The ritual began and ended before sunrise. Blood pooled the sides of Haeed’s altar room. A family lie at his feet, father, mother, son and daughter, their necks ripped and bleeding; having been forced to kill each other after their ordeal. The power within Haeed’s staff pulsed ominously, its black glow resonating with a ferocity like a caged beast yearning for release.

“Barug,” Haeed commanded, his voice echoing through the chamber, “The Creator demands more blood to redeem these wretched souls. We must act swiftly and send their blessed souls to heaven before the jinn catch them!”

From a shadowed corner, Barug's voice responded with obedience, “As you wish, my master.” The sounds of chains rattling and the heart-wrenching screams of captive mothers and their children filled the room as they were dragged closer to the altar.

Haeed opened his mouth, reciting words of ancient, secret tomes, from civilizations long forgotten. Those words echoed in the air, dimming every sensation. His mind split in two; one on earth, in his very own tower, another guided by Al Kabkab through the space-time, through endless cosmos and among the realms of the Earth

“Where is the Crimson Thorn?” he asked.

The spirits answered, granting him a vision of the man sleeping in a basement, head against the stone floor, somewhere in Arsacia.

With a sibilant hiss, Haeed whispered to himself, “Arsacia...”

He needed materials. He recited another incantation, reaching into the staff’s pool of black magical power. Earth and clay from the earth gathered at his will, earth and clay from the ground and from the mountain of Arsacia, blending into itself, forming a monstrous body. He needed something to hold it together.

Haeed chanted again, he summoned weapons and armor from local guards. Al Kabkab’s legion of spirits transported them from the city. They circled around the body of earth and mud he had just built, adding some loose rocks from the mountain, shaping a monster, vaguely in human form, protected by armor, and then, the Incarnation was complete. Haeed could see through it and control it at will. Once again, he was ready to hunt.

***

Razam spent the night in a catacomb.

The night before, members of the Khanjar interrogated him for hours. They were good at pressuring people. Now that he’d visited the catacombs, they wouldn’t let him go. It was true that such a secret group should be able to keep themselves out of public scrutiny, especially in the current circumstances. But Razam had nothing to do with them and with their country. Now that the situation was not as Fara had described. What was there for him?

And she offered him protection if he stayed, if he helped.

Early in the morning, the members of the group jumped out of their bunk beds to do their morning exercises. That included Fara. Razam tried to sleep a bit more, but couldn’t with all that noise. His mind was brimming with strange thoughts of the dragon. What was he thinking? In the middle of the morning, Vrarog’s thoughts had changed. It was not intelligible to Razam.

Razam was also hungry. It turned out that the Khanjar fasted every morning and had no intention of making food for their guest. Besides Fara, no one saw him as a guest. Razam got to his feet. He had to go clear his head. Being locked in a cave again was not funny.

“Alright, friends,” Razam said, getting on his feet and tying his scimitar around his girdle. “I am sorry but this is not my fight.”

“Crimson Thorn,” Fara said, advancing toward him. “What about what you told me? You were excited to come.”

“And get paid, get a real job, not become an underground resistance of a government that’s not mine.”

“Then? What if you got the job you desired, and then this happened, would you leave your oaths or duties?”

“I have no binding oaths now.”

Fara narrowed her eyes. “We helped each other, Razam. We need someone like you.”

“For what? To stay alive?”

“There must be people, generals, entire garrisons that are loyal to us, we can do it.”

“Before your general grants absolute power to the Murlians, which may happen very, very soon. And with Murlians around I’m not safe at all. I’d rather get out quickly, get to the south, run away from your friends who’re chasing us, before we have Murlians in this city.”

Fara looked at him with glassy eyes. No, he had to get out, there would be more opportunities southward, somewhere where he wasn’t wanted. Razam moved toward the staircase, when the tall man stepped in front of his way.

“Hey,” Fahad said. “Where do you think you’re going?”

Razam sighed.

“Out. Thank you for the hospitality, but this is not my fight.”

“We have never had… Visitors. We cannot let you go.”

“I’ve told you, this is not my fight, I’ll swear whatever oaths you set for me, I’m not .”

“How can we know. You are wanted. What if they catch you and squeeze the information out of you.”

Razam grunted, narrowing his eyes.

“Listen, I want no trouble, but I have to get out of here. This is not my place. And if you stand in between me and my freedom, I’ll have to do things I didn’t want to.”

“Try,” Fahad said through his teeth.

“Hey.” Fara stepped in between them, pressing her hand on both Fahad’s and on Razam’s chest. “Stop it now. Razam, you understand how important this is. Fahad, what would you have him do? Keep him here like a pet?”

“Bringing him was a mistake,” he said sternly, staring at Fara with a furrowed brow.

“He saved my life,” she replied.

Fahad shook his head. “You shouldn’t have brought him. Now it’s a problem we have to deal with.”

“Listen, Fahad,” she said. “We need to gather intelligence. Why not keep him and use his skills? He came here expecting a serious job. We could even pay him.”

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“Fara, the whole Empire is looking for him. Murlia is looking for him.”

“Can you do it, Razam? Can you hide yourself in the crowd?” she asked, turning toward Razam.

“I can. What’s your pay?”

“We don’t hire mercenaries,” Fahad said. “We can’t be too close to an informant either. He’s seen the Inner Sanctum. This is serious, Sister Fara. If there’s a resistance in this empire, we’re its vanguard. We cannot compromise.”

“Fahad, this man saved my life.”

“Come on, Sister Fara, don’t be irrational. Good for him, he’s not our enemy, but it’s dangerous to let him go.”

