It was still the middle of the night. Kiur and Xander dragged Cylia’s passed-out body to one of the free rooms.
“Someone was having fun,” Xander grunted. He pulled his foot back before Kiur could step on it. “Tough luck, I was faster—OW!” exclaimed Xander and let go of Cylia to jump up and down from getting his shin kicked.
“She can sleep here,” said Daedal, their guide. “It’s quiet enough not to stir her awake from any outside noise.”
Daedal held the door open for them to bring Cylia inside. The room was small but cosy enough with a single bed with red-furred bed linen and velvet curtains. The wooden floor didn’t creak or make any sound, and outside the window was the winding and shimmering blue river. It was so peaceful and quiet that Kiur was willing to pass on the spot.
“Thank you for your help.” Kiur smiled at the dwarf before giving Xander a mean frown as Kiur alone placed down Cylia on the bed. Gently, Kiur went with his hand over her messy hair and removed the hairpins to let her hair fall free. She let out a grumbled sound as she nestled into the warmth of the soft pillow. “She’s out for good.”
Xander complained, “She should have kept her guard up.”
“Not like we were any better,” reprimanded Kiur, reminding themselves when they fell unconscious from Noah’s influence. “We’re all tired, but she could use the extra rest considering everything that happened and how she had to go through without magic.”
Both of them looked awkwardly at one another. Both knew now of the other's secret, forging a sort of secret alliance which was more than just a simple form of friendship. Neither knew how to think of it as they were comrades in arms, reborn into the same world and trying to survive.
“You are thinking of taking his offer, aren’t you?” asked Xander, leaning against the doorframe and trying not to fall asleep.
Kiur shrugged, letting his shoulders slump. The bed croaked when Kiur sat down and rubbed his face. His eyes saw the stars. “It doesn’t sound bad, does it?”
“Sure, it doesn’t,” Xander shrugged with his shoulder as well. “It’s a wonderful offer. I think we should take it.”
“Are you sure?”
“What’s the alternative? It’s either this unknown and veeeery enigmatic safe place to stay for the next eight months or our likely demise in the desert.” Xander’s cold and dismissive argument lingered hard in the air, cooling down the entire room with it. Cylia visibly shuddered and clung to the warm blanket. “I’m sorry.” Xander raised his hand and held the bridge of his nose. “It’s just… I’m exhausted. We were thrown around from one situation to another. I can’t think properly anymore.”
“I know,” Kiur nodded meekly and was about to fall asleep. “We should continue the talk in the morning when we are rested.”
“Good call. Hey guide, show me my room!” Xander snapped with his finger, earning a disapproving look from Kiur, Daedal and even the sleeping Cylia as she felt disturbed in her slumber.
Daedal replied smiling, “Turn to your left, take three turns right, then upstairs, fall down a pit, get bitten by snakes, and if you find the cellar, you are definitely right,” Daedal gave Xander directions—which were definitely not passive-aggressive in nature. “Or take the room at the end of the hall, not that I care.”
Xander flinched at the dwarf. “Night, you two!” and skittered away.
“Shall we get going, my child?” Daedal offered Kiur a hand and helped him stand up. “I will guide you to your room. Don’t worry, it’s a comfortable one.”
“I appreciate it, but I can’t shake off the feeling of how familial your way of addressing me is.”
“Do you dislike it?”
Kiur shook his head as they walked, his golden hair whirling up as they settled down, and his eyes softened for the dwarf. “Not at all. Do you have children?”
Daedal’s gait halted to a stop. He slowly turned to Kiur with a sombre expression before the door to the guest room. He exhaled deeply and put a hand on the wooden doorframe. “I haven’t seen my sons in a long time. I can’t wait to see them again.”
Kiur was afraid to know, but he needed to ask. “Don’t they live here with you?”
“I-it’s complicated. I have a task I need to fulfil. Before that, I cannot return.” Daedal smiled sadly and stared at Kiur, his eyes wandering to the shawl. “My youngest liked the colour blue, you know? He would have liked to get one like yours.”
