The fire was warm, but all Yarran could feel was the cold. It was all around him and all-encompassing. It threatened to swallow him, his people, and the entire world. A Mage was now within the Ekke Kyakú, which was terrible, but he was also absurdly powerful. His very presence threatened to doom them all. Yarran could only stop him if he doomed himself and the fifty other men he had with him. Men with families that were expecting them home. Men who trusted him to do the right thing. Men who were waiting for him to make the right choice.

If the right thing is the easiest choice, then rarely is it ever the right thing.

Shaking off his father’s teachings, Yarran stared into the flickering flames. It was something he had always found himself doing, even as a young boy. He always watched them dance, the red, white, and orange colors intermingling with one another far better than the Kulok people ever could.

“Chieftain!”

Yarran gritted his teeth as he recognized the whiny voice behind him. Most people knew not to speak to him while he was in this… mood, but unfortunately, he had asked for this event to occur. He also had never asked for him to be his nephew either.

“Votdú,” Yarran said, keeping his reply to just his nephew’s name to maintain his sanity. While Votdú was one of the most gifted individuals he had ever seen when it came to riding a horse, the moment he dismounted, Yarran had to remind himself of why he had kept him as his Chief Scout.

He is still useful, Yarran thought. Votdú is useful, no matter how much he irritates me with his very existence.

“Chieftain,” Votdú said more quietly. He had that much tact at least, which Yarran supposed he should be thankful for. “I am sorry to disturb you, but you requested me to come to you the moment I had completed my task.”

Yarran extended a hand, gesturing to a log on the other side of the fire. “Have a seat, kúkuzga,” Yarran said. They were alone, so Yarran felt comfortable calling him kin. In public, he could not. In public, Votdú was his Chief Scout, not the irritating nephew that was born to ride. He loved him like he did all his kin, but sometimes it was difficult to remember that when he did something particularly stupid.

Surprisingly, the youth was apparently perceptive of Yarran’s musings. Votdú slowly walked over to the log on the other side of the fire—which Yarran kept in case he had visitors—and sat down.

Votdú was both impressive and unimpressive all at once. He was tall, over six feet, and yet skinny, as if he had never eaten a full meal in his life. His dark hair was cropped short to the point he was almost bald. Yarran could also see the intelligence in his eyes, the cunning, and ambition in them. It was wasted on his brother’s son. He has enough intelligence to know he is stupid, Yarran thought grimly. A dangerous combination.

Votdú was dressed as always was, with light clothes that were a mixture of dull browns. Even with the light of the moon and the fire, he still blended in with the shadows around him. He had a backpack on, with a flask tucked in at his side.

Votdú shifted in his seat, looking supremely uncomfortable as Yarran stared at him silently. He knew that it was something his people didn’t like, but he did it anyway. It was a strong man that could resist squirming under inspection, and Votdú wasn’t strong. Smart and cunning when it suited him, but never strong.

“You have returned,” Yarran said, his voice barely audible over the crackling fire. “Tell me: what have the inhabitants of the Ekke Kyakú done this past day?”

“Nothing that I can tell,” Votdú said. He pulled out his flask and took a long pull from it, smacking his lips obnoxiously after he finished drinking. He wiped a hand across his lips and then on his trousers. Yarran rolled his eyes at his kúkuzga’s uncouthness. “No patrols on the walls, no activity from inside the Ekke Kyakú. If I had not seen that woman on the walls, I would think them all dead.”

“They are not,” Yarran snapped. There was a loud crack, and Yarran’s attention returned to the flames. “They are not dead yet. I would know.”

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“Forgive me for asking, but why, Chieftain? How would you know such a thing?”

“Because we are not dead yet,” Yarran said, his voice short with irritation. Silence greeted Yarran’s proclamation, and when he looked up, he was greeted with Votdú’s white face.

“Dead?” he asked, stricken. “They are few and we are many, Chieftain. Why not just leave them there? Why not let the Ekke Kyakú have them and be finished with them?”

“You know what lies within that place,” Yarran said. He smiled, and it was all teeth. “You know what would happen if the treasure within it was claimed, Votdú.”

Votdú stared at Yarran incomprehensibly, which irritated him immensely. Why can’t he use that cunning he claims he possesses and understand basic context? Yarran mentally railed.

Instead of grabbing a burning log and beating his brother’s son with it, he resorted to something that would not be nearly as physically taxing. “Why?” Yarran asked, his voice thick with sarcasm. “Do you have somewhere to be, Votdú? Do you have tasks to complete that are more important than the fate of the world? Do you want to leave this place with a Zak armed with the most powerful weapon in the world? A Zak with more than one reason to hate us and wish us dead?”

“N-no,” Votdú stuttered. “I understand. I am at your service, Chieftain. As I always have been.”

“Good,” Yarran said. “You will watch the side entrance carefully with your scouts, Votdú. You will watch it day and night.”

Yarran could feel the burning need from Votdú all the way across the fire. He had always been inquisitive, and for someone not to immediately answer his question, it must have been killing him.

“At least one will flee the Ekke Kyakú,” Yarran said before the idiot pestered him further. “The woman, probably. Perhaps more. You will follow wherever they go and then report back to me.”

“I obey, Chieftain,” Votdú said, unable to hide his eagerness as he hurriedly bowed his head in supplication. “We aren’t to move against them?”

“Only if they try to attack you. If they see you, you would have already failed,” Yarran said. “Do not fail me, Votdú.”

Yarran stared back at the fire as Votdú mumbled something else and left, leaving Yarran blessedly alone once more with the flames. He stared at them, trying to find some measure of peace, but it was gone now. Thoughts of whoever could flee the castle played in his mind. What if the Zak left somehow with staff in hand?

Then, we will die fighting, Yarran thought, shivering at the idea. A man armed with a staff of Dominion Wood was the closest any mortal could come to godhood. The world itself would tremble and grovel at his feet. And to think that he might be carrying the soul of the Ekke Kyakú within him…

At that moment, Yarran desperately wanted to attack the Ekke Kyakú, just as his ancestors had done. He wanted to send Votdú back to the Lake with a message to bring back every man, woman, and child who could hold a weapon. They would assault the Ekke Kyakú, killing everyone inside or die trying, because if they failed, it would doom the world.

Noam give me strength, Yarran prayed. He would need it in the days to come.