D’Argen decided to wait until the sun was high in the sky right above them before he helped the group of mortals across the still water. When they got to the shores, there were no sinking bodies or floating eyeballs. A pack of coyotes scattered back into the forest when they saw the group, but the crows continued pecking at the dead in the water without a care.
“You two first.” D’Argen pointed to the burliest of the group and the one that had needed help to walk. “Close your eyes and hold your breath,” he said. As soon as he wrapped his mahee around the two mortals, one hand at the back of each of their necks, he ran across the water. He slid to a stop right before they hit the trees and did not wait for them to recover before dashing across again.
The next group he tried to take three and though he could not touch all three of them, his mahee wrapped around them so completely that even their weapons felt light. By the time he crossed for the final time with the last three, the first two were steady on their feet. The stink of where each of them threw up was nothing compared to the dirty water at their backs.
“I cannot go with you further,” D’Argen informed them. “But it should be two weeks, three at most, straight south. I’d suggest veering a bit further away from the river though as demons have been advancing everywhere.”
“Thank you,” one of them said.
D’Argen ignored them and ran back over the water. This time, he did not stop for the forest. Instead, he recalled the path the white shadow had laid out for him and followed it until the trees thinned out and he could speed up even more without hurting himself.
Like the first time he was in the eastern part of the continent, he only killed the smaller demons or groups he found. When he came across the largest demon he saw, a huge thing that walked on six legs with a scaled tail that dragged for at least twice its length, he sheathed his sword and used his mahee to keep his steps light. The wind under his feet was a comfort that also helped him stay out of sight.
It took only a few days before he came across the first camp of mortals. The six-legged demon was easily dispatched with a slash that cut it in half. It was a gamble whether the mortals would want him to take them back across or shun him, but D’Argen felt he had to offer anyway.
“I was wondering how long you would track that one,” a familiar voice made D’Argen turn on his heel.
“Haur! I didn’t see you at all!” D’Argen greeted with a wide grin.
The camp of mortals did not look surprised at all. They barely even looked up from the fire between them.
“Are these your people?” D’Argen asked.
“What are you saying?” A woman in front of the fire snapped at him. “Look. Thank you for taking care of that, but we could have done it on our own. As we have since this whole mess started.”
She looked barely old enough to have been able to hold a sword when the demons first rose, but D’Argen kept that thought to himself. Instead, he smiled and asked, “Are you on your way to the west? There are refugee camps and safe places for everyone.”
The woman scoffed in answer.
D’Argen looked at Haur and the man shrugged.
“Do you require any assistance at all?” D’Argen asked.
“No. And I apologize for Mina’s rudeness. Not a lot of game around here,” another mortal answered him.
“Ah. My speed will probably only chase others away.”
“Let us go,” Haur said and motioned away from the camp. “I want to ask you a few questions and they clearly do not need our help.”
D’Argen nodded, looked over the group of mortals one last time, waiting for a rebuttal or one of them to change their mind, and when nothing came, he left.
Mina, the mortal woman, kept staring at him through narrowed eyes until D’Argen could no longer see her.
“How long have you been here?” D’Argen asked Haur as soon as the two were in step.
“A few months. Vah’mor sent me to look for survivors and help those that cannot cross on their own.”
“Not like those?” D’Argen pointed back to the mortal camp.
“No. There are a lot more mortals like those, small groups that fend for themselves and are unwelcome to strangers, even the gods.”
“But you came to them anyway. Why?” D’Argen asked again, focusing on the man. Haur’s mahee gave him the best intuition of all of them put together and like Kassar had said, there were some that used their mahee almost constantly. Haur was one of them, the sweet scent of honey always gently surrounding him and only coming out stronger when he actively pushed his intuition further.
“I saw you following that demon earlier and was wondering why, but my mahee told me to wait.”
“And now?”
This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.
“Now… hmm… I saw a city not too far from here that still had standing walls and my mahee tells me to aid them before a hoard of demon comes upon them.”
“Then there we go!”
“And you? Why are you here? I know I have not been back in a while, but Vah’mor did not need to send aid.”
“Ah. No. Not here on Vah’mor’s orders. I saw something really interesting and am here looking for answers.”
“Interesting? Tell me more!”
As the two walked, D’Argen told him of the entire situation he and Kassar had found themselves in. He tried to explain the carvings on the stone as well, but ended up only confusing Haur more with his fingers waggling through the air constantly.
By the time the walls of the city were within view a few days later, Haur had the whole story. He did not say anything specific, nor did he seem too surprised to hear of demons ignoring mortals, but his questions only prompted D’Argen’s story further.
“I feel like you may find some answers here, but not the ones you are seeking,” Haur said.
“Now, now. The prophet-speak doesn’t suit you, Haur.” D’Argen smiled wide again.
When they arrived at the gates of the city, D’Argen paused at the sight. He had not seen walls this tall or thick before. They looked old as well, not hastily constructed to keep the demons out. The sentries at the top of the gate looked like they knew what they were doing.
“Who goes there?”
“Haur and D’Argen. We are here on behalf of the Queen of Evadia!”
“Queen?” D’Argen asked Haur under his breath. “We are here to provide aid!” he yelled up instead.
