‘Age on age, ceaseless, unending. Forsaking a way, grasping at the dark in search of light. A freedom to promise choice aplenty, and light to blight their veil of unwisdom: Man lauds my serene in compliance, and their care now, is mine as well.’

Jumping into the Maw and sliding down the depression, Agni glared furiously, unleashing his scalding essence upon the battle blighted sands of the Trench, spreading across the cracking caked sands and deep buried bones with such heat Asim saw fire wisps dance into the distance. He knew before long the sweltering inferno would leave him dead and dry as the bones buried beneath, the lack of a water skin only further hardened his belief. It was of the many tests of the Hunt; a baptism of fire to prove one deserving of a Clutch. But the trial only served Asim, as such heat was a benign thing to even most colt of any who had touched Torak’s magics.

Measuring his stride, breath, and time passed. He began treading the scald earth, every step a proof of progress. ‘Only Garradums or fools, will desire the mad dash, expending their well of strength without thought even before Agni reached his peak.’ Salim’s belief in this new age of Garradums to be, one inadvertently lead to the other. But Asim could not afford such luxury, he was sharper of mind and that would win him the day as it had won him his love in Kali.

The wisps gathered more and more in the distance, skittering over illusionary lakes the further he got through the Trench; knowing mouth-breathing in the deserts was to die, it became laborious drudge through his ghutra, and thought to distract his mind from the furnace he trekked with thoughts of its history:

‘Abaddon Takhal: En to Ishan sought to unite all desert tribes through blood and iron, setting his sights further west beyond the Elulu, and to the lands of the Laga. But Bahram Usham; sworn friend to Abaddon, and general to his Ganbar, stole away and fled far into the night, taking with him the roots of Melam, and all of like mind from this dark design. The rise of Agni brought bitter pain and rage to Abaddon, a pain feed by the betrayal of his truest friend, a rage that led him to hunt his sworn brother.

His Ganbar hunted and flailed terribly the so many deserters, carrion birds blacked the skies to eat their remains. Terrified and without choice, Bahram tasked thirteen emissaries to travel far into to the steep reaches of Kurgal, the dens of kiuri and the hordes of kibala, in search of warriors to meet the Ishan; telling them of the danger to come and offering the gift of Melam: The root to bring on the Small-death and re-birth. The Blood between tribes flowed black, and En’s of each tribe would sooner be felled in the sands than to rise with rivals. But the promise of Melam, the secrets to the Mystics of the Ishan free to any who would fight, was quick to sway their hearts.

Few things as greed and fear can sway the hearts of men with such ease.

With border rivalries and raids put past, only then could their preparation for the battle begin in earnest. Bahram Usham and what was left of his hunted deserters paid the wage of two turns with many lives, and on the day their last embers of light were to be put out; a unified front of the desert tribes rallied in their defense. Their battle for many days and nights darkened the day and blazed through the night, burning sand to glass and air to fire, the Ganbar slaughtered tribesmen with a cruel efficiency born from repetition, goring and gouging as quick as the wind, hidden by the sands. The dead piled their feet but the battle raged on, the Ganbar giving ground to numbers, their ranks began crumbling as the dunes, the battle becoming a formless mash of shrieking death. Pooling blood seeping into the scarred sands, darkening, hardening, and forever marking the battlefield.

Asim wondered at the vast discoloration of the Trench, his mind failing to grasp the true extent of the bloody madness that birth this place. Many pondered laying drakes choose this location for the heat cracked earth to better hatch their young, protection from strong blowing winds of the deserts, and Maktirs; The beasts hated the heat and only stalked in the cool of dark but the Trench kept its fire even at night, only to be rekindled in the day. But now Asim began to ponder himself, if their choice was tied to the feel of something less obvious.

Asim was yet to meet a single Garradum. The journey through the Trench had been so far lonesome; one of the many mercies Agni had shown this day, but on the occasion, he had passed over several empty mounds of disturbed earth, and thoughts of Ishtar’s whimsical words came to him: Few things to blind the eye to the enemy before, as greed and fear. Many it seemed had found their Clutch, and though the tenets spoke clear of a single Drake allowed a Garradum, they were likely intentionally sparse in regards to Clutches, and what need be done to obtain them. With an exception to imply nothing good: ‘The Hunt will see no death.’ And as per the unspoken tenets: The strongest kept what was theirs, and took what they could. Garradums hoarded Clutches, selecting the largest for themselves, and selling the rest for Gem or favor.

