“I’m not an expert in tracking time, but how much do we have left?” asked Cylia, hiding behind a large stone that was not large enough to hide the demons.
“6 days, 13 hours, 32 minutes until the Death of the Desert,” replied the Asag.
“Peachy,” groaned Cylia, sneaking up closer and peeking through the gaps of some ruins. Thankfully, everyone mistook the Asag as another mountain of rubble, which occasionally moved around. Their scouting continued. “We’ve got less than a week left. How are we gonna leave afterwards, anyway?”
“N-not en-ou-gh t-t-time,” stuttered Umbin. “L-eav-ving wo-ould be FATAL!”
“You're not helpful!”
“The 𒄈𒋰𒇽𒍇𒇻Aqrabuamelu is right,” the Asag spoke in a deep and calm clarity. “Reaching fertile lands is nigh impossible. The sun is descending.”
“Perfect,” Cylia exhaled tiredly and leaned against a broken facade. She waved herself some air as the heat got only worse. “I guess this is our last stop… Doesn’t feel that way yet.”
As the Asag had told her, less than seven days remained for their impending doom, but Cylia’s mind still couldn’t process it all. Something told her that was it, but another part told her there was more to come.
Maybe she would realise it when the time ran out, but for now, she needed to find Kiur—and maybe Xander along the way, too. For this, Cylia scouted ahead while Waldemar prepared something in the background.
“Can any of you explain what they are doing here?” Cylia asked as they observed the excavation site around the giant, sky-piercing, pitch-black obelisk.
Mountains of dirt piled up the perimeter around it like an off-limits circumference, with each pile extended for hundreds of metres in diameter in each direction. Decrepit structures were brushed aside or crushed into piles via earth magic, and the ground hollowed out until they reached a smooth, pastel-coloured marble floor. Cylia saw the Reiszer forcing Kiur’s people to dig up all the ruins and uproot or burn every plant in their wake, destroying millennia-old history.
None of them looked happy about it, but they all begrudgingly continued to destroy their heritage under the watchful eyes of the Reiszer. Cylia tried to peek a glimpse at Kiur or the fearsome Stagman, but she couldn't spot either.
She wondered, “What are they even searching for?”
—✹—
“What are they even searching for?” grumbled Xander, observing the excavation from his special vantage point with Ragnar’s troop. They had been stuck here for weeks, and Date refused to give out details of their operation.
Xander repeatedly tried to sneak out and ask Kiur himself, but every time he did, Samuru the Retainer was there and asking Xander, “Nice weather today, ne?” which was his amiable way of saying, “I’m nearby, don’t do anything stupid.”
Instinctively, Xander knew their doom was coming with how pressed their time was.
“Do you have any threes?”
“Go fish.”
“UNO!”
“What are we playing again?”
Severely pressed.
Ragnar and his soldiers loitered around with nothing else to do. Date kept them on a long leash since they couldn’t protest while he kept their incapacitated comrades hostage, just like Ragnar’s daughter.
However, restlessness and uncertainty got to their brains.
“Why are you not concerned?” Xander asked, unnerved, wiping away the sweat from his brow with his sleeve.
“Cause our hands are tied,” replied Ragnar, scratching his chin with his cards and whipping his knee nervously.
Xander peeked over Ragnar’s shoulder. He raised a brow. “Either I don’t get your game, or you’re not seeing the Royal Flush in your hands.”
Leif, Kochel, and practically everyone else in the circle groaned audibly and threw their cards in. Ragnar grumbled. “You just had to ruin it. I was raising the stakes.”
"The stakes are high enough as it is," complained Xander, wiping more dripping sweat from his brow. "This damn heat is killing us!"
"Maybe you should take off that stuffed coat of yours."
“This isn’t the time for jokes!” Xander shouted. “We’ve less than a week left before the solstice, and it's only getting hotter! Or do you think we can withstand the full, concentrated power OF THE SUN!?”
