“Great icebreaker; I love your secret hideout. An underground basin with dwarven architecture and misleading defences, smart, very smart.”

Waldemar couldn’t stop chattering when he and his group were brought back to the hideout. Kiur and Tabira had to endure his constant attempts to fill the void while Shabra stayed in the back to keep an eye on the Reiszer.

‘Where there is one Reiszer, there are probably more.” Or so he claimed.

“Hope you have some proper food for me, or a bed, or women! Can’t remember the last time I was having fun with one, and Ragnar forbid any explicit behaviour. Though I am not particularly interested in you, Miss Priestess. You know, you are too round for my tastes, you get it, right, Miss Future Mom?”

Tabira creaked her neck from the build-up tension and whispered to Kiur, “If you don’t shut him up, I will throw him off the lift.”

Kiur sighed in response. “I am sorry.”

“And you owe me a neck massage.”

“R-right… sure.”

Waldemar might have been a pain to have around, but he had agreed to cooperate—as far as cooperation went with tied-up hands.

One of two impossible tasks were done. Now Kiur needed to convince Shabra and the rest of their people to trust the Reiszer.

“No problem,” thought Kiur. “Next plan on my agenda, solving world hunger and raising the dead.”

When they returned to the hideout Kiur instinctively knew this would be difficult. All the looks his people gave the Reiszer were a mixture of surprise to hatred. One of them had thrown a stone and hit Waldemar right in the head before Kiur or Tabira could react.

Kiur feared what reaction Waldemar would give, but he laughed out loud. “What a warm welcome, hospitality at its finest.” Waldemar grinned at Kiur with the welt growing on his forehead. “Is that the kind of cooperation you wished for, Mister Envoy? I can call you that, right?”

Shabra’s followers fashioned two cells for the Reiszer in opposite directions of one another further inside the underground chambers. One for Waldemar, the leader, and one for the rest who remained awkwardly silent.

Whatever Waldemar did to them, they didn’t react much to anything—or they were too tired after spending so much time with him—Kiur could relate to it a lot after so much time with Xander.

“Wait for me a bit longer,” Kiur clenched his fist. “I won’t abandon my friends, and we will find Cylia together.”

Tabira took notice of Kiur’s unease and tried to say something, but Waldemar was quicker from his cell. “Something on your mind, lad? Don’t worry; you can talk to me. I won’t bite.”

Waldemar grinned towards Kiur who promptly left the cell only to be greeted by the agitated escapees.

“How could you have brought a Reiszer here?”

“What were you thinking?”

“Are you one of them? Whose side are you on?”

Kiur was overwhelmed by the negative responses he received from them. It reminded him of the crowd of negative thoughts he always received from Lotte’s personality.

“Oh no, please, don’t say that. I am doing it for all of us.” Kiur’s mind was on the verge of splitting apart. “Not now, please.”

“Everyone, please, take a breath and listen to me.” Tabira walked in between Kiur and the crowd. Her voice and gestures weren’t particularly soothing, but she patiently waited for them to calm down—which took a hot minute. “I know everyone is on edge about this sudden development, but give me a moment to explain.”

Tabira firmly held Kiur’s arm with her calloused hand and raised the other. “My dear colleague here from the temple of Enlil was tasked to bring us a message for cooperation with the Reiszer.”

An uncomfortable murmur went through the crowd, but Tabira cautioned them to be silent. “We will hold a democratic discussion tomorrow. Please, be at ease until then and have your thoughts settled. If you believe in me as Enlil’s future, so I ask you to believe in my colleague here as well.”

That did the trick; the crowd parted peacefully for the night.

“Thank you, Tabira. I couldn’t have handled it without you.”

Tabira gave Kiur a sharp glance. “A word in private, if you will.”

“Oh, oh,” thought Kiur and followed to Tabira’s private office. She shut the entrance with a stone wall with a snap of her metallic fingers.

Holding a hand before her belly, Tabira walked around the room but kept her distance from Kiur. She seemed hesitant but exhaled and turned towards him. “For how long are you harbouring those emotions?”

Tabira’s question caught Kiur off guard. “What emotions do you mean? I don’t–”

“This anger, you’re harbouring a deep-rooted anger I’ve never seen in you, ever.” Tabira stared at him standing but raised a chair to sit down; her feet hurt. “Kiur, you know I am not fit to be the successor of Enlil, do you?”

Kiur didn’t answer. The topic was too personal since Kiur was supposed to become Enlil’s next vessel on earth, the God of Benelovence.

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“After you lost your position, the temple waited an entire year, hoping you returned. You were the best candidate, better than the current Gala who supported you. And me? I was not even on the priority list.”

“Don’t sell yourself short. You were chosen over the rest.”

Tabira tapped her face with her metal fingers. She did it unwittingly, disturbing others when they saw her do that. She had lost them in an accident when she was her parents’ apprentice at the forge.

“Kiur, I appreciate it but don’t do that. We are not friends; we are colleagues.”

Kiur knew Tabira from their days at the temple when they visited classes together. They never talked, and Tabira rarely went there because of her work—the daughter of metalworkers and smiths, a bold girl expected to be the prime example of benevolence.

“I am not good at being forthcoming, you know that, but Enlil and his Gala chose me over anyone else. I will never be able to reach your potential. Sometimes I hated you for abandoning your role; and that I was chosen to fill in, but,” Tabira chewed her lip, “I’m sorry, this isn’t fair towards you. Something is eating you up from the inside, feeding a deep-rooted anger you never possessed before; I can feel it.”

“Did Enlil tell you this?”

