As the hour of dusk approached, the vindictive rays of the Illius tempered to a bearable level as Armaan and his group of friends slowly approached the ancient ruins.
“Should we really enter? When the Harmonic Artiste hues the sky red, he does so as a warning, my mom told me.” Tetitae said, as the sky turned from a gentle hue of deep blue, to scarlet wrapped in thin layers of murkiness. The top of the ruins still poked its crown out from below the golden sand, reflecting a crimson hue. Her swirling flaming orbs gleamed with fear as chills ran up and down her spine. Her pointy ears shivered as they peeked out from her colorful turban.
The ruins themselves were now half swallowed by the whispering gold sands. Decrepit, massive columns engraved with glyphs of various beasts three rows, resembling the jaw of some sand beast as they form a circle with no roof to offer some tender shadows for the weary traveler.
They each heard different tales about it. Armaan himself believed in it being a House of Almodo, where his children, their ancestors converged preparing for the approaching battles during the great war between the Deos and their fallen brethren, a term he had heard quite often from the Arameithons of the Golden Sands, an order of Yhanubjs worshipping their own version of the Almodo.
There were no answers as the four friends stood silently, their naked feet sunken into the sand. “Don’t worry, I only planned the usual.” Armaan spoke up first, burying his thoughts bothering him since the morning. He is still unsure how to bid farewell to them, how will they react. Thoughts of them being angry at him surfaced on the way, making it even harder. He even fiddled with the thought of not saying anything, just leave and deal with it once he returns one day.
“Also, according to the nomads, this hue can be a good sign. Maybe we find some long lost artifact finally.” Numinyim their phaeggoorn friend added, at thirty years of age he already bore a lush beard, that they both found weird and funny at first with how it contrasted his childish face. Even now Armaan smiled unconsciously as he looked down at his friend with a tanned bronze skin with akin to a flesh and steel melded together. “And in the worst case, we have Battlemage Armaan here.” He added after noticing his gaze, his voice annoyed a bit as he noticed the dullard smile on his face.
He walked a bit further, crouched down, his palms cuddled the sand waves flowing as the gentle wind picked up. His voice that carried hints of depth and resonance echoed as he calmed his mind, started his chanting. The mana flowing into his body and through the arkhaine point in his throat, towards his right arm’s felt as a warmness that tickled his being. The feeling put a smile on his face. one that was less mocking, more genuine.
The golden sand shimmered unnaturally as he straightened his posture, his sweat starting to flow out, gaining mass out of nothingness while also changing into a state closer to clean water that mixed with the sand, turning it into liquid gold that took the shape of a long, curving blade in a gaudy hilt.
“Armaan of the Golden Sand at your service!” Then he bent his left arm behind, and bowed elegantly, like the dragon knights of the Empire in tales. At least in his head.
“Practice that a bit more brother.” Abasu, his little brother, second amongst the siblings said with a wide smirk as he walked past him with the others.
“Probably just my mind.” He let out a sigh as he turned around, chills ran across his spine as he felt a gaze upon his back. When he turned in the direction, he saw nothing.
**
The shadows danced around the columns with meticulous edges with each one positioned according to the cardinal directions. Sand had covered the smooth marble floor for centuries now, melding in as their hues matched almost perfectly. In the center edge opposite whence they arrived, a crumbling cartouche laid on a tall pedestal, its faded golden leg close to giving in to the ravage of time.
“Are you guys ready?” Armaan asked as he approached the cartouche turning back.
“Just go ahead.” Numinyim replied firmly and he pushed his left palm onto its carved surface. He exhaled slowly before he started another chant. The ground in the center howled, a slab moved into another in Armaan’s direction revealing a dark pit with steps covered thickly in sand.
This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.
“How many more before this fills up with sand?” Abasu asked as they started climbing down with him on the front. “Thanks.” Tetitae slipped as a host of small black bugs crawl out from under a small dome of sand. Thanks to Armaan’s timely catch, she evaded a fate of bugs crawling over her.
“Not a problem milady.” He spoke playfully, making her chuckle a bit before her body was swallowed by the hard shadows beyond the arch.
Armaan headed in last, the sudden drop in temperature felt like small icy needless poking his arms while his breath became visible.