Daedal ushered Kiur inside, not leaving him a chance to ask any more questions, but the dwarf faltered. “One word of advice,” he started. His body shook. “Think about Noah’s offer—think hard about it. Listen to your heart. It will give you the answer you need in this trying time. Get some respite, but,” the dwarf reached out for Kiur’s warm hand. “Do not rest. Keep moving… find your answers.”
Kiur stared at the old hand of the dwarf. They were calloused, nothing new for a dwarf, but they were ghastly cold. “What if I don’t find an answer?” asked Kiur, a face without hope of finding the right answer, as his heart revolted.
Daedal planted a firm hand on Kiur’s chest. “Let your mind take brief respite. One step at a time, my child, but remember,” Daedal’s grip hardened, and he spoke with serious clarity.
A chill ran down Kiur’s spine as Daedal’s rhombus-shaped irises flickered like a flame—a blue flame.
“Stay on your feet, my child.” Daedal drew Kiur closer, and down to his level, “but do not rest. Resting is only reserved for the dead.”
— ☾ —
Stormy waves crashed against one another. The sea was restless as its immense waves swallowed a young boy, futilely waving his arms for the ship he fell off from. He didn’t notice how it disappeared underneath the high tides.
Saltwater filled the boy's lungs, his limbs falling idle and his body sinking like an anchor to the bottom of the sea.
Everything went dark. An unfortunate accident robbed the life of a young boy and sent him to a watery grave. The coldness of the ocean penetrated each pore of the boy’s body, reaching deep to his core.
It was from this coldness that something touched him deep inside, filling it with life and colouring his core alongside his veins in a deep pale blue, almost white like ice and just as cold to the touch.
Suddenly, the boy could grasp a handful of air amidst the stormy waves that thrashed him from left and right. He couldn’t see, navigate, or understand his whereabouts.
A single cry of help left his lips before the waves swallowed him back into the sea. An unfamiliar determination radiated from deep inside the boy’s heart. He didn’t want to die; he wanted a chance to live.
He grabbed the edges of the sea, amplified by his magic-brimming core, and turned everything about.
With the sea now above him and the sky below, the boy crashed into a surge. He repeated the process, crashing into the waves in a sequence of falling and rolling before he froze them for good.
Snowflakes settled gently on his face as he lay on the frozen bed of the sea, covering him from head to toe in a blanket of white.
Slow and heavy footsteps echoed in the distance. The boy turned his head and saw a man dressed like a wizard coming closer, bending down to one knee and pulling the boy up by the arm.
Drenched and cold to the bones, the boy could make out a crooked grin on the wizard’s face as he reviewed the boy like an enigma. Studying him as something worth his precious time.
Reality quickly threw Xander back. He groggily opened his eyes, hit by a cacophony of noise to greet the new day.
“Didn’t have that dream for years now.” Xander heaved his body up, which was like lead from all the build-up fatigue. His navy hair fell over his face, down to his shoulders, and gathered on the bed. “This will be a bad day,” huffed Xander, and got dressed. “I know it.”
An annoyed grunt came over his lips, reviewing the damage on his favourite coat, which he received from his adoptive father, who was also his magic teacher. Another grunt came over Xander. He missed that old geezer in his life and hated him at the same time.
He was the reason Xander was stuck in the Navarrien Desert. He was the one person Xander wanted to return to the most—just to prove to him he was capable and say to his father’s face: “Hey, I lived!”.
He hated the prospect of delaying his return.
Xander hated the desert, the heat, and the sand—especially the sand. He had removed an entire mountain of it out of his coat pockets and his white—now slightly brown—shoes.
It was everywhere.
Xander yawned in the middle of the hallway. Despite the rest and otherwise comfortable bed, Xander was in a bad mood, growling at any of the friendly faces that greeted him.
“I want to go home,” grumbled Xander in his thoughts. “I don’t want to stay, but guess we have no choice if we want to survive.” Opening the backdoor to the grand hall, Xander met various people enjoying a peaceful breakfast.
Two of them were Cylia and Kiur.
“Xander, over here.” Kiur waved him over, and Cylia gave him a grumpy look, which Xander ignored. His eyes were on Kiur, the one and only person who knew about his rebirth.