“It sounds a lot more credible than leader of the gods, does it not?”
D’Argen shrugged. The gates opened a moment later and the two walked in.
Everything in the city seemed fine. A man quickly crossed over to them and then led them further in. “To meet the City Lord,” he said. As they walked down the cobbled streets surrounded by stone buildings, D’Argen could only stare. Children played in the streets, teens hid in the alleys, young couples openly held hands and kissed, and the elders all watched it with joy. Not one of them looked afraid. They did not look like they even knew of what demons were.
They stopped in front of a tall stone structure that would have been closer to a mansion than a house. It had its own gate made of a reddish metal and a butler that opened the gate then led them to the doors of the mansion. They were heavy wood with iron bars over them. One of those bars clacked loudly when the doors closed behind them as soon as they stepped in.
Everything felt… wrong.
When a familiar figure descended the stairs in front of him, D’Argen realized why. Vrianna’s scent of sandalwood revealed that the spiritualist was using her mahee. Beside her walked a man that looked too old to barely support himself, but the serene smile on his face was a comfort.
“Do you have this entire city enchanted?” D’Argen asked her in surprise before he could stop himself.
Vrianna’s smile was wide and beautiful, splitting her face in a crescent. The golden hoops through her nose and lips jingled gently as she spoke. “What better comfort in times of war than the reassurance that they are safe?”
“But are they?” D’Argen asked.
Haur had said—
D’Argen startled when he realized Haur was no longer beside him. He looked around the open hall and did not see the man anywhere at all. “Where’s Haur?”
“Haur?” Vrianna asked, her smile twitching down a moment.
“He was just with me,” D’Argen said.
Vrianna’s smile disappeared completely. She said something to the old man and patted his hand. A servant came from the side hall and led the old man away.
“D’Argen, you came in alone,” Vrianna said as soon as she stood in front of him.
“What? No. He was just—” D’Argen cut himself off when he noticed the man that had led him from the city gate nod along. “Was there not another with me? A little shorter than me? Brown hair? Honey eyes?”
The mortal shook his head and he looked afraid.
Vrianna’s scent strengthened, and the man’s expression softened. She leaned in to whisper something to him as well and he walked off with a smile.
“Are you alright?” Vrianna asked him when they were alone.
“I… I don’t know. I could’ve sworn… I’ve been—I’ve been with Haur for the past few days.”
“D’Argen. Haur left his realm long ago. He was one of the first to die when the demons rose.”
The words made D’Argen’s entire world spin. A sudden dizziness overtook him, and he lost balance, everything whiting out then turning solid black. When he could focus on the gold bands around Vrianna’s thick wrists, he realized he was sitting down.
“What happened?” he asked.
“I was just about to ask you the same thing. You were speaking of Haur and then suddenly you collapsed. Are you alright? You have been out there for too long. You should—”
“Is it true?” he interrupted her, desperation coating his words. “Did Haur really leave us?”
Vrianna frowned and then nodded slowly. “He was with Tassikar and a few others. I could have sworn you knew, D’Argen. I am so sorry that—”
“And I came alone?” he interrupted her. Then his eyes started scanning the hall again, looking for the white shade that he had almost forgotten had been haunting him for over three millennia. A flash of white had him on his feet so fast that he knocked Vrianna over.
“Sorry. Sorry! One moment!” he called to her in a rush and then ran over to the hallway where the cloth disappeared. When he entered, it was to see a tall figure dressed in white stopped with its back to him.
Then D’Argen remembered Thar. He remembered finally catching his name and keeping it, talking to Thar when he was alone, and aware that nobody else could see him. He remembered Thar fighting beside him and killing demons.
Vrianna ran into the hall right beside him, out of breath from those few short steps.
“D’Argen, what happened? Oh. And who is your friend here?” she asked.
D’Argen remembered that the demons had tried to dodge Thar’s sword but could not. He remembered that they all saw him.
Thar had his large sword beside him and Vrianna was smiling at him. D’Argen drew his own sword and jumped to stand beside Thar, pointing the blade at Vrianna.
“D’Argen?” she asked. She sounded so real.
“What is this?” he questioned, afraid to hear the answer.
Vrianna’s face did not change at all, but D’Argen felt a weight inside him settle. Then it tugged and punched. It clawed and it stung. D’Argen dropped his sword with a gasp and touched his chest. His mahee was hurting. The squeeze and stab he felt was the same as when Lilian died in his arms. It was the same when Lilian drove D’Argen’s sword through his chest.
Then it became more. And more. And more.
D’Argen collapsed on his knees with a scream. He reached for Thar, even knowing that he could not touch him. But then he felt cloth under his fingers, and he squeezed tight just as his mahee squeezed even tighter.
Vrianna disappeared from in front of him, a mirage that turned into heat lines, leaving her smile for last.
Thar crouched beside him and D’Argen felt the man’s cold hands cradle his face. They were so comforting. Especially when his mahee started burning and breaking and tearing itself apart.
The mansion walls around him faded away like Vrianna had. Then the city streets and the walls beyond that. Then the ground and the sky until there was nothing at all except white, white, and more white. Only the black rings in Thar’s eyes kept him anchored as he clung to the man and let the pain of hundreds of the gods dying wash through him.