BEGINNING OF BOOK 2: INCARNATE

Khiat knelt in the quiet sands, the only sound the faint creaking of her half-drawn bow. It was too early in the fading dusk for her to use her full range of motion, but the heavy limbs of the weapon meant that wasn’t an issue. Besides, she wasn’t facing a terrible monster that’d rip her limb from limb. This was a simple hunt to feed her village. Her only plan if encountering something dangerous was to run or hide.

The deserts of Aughal were harsh, though not impossible to subsist in. The city itself could make for comfortable living if you had the means. If not, you’d find yourself surviving out in the handful of villages scattered around the capital, which shared its name with the region. It was simple living. Dangerous, when the hunters didn’t handle a monster in time. Hard, when the sparse fauna those without classes could hunt migrated away. Lonely, after years spent with the same hundred odd people.

Khiat didn’t have much to do but wait and think, and there wasn’t much to think about aside from her short life. She’d been alive for eight years and could reasonably remember five of them. How many people had she seen, ever? Under a thousand for sure. Making the trek to Aughal would change that in an instant. It was only a few days away if she traveled carefully. It was even visible on the horizon after the sun had gone down.

That was all good but Khiat couldn’t be spared. She was talented with her bow and people needed to eat. Precious little could be farmed here. It wasn’t as if her village wasn’t grateful. Hlona, the old one who sat by the fires even on warm nights, would smile every time she walked by. A few went so far as to call her a prodigy when they thought she wasn’t there. That was fitting. Khiat wasn’t one for self-aggrandizement, but she couldn’t deny a simple fact. She could still advance and she was on the cusp of getting a class.

Which one did she want? That was the talk of the village, source of much unsolicited advice, and, she was sure, a small betting pool. There wasn’t much to wager, but her people would find something. Her mouth didn’t move, though she smiled inside. Then, she let go.

The arrow’s path had been set an hour ago, Khiat remaining motionless and concealed against the terrain. Hunting was simple in that regard. All she had to do was wait for something to cross or get close enough to that line. When it did, she drew the rest of the way on the bowstring and made final adjustments. She’d gotten good enough to only need to move a few centimeters, which had taken recognizing how her quarry moved around the dunes.

The long-necked sesel she aimed at didn’t have any obvious places to strike. The head was small and moved rapidly, whereas the heart was somewhere within its bulky, round body. Being off target or just unlucky would make even a good shot only wound. The arrows in her quiver would eventually kill with that, but Khiat wasn’t in a position to chase down anything.

Targeting the head was difficult, but the neck was a different matter. The creature wouldn’t die immediately from being struck there, though it wouldn’t get far. Khiat’s target was hit at the base of the neck, causing a spray of blood to erupt from the high-pressure vessels within. The others in its pack were cowardly and ran. The stricken sesel tried to follow, made it a few meters, and fell when the deprivation of blood to its head finished it off.

Khiat slowly rose and replaced the bow onto her back. A human might have had sores or even muscle damage from staying in the same pose for so long. She didn’t have an issue with it, none of her kind did. All she felt was fading discomfort. The wood of the bow made a slight rasping sound as she replaced it on her back and it made contact with her chitin.

“Hrsh.” Khiat made a loud shushing sound in triumph. The largest of the prey had wandered into her sights. The head wasn’t of much use so she tore it off dispassionately, long over squeamishness about such things. Then, she lifted the creature twice her current size without much issue. Khiat was a desert dweller, used to a life of struggle. Her attributes had been improved through the grace of the Octyrrum. Her race was also fiercely strong at baseline, so that helped.

“Still an hour,” she commented evenly, looking at the sun setting in the distance. “It would be nice to run. Ah well.” Khiat shuffled across, up, and down the desert sands. She wasn’t too far away from her village, maybe a kilometer, but it would take her half an hour to travel that distance.

In that time, she thought again of what class she might want. Also, if there was anyone in the village she was truly interested in. Being the talk of the town brought attention, but that made it hard to honestly evaluate potential suitors. That there were only five in the village suitable for her didn’t help. She swore to herself she wasn’t that kind of person, but she’d have a class soon. Could she do better?

Not with dried blood running down her back! Khiat shivered slightly in disgust as she felt the prey she was carrying, Ugh, leak because she hadn’t been careful in how she was carrying it. The red would stand out on her carapace even after it dried, too dark a brown against her lighter sand-like complexion.

…

Duststone Oasis was nothing to look at. Most of the structures were underground, and they had to be. There were a couple of surface buildings, including a squat tower that rose just above the highest dune. From that height you could just see across the vast desert and find Aughal in the distance. Or, what was more pressing to the villagers, any monsters bounding down on them.

The villagers could escape most attacks by just collapsing the entrances to their home, though monsters that could dig were a problem as were any powerful enough to cave in the dugout spaces through their presence alone. For those threats, there were those formally called monster hunters. Employed by Aughal and under the auspice of their Commander, they stood apart from both the churches and the city guard as a formal organization.