Xander had tried to talk to others about this, making hypothetical questions like “What if I was someone from another world?” or “What if you were suddenly reborn?” but no one gave it much of a thought or tried to understand Xander when he tried to open up to someone about it, unlike Kiur.
He was the only one to understand the entire experience and not analyse it like a mathematical equation or an issue to be solved.
Kiur was someone who thought with the heart, not necessarily with the brain—but it didn’t mean he considered Kiur to be simple-minded or a fool. Xander couldn’t explain why he trusted him so much, but he did.
He wanted to trust Kiur’s judgement more than his own cold and calculated mind. He was his only ally.
“What’s for breakfast?” asked Xander in an exhausted voice, sitting down next to Cylia. She promptly stood up to sit next to Kiur on the other side of the table. “What?” He gave her a look before getting a plate of hot food served.
The first warm and proper meal in months—not counting the illusion-inducing soup from the day before.
“Hmph,” let out Cylia, focusing her attention away from Xander and back on her plate. Xander saw that there were already two empty plates on his side of the table.
“Not that I care, but for someone who hasn’t eaten any proper or solid food for weeks or months on end, I don’t think it’s smart of you to–” Xander shut immediately up when Cylia shot him a glare like an animal, cheeks bloated with food she was chewing on. He immediately retreated to talk with Kiur instead and left Cylia at her prey. “Is it just me, or is she particularly feisty towards me?”
“Don’t mind that,” Kiur laughed awkwardly and went back to his breakfast plate. The stillness and lack of conversation lingered between them, occasionally interrupted by Cylia forcefully forking a piece of meat and covering her face in grease and sauce, disturbing Xander and his table manners.
“Girl, who taught you to eat like that? Were you raised by animals? Use a knife for Hera’s sake.” Xander almost got his hand stabbed with three new holes when he attempted to pull away her plate to cut the meat for her—a grave mistake, he realised nearly too late. “Fine, eat like a pig then!”
“Xander.”
“What?” Xander exclaimed at Kiur, who glared at him. “Have you seen how she eats? This is not–”
The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.
“Drop it,” commanded Kiur, and Xander huffed indigently in defeat.
The mood at the table died down until Noah sat down next to Xander and brought their attention to her. As they expected, she was back to drinking.
“Top of the morning to you! How are my girls and boys doing?” Noah beamed festively and slightly drunkenly note. She breathed out an intoxicated red haze at them.
Kiur and Xander waved the hazy mist away with their hands, not wanting to deal with some magical shenanigan early in the morning. The one from yesterday was more than enough.
Kiur attempted a casual smile for Noah. “Someone seems to be in a good mood.”
“And clearly inebriated,” Xander held the bridge of his nose but was caught off guard when Noah wrapped her firm arm around him. She casually pressed Xander against her shoulder and strangled the breath out of him.
“Did you lot get some sleep? How’s the food?” she asked, breathing a cherry-coloured breath out.
“Amazing,” answered Cylia with a mouth full of pork and baked potatoes. “I haven't eaten something like this ever since I was a child. And the bed was to die for.” Cylia radiated with joy, almost choking for air like Xander was.
Noah returned her enthusiasm with a sly, toothy grin. “Careful what you say. Who knows what may come true,” laughed Noah, startling the trio with the sudden grim aura she emanated. “There’s a certain chthonic goddess, a judge who twists fate with mere words. No one’s safe from her gimmickry. She can decree that you will die by bees, fall from your bed and break your ankle, or fall in love with a stone. If you say something she finds comical, she’ll make it a reality.”
Noah giggled sinisterly, scaring Cylia and Kiur.
“Please let go of me,” Xander croaked and clapped against Noah’s arm, begging to be released as his pale face turned purple. Noah let go. “Ergh, her vice almost killed me-” Xander’s mouth was shut close by Cylia and Kiur, who bent forward and over the table for this.
“Shall we get right to the topic?” Noah’s mood shifted. She crossed her arms. “Have you considered my offer?”
“What offer?” asked Cylia.
“Hmm, so you didn’t,” concluded Noah. She stepped away, waving at them as she left the hall. “You have time until the evening. Think about it. After all,” Noah looked back at them one more time. “You know what lies ahead of you.”