The past few weeks were unbearable for Xander. Being a water-ice mage from the already temperate climate of Hellas, Xander suffered immensely, but the desert heat was getting worse.
Each day felt hotter and longer than the last. He assumed the barrier from the Achernar was shielding them from the worst, but it grew weaker and weaker. It wouldn't be long before they perished under the sun.
“Somehow, I know this won't be a quick end,” thought Xander and sat down to observe the excavation site. Date and his soldiers cornered Kiur as they oversaw the undertaking. The Reiszer were looking for something. Xander clenched his fist. “We have to do something,”
“What do you suppose we do?” asked Leif.
“Play UNO with us instead,” Kochel cackled. “I bet you wizards don’t know fun.”
“I mean it!” Xander shouted, interrupting everyone’s laughter. “We'll perish here if we stay. Ragnar, say something!”
“Calm down and play cards with us,” Ragnar yawned, reclining in his seat. “Could use someone to spot me against those idiots-”
“Do you care so little about your daughter?”
Ragnar broke the stone table, startling the others. “Sonny,” Ragnar said calmly, “choose your next words carefully before you talk-”
“You condemned your daughter,” Xander talked louder for the entire camp of Ragnar’s people to hear. “What are you afraid of? We're dying anyway. You’re afraid of someone who already has your life in his hands. Now, the desert will kill us, and your daughter will die whilst her father bows like a coward!”
“You’re a coward, father!”
Ragnar heard the voice of his son yell at him. It was right after their failed raid. They had lost most of their people when they raided south and one of the most secured temples in Jhangsi under Date’s order. The raid in itself was successful—for Date—but Ragnar lost too many friends and subordinates.
One of them was his nephew.
“I can't sit and accept this, Father!” His son shouted furiously at Ragnar for everyone to hear. “I'll kill this Stag. Either with or without you!”
“Andor, stop!” Ragnar reached out for his son, but he was already gone.
“It’s for the best,” Waldemar said and followed him. “The child has to step up.”
That was the last thing he heard of his son before Ragnar found his soldiers and son crucified, beheaded and delivered by Samuru in a box with a note: “Rebellion shall be harshly punished, Ragnar-san. Remember that you have but one last child left.”
This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.
Ragnar did not have the heart to see another child die. He was content being branded a coward by others. That was his sacrifice to ensure everyone's survival—even if his own daughter hated him. He let her go, and she got herself almost killed.
Ragnar couldn’t anymore. He couldn’t.
“That’s not how you convince someone,” said Waldemar, coming out of his barrel hiding spot, which someone used as a play table. “You ought to be more enticing. Gaslighting them. Speak to their underlying desires of love, hate, revenge, etcetera.”
Everyone stared at the sudden dwarven appearance, then looked at Ragnar. He unclasped his axe from his hip. Next, they saw Waldemar jumping out of the barrel before it was shattered to pieces.
“I warned you to never set foot before me, Waldemar. I WARNED YOU!” Ragnar yelled and threw his other axe like a boomerang at Waldemar. He deflected it, but Ragnar chased after him through the camp.
“Trust me, I didn’t return if there wasn’t a reason for it- YIKES!!!” Waldemar shrieked when Ragnar drew his blade and cut a bolder in half. He kicked the dwarf in the guts and towered before him with his sword. “Die, dwarf.”
Waldemar thought he was dead before the blade’s tip froze inches before his nose.
“Boy, choose your next actions wisely,” Ragnar advised sharply.
Xander panted loudly as it took all his saved-up reserves to conjure a block of ice to stop Ragnar’s sword. The sheer muscle strength Ragnar could utilise already made the ice crack.
“Ragnar, who’s that dwarf?” Xander asked, remembering the dwarf had returned to camp with Kiur. His return now wasn’t a coincidence.
“I’m no one special,” Waldemar chuckled, defeated, and lay flat on the ground. “View me as a herald for changing tides.”