Asim once again perished the thought from his mind, he was here and it would do him no good to ponder on Clutch-merchants. He was under no illusion he would find a clutch at the pace he trekked; he would only find the aftermath of other Aduna. But that was not to say he was without a goal, Asim greatest gift is the willingness to listen to things said, and that not said. A gift put far from the strong but not so far from the sharp of mind.

Ashra shared a mind with Salim, his lonesome trialing ways spilling into her. She would not leave her Clutch in the open expanse, her cautelous manner only permitting the most deserving to find her Clutch. As the thoughts worked through Asim’s mind he took pause, thinking back to Salim’s final words and wishing himself wrong, yet knowing he was not.

‘This need not be said, but do not stray past the boundary. Only dark things you will find in the wastes of Ishan.’ Why would he speak of Ishan otherwise? No! Why would he speak of the boundary? Asim then again thought to find a random Clutch and feign oblivion when facing Salim, it would be a shameful betrayal of his Ugula’s trust. But likelihood of doing so was bare, and keeping it even less. Asim thought to curse his fortune, but decided against it. Agni relished in gracing such prayers. So, upon now blistering feet, Asim dragged himself to the place even fools feared thread, a thought accompanying and distracting his mind from the heat and pain along the way to the boundary.

Am I now the greatest fool?

With the day far spent, and spent further still his strength to whether Agni’s fire, the pain in his blistering feet, his leather-bound soles gave little protection doing now more to chafe at his sores, though he had learnt the hard lesson when he had stumbled from fatigue onto the burnt earth; his palms catching him on the way down, he raised himself to his feet, the painful searing blisters the burning earth gifted his palms teaching him little protection was better than none. He had seen scores of Adunas now, some with several Clutches, others none. Had won the many disdainful looks, but been too engrossed in Agni reaching his Zenith to let them settle. The time left him was short before the Ugulas came looking, and no doubt it was the Aduna's thoughts as well. As it was, he was neither worth the time to make their displeasure known.

The presence of other Adunas before long greatly thinned to becoming an eerie thing, the path to the boundary lay just ahead and the risk of encountering stray Drakes or even a Maktir became more real the closer one strayed the boundary’s path. But even so, Clutches would still be buried this far from the boundary. Asim studied the scene; his eye watchful for any threats, but his mistake was in believing the threat came from the fore and not above.

Asim felt the fire from above and jumped to the side without even a glance to confirm his suspension. Skud! He cursed looking frantically around him to find swirls of red and gold coming into existence from naught, condensing into a dozen orbs of light of size with his fist and releasing power not dissimilar to Agni. There was only one Aduna with a magic so Unique ‘Tu: Nadir Jabbar,’ Asim cried out the best his parched throat would carry, ‘May Agni show success to your Hunt.’ The orbs hovered around him, each one no doubt powerful enough to rest him beside Shamiel; that is if any would bother.

‘I am afraid the prayer comes late, Shubara,’ Asim heard an easy voice, before the flash of gold-tinged red that left Nadir before standing before him. Though of an age Nadir dwarfed him in stature and build, his hair the blackest loose silk as opposed to the barren heads of the Shubara, and the power that thrummed about his spear of red and gold veins, felt as Agni at the Dawn; which only gave credence to the authority Asim felt from him. ‘I have won my prize.’ He said, and for the first time Asim noticed the pouch at his side that contained a magnificent golden Clutch; large as any he had ever seen.

‘I had believed the worthy Hunter come to make challenge for Kuldrin’s Clutch, is this what you do Shubara?’ Nadir asked, the orbs of golden fire still dancing about Asim, making it that much harder for him to breathe. ‘I dare make no such challenge Tu: Nadir,’ Asim stuttered, Nadir was the singular most terrifying talent to be found amongst the current Aduna taking the Hunt; considered so far outclassing the other Aduna’s that he was offered a seat amongst the Sarahgi riders, an honor tasted by only the few. ‘I only wish to bring pride to the face of my Ugula.’ Asim finished, hoping that invoking Salim would win him some good will, as he was the head of the Sarahgi riders; and any goodwill shown by Nadir here would no doubt find its way to Salim’s ears.

