'd heard them called. I'd heard they spoke a language unknown to any other race on this planet, and worshiped gods that demanded sacrifice and bloodshed. They were fierce, unforgiving warriors, and could not be underestimated. They could tear a man from limb to limb in rage, or pepper one with darts and spears from the protection of the undergrowth.

Intelligent, dangerous foes. Ones who took serious offense to those trespassing on their lands. So, why was I yet to spy a single one?

The shuffling of boots against leaves disturbed my thoughts. I looked up to see the pyromancer walking toward me. He'd shed his robe and his body was smoldering yet again, the smell of smoke following him as he moved. He raised a hand in greeting, a tired smile on his face.

"Ho there," he said. "Whatcha lookin' at?"

"Nothing," I said. "The absence of something, more specifically."

"Ach. You're one of them types, huh?"

I tilted my head in confusion. He laughed and pointed over at the two naturalists, the both of them in conversation. Or rather, Emma was enthusiastically speaking of something or another whilst Oddr was barely listening, writing something down in his notes.

"I'm not sure what you mean."

"You're the kind to look too deeply," he said.

"You still are making little sense."

He laughed again, shaking his head. "Forget it. I'm just here to tell you you're on first shift. You awake enough?"

I nodded. I could go for days if needed now that I was recovering. Nearly all of my wounds had closed—all but my most severe one, in fact. I subtly shifted, rubbing at the stitches with my elbow, ignoring the twinge of pain.

I could do something about it at this point. Probably. But… should I?

As I fell back into my thoughts, Conrad began to turn away, only to pause. "Ah. One more thing. Diego's changing bandages tonight. Said he wanted to wash them while he can."

Distractedly, I gave him a noise of agreement. We'd been following a large river that flowed northeast, and likely would continue to do so. However, while a source of water is… well, water, it is also a lodestone for animals. Big, angry animals. We kept a safe distance from the river, minimizing our trips to it only for water when needed. Generally, the water came to us from the sky, but when we needed large amounts, such as for boiling and washing, we would need to venture into danger.

Tonight, we were closer than usual. Perhaps the site we were at was the only one of its kind that Vogel could find. It did mean that water was more accessible, though only if approached as a group with weapons and torches at the ready.

"Thank you for telling me," I said. He waved a hand as he walked away, leaving me again to my thoughts.

Darkness was falling. I looked up, catching a glimpse of the rising moon. Mannslieb, I believe these westerners called it. There must be a meaning behind that name, as there is behind the one in my own language.

Yueyin was near full, her ethereal beauty shining through the leaves. I sighed. How long had I been here? How long since I left home?

Something croaked in the darkness, short but throaty. I heard the flapping of wings and I turned my head to see a crow soaring above. It stared at me, its beady eyes lighting up under the gaze of the moon. I watched, open-mouthed as it covered the stars with its wings and disappeared into the night. I'd not seen one since I left home.

Was it a sign? If so, what could it have meant? A blessing from my mother, perhaps. A spy for my brother? Or maybe it was an omen: an agent for the rotting one—the bloated parasite that bloomed with the mistakes of the Interlopers.

Or it could be just a crow.

I stood in the clearing, my face turned upward, letting the slips of moonlight fall upon me. Soft, salient energy spooled through the air. I could use it in theory, but I never was one for that particular aspect.

A smile spread across my face as I thought back—all the way back to when I was a mere child. Back when I was yet more brash. Back when I was ever so immature.

I happened upon a crying girl, clad in grayed silk. She was no higher than my shoulder as I am now, and around her were gathered boys a finger's width shorter than her, jeering and laughing. They did not see me as I approached; they did not hear my slippered feet as I trudged through ox-shit mud. They only turned toward me when I spoke, my voice young and just as childish as theirs.

"Why do you cry?" I asked into the center of the ring. The girl did not reply, only cringing and turning away, her fingers clenching at her tears. I turned to the tallest boy, seeking an answer, and was met with mirthful mockery.

