The cart was dark and dingy. The floor beneath the prisoners’ feet was caked in soot and dirt. It reeked a foul stench which I could only imagine was a mix between B.O, urine, and sweat—perhaps even blood. The men inside, well, they were no better than the cage itself. All of them were beaten, worn, and malnourished. Some appeared to barely be clinging to life—their faces complete with sunken eyes, bruises and gashes. Tattered clothing—some even no clothing. When I arrived at the door to the cage, their shackles rattled—they all looked at me, but said nothing. The look in their eyes spoke a thousand words, all of them were synonymous with the word “hopeless”.
I would be lying if I said I wasn’t taken aback. I never imagined that I would find a group of people in this world who were worse off than I was. But here they were, staring directly at me.
I lifted my arm to shield myself from the blowing sand, and spoke loudly and clearly over the rushing wind. “I don’t know who you people are. Whether you’re criminals, prisoners, slaves. It doesn’t matter to me. I offer you freedom on one condition. You must be able to tell me where the ruler of this land is. Anyone who knows this, speak now, and I will release you.”
“Release us he says!” one of the prisoners snickered. “You release us to our deaths? We’re in the middle of the desert!”
“The cart and all of its provisions will be yours to take whatever direction you want. Leave the guard to me.”
The captives passed around glances, while others flat out ignored me. I wondered if they feared that I was attempting to lure them into some kind of trap, or maybe doubted my ability to set them free from their chains. I started to reconsider how I could persuade them…
“I know.” I heard a female voice coming from the back of the prison cart, accompanied by a small raised hand. The hand was all I saw, the rest of their body was hidden behind another captive.
“You know what?” I asked.
“I can lead you to the Pharaoh. That is the person you seek,” the feminine voice responded.
There were no other takers. Every other captive sat quietly on the benches, staring away. The woman kept her hand steady, peeking above the heads of the other prisoners.
I straightened, “I need you to understand. If you mislead me, I’ll kill you.”
The voice fell silent for a few moments.
“Understood.”
They were pretty agreeable, I had a feeling that what they were telling me was sincere. Not that how I felt really mattered, I didn’t really have many other options.
I stepped back from the cart and summoned the Windchaser.
“...Alright.”
I looked toward the prisoners in the cart—their eyes stared cautiously back at me, “You’ll want to cover yourself,” I said. One-by-one they all ducked, shielding their faces in their forearms. “Airstrike Slash,” with one swoop, the cage door shattered in half and fell, clattering against the hot desert sand.
A few groans and mumbles rose from the cabin of prisoners as I pulled myself into the cell, shuffling my way to the back where I last saw the woman’s hand. Only thing was, it wasn’t a woman at all.
I found myself staring at a little boy—or a little girl. Honestly, it was hard for me to tell with confidence. It didn’t help given the fact that he wasn’t exactly human. He had an ambiguous figure that bordered between a common male and female. He was small in stature, with small delicate hands and a flat torso. His head was completely hairless, except for his long eyelashes. He had no eyebrows, there wasn’t a strand of hair to be found on any other part of his body that I could see. He stared up at me with big, glowing yellow eyes—his pupils were slightly elongated, like a mix between a lizard and a human. His body was covered head to toe in scales that took on slightly differing hues of turquoise and dark green. And his clothes, well, they could hardly pass as clothes—more like loose fitting torn rags that he must have scavenged from the dumpster.
“Are you the one who called me?”
He nodded carefully.
I had trouble interpreting what exactly I was looking at. He looked like a humanoid lizard. His face and body looked just like a human, but the scales on his body and his eyes threw me off. Embarrassingly, I kind of just stood there staring at him for a while. He was sorely out of place among the rest of the human prisoners. I wondered if there were more people like him in this dream.
“My name is Daymond. What’s yours?”
The boy sat up, maintaining direct eye contact with me. It looked like he was studying me just as much as I was studying him. “My name is Shua.”
I wanted so badly to blurt out and ask him what the hell he was. But the shackles around his wrists and ankles interested me a little more. The prisoners around him wore dark gray shackles, but his were a vibrant fluorescent green. The color on them seemed to flow and ripple like moving waves. As if he didn’t already stand out enough.
“Why are your shackles glowing,” I asked.
Shua lifted the chains to eye level, “These shackles are specifically designed to nullify the mana within magic users.”
I rocked back, “...Magic users?”
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“You can really use magic? What type of magic?”
“I can use many different types. I’m a zelphyr, my people are known for their magical capabilities.”
“Then how come you’re still locked up in here?”
“I just told you, these shackles absorb my mana.”
I paused. There was that word again… mana. That was the same stuff that Luxian said was put on the Windchaser.
“So is ‘mana’ something that allows you to use your magic or something?”
Shua looked at me as if I had my dick in a jelly sandwich, “Yes, in simple terms…” he said snarkily.
I scrunched my eyebrows. Something about his soft voice but condescending attitude was already starting to rub me wrong. I considered leaving him and trying to find my way to Kingsley some other way, but if he truly was able to tell me the information I needed, I might as well take it instead of wasting more time.
“You said that you know where the pharaoh is and how to get to him, right?”
Shua nodded.
“Then where is he then?”