“Then escort him, or let me escort him. If we secure him he can bring allies. In the south, we can send him as an emissary.”

“Are you going to trust him. He's a thief. He's wanted in many territories, including this one!"

“I understand, Fahad, but I know him. I think we should compromise.”

“I’m the leader here, Sister Fara, you should be in charge of the nation and we need your leadership as a people. But you are wrong.”

Razam sighed.

“Alright, alright,” he said. “Maybe I’ll stay until you sort out what to do with me.” He sighed, moving backward toward the hall. Then, abruptly, Razam changed directions and raced toward the staircase. He sprinted through the hall just as Fahad shouted for his comrades to rush and stop him. He climbed it, just before finding arrows buzzing right next to his forehead.

He rushed toward the top, praying in his mind for the door to be open. He pushed the wooden door above his head, managing to lift it open. Razam climbed to the surface, just as another arrow pierced through the wood where he had been.

“Spit on a grave,” he said, jumping out into the dummy house. The fellow whod’ been there before got up from his chair and took out a barbed whip.

“Damnation,” Razam shouted, unsheathing his sword. The other man swung his whip, the tiny blades attached to it rattled. Razam ducked and stepped back, it passing dangerously close to his face. It stuck to the wall for an instant, little blades denting into the wood.

Razam gasped.

“Hey dragon,” he thought. “This would be a great time to come and help me.”

The voice echoed in his mind.

“Human… You just woke me up.”

“Yes,” Razam thought hurriedly, ducking again. “I’m in danger, can you feel it?” He stepped back, coming close to the wall.

“I’m eight hours away, at least,” answered Vrarog.

Razam gritted his teeth.

“Alright,” he said, feeling the vibration of steps under the wooden floor, of men trying to open the door.

Razam turned around, toward the barred window, he mustered all the strength he could and kicked the barred windows. Splinters of wood leapt into the street. He felt the whip whirl behind his back, sending a jolt of fear through his entire body. He had no other choice but to jump and try to push his body through the hole.

Arash, the older man with the scars and the whip, was soon following after him. Razam raced through the street, feeling the weight of his feet. The sky was dim, with the faintest hints of orange, in daylight it might become even harder from hide, now from both the Khanjar and the General’s army, the rebels, and on top of that, the Murlians.

He ran through the street, turning sporadically and seeing Fara’s friends running toward him. Razam had to quicken his pace. Seeing a section of a wall with wooden lintels, he jumped toward them and climbed to the roof. It was square, lined with small tiles. He ran toward the other street, ran to gather momentum and jumped into the other street. He repeated the process through the alleys. Then, he noticed a small alley, a long rope set up from window to window, where a variety of tunics and coats had been set out to dry. He got down and snatched the ugliest coat, quickly took off his robes and put it on. Then, he ran the opposite way. It was torn in places, although clean enough. He also tied his hair into a bun and ran deeper into the road.

A turn on a corner revealed a patrol of soldiers with the plate armor and halberds. He braced and slowed down for an instant. The men were passing around. There was no one on the street, so he figured a curfew might be in place. He had to hide in an inn. He had no money, but he could resort to the old tactic, either gamble for coin or pretend to have and not pay.

The streets where he was passing were too far from the center of the city. He waited for the soldiers to pass. From the roofs, he had seen a plaza with a mausoleum and a garden. He decided to go in that direction assuming that the inns would be situated close to the plaza.

He ran, watching from the corners and avoiding the soldiers. After a few blocks, he had reached a vast garden, palm trees neatly arranged on one side, cypress trees along the sides surrounded by bushes. A mausoleum with a square roof and an ornate door, arranged with beautiful calligraphy stood in the middle. Razam crossed it, advancing into the next section of the city. He entered the first inn he saw, one with a wooden sign with a carved unicorn on top.

There was not much inside, the seats and tables had been arranged.

“Peace,” said the owner, a man with a long beard and an olive complexion.

“Peace,” answered Razam. He looked around. There were only two men in the corner of the tavern, drinking tea. “I’d like a room, please.”

“A traveler, today?”

The innkeeper sighed.

“A tough night, isn’t it?”

“I honestly don’t know what to think of all this,” Razam said.

The innkeeper sighed, looking at the men on the corner.

“I guess business as usual.”

Razam sighed.

“So, a room, I intend to spend time there.”

“Fine with me,” the innkeeper shrugged. “It will be six copper dinars for the night.”

Razam could hear voices outside, far away, perhaps a few blocks away. Were they screaming? There was a bit of a commotion.

“Alright, I’ll pay right before I go,” Razam said.

The innkeeper narrowed his eyes.

“Here you’ve got to pay first, buddy.”

Razam sighed.

“My friend, I’ve had some problems lately, so, just as a favor, let me pay tonight.”

The innkeeper shook his head. “Man, I’m not even asking for an exorbitant price. Pay it or go.”

There was a noise outside. A woman screamed. That might be a block away. Then, there was a loud noise, and an agonizing scream. What was going on in that city?

“Just one night, I promise I’ll make it up for you…” Razam said urgently.

The innkeeper sighed.

Razam thought fast. Should he tell him that someone was after him? It was a bargain.

“Just for the day,” Razam whispered. “I won’t damage anything in your property and I swear I will pay. I have money, it’s just that they took it.”

“Who took it?” the innkeeper shook his head. “Listen, I don’t want this place to become a slaughterhouse. I won’t endanger my business.”

At that moment, the door burst open, pushed out of its hinges as if by a battering ram. An armored figure stood in the doorway, it sent a chill through Razam’s spine, for it barely looked human.