"Who are you?" he asked, his mouth already turning up at the corners. "What's your name?"

I ignored the impropriety, instead introducing myself and gracing him with a bow and a smile. Rather than greet me in kind, he instead laughed. The fool is me, I suppose, for believing a child would recognize my name. To be fair, those who only have to look up to see the shadow of the Celestial City all know of my family. I, having spent so long in their company, expected more of the same effusive salutations. Out there, in the lands only now feeling the physical reaches of Zhendan's growing influence—though already entrenched in its culture—the child had much less reason to know.

But that did not explain the laughter. "What's so funny?" I asked, hands on my hips.

"Pig!" he howled, his finger poking into my chest. I stood there, dumbfounded at the boy's cheek. The others took up the cry, repeating it over and over again, oinking and curling their fingers at their backs like swine tails.

I saw at that moment what was happening and turned away. I placed my hands on the girl-child's shoulders, locking her in place. "What is your name?" I asked.

"Zang Hua," she replied softly, tears still falling. I sighed internally. Such a common set of names. So common, it seems, that children can make fun of its banality whilst mixing it with a similarly boring homophone-sourced insult. The lesson, I suppose, is that children are often cruel for the least of reasons. The girl received the celebratory gift of the moon-dress, as befitting her witnessing of her hundred-sixtieth full Yueyin. Supposedly, its drab, mottled appearance would help her to avoid the angry eyes of the Moon Empress on that day—an entirely false notion as She clearly has better things to do than mete out imagined punishment upon her mortal subjects. It instead put a target on the girl's little head.

It should have been a happy time for the girl, and yet, from what she whispered to me, it was ruined merely because of a perceived slight between the children's mothers. Not her fault, and yet the boy wished to take "justice" into his own hands.

If I had thought longer, if I'd had more experience with using my power in a responsible manner, then perhaps I would not have done as I did. I could have illuminated my own mind, elucidating my thoughts with careful speech to diffuse the situation. I could have led the girl away and delivered her to her mother, then resolved her differences with the boy's in turn. However, in my youthful arrogance, I instead lit up the village, bringing a third moon into being in my excitement to show off my power.

The children all fell backward except for the girl who I still held onto. The light blinked away a moment later as I realized my mistake, but I was still too young to admit the fault and so I laughed to cover my idiocy. I pushed the girl ahead, back to her home, then turned to the boys.

"Don't do that again," I said, faking my confidence. They looked up at me, eyes wider than Yueyin and mouths open, ready to catch flies. They'd fallen into the aforementioned mud in what I deemed to be suitable retribution.

I walked away, trembling with excitement, embarrassment, and of course terror at the punishment I knew my mother would give me. It was a stupid exhibition of my power. I did indeed receive my punishment, made only worse when I did not go willingly into my mother's hands. Now, I was older and hopefully wiser. My confidence, composure, and competence only grew as I did. So, where was all of that now?

I looked down at my body, then slowly lifted my shirt to reveal my bandages. I placed my hand atop them, moving my fingers until I felt the bumps of my stitches. Slowly, I pulled upon the Winds. A mere thread would do—a trickle to begin a stream. I closed my eyes against the light, shutting out the sounds of the world around me. A minute passed and I was done, the stitches and bandages folded neatly in my hand.

As easy as that.

I sighed. No. Not wiser. Not at all.

When I handed my dressings to Diego, he spoke with quiet urgency. "What happened? Did these fall out?"

"No, I took them out," I said, showing him my smooth skin. He absently raised his hand, his fingers probing at the site.

"How?"

"Magic," I said.

He gave me a wary look. "You never said you were a wizard, Señorita Li. I must tell Vogel."

"Don't worry," I said. "I will tell him myself."

He shook his head, his hands gripping the bandages tight. Dried blood colored his fingers, but he failed to notice. "Why did you not heal yourself earlier?"