Protection of the outlying villages was the responsibility of the capital. Every life empowered the region, and thus the kingdom, and thus the Realm, and thus Hammer, and thus the Octyrrum. Their lives were important, if not individually then en masse to help push back against the Crest. That was what the village taught its young.

Khiat had another thought that bloomed from hours spent watching monsters move across the dunes. These small villages all ringed the capital. Sure, their presence enriched the region, but they also made for an early warning system if something truly terrible spawned and went unnoticed for too long. That was a touch cynical, and Khiat liked the thought that she’d glimpsed an underside of the world others were ignorant of.

Ok, maybe I’m a little proud of myself. She trekked down the last dune, clawed feet able to dig into the sand and provide her stability. Only a few people were out this close to night, the rest would wake soon. Hwtel, one of the other youths of the tribe, was standing by the waters their village was built around. He appeared by all accounts frozen in place, though she could tell he was awake. Is he waiting for me? Oh.

Like an enchanted statue coming to life, Hwtel began to move towards her as she navigated the dune. His voice traveled far faster than either of them. “Khiat! It is good to see you, just as hard as it is to under that massive thing!”

“Don’t tell me you’re up this early for me?” Khiat asked in a higher pitch than normal, before wincing internally. The attention is getting to me.

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Hwtel laughed. “The elders do say to start each dusk with a beautiful sight!”

“They mean the sun. But, thank you.”

“You hunt well. Are you thinking of becoming a Ranger?”

“Rangers aren’t the only ones who can hunt,” she answered teasingly.

Hwtel rolled his neck in mock exasperation, being careful during the motion to not expose the flesh underneath the carapace. “Oh, give me something I can work with!”

“I don’t see why it would matter. Father says you don’t always get the class you want.”

“I heard he hasn’t even advanced. At all! What does he know?” Hwtel challenged, then appeared to regret his boldness. “I, I mean, I’m sure you can be whatever you want to be.”

“Is that right?” She appraised Hwtel with an eye practiced to seek out trends and vulnerabilities, in addition to taking account of his attractiveness. Average by their standards on the latter, which translated to one of the more handsome in the village. No cracks or discolorations in his shell, and even she couldn't claim that herself because of the blood. “What would I get out of this?

“Well-”

A shout from the watchtower cut him off. Vtidi, twenty years of age and trusted for five to watch during the day. He’d gotten his wisdom to nine before hitting his wall, no doubt a crushing disappointment to come so close and fall short. However, he could tolerate the slight pain that came from sitting in the sun while in armor, and there was no one else who wanted to be awake during the day. It was an important enough position that someone needed to do it, and everyone was thankful to have a regular. Seeing a threat in the distance, versus one over the next dune, made the difference between waking up the village before an attack and not having any time to react.

In this case, it would've been hard to miss what was coming as it approached by air. Khiat herself saw the figure in the distance after the warning went out. The denizens of Duststone Oasis came to life in a panic as the cry echoed out across the desert.

“Wyvern! Bows! Bows!” Vtidi’s cry roused late sleepers and galvanized those already awake. More importantly, it told the village what was needed for defense, and who could prepare to barricade homes in the worst case. Khiat was already prepared, thrusting her prey onto the fully terrified Hwtel so she could draw her bow. The brace of arrows at her side was nearly full. She’d only needed one shot before, but now?

She was afraid. Monsters had come close to their village before, drawn by the source of water. Weaker ones they’d driven off, stronger ones they’d hidden from. This threat was something else. It could fly, and it was large. Almost half as long as Vtidi’s tower was tall, and there were sparks cast across parts of its body.

Could it be a dragon? She froze in terror then, bow halfway drawn. The reputation of those beasts carried well across mortal lands, even to isolated villages. People still talked about a sand dragon that had spawned in Aughal years ago, though that had been before she was born. Khiat, still frozen, observed the beast and wondered if the time had come for another to appear. Did dragons have two or four legs? Khiat couldn’t remember. It was too big. How had no one detected it? This wasn’t supposed to happen. Why hadn’t someone warned them?

“Khiat!” Hwtel had dropped the sesel rather than bear its weight while running for his life. At least he’s sensible, she thought numbly. Then she shook slightly as her body pushed against the armored shell surrounding it. It’d be too soon, the slight sting of the setting sun told her that plainly. “We can’t fight that, not before night!”

She reached for an arrow, still with the intent of firing her bow. Size or not, the right shot in the right place could kill anything! Right? Khiat held the arrow in her hand for a few seconds and let it fall back into the quiver. She couldn’t do it. Dropping her bow, she moved as fast as she could towards one of the small tents around the village. She couldn’t die before she got her class. She was so close. Not now.

Another of her people, Mvina, was holding the entrance to the subterranean abode open for the few who’d been out to flee to. “Hurry! Get below! You?” Khiat shifted with guilt but did not stop her flight. The woman of the house looked close to chastising her until she saw what was in the sky. “Vtidi! Get down now!”