Nadir looked down on Asim; considering the silent bribe, ‘Though you are named Aduna, you only bring shame to this Hunt.’ He slammed his spear into the earth the spheres of gold growing in intensity, Asim in this moment no longer cared for a Clutch, in this moment he felt what it was to be Shubara, in this moment he felt wetness soak him and knew he had soiled himself. ‘And yourself,’ Nadir looked disdainfully down on Asim, ‘But perhaps no other. Let this be known.’ He finished with iron in his eye.

In a flash he had vanished along with his golden spheres, and Asim crashed to his knees, the urge to scream and curse his fate raging within him; but the fear that he would be heard by another Hunter less temperate than Nadir stifled him. And so, he knelt in his soaked garments and collected his wits, before the scorch dried them and left a foul smell clung to him.

The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

Nearing the boundary after what had been an age since the journey’s start, his lips cracked as the baked earth, breath seared, and his throat rasped and chafed as he futilely swallowed for saliva. He had known now he would not make the journey back to the Maw, his only hope was to find Ashra’s Clutch and wait on Salim to come to him when Mushan took the sky.

‘Does he not hear us, you think?’ Asim faintly heard the question, but the heat began twisting his mind, blurring what was and was not, it made him judge rather harshly his perceptions; the greatest offender being his eyes, but his ears made good competitor: The desert madness was upon him.

Then again, faint whisper; but more than this, the voice it carried, an apprehension that livened Asim’s thoughts and his heart to sing hard and fast as the hammers in the Garash forge, his breathing began to labor, dangerously so to the point it took him effort to keeping it continuous. Agni show me mercy. Asim prayed silently, knowing he was not one to be merciful.

‘Gidim! Will you not greet your betters?’ Asim jumped affright; looking frantically for the voice that tore his eyes from the path to the boundary, and my mind from dreams. But his fears proved justified finding through Agni’s blaze the source only short distance away in persons of Qadim and Sekar, two of the many, who heavily burden themselves in making his life the more arduous than it had right be.

His footing swayed knowing their presence brought him only torment.

Quick as the wind the gap was no more, even before Asim could take a labored step; a last effort to escape them, ‘I was certain my eyes deceived me, but your waddle gives you away, Gidim; it is wonder how you still find your feet,’ Sekar said towering over Asim, his voice jarring. With a finger’s flick to the forehead, Asim is sent crumbling to the scalding earth.

MMPH! Asim withstood the pain with a muffled moan, keeping his breathing and finding his feet again, quickly as he felled.

‘The… the hunt shows you favor Tu: Sekar.’ Asim said grovelingly, eying the sack of Clutches latched onto Sekar's hip, hoping his good fortune will spare him their torment just this day, but knowing it would not. ‘That it has Giddim, Agni gifts the strong. And in equal measure, suffereth the weak.’ Sekar said ‘But you see Giddim, our Hunt is not yet finished.’ smiling broadly, tapping gently the sack. His grin growing wider and his menacing eyes lit beneath Agni’s light, as his frame loomed over Asim.

‘I will speak plain as I am far lost on time, Giddim,’ Qadim, the brood to Hashin spoke for the first time and Sekar fell silent. ‘It can only be Agni’s gift we find you wandering the Trench. The last Hunt saw the Nun win Massatur and the Gesla win Maspeth. This Hunt Nadir claims Kuldrin’s Clutch. You will agree a Garradum as myself does not deserve any meager drake, yes? You will agree I deserve a Clutch of a great drake, and this is why you will lead me to Ashra’s Clutch.’ Qadim finished impassioned, not even the slightest quirk to the edges of his mouth.

‘I…I don’t know…’ OOF! A gentle tap from Sekar drove into Asim’s belly, sending him hurling back unto the burning earth, his form heeling. There been water in him it would be laid bare.