"You saw what was inside of me."

"Ah," he said. "Hm. But does it actually prevent—"

"It is unpredictable," I interrupted him. I stood from my seat by the fire. "I will speak with Vogel now. I need to catch him before he sleeps."

That was impolite of me, I realize, but what else could I have done? I left Diego behind and walked further into the camp, off to the northern edge where I knew Vogel would be. He stood knees bent on the head of a boulder, high up off the forest floor. Above him he held his compass and an astrolabe, checking the latter against the stars now peeking between the branches. Richter was leaning against the rock, his eyes always on the search for danger. He immediately spotted me as I neared.

"What do you want?" he growled.

I tilted my head up at Vogel. "I need to tell Vogel something. It isn't private."

The guard followed my gaze and upon seeing Vogel's nod, relaxed ever so slightly. I stepped closer then waited patiently as Vogel clambered down to meet me. "Yah?" he said.

I had a bit of a conundrum. How should I report the return of my abilities without arousing greater suspicion? Richter had, ever since I'd been found by Vogel's group, been fairly hostile in his opinion of me. Vogel himself was reasonably wary, hesitant to allow a complete stranger to come near those he felt obligated to protect. They would both react poorly to surprises without explanation, and even with an explanation would still not be greatly mollified.

But, the truth was all I could give them. I owed them that much. I merely had to do so diplomatically—something that was actually quite simple.

I understood what kind of people they were. Vogel was a leader; one who tried to be the rock in the storm that any and all of his people could cling to. He had his own motivations surely, but when confronted by an issue that tested his people as much as himself, he would react accordingly. Richter was less predictable as I had far less interaction with him beyond barked phrases. He could be the guard dog, jumping in front of threats before they could evolve into danger. Or, he could be hiding something deeper. I did not know, but I could speak carefully and clearly to avoid stepping upon his tail. As long as his master did not point to me and say "Bite!" then I should be fine.

"I seem to be capable of using magic once again," I said.

Richter's eyes narrowed predictably in response. Vogel was more considering. He crossed his arms and motioned with his finger, allowing me to continue.

"When I was injured, I was unable to call upon the Elements any longer. I thought that was permanent."

"What changed?" Vogel asked, his shoulders tense.

"I began to heal," I said. I tilted my head in Diego's direction. "Thanks to Diego's help, that is. I would have healed myself months ago if I could have."

"You're a healer?"

"Yes," I said. "I wield Light. Hysh, I believe your people call that particular Element."

With a twist of my wrist, a spark of light appeared over my open palm. Richter immediately fell into a battle-ready stance, but Vogel was steady. I understood him. My trap—or rather, my offering—was laid. Would he take it?

"...Noisy bastards," he muttered, "but good healers. Fine. But, do you have to do the… the singing thing?"

I wasn't sure what he meant, but I could guess. I shook my head. "No."

"Alright. Fine." Vogel held out a hand. Richter's eyes flicked between Vogel and myself before stepping back and straightening. He still wasn't about to trust me, but I'd passed the test. The first one, at least.

"How good of a healer are you?" Richter asked.

"The best on this continent," I said. His only response to the joke was a slight tightening of his grip upon the shaft of his spear. I inwardly cursed myself, then spoke again. "I was one of the best in my land. I still might be."

I was most certainly better than the best in theirs as well, even weakened as I still was, but this was not the time to say anything that could provoke him. Richter seemed doubting, but he didn't challenge my apparent boast. He only turned away, back to his watch.

"My apologies for not informing you sooner," I said, turning back to Vogel. "I only just realized this."

"As long as you heal my people, then I'll overlook it," he replied.

I nodded and bowed. Offering accepted. Unfortunately, that would put Diego out of work, but I believed he would be understanding.

That, however, would have to come later. Camille intercepted me, carrying with her my share of food. It was time for my shift.

* * *​

"What did you think I meant the other day?"