The old man plucked an arrow from a nearby rack, though this one had an arrowhead only made of regular stone. Khiat carried a good portion of the village’s ancestral arrows, and she was taking them with her in her cowardice. “I will buy time! Get down and collapse the passages!”

Mvina called back up to him in a warning voice. “Not until you are down here!”

Khiat heard Vtidi’s response, and the loud crack of his bow, before she was in the tent and under the sand. Care had been taken to make these homes, hardening the earth so the terrain wouldn’t flow into any pocket they formed. By the same token, knocking out a few supports on the way would make it very difficult for anything that couldn’t dig to get down to them.

Neither she nor Hwtel dislodged the beams they passed. Mvina was still above, as was her husband. Khiat had forgotten. How could she have forgotten? He was standing up to that monster while she was taking shelter in his home! How had the Octyrrum given her its favor over Vtidi?

The room she came to at the bottom of the shaft was a rough dome four meters tall in the center, with smaller spaces branching off this point. Despite the safety this setup provided, it had disadvantages. Cooking fires were only possible near the entrance, and not many chose to start one there. The addition of rooms for a growing family was likewise problematic.

Vtidi and Mvina had three children, young enough to need close watching. With four side rooms and two needed for purposes other than sleeping, compromises had to be made somewhere. That was life on the fringes. As two came rushing out from one room, Khiat remembered herself and stood to her full height.

“Who’re they?” the youngest asked, not stepping through the door frame once he realized there were visitors. He, someone Khiat couldn’t remember the name of at the moment, wasn’t old enough to be able to protect against the sun and was closely watched by Mvina during the day. If not for the current situation, she’d be with him now.

The eldest child who Khiat did know as Tmok recognized her in kind. “Khiat?

“Alright, it’s ok, just stay calm,” Hwtel told them, trying and failing to project ease. Now at a full height of over two meters, he beckoned to the one not in the central chamber. “Come. It will be alright.”

Khiat knew what he was doing. In the worst case, this room would be the last to cave in. How long was it until true night? Damn it, I should know! How can I not know? She looked at her hands as it fully dawned on her that she’d dropped her bow. The very precious, very expensive bow made by a Craftsman to sustain a draw weight far beyond what the other mortal races needed. All of that investment by her village and she was in here, hiding with children!

“I need to go back,” Khiat said while Tmok and his sister were coaxing the third out. “Stay here.”

“Khiat, that’s crazy. Stay here with me, with, uh, with us.” Hwtel stumbled over his words. She did want to stay. Not for that reason, but the thought of what waited above.

I don’t have to fight it, just get my bow. It wasn’t too far, was it?

“Khiat!” he shouted after her, but she was moving more quickly now. Out from under the sun, she could make full use of her dexterity. Hwtel didn’t follow her as she charged up the incline, shrunk down as fast as she could, and made it to the tent.

Mvina was standing at the inner flap, almost unmoved from where she’d stood before. “I need to get my bow. Is it out there?” The older woman looked at her, the separated plates of her face turned down to accentuate the frown. Oh no.

“It flew away.” Instead of relief, Mvina sounded as if she’d found a hole in her roof.

The tone gave Khiat’s panicked thoughts pause. “It what?”

“That old shell brain should have thought of it before sounding the alarm. My stars, but really. Bothering the whole village for that.”

“What?” Khiat could only stare into the open sky, free of any threat of imminent death.

“That monster isn’t from this region. Some idiot of a foreign Beastmaster must have let it run free. Hesh, but I admit it was a kind of excitement.”

“Is everyone ok?”

“Oh don’t worry yourself, girl. The worst that came out of it is our breakfast being a bit sandy. Do pick up your litter dear.”

“Oh, yes. Apologies.” Khiat had the same sinking feeling. Not from regret or cowardice, but from foolishness. How proud she’d been of the refinement of her hunting technique. On the way back to the village, she’d seen herself as already halfway to being a decent monster hunter. Not only had she run just after being confronted with a real threat, but she hadn’t been smart enough to realize its true nature.

Khiat attended her bow first, taking the composite of wood and metal into her arms and brushing off the sand. The sesel she didn’t bother with. Others would clean the kill. She was walking toward them when an almost out of breath Vtidi gave another warning cry.

“The road! The road to the east!”

“Vtidi, if this is another false alarm I swear I will throw you from that tower,” someone shouted back on the opposite side of the oasis.

“A caravan! No threat, I hope. Dozens of people. Maybe a hundred.”

A caravan, moving this late? Khiat saw now there were only a few minutes to darkness. The shadows of the dunes were deep enough that she could fully emerge without fear in their lowest points. What a relief. Well, they probably wouldn’t be trouble. Even if these were bandits or the Mirage posing as a friendly convoy, they’d need at least a few Blessed with combat classes to overrun the village. Only fools attacked duskers at night.