Amara

The towers of the stronghold were like nothing she’d ever seen. Hidden behind a translucent wall of dust, its sandstone blocks piled high above the sandy dunes that streaked the land, you could probably look over the entire Layer from their peak. The castles walls were weathered and weak over time – pocketed with spears and the notches of what might be canon fire. As Amara and her new, unlikely companions approached the structure, they saw small black objects jutting out from the sands before the castle. Only upon closer inspection did they see the truth: they were fallen weapons, armaments, and even a makeshift siege engine that had been left rotten and rusted with time.

“I’ve never seen something like that…” Amara murmured, staring up at the huge, four wheeled mechanisms covered in dust.

“A trebuchet,” the Argent – Yelena – said. “There must have been a siege here at some point.”

“There were,” Mendax growled with pride. “They tried to break our walls. Tried to force us out. But we never gave them an inch.”

Edna slowed to a crawl as they approached the crumbling gatehouse of the castle, and Mendax stood with the Red Priestess to stare up at the three Gnolls who were currently aiming what looked like powerful crossbows at them from the gatehouse wall.

“What is the hope of the Sands!?” One shouted down.

Mendax and the Red-Woman both answered without hesitation. “The Light that shall sear the feathers of darkness!”

This appeased the Gnolls instantly, and they dropped their heads in a respectful bow.

“Be welcome Brother, Sister, and Ty’Kella,” the speaker called down. “Open the gates!”

The oaken gate shuddered as it drew open for them, dust shuddering off its every creaking hinge. Edna moved on slowly, with care, as the Red-Woman spoke words meant only for her ears.

“Never met someone who could talk speak to a Ty’Kella like this,” Mendax huffed.

“Ah, she’s really a good girl when you get used to her,” the ugly, disheveled man – Marius – said. “Ain’t that right, Edna ol’ gal?”

As though she was rebuking him personally, she slumped down to make him jump and bash the back of his head against her side.

“And – as usual – every woman I know still wants to kill me!”

“Were it so easy,” Yelena snorted amidst the chuckles of the other passengers.

For Amara’s part, she did not share their merriment. In fact, she regarded them with nothing but confusion mixed with acute suspicion.

How can they laugh? She thought. How can they sit there and joke at a time like this?

Some people laugh to hide tears, Amara, her mother counseled.

But, looking at the jovial blue eyes of the impish rogue, she doubted he’d ever shed a tear for anyone in his whole life.

She remained confused as they stopped abruptly in a sparse courtyard filled with basic, ramshackle hovels. From these houses came grunts and barks – even a few howls – that told Amara who the residents were before they emerged to look upon the strange group that had just come into their lair.

“Home,” Mendax whispered, allowing himself a small sigh of what must have been pure exasperation. “We’re home, Kimon.”

Amara touched his leg gingerly, unable to form words – thinking it would be best not to try. For his part, it seemed like he appreciated the gesture, even as the sight of his people filled him with emotions he’d long suppressed.

“Mendax,” she said. “Thank you.”

He simply grunted as a welcoming committee of Gnolls emerged from their houses to meet them.

“Don’t,” he said as he hopped off the bug. “I did the job I was born to do. That’s all.”

She watched him disembark from the bug, feeling isolated all over again.

Then she felt the eyes of the Argent upon her.

“What?” she asked. Instantly defensive.

But the girl just shrugged as she disembarked.

“It is likely these creatures will want my blood as soon as they find out what I am,” she said. “But, upon my honor, I will not strike your people down. Not unless they force me to defend myself.”

“And trust me, Miss Lightbringer,” the stretching thief broke in. “This girl’s honor is the real deal.”

Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

She watched Yelena step off the beetle to join the others while Marius gave a final stretch and a yawn into the air of the stronghold.

“Hey, you’re a woman, right?” he asked. “You don’t wanna kill me, do you?”

She eyed him with the intent of a cat toying with a mouse and let a tiny flame blaze into life in her palm as she walked right past him.

“What do you think?”

She paid him little further heed as her feet hit the sands and felt, instantly, the weight of an entire world come crashing down upon her.

These creatures that huddled around her were shaped the same as Mendax, Kimon, and Lokar – all hair, teeth, panting chests and powerful claws – but they bore no weapons on at their sides. Some of them carried burlap sacks on their backs from which tiny, beady eyed pups poked out their heads. Some of their parents were pointing at her – directly at her – and whispering in hushed, reverent tones to their younglings.

She took it all in as they edged closer, their hands reaching towards her of their own accord. It was only when Mendax deigned to speak that she felt herself snapped back to reality.

“Brothers!” he shouted to the congregation. “Sisters! Younglings and Elders! I, Mendax of Clan Shatterheart, have returned!”

A general murmur of disbelief shot through the crowd, and Amara could see that at the edges of the whole stunned spectacle, there were mean=looking guards who had their hands ready on the hilts of their blades.

Not a defenseless society, after all, mom said. Then again: show me a society that is.

“But I do not come to you alone,” Mendax continued – his voice flying to reach the ears of the increasingly awestruck crowd around them. “I bring you warriors who have braved the evils of the Blackbird’s nest and aided me in my conquest of Bhashera’s ruins. In turn, they have brought a vassal of the Red-Sisterhood to us!”

“Hear that?” Marius murmured to Yelena, having decided to finally join them. “He called me noble!”