I stood next to Camille, facing west as she faced north. Over the course of the last hour, nearly everybody had turned in for the night. Only four of us were awake, posted in pairs on either side of the camp. I'd watched as our path into the site closed before my eyes, and now I was scanning back and forth, hoping not to see anything staring back.

"Is it offensive?" I asked when Camille did not respond. "I am sorry. My curiosity has gotten to me. I'll not ask again."

"It is," she said, sighing into the warm breeze, "but only if I choose to take it so."

I let silence fall again. The jungle eagerly rushed to fill the gap made. With the storms passed and a dry night for once—relatively, for the air was still so humid that droplets wicked upon the steel broadhead of the arrow held in Camille's bow—the nocturnal creatures were free to create their own noisy concert.

"Do you know of ze Elves?"

I let a beat pass. A whisper of warm wind followed.

"Mm. Yes," I said. "The Asur?"

"Is zat what you call them?"

"It's what they call themselves. The civilized ones, I mean. They called their more barbaric brethren Druchii."

"Oh," she said, frowning. "Is zat so? The Reiklanders call zese ones 'Wood Elves.' Elfes des bois. Are zey ze Asur or ze Druchii?"

"Hm. I don't know," I said. "But, what is your point?"

"Too many liken me to zem. I find it annoying."

Was that it? I looked at her, trying to find the resemblance. All I really remembered of those creatures was their haughtiness, their ears, and their impropriety with my cousins. I vaguely recalled that they held mastery of some twisted amalgamation of Yang and Yin—they appeared to have been designed to wield the Winds better than most of the other races—but I blanked on most else. I'd not had much interaction with them.

"I do not see it," I said.

Camille looked at me out of the corner of her eye, searching my face for something. Then, she laughed quietly and turned back toward the jungle. The rest of the shift was spent in silence. Eventually, it was time for us to switch with the next pairs, so Camille stepped back to wake those few. I was left alone, waiting for her to return with the fresh faces, and that was when I heard it: true silence.

The sounds of the night's creatures had faded. I stood up, arms out and legs bent. Something was surely wrong.

A shiver went up my spine, the hairs on the back of my neck tingling in a suddenly cold wind. I turned at the sound of leaves being brushed aside and with a silent call, created a path of stars before me.

There it was. It was a huge creature, shaped similarly but far larger than the monsters that attacked me on the other side of the mountains. I took a moment to wonder at how it could move so quietly with its size, then moved.

I yelled as I ran toward the beast, hoping to alert those behind me to its presence. At the same time, I closed my eyes, calling upon the Winds once more. The insides of my eyelids grew a brilliant red and a great roar drowned out my words, then I felt the ground shake. I opened my eyes once more to see the monster charging blindly toward me. It was angered though unhurt, and clearly not willing to peacefully leave.

I realized then that I still had no weapon. Why had I not thought to keep looking? I cursed my forgetfulness even as I continued to call upon my Element. Tomorrow, I promised myself. Tomorrow I would find something sturdy enough to fashion into a worthy weapon.

The monster fell with a mighty crash, legs wrapped up in chains of light and surely waking those in the camp who still slept. I leapt into the air, coming down to land upon its head and began to lash out at its eyes with my fists. As I did so, arrows began to sprout from the creature's neck—Camille's work, accurate even as she was forced to avoid putting one into me. She needn't have bothered. As I fought, I was remembering my reflexes and regaining the range of my body. I reached out and snatched an arrow from the air, then jammed it into the monster's eye socket. It reared up and I grabbed hold of the ridge above its eye, even as the rest of my body was launched upward. As my body came about, I pivoted around my hands and brought my leg down in one great arc to slam my toe into the rear of the arrow, shoving it deep into the monster's skull.

The monster shuddered and for a second, I thought I had slain it. But then, it staggered back to its feet—the chains broken with my lapse in concentration—and turned around. With lumbering, swaying steps, it stumbled its way into the undergrowth, retreating from the fight.