Cylia squinted her eyes, not sure what had just happened. “What was that about?” she turned to Xander and Kiur, who very much knew what it was about and explained it to her.
Although they left out the part about their past. It didn’t feel right to share it at the moment, but keeping it from her wasn’t any better. One day, they would explain it, but not yet.
“What’s there to think about?” asked Cylia, munching on another serving of baked potato. “We should stay. No need to think it through.”
“But-”
“Cyliane!”
The group turned around to see half a dozen warriors standing at the front of the hall. With coloured wooden shields at the ready, swords or axes on their hips, and hair open or braided as they wore bright tunics of red, blue and green with goat breeches as pants.
Kiur and Xander immediately shuddered. Those towering and bulky warriors reminded them of the Reiszer soldiers. They looked more battle-experienced and frightening—as if one swipe of their axe could easily cleave someone in half.
Kiur shifted slightly away as they reminded him of more brutal versions of Hessian.
“Are you ready? Come, train with us!” They beckoned Cylia over. “We’ve got some pointers to show you!”
Cylia, beaming, hurriedly finished her plate and jumped over the table to follow the warriors with a mad grin.
“What was that?” wondered Xander. “What happened while we were gone?”
“Well, I’d say she made some new friends,” presumed Kiur and squinted at the warriors that left. He saw a strange blue light flickering between them, skipping between them as they talked to Cylia. “We should follow them. Help me clean the table.”
“You’re not my mother. Those aren’t even my plates! Let a waitress do it–” Xander shut up when Kiur cleared the table on his own. He wiped it clean from crumbs for good measure, then walked away without a word. “Fine,” Xander shouted, “paint me as the bad guy!”
—❂—
Xander observed Kiur when they made it to the training grounds where Cylia was being drilled. He wanted to watch and see how she gets pummelled but lost interest when she continued to stand back up.
“It’s like you have fun falling on your face,” grumbled Xander. “And what’s with those shoes and jacket?”
There were more pressing matters for Xander to think about than Cylia’s new clothes. Kiur was staring at the river, at random bystanders walking by and at the warriors with a peculiar look. His red eyes darted left and right, following strange patterns Xander couldn’t hope to understand.
“What are you seeing?” wondered Xander. Was Kiur seeing something Xander couldn’t?
He tried to follow wherever Kiur’s eyes were looking at.
People strolled down the peaceful streets of the city. Couples held hands and shared kisses, families went on walks with their children, and an elderly woman gave lectures at a public fountain.
Nothing new, nothing interesting.
The warriors were still training Cylia and entertaining her with pointers or advice on how to stand her ground. She should have been exhausted by now, and she clearly was with the way her hair clung to her face, the bruises on her knees and how her lip bled, but she kept going.
“Just do a barrel roll and get it over with-” Just then, Cylia jumped and dug into a roll to avoid a swipe from an axe and countered with a clumsy swing of her sword. “Good enough, I guess.”
Admitted Xander and watched how Cylia was lifted into the air and carried to another exercise. That’s when Xander noticed how Kiur’s eyes were absently staring at the warriors and then back at the river.
“He’s definitely acting strange-”
“We can’t stay here,” Kiur suddenly said.
“Why not? Would you rather return to the desert?” inquired Xander, drumming his fingers against his forearms. “I tell you, I do not want to face that Asag demon with his steamy breath ever again,” grumbled Xander, remembering that horrifying encounter. “Or those Scorpion People or whatever else is out there?”
“The Asag… Asag…” mumbled Kiur, his eyes darting left and right with a strange glow that dulled just as fast as it emerged. “The river… This isn’t The End of the River.”
“What are you muttering to yourself?” Xander tried to shake Kiur out of his stupor. “You sound as crazed as one of the tower wizards in Hellas. Talk to me. What’s going on?”
“I have a favour to ask,” Kiur said. Xander furrowed his brows, suspicious of what Kiur was talking about. “It’s important.”
“I’ll not apologise to Cylia, at least not again,” replied Xander, then thought again as he saw how set Kiur was. “Fine, what kind of favour?”
Kiur looked over to the river and then to the people. Xander made sure to follow his gaze, though he still couldn’t figure out what bothered Kiur. “Who or what are you seeing? You are creeping me out,” thought Xander and grew increasingly worried.