Tabira affirmed. “You were his favourite, more so than his current vessel. Today he told me you were fighting with yourself and splitting yourself apart. I don’t know what that means. He asked me to trust you, but I don’t know if I can.”

Kiur touched the red stone tucked inside his shawl. It was warm to the touch and tugged against his heart. It resonated with his feelings, strong ones especially.

It was given to him by Noah and the people of Kuara, the City of the Dead. He saw the blue flames inside their chests and knew they were living up to the name of their city—or rather, were as dead for it.

He knew if he didn’t have the stone with him Kiur would have been consumed by this strange anger. What he was supposed to do, he didn’t know.

He could never tell, and again, it infuriated him.

“I know I ask a lot of this from you and my friends but trust me on this one; it’s the only way for all of us to survive.” Kiur’s grip tightened around the stone like it was his lifeline. “You have to trust me.”

Tabira stopped tapping her chin and popped her back with a loud groan. “I trust Enlil’s words, and he trusts you, but you must convince Shabra and everyone else. They won’t take well on this decision.”

Tabira tried to stand up but couldn’t without Kiur’s help. She placed a hand on his shoulder. “Remember, I will have to remain impartial tomorrow. Do what you must to ensure support but don’t forget who you’re backing and what it means to the rest.”

“I didn’t forget.” Kiur lowered his head. “I will do it, whatever it takes to convince them.”

—☽—

“You’re out of your mind, you hear me?” Shabra shouted for everyone to hear in the middle of the night. Kiur broke into Shabra’s chambers while he was trying to sleep—as shown by his nightcap, wherever he got it. “Not only do you interrupt me in my attempt to get my midnight rest, no, but you also believe I would agree to this ridiculous, foolhardy and utterly reckless cooperation!”

“Head Temple Administrator Shabra,” Kiur tried to address the dwarf as adequately as possible, but this only spurred him further away, and he spat before Kiur’s feet.

He knew dwarves were hard-headed individuals. Kiur grew up with them and needed to appeal to Shabra differently.

“Shabra, if you would listen to me, please, this is our best option–”

“No!” Shabra shouted again and pointed with his finger at Kiur. “You are a moron, an idiot, a hopeless fool! If I had two loaves of bread, I would smack them against your ears and call you an–”

“Is that about your son?” Kiur inquired, baffling the dwarf into silence. “I can’t believe how hard it must be to have a Reiszer as a relative, but you have to understand that–”

“No, you listen to me, brat!” Shabra pulled the ground under Kiur’s feet away and grabbed him by his colour so he could stare at the dwarf’s wrinkled face. “He is not my son. He never was and never will be. Lies, all he ever tells are lies—a zany to poison your mind. You should remember that the Reiszer are our mortal enemies. There’s a reason Navarre banned their existence inside the borders and why Idaris followed suit.”

Shabra let go of Kiur and turned his back on him; an exasperated sigh escaped his tired lips. “Leave my room; I will not talk about this any further! Tabira’s vision is clouded; Enlil would never allow such a thing to happen! Shamash is right to send his servants to cleanse the desert, and tomorrow I will be his hammer. NOW LEAVE!”

Kiur was catapulted outside and rolled backwards into the pond. Those who were still up listened to the fuss from afar but went back to sleep—except for Ninda.

With heavy eyes, she stared at Kiur, standing barefooted in the pond next to him.

“Ninda,” Kiur couldn’t meet her gaze, “why are you still up?”

Ninda yawned and covered her mouth. “Can’t sleep with all the noise and Tabira hogging all the pillows.”

“Sounds like a heavy case of ‘needing all the comfort you can get when you carry a child’,” Kiur joked halfheartedly, but Ninda didn’t laugh.

She nodded half-asleep and sat down beside Kiur to rest her head against his shoulder. “You are very warm,” noted Ninda. “I barely feel the cold.”

Kiur held up his hand from the water and saw the water evaporate from his palm. Mist was wrapping around him.

“Ninda, you should be sleeping. It will be a very tiresome day tomorrow.”

“What about you?” she asked with another yawn. “Your eyes are black underneath. When was the last time you slept?”

Kiur gritted his teeth. He didn’t know when the last time he slept was. Frankly, he just couldn’t with all the stress he was under. There was also his fear of never waking up again when he went to sleep.

“I will wait for your verdict before I pass Judgement,” reminded Gilgamesh, but Kiur still didn’t have an answer—to anything.

What to do or say. There were no answers.

“Are you planning to make us work together with the enemy?” Ninda eventually asked. “If so, then why? They are the enemy; they took away our brothers. As his big sister, I failed to protect him.”

“Stop saying that,” Kiur pulled the girl closer to him, holding her tight as she cried into his arms. “As his sister, you did the best you could.”

“If someone is to blame, then it’s me. None of my decisions are ever right.”

“I don’t like these people you brought here. They took away my brother; I want them gone.” Ninda tightened her grip on Kiur’s arm. “Why, why do you try so hard to forgive them?”

Kiur held Ninda tightly until she could feel his erratic heartbeat. “Believe me when I tell you I don’t like to do this either. I understand your fear and dislike, but this needs to be done, please, believe me.”

Ninda held back another sob. “Will this bring back my brother?”

Kiur bit his lip until he drew blood. “I don’t think so, no, I’m sorry.”

He couldn’t lie to her. Maybe he should have convinced her, but he couldn’t—it wouldn’t have been fair to her.

The lives of everyone here lay on his shoulders, even that of the Reiszer and his friends. Kiur needed to convince them, and there was only one person he knew who could help him accomplish it.

And he hated himself for going so low, but it was the only way.