And carrying me with it.

I leapt off its head and tumbled into the branches of one of those hated ferns. I thrashed my way free, then began the short walk back. That was anticlimactic, but at least nobody had been hurt. I hoped.

It turned out, once I returned, that there was indeed one injury. One fool had gotten woken up in panic and tripped over his comrade's foot. He'd ended up knocking his head against a rock and now sported a concussion and a bloody head wound. Diego was already there, wrapping the man's head with one of his freshly washed bandages. I started walking toward him, but was forestalled as Vogel approached me from the side.

"You said you were a healer," he remarked.

"Yes," I replied, "I am that and more. Like any wizard. Much like one from your lands."

He gave a grunt of acknowledgement and said no more, allowing me to proceed. I saw him walk off to speak with Camille next and they were soon joined by Conrad, Richter, and a few others whose names I did not yet know.

The injured man was lying down on the ground by the time I approached, his eyes closed and a grimace of pain on his face. Diego was squatting next to him, speaking in soft tones. It was Kurt, I realized then, that was hurt. I kneeled next to Diego with a brief word of hello.

"What was that?" Diego asked me.

"Some monster," I replied. "We scared it off."

He nodded, then turned back to look at Kurt, worry clouding his face. His fingers twitched, still stained by blood.

"Is he alright?" I asked.

"He should be. But… Bah! That was a stupid injury. He's had much worse." Diego grumbled to himself.

I watched the two of them for a minute, then leaned forward. "Vogel was reasonable. As long as I earn my keep, then he will have no reason to be upset."

Diego glanced between me and Kurt, then his eyes widened as he realized what I meant.

"I promised Vogel I would heal anybody who got injured," I continued. I lifted a hand, placing it above Kurt's face, then paused, looking at Diego. "Do you have any concerns?"

His eyes narrowed, but after a moment of consideration, he shook his head. "No… None."

And so I proceeded. Kurt was healed in minutes, and though he needed rest he was able to give me a weak smile of thanks. I left him with Diego and, since I was still awake, decided to find another few who could use my assistance.

It was simple. So simple.

As I lay on my bed of dirt and leaves, looking up at the black canopy above, I sighed to myself. I'd made far too many mistakes. I'd fallen so far. I'd stumbled about, hoping for somebody to pick me back up when what I should have done was start climbing.

Of course, the climb back to my previous heights was a long one. I'd only just returned to the path, but this is far better than mere weeks ago. Now, I was finding others that could help me—others who were stretching out their hands toward me. I'd grabbed on in my desperation, taking that short lifeline.

And now, I would have to think. Soon, I would have to answer a question for myself.

When should I let go?

 

[aLarkInTheDark]

Chapter 8​

I kept the mountains to my left as I walked south and east, looking for a way through or around. Shrouded as they were by crowns of fog, I never could see their peaks, but I eventually worked out a way to estimate their heights.

I kept close to their bases which rose quickly away from me, staying just far enough that my footing was flat and solid more often than not. So close was I that I spent most of each day walking in the shadows of those mountains. When the air began to warm, I knew then that the sun had crested the tops of those mountains. Therefore, from my estimate of the angle between myself and the sun, I could then perform a rough calculation of how high I would have to climb if I wished to cross the range.

My results were not encouraging. I decided to keep moving south.

That exercise of my mind kept me sane enough, I suppose. A form of entertainment for somebody starved of such. But, once I had my answer, I had nothing else for myself besides the troubles of travel and the memories I wished to leave behind. I decided to focus myself upon the former for fear of the latter.

I stumbled upon a boulder one time. Its top was browned with earth and its base was dry and covered with sun-seeking lichen. It was upside down, having fallen and rolled far down the mountain with a host of cousins. I traced the furrows in the ground and came across a fallen tree—one of the larger varieties whose waists are so large that it would take a horse a full minute to gallop from one side to the other. It had been pummeled by the landslide, as if a giant had targeted it and hurled these rocks down upon it, weakening it just above its roots and felling it.