“We have to leave. We can’t stay here.”
Xander blinked, processing what he just heard. “Are you mental?”
“You said you would help.” Kiur stood up with firm determination. “We need to leave. Help me convince Cylia.”
“This place is safe,” affirmed Xander. “We won’t have to worry about being attacked. Why would you want to leave?”
Kiur’s eyes darted at random spots again but eventually settled on the quiet flow of the river. “We have to leave.” His face was grim. “This place is a trap.”
—❂—
Cylia was driven by adrenaline and endorphins as her body was pushed back and forth from every swing, punch, kick or shove she received or barely dodged.
It hurt immensely, but she got right up and jumped in back to take in whatever those warlike men and women were willing to teach her. She was used to abuse back in the camp, where it numbed her body from feeling anything, but this was different.
She felt her body thawing up and enjoying those sensations as her mother had once taught her—to embrace the pain and use it to go beyond.
“Stomp, then a swipe!” announced the man and did just that. Cylia dodged the stomp but was too slow to evade the swipe of the man’s leg. So she brought up her hands, pushed back against the man’s leg and rolled backwards. “Good, you learn quickly. Bodil, switch with me!”
“With delight,” Bodil announced herself—a large woman with muscles as big as a grown tree trunk and legs that could squash boulders. Cylia wasn’t the least bit intimidated as the warrior woman, Bodil, grinned in fascination and swung her axe at Cylia to behead her. “Show me what you got!”
Cylia wasn’t afraid. She looked forward to being taught a lesson—even if she didn’t last for even a minute and ended up with a bonk against her head and her face on the ground.
“I like you, lass,” Bodil picked Cylia up like a pair of grapes and hugged her, squishing her between her chest and rippling muscles. “You’re feisty but too scrawny! I am afraid to break your bones.”
Bodil lowered Cylia and gave her a good smack against her arm, popping it right off her socket. Cylia collapsed right on the spot.
“Oh no, you broke her!” Wailed a warrior, causing panic amongst them until Cylia picked herself up again with wobbling feet. “We’re sorry. Please don’t die on us!”
“It’s nothing. I’m used to it-” Cylia gave a pained laugh and yelped when Bodil popped the arm back in. She rubbed the stinging spot. “I had worse.”
This didn’t reassure the warriors. After sparring with Cylia a bit and holding back—a lot—they had a rough understanding of her physique.
Cylia was limping, had trouble lifting her left arm, her vision was impaired on one side, some of her ribs were fractured, and she had one too many bruises. She was beyond being simply injured. Her body was unquestionably manhandled, and frankly a mess.
The fact she was willing to spar with seasoned warriors was ludicrous, but they all agreed on one thing. Cylia was a born survivor and willing to endure everything to stay alive—whatever it was. They carefully guided her desire, though got a bit carried away by her enthusiasm.
“I’m fine. Besides, I learned some new tricks and can’t wait to try them!” Cylia punched her arm up and flinched from the pain. “I’m thankful for whatever help you could give—and those shoes; I love them. First time I’ve worn any since I was ten!”
Cylia was barefooted when she arrived here. The soles of her feet were burnt and poorly treated just so she could walk. They didn’t want to see her like that and gave her a pair of sandals wrapped with strings and leather around her ankle and bronze plating against her shins for extra protection.
She would need them on her further journey—they knew it.
“I can’t wait to learn more,” she announced. “I’m glad we found this place to stay.”
The warriors looked uneasily at one another at Cylia’s words as she attempted to keep on training. Her body was already pushed past her limits.
“Cylia.” Kiur walked over to them with Xander by his side. “Can we talk for a moment?”
Cylia gave him a look. “I am sparring here. Can we do that later?”
“Take a break.” Bodil put an arm on Cylia’s shoulder and ushered her to sit down again. “We will spar later. Have fun with your friends.”
The warriors excused themselves with eagerness in their voices and an odd look in their eyes that Cylia couldn’t interpret.
“What is it, Kiur?” Cylia asked and crossed her legs gingerly when the boy with the golden hair sat down next to him. She couldn’t help but like and look up to him as he was the first person to show her so much kindness in a long time.