“But I come to you with two less Brothers,” Mendax went on, seeing the crowd hanging on his every word. Yet Amara could see that he showed not excitement at having to make this little speech. For him, this was necessity. This was him just ‘doing his job’ again.

Just like a tool thinks, mom said. You must not allow reality to cloud your emotions, Amara.

“They gave their lives to complete our holy mission,” he cried. “They gave their lives to end the corruption of our lands. They gave their lives to save our people. They gave their lives to give you your salvation – this girl,” he pointed to Amara. “Your Lightbringer!”

A roar went up from the people. Their arms shot to the air. Their howls pierced Amara’s ears that she had to fight against grabbing them to save herself. Her companions had no such compulsions.

“You think they’re happy to see us?” Marius quipped.

Amara watched them hug each other in complete adulation, some beating their paws against the sands in a ritualistic dance.

“Show us! Show us!” the cried out as one.

As Mendax began to wave their commands away, Amara felt her hand shoot up without even thinking about it.

Flick.

The fireball that burned into brilliant life above her open palm sent a shockwave through the crowd that raised the hairs of every Gnoll gathered there.

“She has come!”

"Praise the Lightbringer!”

“The time of tyranny is over!”

She watches them now keep their distance, bowing and sinking their heads to kiss the sands at her feet. They felt the flame on their necks. Her flame. It danced in the children’s eyes.

The flame of a Glancer.

How does it feel, Amara? Her mother asked, loud amidst the echoes of the crowd. How does it feel to be loved for what you are?

She looked into the awestruck eyes of the pups, and in spite of herself, she didn’t answer.

One burly Gnoll guard finally passed through the baying crowd to clasp Mendax by his bulging arm. The muscles of both warriors contracted in a firm shake.

“Ty’Kella bless your return, Brother Mendax,” the leather clad Gnoll said. “You have done a thing that will be spoken of for ages to come.”

Amara noted the slits carved into his neck and forehead – markers of war. Bloody war at that.

“Peace be with you, Brother Verdus,” Mendax responded, pressing his comrade’s shoulder with feeling. “But I would settle for a warm bed and a stiff drink.”

“You shall receive all that and more,” Verdus replied, looking back over the crowd of their people. “Tonight shall be the Night of Merriment!”

More cheers. Amara smiled despite herself.

These Gnolls really were just as excitable as dogs who had missed their owners.

“But who are these that you bring with you?” he asked. “They have the stench of Cha’lokk about them.”

Mendax turned his gaze to Yelena who stiffened, but said nothing. It was almost like he expected her to draw her blade and cut them all down any minute.

His gaze lingered. He knew some kind of communication was passing between them. Probably a warrior thing – in Amara’s experience, most of them were a little insane.

“They are...” he began with some hesitation. “Valiant warriors who know the inside of the Blackbird’s palace. Their skills in combat will be useful. As will their knowledge of the palace grounds.”

“Prisoners, then?” Verdus barked. “The Blackbird does not take kindly to newbloods. You have done well to make it to our haven, travelers. If Mendax vouches for you, then you are welcome amongst us.”

Yelena bowed her head. “Thank you, Sir.”

She elbowed Marius surreptitiously.

“Oh! Yeah – cheers.”

“Hmpf,” Verdus grunted in assent. “I am not surprised the Blackbird did not break you, girl. You carry yourself with the gait of a fighter.”

Yelena smirked.

“This one, however,” Verdus continued. “Is another story.”

“Oh, don’t mind her,” Marius responded. “Our Red-Priestess is a little rustic, sure. But she’s more than proven herself in ba-“

“He is talking about you, I think.”

Yelena scoffed as both Gnolls laughed openly at the Red-Priestess’ quip. Again, Amara thought, all utterly insane…

“You honor us with your presence here, Sister,” Verdus told her. “Know that the Elder One shall wish to speak with you to observe the proper rituals before the Great Conflagration begins. Of course,” he added, casting his eyes over Amara. “She shall wish to speak to the Lightbringer first.”

The Gnoll took a knee before Amara, and found that he couldn’t even hold her gaze.

Was it fear in his eyes or wonder? Amara truly didn’t know.

“I am honored to guide you to the penultimate step on your path,” he said, his voice hollow and almost shaking. He truly did believe she was some kind of Goddess.

As he should.

She looked at her companions and then finally settled her sighs on Mendax, who nodded once, almost imperceptibly.

“You’ll want to meet her,” he said. “She’s the one who made the prophecy in the first place.”

Amara licked her dried lips, tasting the stale, dust-caked air.

“I will go.”

And amidst the cries of those Gnolls nearby who bragged to their neighbors that they heard her speak, Verus grinned.

“You honor me, Lightborn,” he said.

“Call me Amara.”

“The rest of you!” Verdus roared. “Make ready for the night ahead of us. Bring your families. Bring any who breathe the true air of the Sands! We shall meet in the banquet chamber at the sacred hour!”

Verdus gestured to Amara to move with him through the surging crowd who were filled once again with fervent excitement.

Before she entered the great keep with her guide, she overhead the rogue’s words to Mendax:

“Big guy!” he shouted over the din. “What’s this Night of Merriment all about? Another mystical festival?”

“In a sense,” the Gnoll replied. “In the Night of the Lightborn’s coming, we shall do what all great warriors do before their greatest battle is upon them: get blind drunk.”