I do not know how long ago it had fallen, but it must not have been long before I laid eyes upon it; the trunk had yet to rot in majority even though the surface was wet with rain, and, though creepers had begun to climb its sides, they had not reached the top. I hauled myself halfway up with those vines, then found easy hand and footholds in the rough bark for the rest of the way. From there, I gazed down upon the stump of the tree—at the shattered wood and arm-length splinters—and marveled at its age. This tree was old and hardy, even more so than myself. Looking closer, I could see the discoloration marking hundreds or perhaps thousands of rings that indicated the passing of years.

I trod along the trunk, following it until I arrived at the first branches. They too were thick and would have survived the weight of a complement of cannons each. Looking closer, I judged that one would hold enough material within it to fashion one or two sea-vessels. I smiled for a moment, imagining returning home with such a handsome gift for my third sister—even after that Southlands disaster, her love for her little boats never wavered. Then, my expression fell as I remembered my ongoing predicament. Stepping further along the branch, I found a bundle of bright orange strings. This was a parasitic species of plant, wrapped around the tree branch and sucking up water and nutrients. Soon, it would die with its host. For now, it made for my ladder off the tree.

The mountains turned further east as I continued traveling south and my hopes rose. Would I find the mountain pass I wished for? Alas, I did not and instead found cloisters of dense jungle interspersed with swampland. I was truly miserable as I navigated the muck while dodging crawling reptilian monsters and buzzing insects. All the while, I continued to suffer from my prior wounds, gaining and fighting off new diseases every few days. I was delirious for most of my time there and cannot remember much of it. Except for the toads, that is.

Those dreadful creatures tormented me every night. They made a horrible sound which I assumed was their equivalent of a croak, except that they were sharp noises almost like a mix between a cough and a dog's bark. But, that was but the least of their horrible aspects. They were also a noisome lot, smelling absolutely vile to the point that I retched and threw up the first few times I encountered their stink. Often I would find myself up in a tree, surrounded by the creatures as they hopped about during the night, dreading each little splash their bodies made as they leapt from puddle to puddle. I was just waiting for them to release their clouds of malodor from which I would have to blindly flee from. At the very least, I had little to fear regarding attack from predators on those nights. They too stood little chance before this noxious amphibian.

I found a pattern in the toads' movements. At dusk, they would make their way past me, heading to the feet of the mountains only to disappear into the dark. By dawn, they would be hopping back to bury themselves under the thick mud where they would sleep the day away. I was especially careful to move only when I knew they were asleep and to stay high above the waterline of the swamplands when possible. Tripping over a toad and waking it up became my greatest worry—even greater than the flying reptiles that patrolled the skies above the swamps and never passed up a chance to attack me from above.

And then, I was out of the swamps and back in the thick of what I deemed the "normal" jungle. I marched for days and days, stopping only to sleep. Every day necessitated multiple battles for my life—too many to relate. Each battle ended in one of two ways: the predator limping away, or me taking its flesh to chew upon as I walked. It was almost convenient in a way. They were a regular occurrence to count on when I needed food, as was the rain when I needed water. That is, until predators and the rain slowly stopped appearing.

* * *​

The Western Deserts are a place of extremes. The temperature can rise so high during the day that oftentimes people will forgo cooking fire, instead opting to let the sun provide the heat. During the night, the temperature plunges, leaving the unprepared shivering in the streets. Zhihai, of course, ensured that the both of us were adequately dressed as we stalked the markets that night, on the hunt for more clues.

I met Zhihai long ago, back when he was a young man just having received his posting in Wei-Jin. As much as the Emperor and his delegates wish to promote a meritocracy, there are those who will use their advantages of blood to push their way through the crowd. However, Zhihai, unlike many of his peers, had earned his position, albeit with his inherited strengths.