Shua lifted his thin arm and stretched it out across the man beside him. Pointing directly at the coffee shop. “He’s in there.”
I waited for him to say he was joking, or at least look guilty, or do anything to indicate that he had just told a bold face lie. But no such moment came. I was usually very good at being able to tell when somebody wasn’t being truthful with me. Most people have tells. Not Shua. His face was dead serious.
I wiped a bead of sweat running down my forehead and my eyes darted back to him. “I can tell you’re serious. But how in the hell could he be in that coffee shop! I’ve been sitting in that place for almost four hours and never saw him once.”
“His presence is sealed away in a room underground.”
“So… you’re telling the pharaoh of this world is hiding away in a room downstairs, in a coffee shop, unguarded?”
“Incorrect. He most definitely is guarded. The barista of the shop is actually one of his top ranking common guards.”
My mind quickly flashed back to that kind looking girl in the coffee shop. Handing out lattes in her black visor and apron, greeting every customer with her radiant smile.
“Oh, you gotta be fucking kidding me!” I slammed my hands against my head and scratched feverishly, if my hair was a bit longer, I would have probably been pulling it out.
“So Kingsley just wants to find every which way that he can fuck with me, is that it?”
“I know that it sounds bizarre, but I would not lie to you,” Shua stared at me, a stern look filling his eyes. “If you don’t mind me asking, why is it you wish to see the pharaoh?”
I stopped for a moment lowering my hands, “That isn’t any of your business. Is it?”
“It may just be. I wish to see the pharaoh too.” A look of anger flickered across his features, “I wish to kill the pharaoh, can I assume that you have a similar goal?”
My mouth nearly fell open. This little boy wasn’t just abnormal, he also had no hesitation present in his desire for death. I had never before come across a manifestation that wished to kill its own ruler, although I wouldn’t claim it was impossible…
The rest of his cellmates looked at eachother—and the murmuring around the cart grew louder. None of it seemed to be out of any concern for the pharaoh—if anything, their expressions indicated to me that they felt they were hearing the misguided ramblings of an optimistic madman.
Shua didn’t care much for the chatter, he lifted up the glowing chains which bound him, “I told you where to find the pharaoh. Will you release me now?”
The answer had been right below me for the past four hours. But regardless, the information he gave me was a step closer. The putrid smell of the cell was burning my nostrils, I really didn’t have the stomach to stand in there and hammer out more of the details. So using the blade of my knife, I pried open the shackles as quickly as I could manage, and hopped out from the opening, intending to make quick strides back to the cafe entrance.
I didn’t get far before Shua's voice broke through the blowing wind, “Sir! That blade that you have. I’ve never seen one able to slice through solid iron. Do you mind telling me from which land you obtained such a weapon?”
Shua hopped down from the open cart behind me—his rags fighting to stay attached to his body against the force of the desert wind. I glanced back at him with a tinge of annoyance. Even for a lizard kid, he was a very small, odd looking creature. His head barely reached the height of my chest, and he looked like he was no more than 90 pounds, maybe 80.
“Yes, I do mind,” I snapped.
“In any case, please allow me to accompany you. I feel it would be in both of our best interests if we worked together.”
“Really? My best interest?”
“Indeed. I come from an ancient lineage of demihumans which descended from dragons. Where I’m from, the magic we are able to conjure is unprecedented compared to any other race. In order to gain your trust, I will remain truthful with you—by that, I swear. I am quite young—and regrettably, without my staff I am unable to conjure advanced spells. But my elementary spells should still be able to accelerate your mission.”
“Why the fuck do you talk like that?”
Shua tilted his head slightly, “Erm… talk like what?”
“Every time I listen to you talk it reminds me of my stuck up professors back at college. How old are you anyway?”
Shua’s cheeks flushed with red. “Well… Based on this world’s standards, I’m probably somewhere around 12 years old.”
“I get that you're a little kid, but there’s no need to overcompensate by talking like a pretentious noble.”
Shua tensed, “I have no idea what you mean! This is simply how I speak normally! I am speaking English, aren’t I?”
“If you say so…”
“What?!”
“Anyway, you said you can still use… elementary magic, right? Go ahead and show me.”
Shua swiveled his head, looking at the desert land that surrounded us, “On what?”
“Huh?”
“What should I use my magic on?”
“Oh,” I looked around haphazardly and pointed in the direction of a small hill, “Use it on the sand over there.”
“...Alright,” Shua lifted his hand, an aura of light surrounding him, “Fire from the great dragons of long past, deliver to me a great inferno to unleash upon my enemies, and strike!”
A beam of light lasered from his palm and whistled through the air towards the mound of sand, exploding it to individual falling grains in milliseconds with a thunderous boom that could be heard clearly, even from 30 yards away.
A smile tugged at my lips, “Gotta admit, that’s pretty impressive. But do you really have to say all that other stuff before you use the spell?”
“Yes, unfortunately. I’m still in training as a mage, so I’m not powerful enough to use incantationless spells yet, even for elementary magic.”
I quietly nodded along and pretended to know exactly what he was talking about. The entrance to the coffee shop suddenly slammed open.
The guard of the prison cart stumbled out in obvious disarray, fumbling to keep his hat secured to his head, “WHAT THE HELL?!”