‘As said, I am far lost on time, Giddim, do not spit on my dying patience. We have watched you sure footed in your path, as though yours is clear,’ Asim’s skin hissed as he reeled too weak to raise himself the third time and Sekar raised him by the scruff of his ghutra only for Qadim to send him crashing back to the ground, his nose a streaming mess of red. ‘I will not put it past the Dervish to act in such ways, but I will not be cheated. You will lead us to her Clutch, and should you think to make us into fools, well, the tenets speak of death but say nothing of sight.’ His fingers dancing over Asim’s eyes.

Heart falling with his gaze, Asim’s eyes now pooled tears; he had given all he had-and more, and finally seen a sliver of hope but he was troubled enough without the promise of lost sight, without risking their ire. Despite the fires of defiance lit in his heart, he knew he would only pay more blood for it.

‘The boundary, it’s at the boundary.’ Asim spat through gurgles of blood, his throat satiated, but his nostrils clogged. ‘A good choice. Bring him with, he will see Ishan should this be a trick.’

At the command, Sekar gruffly picked up Asim’s bleary form, throwing him over his shoulder in simple practiced motion, as he would a sack of barely. ‘You smell of piss.’ he said, his nose crinkled but still he followed.

‘Lead the way, Giddim, we must measure the time well. Agni has begun his decent into Immartu.’ Qadim finished in a grand smile.

Asim flailed against Sekar, the Garradums shoulder digging into his ribs, as they had made way down the boundary’s path, the blitzing breeze drying out the corners of Asim’s eyes. ‘Do not think us unfair, Giddim. This is the way of the Hunt. To win a Clutch is but a part, to guard your prize is the greater virtue.’ Qadim began his familiar tellings, blaming the world for its ways and not they who do the deed. Asim remained silent at Qadim's words throwing his ears to the wind to drown them. These were not new tellings, and over the turns of retellings’ the edge was dulled.

Only half a span later had they reached the stark boundary and he was gruffly set on his feet. ‘You play games, Giddim?’ Qadim asked, the slow but weighty question.

‘No…no games,’ Asim spat a clump of clotting in his struggle to speak ‘Her clutch should be here.’ He turned his eyes frantic, ‘Lier!’ Sekar roared, enraged and furious by Asim’s mulish, thoughtlessly ran his fist into his eye, sounding a loud Crack! And even louder still was the wailing shriek of pain that followed. It was too late to silence him now; the day was quiet and doubtless someone had heard. Asim clutching to his eye lost his breath, writhing in pain and crying in the sands, his lungs refused inhaling. A single thought left in his heart as red tinged tears flowed down his damaged eye. Will they truly take my sight?

Then the world upended, before the crash again, before the ringing in his ears and the dance of lights behind his eyes. And then the pain came flooding, the tears, the blood flowing out the open gash in his skull. A single thought coming to his hazing mind. I should not have come here.

‘Sekar!’ He heard the roar in his daze and with his darkening vision saw Sekar bow his head to Qadim, and then all fell into black.

Coming too, Asim’s eye opened to the burning light of Agni sinking into the earth, and with the wash of dull red to wash over the Trench marking his displeasure. Blood caked his face to the earth, and his skin felt the bite of a thousand ants. He was done, Asim had resigned himself to laying and waiting for Salim, he had done all he could, he had done more than any had right to ask of him, and yet, he was empty, hopeful Qadim had not found the Ashra’s Clutch, but ran and left him to die.

Groans escaped his cracked broken lips as tears refused to flow. The pain he felt was maddening, and yet was nothing to the pain he would feel rising for the third time, rising to confirm his hopes. It was the hope in him that caused the greatest pain. The wonder left unchecked, and for such folly he stood his bleary body and began his limping stalk across the boundary, the Hunt nearly finished, and so far, only blood for his efforts.

The painful span later, Asim found the broken mound to hold a Clutch large as Nadirs’. You did well Ashra. Were his thoughts as he eyed the way the mound was hidden discreetly beneath the shadowed rocks that marked the boundary.

A time as this, Asim thought she was more man than drake. But as his hopes were scattered so to was his strength, and he let himself fall onto a rock, resting himself and waiting for Salim. No shame to be felt in him, only regret and thoughts of Qadim's many words ‘Do not think us unfair, Giddim. This is the way of the Hunt; the blame is not ours...’ whisked again him into a dreamless sleep.