I found him staggering along on a cold night like this, a load of rolled papers in his arms. He was making his way around the palatial grounds, delivering notes to others—a low task for someone of his standing. He slipped upon an icy step and I, being nearby, caught his arm.

"Careful now," I said idly. "The wind blows the ice in from the north. You see the gaps here? Sleet comes in to lie upon the paths on this side of the grounds."

"Ah— err. Yes," he said, ever so awkwardly. He reached up to grab the silly little futou upon his head and pushed it back into place. I smiled and left him then, though not before pushing the scrolls I'd caught into the crook of his arm.

His balance amongst new situations had greatly improved since then. No longer would he slip on mere ice, but he would also not fail to stop an unknown person from brushing past him in the dark. He held a hand out before the figure that approached us near yet another market, turning his body to protect me in case she were to fling something in my direction. "Halt," he brutishly said. "Identify yourself."

The figure pulled down her hood to reveal her face. She was typical of the natives of this city, bearing dark skin and dark eyes. I recognized her, much like the agent before, and bid her come near.

"Updates?" I asked.

"Yes," she said.

"Follow me."

I led her and Zhihai to the safehouse we'd claimed in the corner of the city. It was a cellar built in the last expansion of the city. With its foundation of stone, it would be difficult for any mortal to breach it, though I worried about its vulnerability to smoke. Nevertheless, we slipped inside and locked the door.

"We've looked into what you've said but there is… there is not much to go on," the woman said with an apologetic look. She bowed low.

"I understand," I said. "What have you found?"

"Just one thing. We've questioned many of those who were at the Outer Market. They were… they were not cooperative, but we loosened their tongues. Many of the caravan guards—the Ogres, mostly—have been paid to cause trouble tomorrow night. Individually."

"What do you mean by trouble?"

"Start fights. Mild arson. Nothing too big, but with so many at once, the city's guards would be overwhelmed. They were approached individually by a number of others who we've yet to track down."

I nodded. "You've stopped them?"

"Many of them, yes. Enough that the rest can be handled."

"Good. But what does this lead to? Clearly this is a distraction, but for what?"

"We don't know, Mistress, but we suspect there are more moving parts to this. We will keep working through the day."

The agent left after that and I turned to Zhihai. In the privacy of the safe room, I let out a growl of frustration. "I fear we won't have enough time. We've arrived far too late to stop whatever this is. We must notify my brother."

"I disagree," he said. "He has the tendency to escalate. We still have the day, and whatever happens, we may still be able to react."

I shook my head. "That's not… If the Jade-blooded has had this much time, then it has most certainly dug its fingers throughout the city. It will know that somebody is working to stop it."

"I don't think there was any doubt about that," Zhihai said. "Your brother's forces… and him… It will have taken those into account, but we are unknowns to it now. We may still have the advantage."

"That is only if we haven't revealed ourselves yet," I grumbled. "We've moved as covertly as possible, but we're still two of the very few who've entered the city from the east in the last week. If there's somebody on watch, then no doubt we've been seen. And," I paused, my fingers curling into fists, "what is its motive? We know near nothing about it."

Zhihai opened his mouth, then closed it. I let him be, waiting for him to speak his mind.

Apparently he'd not recognized me that night long ago. It was too dark, even with the shining city that floats above Wei-Jin. I was simply facing the wrong way, the lights blinding him against my silhouette. I, however, saw his face and was able to recognize him a month later when he rode out south, moving with the army gathered to beat back the Monkey King's advances once again.

He rode with the other Dragon-blooded upon a lungma he'd named Xunsu. He was always more inclined toward martial skills than the Elemental Winds, and so rode in formation with others like himself. However, in the tumult of battle, he found himself alone one day as the sole support of a formation of archers. The peasants had found themselves cut off from the main forces, and enemy warriors were closing in. It was then that Zhihai lashed out with a serpent of flame, breaking the charge of the foe long enough for him to charge into their flank on his lonesome.