Usually, others would sneer at her, saying she should just disappear or outright die, but Kiur was different. He had a kindness in his nature that Cylia couldn’t help but feel drawn to—she missed being around someone who respected her.
However, her mood soured when Xander came into view. “Ergh,” Cylia rolled her eyes at him.
“Cylia, there’s something we need to discuss,” said Kiur, and Cylia wondered why he sounded so worried. He always had a kind of sadness in his voice, which she couldn’t help but sympathise with him, though not after what Kiur had told her.
“You want us to leave?” Cylia was visibly confused and agitated. “We just got here. We are safe here from everything. Why would you want to go?”
Kiur choked on trying to explain himself. No words escaped his mouth to make reason. Xander knotted his eyebrows. He silently observed the conversation and restrained himself from making a single snide comment—which Cylia found suspicious.
“Everyone is so friendly,” Cylia continued. “Noah took us in and offered us food. We could survive this solstice or whatever this event is.” Cylia went on and on to list all the positive things about this place and all the negative points about the desert, making it harder and harder to justify Kiur’s insistence on leaving. “We won’t survive the desert. It’s a miracle we even made it this far. Don’t you agree?”
She turned to Xander, who backed away when she directed the question to him.
“Didn’t you say you wanted to return home? If we stay here, we can wait out the Reiszer, and you can safely travel back to where you came from. Wouldn’t this be better?”
Xander hesitated to agree with Cylia. He always wanted to disagree with her and be right about everything, but Cylia had a point. There was virtually no reason to leave.
Yet when Xander looked at Kiur, he knew he had to trust his friend’s judgement. They were comrades who shared the burden of not belonging to this world. Logically, Xander agreed to stay, but for the first time in forever, he didn’t want to be logical. He wanted to trust someone at least once.
Sweat rolled down Xander’s face, and he dipped his head. He shut up the little voice in his head that told him to disagree and side against irrationality. “I think we should listen to Kiur,” answered Xander, struggling to appear confident.
“But why?” Cylia begged to know and shook Kiur. She wanted to meet his eyes, but he averted his face. “Kiur, you freed me from this horrible life of a thrall. Your brother pointed me towards hope by finding you. I trust you, but this?” her voice faltered. “Do you believe leaving this place and risking our lives is worth it? Give us a reason to trust you, please. Why should we leave?”
Kiur clenched the left side of his chest. It hurt, an old wound that affected his heart and made it beat faster than it should. He uncomfortably glanced at Cylia and Xander.
They expected an answer, rightfully so, but he couldn’t tell them that the reason why they needed to leave was because of the words of the Asag.
A desert demon.
“‘Reach the End of the River’,” Kiur repeated those words. He held Cylia’s hand and put one on Xander’s. “I know it’s hard. I can’t explain it. Maybe my decision will be our end, but I believe– no, I know it’s the right one. We have to leave and follow the river.” Kiur pointed at the pristine and crystal-clear river snaking its way through the underground city. It stretched further than they could see. “We can’t stay in this city. We have to leave.”
The laws of time seem to have taken a vacation; night had come quickly. The trio made their way back to the town hall with the figurehead of the giant raven guarding the place.
They imagined a conspiracy of ravens gathering and cawing in the otherwise silent hall. The light of the torches illuminated the faces of the warriors—Noah’s Einherjar—lined up perfectly on each side of the throne where Noah was sitting.
She watched how the trio headed towards her. Behind them, the heavy oaken doors of the halls slammed shut. Noah gazed directly into the faces of each of them—they were afraid of all the gazes—as if the entire city had come to watch them.
“What is your decision?” Noah asked them, her eyes turning black like coal, with raven lining up in the shadows and their red eyes glimmering in the dark. “Will you stay, or will you go?”
Kiur choked on his words again. A lump formed in his throat. His next words would decide whether they lived or died. To stay or go.
Cylia and Xander felt his unease and put a hand on his shoulders, sharing his anxiety as they put their fate in his hands. They needed to remain as a group. That’s what they decided upon—leave together or stay together.
“We decline your gracious offer,” uttered Kiur, straightening his back and controlling his fear. “Staying and rest is not an option. We have to leave.”