Waking again as a chill kissed his barren head, Agni had sunken into Immartu, yet Mushan was still yet to rise. It would take no longer than half a span for her to take the heavens, for the Ugulas to ride down in search of their Aduna, and for Asim to have rest from this dreadful day. But as he leaned against the burning stones, his skin so heat blistered it pained him more to move. He saw from his good eye, what seemed a shadowed woman in tatters running further into the boundary.

Asim had cause to blame his head wound as none would mindfully cross the boundary, least of all alone. But he had seen what he had seen, and a dangerous thought began brewing in his fatigued mind. Only Laga would tread Ishan, and indeed if this is true, I must know. I must speak with her. And the thought pushed his pain and weakness to the recesses, leaving only a hungry desperation to find her, to forsake Salim’s warnings and his senses, the madness that sent his foot over the stone boundary, chasing after shadows.

Asim ran far across the boundary in desperate search of the shadow, to the point his senses screamed at him, only when his eye glimpsed down the trail she ran did it recede.

The ruined city of Ishan, that now made home to Maktirs, still lay a great deal ahead but the beasts had been known to straggle. It was this limit to his folly that had kept him silent, rather than his first thought of calling out to her.

He chased, bending corners of ruined walls and pillars to find where she hid, but nothing. Mushan had now fully taken the sky, Salim would be coming and he had to return. He could never know of this.

SHRIEK!!!

Came a cry no Man could make, the deep sounds reverberating through the wall Asim stood, the sound of a thing hurting, dying. Asim quickly leaned against the wall to hide himself from whatever lay behind it, he thought to run but his feet trembled, cast in place, petrified. He prayed Mushan forgive him this folly and grant him strength to run, a fresh stream of tears running down quivering jaws. And then a spectral green flashed from behind what was left of the ruinous wall, a brief silence, steady swish of something being dragged through the sands straying further and further away, an acrid smell staining the air.

After what felt ages, strength began returning into his feet, and against the better thought, Asim stifled the voice urging him to bound as a frightened Ox through this night, but rather, peeped over the wall confirming if the enemy remained to his back. To his greatest horror there was only the dark pool seeping into the sands. Asim reared himself to begin his sprint back to the safety of the boundary but a sight held him in place, he trailed the flecks of what seemed to be gold accent arrow heads from the distance, not fully understanding, he strained his good eye but only a shape formed, and with, understanding.

At least twice larger than the largest he’d ever known, a burnished black so obscured his eye danced easily over but for the shimmering flecks of tiny gold inlaid scales. In all his disbelief a Clutch sat still just before Asim, and with again no thought, he rounded the corner swooped both arms under the scaly giant, his blistered palms glancing over what felt as shallow claw grooves, and began his maddened dash back across the boundary.

Plain Clutches would size against large grape fruits and though not usual, larger still. Truly rare were of size with the head of a calf and beyond: A great Clutch. But this, Asim felt himself running with a boulder easily twice that, yet many times lighter.

Though golden bladed accents of the onyx scales began tearing into flesh, Asim did not, could not stop. His legs moving of their free will, kicking from the last burst of power in him, his eye found the ridge of the boundary merely yards away and before long he was leaping over the rocks, running across the trench in equal parts fear, joy, and elation. The madness was strong in him, up until his feet gave, and for the nth time collapsed from exhaustion.

Asim swayed gently, his eye coming awake, gentle at first, then frantic.

‘Be at ease, boy,’ Hearing Salim’s voice, the wash of relief would have moved him to tears did he have them to spare. His mind worked he was splayed across Ashra's leather hide ‘I see the day brought many trials,’ Salim glanced loosely over Asim ‘Hashin's brood returned with a great Clutch red as blood, I have small doubt this to be amongst Ashra’s finer works. Yet what rests in your arms…’ Only at its mention did Asim come to see his arms were still firmly wrapped around the black Clutch, with effort he willed his spasmodic muscles to ease, letting the pain flow through and settle deeper in. ‘This, I have never known.’