“Stop spouting nonsense, Waldemar.” Ragnar broke through with his magic, causing a backlash for Xander, and grabbed Waldemar by his jaw. “You won't drive us into another mess like you did with my son.”
“You misunderstand,” Waldemar rattled. “I don’t talk anyone into anything!” The dwarf grinned fearfully. “I just suggest what’s already on someone’s mind. You know as well as I did that your son wanted revenge. You just have to know what they want. Like you, Ragnar, you want the Stag’s death.”
Ragnar let go of the dwarf when Xander touched his shoulder. Waldemar coughed for air. “What do you want, Waldemar?” Ragnar asked. “I won’t allow you to rush us into a fool’s errand.”
Waldemar coughed. “No need to. You’re already in it.”
Xander squinted his eyes. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Easy. It’s swim or drown, half-pint.” Waldemar finger-gunned Xander. “And we’re already all in.” The dwarf laughed, but the sound of an incoming earthquake drowned out everything else.
The excavation site was sent into turmoil. Waldemar chuckled. “It’s showtime!”
—✶—
Kiur threw up the morning of yet another day of destroying century-old heritage sites and listening to the shouts of the dead tearing apart his insides. Just a normal day for him lately.
The earth screamed at his body, gripped his brain and squeezed Kiur’s spine, telling him to do something he couldn’t understand. He threw up again. This time, he imagined it was blood, with the faces of the deceased swirling inside of them.
“Something’s not right,” Kiur retched. “What’s happening to me?”
Whipping the vomit from his mouth, Kiur carried himself to the centre of the excavation site. Tents were set up at the shady eastern side of the Achernar. Reiszer patrolled every corner as Kiur’s people were forced to destroy more and more structures and excavate the ruins.
They didn’t even give Kiur a side glance anymore, nor called him a traitor. They only saw how much life he had lost already and walked like a living corpse. Not Date, though. He relished seeing his Polyglot back at work.
“Ah, Artor-san, how are you today?”
“Peachy,” thought Kiur and trudged to Date’s site. “What important cultural heritage are we thinking of destroying today?”
“Oh, I thought about this statue over there. I assume it was a wind god, but who cares now?” Date laughed, patting and scratching Kiur’s back with his sharp nails.
Chills pricked all over Kiur’s skin as the screams tore at his muscles. He mastered a faked smile, feeling the pain in his cheeks. “I’ll give the word.”
Kiur’s body felt numb. He told everyone the next steps. They reluctantly agreed to carry them out under the scorching heat of the sun. Looking up, Kiur tried to feel some kind of warmth, but all he felt was the scratching and screams of this place. He knew they were one week away from the solstice, but he couldn’t wait for it all to end. “I can’t do this anymore. Brother, where are you?”
Date clamped his hand over Kiur’s neck, pulling his body with him. “Come, let us meet the priestess, shall we?”
Tabira has been secluded into a private tent, surrounded by Reiszer at every corner and Date’s personal guard, Samuru, at the entrance. Date dipped his head inside so he wouldn’t get caught on the tent’s fabric with his antlers. He knelt before Tabira, who lay smothered in her mountains of pillows.
“What?” she asked, irritated. Having their people forced to destroy their cultural heritage—and being confined due to her pregnancy—Tabira didn’t look happy to see Date. “I told you last time. Enlil won’t speak with you.”
“Naw,” Date slumped his shoulders, “that won’t do, priestess,” he said with Kiur’s spaced-out help. “We’re operating on a deadline. Stand. Give your tired body a walk and let the sun grace your skin with inspiration.”
Date left, tearing apart the tent’s opening with his mask’s horns, leaving a trail in the sand with the fabric he dragged behind him. Tabira held out her hands for Kiur to take them. She was getting less and less enthused about walking in her condition.
“Kiur, we have a problem.”
“I know,” said Kiur, “time’s getting short-”
“Not that, I know that already,” grumbled Tabira, cracking her strained back. “Date’s still holding Ninda and the others hostage. It will be tough, but we can still make it home-”
“It’s already too late,” mumbled Kiur, his eyes casting down to the swirling ground of faces underneath the marble floor. “Nothing matters anymore.”