“That is not normal.” Numinyim noted while scrubbing his arms in tandem with the others.
“Certainly.” Armaan added, before the torches circling around them in the entrance area lit up one by one. His scream echoed after the warmth of arkhaine turned into pain akin to dozens of heated needles piercing into his flesh. They all rushed to him as he inspected his arm covered in seared marks, still emitting a vile smell.
“Don’t worry, I got a little cocky.” Tetitae slapped him in the back of his head before giving him a healthy dose of her preaching, while the other two watched them with taunting smiles plastered onto their faces.
“You can preach to Brother as much as you want Tet later when he takes your hand. For now, let’s move on.” Abasu interjected just as Armaan started to resemble a hapless puppy.
Armaan headed first to the door, gripping his makeshift swords handle, and grabbed one of the torches as he led the way forward. The narrow corridor had always felt suffocating to him, after his first venture with Tetitae, he suffered a long nightmare where the corridor appeared as the throat of an enormous worm that swallowed him along with his home. Then just like in said dream, he noticed the light at the end.
The statues of tall, masculine figures in sturdy armor embracing their muscular, slender bodies drawn out in the light. Each interlocking piece formed protective barriers leaving a small gap showing the skin sculpted out from a marble appearing stone. Their heads resembled various beasts native to the south.
In ancient times the Yhanubjs and Aurhen have held rituals in which they have fused their brethren with captured or domesticated beasts, the Rite of Indyamerh as was known in the present. These ancient flesh and soul magic as her mother referred to it, granted these warriors reflexes, sight and power beyond what one could achieve with decades of rigorous training. It also eliminated the weakness of chanting, for the non-aevhen folk.
Yet it had its issues, including the primal nature of said animals slowly taking over the mind of these warriors, mages. In some cases, these warriors had been confined to tombs to guard their lords and ladies for eternity, or until the sharp end of a blade ends them.
And these warriors, mages were part of the reason why he wanted to join up the legion. To be granted to right to the rite, to one day not have to rely on chanting to weave spells.
“What could be the source of this cold?” Abasu’s question broke his train of thought as they arrived at the circular hall of the second tower buried under tons of sand.
“Could be an artifact. Or maybe some beast settled in since we last were here.” Numinyim added his theories while walking down the right stair curving down towards the center. The source of the light was a large crystal sphere with glyphs of Arkhaine kind glowed all over its still pristine, jagged surface.
“It’s beautiful every time, isn’t it?” Armaan gazed up, his silver eyes glinted with wonder then his attention turned to Tetitae. Her juvenile, amber face enamoring to the young boy, something that enchanted him for the past six years since they both entered into their adolescent years.
“It is.” The words flowed out tenderly before the weight of sorrow etched upon his ebony complexion.
“Now, before we move further in. Is there something you want to tell all of us.” Her words hit him like a cold shower as she and Abasu and Numinyim circled around him with their arms crossed.
“What do you mean?” He said awkwardly scratching his temple with one finger.
“Brother, you are easier to read than…. well, anything.” Abasu added his sentence breaking as he tried to come up with something to compare his Brother’s inability to lie.
“Well…” His sigh reverberated in the air, as he mustered his inner strength. But before he could voice his words, his feet picked up on distressing resonation shaking them. He sensed numerous small steps rapidly approaching them far beyond the shadows occupying the arch facing him.
“Well??” Numinyim asked.
“I’ll tell later, for now we have to leave.” They quickly noticed the distress on his face as he counted the approximate number of steps.
“Somethings are..” Then deep, gravelly shrieks reached their ears from the dark path behind Tetitae.
“Run.” Before Armaan could finish his sentence, Tetitae yelled while rushing, grabbing his arm yet he determinedly stood in place.
“It is not time to be heroic!” She yelled at him. “It’s not about being heroic, but to halt them a bit. The nomads are nearby! Call for them.” He countered.
“Be safe please.” She said after realizing he won’t budge, and ran after her fear got the best of her. After she left, Armaan’s chanting echoed through the air, his face contorted as a stronger pain assaulted his being. The frames of the open path in front started shaking as the small horde of Tokoleshes, a type of gremlins native to the South started appearing from the shadows…