He did not win his fight, but neither did he truly lose. Poor Xunsu fell that day, but Zhihai held on long enough for me to notice his and the soldiers' plight. I arrived and routed off the enemy, and upon hearing of his deed, I was highly impressed. However, when I'd walked over to his beaten body, kneeling beside him to ask him to join my tiny cadre of agents, he'd refused. He believed he hadn't earned it yet.

It was that willingness to defy me that cemented my decision to take him as my advisor. I needed someone who would offer me another solution or perspective rather than a sycophant too willing to agree. And so I waited, letting him grow until he felt he could serve me as needed.

He petitioned me decades later, wishing to fulfill the duty I'd asked of him. I, of course, remembering that day, accepted.

"Well," he finally said. "Perhaps we should simply let him reveal himself. It matters not when he does so, only that we are there to greet him."

A half-hour passed with us staring at a map of the city. It had been supplied with the room and Zhihai made good use of it, taking a brush and inking out his plans. I watched from the other side, flipping his notes about in my mind to follow along. On occasion, I would tap my finger upon a route or a remembered item of interest and he would nod, understanding my point and adjusting accordingly.

His appearance always did belie his powerful mind, though as one of the shugengan none would dare underestimate him if they knew of his status. As he left the safehouse to make preparations, I sat myself in the corner of the room, curling up and facing the one door. There, I closed my eyes and relaxed. I would not be needed for a while, and so I saved my strength.

* * *​

The trees grew sparser and the ground drier. I was gladdened by this as my travel became significantly easier. No longer would I sink into ankle deep mud with every step; no longer would I have to navigate dense foliage or walls of wood; no longer was I fending off bugs at every second of the day. All I needed to do was skirt around trees of a more reasonable size and march with lengthened strides. It was easier.

It was also starting to feel familiar.

Everything pointed toward lesser rainfall in those southern lands. After two days without droplets upon my shoulders, I was forced to stop and look for a water source. Without a means to carry the water with me, I dropped face down into the small stream I found, soaking myself and my clothing. Layers of dirt came off of me and my rags, and after scrubbing myself as clean as I could, I moved on, the scraps of cloth in my hands soaked thoroughly. Though they dried all too quickly, they held blessed moisture for at least another day.

The gradual changes in my environment caught up to me. No longer was I in the heart of a rainforest, I was now at its very edge. So, what was I walking into? What awaited me further south? I already knew the answer, but, dreading what it would mean for me, I continued on, only capable of hoping it was otherwise. I walked and walked, and the trees grew more and more sparse until all I had to do was look forward to see what awaited me. But, I kept my head down. I didn't want to see it. I didn't want to realize it.

My head only lifted—my tired eyes cracking open—when my worn boots tread upon soft sand. It poured through the holes in my footwear and over my toes as I collapsed in the last remnants of shade.

I heard no waves. I saw no sea. This was no beach.

It was a desert.

I sat there for a day, despair tugging at my heart. I wanted to lie down—to simply let the jungle or the sands consume me. I'd come so far, and for what? This was impassible. No water. No shade. No protection from the elements beside the shade of the mountains which stretched until they turned blue and disappeared on the horizon. They too remained an obstacle, nearly insurmountable in my state, and yet I had to pass them. I had to climb them. South into the sands was certain death whereas east over the peaks was an impossibly possible task, There was a chance. It was a small chance, made even smaller by the beating I'd taken just making my way so far south.

Stupid! I cursed myself. If I'd attempted it months ago—if I'd not sought an easier way, I would be in better shape to take this challenge. I'd weakened myself unnecessarily, but there was nothing to be done about it now. I turned and returned to the base of the mountains, climbing the foothills until I could go no further. Not here, I thought to myself as I stared at the walls of rock. I would have to retrace my steps somewhat to find a better spot to start.

I turned away, too tired to even complain. One step at a time, I walked north.