“Kiur, you,” Tabira muttered an angry prayer to Enlil. “Listen, we just need a plan. Persuade Date to release the hostages, or at least Ninda, please. He listens to both of us, but you in particular.”
Kiur close his tired eyes. He tried to shut off the screams of this place and focus a little, drawing out whatever conviction he had left. He offered Tabira an arm to walk. “I’ll try.”
They walked on the smooth floor of the ancient grounds and towards the Achernar. The closer they came, the more intense the screams became, but Kiur’s body was numb by now. Crossing a broken part of an old bronze statue, they found Date at a hill to the Northern part of the massive obelisk. The Reiszer leader spectated like a god would over his subject. That’s what Kiur knew Date viewed of himself.
“We’re close,” Date drawled. “Finally, I can’t wait for it.”
Tabira elbowed Kiur. “Ask him.”
Kiur sighed into his hands and rubbed them over his face, pretending to wash it. “Date… san. I have a request.”
“Not now, Polyglot. Don’t you see we are uncovering history?”
“By destroying its foundations.” Gilgamesh seethed at Kiur’s side. “No god will stand for it. No subject will rest. The foundations were bathed in blood and souls, and you’re breaking them free.”
Kiur took a breath and waved Gilgamesh aside. “Date, I’d like to request we see the hostages. One of them, Ninda, is Tabira’s… attendant. The others are restless, too. Please, listen to them.”
Date considered it. He grumbled and stroked his fake, white, and thin beard. He turned to them and grunted. “I will consider it, but first, the priestess must help with the recent endeavour.”
This recent endeavour was to visit the most recent excavation point—an old temple complex. Both shuddered immediately at the familiar premonition of furious gods. The old granite structure was intertwined with the dead remains of a former forest. Grey bark and roots of cedar trees layered the ground and held up whatever structure remained before the sand would swallow them up. Before the excavation revealed this place, it was buried deep underground.
Tabira knelt with Kiur’s help at the quadrangular centre, still riddled with pebbles and sand. Stretching out her hands, she sang, immeshing the listeners—all except Kiur, who was still deaf from the voices of below.
Date bobbed alongside the singing. “Beautiful. Although I can’t understand the words.”
“Of course, you don’t,” thought Kiur, scratching the back of his ear and noticing he was bleeding. “She’s singing laments. Unless you’re a deity, you won’t understand it.”
“Huh…” Date drew a bored breath. “Guess she needs some practice, still, since I can’t understand it.”
“Blowhard,” scoffed Kiur. He flinched when Tabira hit a higher note. The dead wood glowed and receded inside the dunes, releasing a stream of water. Everyone awed at the sight except Kiur, who saw the waters turn red as they filled the fine, lattice pattern on the ground.
Tabira slummed her hands and fell back. Kiur held back another urge to hurl from the feeling. The translucent purple barrier of the Achernar weakened, raising the temperature significantly.
Date chuckled, “Great job, Priestess. Let’s get inside the ruins-.”
“Date!” Tabira yelled after him, panting from exhaustion and the heat. The Reiszer turned around. “Let us see the hostages again. I demand you let us see them again!”
Date blinked and then turned to Kiur, who wasn’t translating. Tabira shouted at him. “Artor, translate!”
Kiur uncovered his ears, blood trickled down his ear canals, and his eyes were unfocused. He forced his words out. “Date,” he struggled, “let us see our people, please. Let us verify their health.”
Date cooed with a chuckle. “You’re desperate, aren’t you? We still have six days left, you know?” Date exhaled happily, stretching out his arms to embrace the sun's scorching heat. “I feel generous. Let us go further inside, then we shall see.”
The Reiszer led them eagerly to the Achernar, unbeknownst to him or everyone, that a giant figure of a winged woman marred the marble floor—anyone but Kiur. Forbearing, she waited for Kiur’s move.