From the darkness of his cell, his knees crunched the rancid dirt coating the stone floor below. To the never-ending darkness of the void, where rancid rot and his own sour stink faded away with everything else into the nothingness.
Mazin rose from his meditative pose and dusted his knees instinctually. He blinked and saw nothing. The whispers of the void swirled before focusing behind him to form the dark Bagha.
Darker than the darkness of the void, with streaks of silver lightning. It blinked its fiery red eyes down at him.
“An unending mist cloaks the town. Your friends remain close to it just to keep it in their sights, risking discovery by the blind fools patrolling its borders.”
“You make it seem as if the town moves.” Mazin struggled with his reply as it tore through his forehead.
“Perhaps the illusion is that powerful. Your manor is in the southernmost area of where the population lives. There are strange abandoned homes to the south of it, where scattered drunkards roam. That is where you make your escape.”
“What about the people who live in the town?”
“They are not of our concern.”
The void rumbled before his complaint formed.
“Tell me of the interior. What have you discovered?”
Mazin contorted his face at the dark Bagha.
“You walk before you crawl, yet forget you can run?”
The dark Bagha’s disdain was a humid gust of stifling heat. It reminded him of the heatwaves during Bil’Faridh’s worst summers.
“Prepare, the night of your freedom nears. Your Tamers are eager to oust you.”
“Wait.”
The dark Bagha was gone, and the whispers returned.
He collapsed onto the ground. Mazin crossed his legs while his mind swam with the beast’s words. Once, an empty mind aided his escape of the void. Now his familiarity with the eternal darkness made departing as easy as flexing a muscle.
The beast was careful with its trust, since he had no idea on how to rid himself of the poison. There was a reluctance on what it said to him.
Mazin blinked once more at the dim rankness of his cell. Mei’s handiwork recently provided him a fresh pair of pants. It itched when he first wore it. He hadn’t the heart to mention tightness in odd places, or the uneven sleeves. Only gratitude escaped his lips whenever she arrived with fresh linens and wools.
His empty tray of bland food to break his fast was gone from the front of his cell, and his mind focused on Mei’s arrival. The dark Bagha’s words rushed through his mind alongside, and he shivered after a gust whistled into the dungeon.
He splashed his face with the remnants of his drinking water and scrubbed his oily, knotted curls with his long nails. While his mind fortified itself with questions.
They hadn’t spoken of serious matters since he let loose about Zaki. She didn’t pry either, as was her habit. Their chats remained uneventful mostly. She pushed him for more heroes. Mei’s curiosity about the Lion Clan was endearing, and his fears of her potential hidden agenda were long gone within an hour of describing Sinh’Chattaan to her. At least what he had read of the city himself, and Ma’s descriptions.
From Horus' Shield to the three pyramids in the upper city, her attention stayed constant. She mentioned a song she learned, of unknown origins, by some woman who sang it to her, about a boy from Sinh’Chattaan. Though when he pushed on her singing it, and the woman who taught her, Mei shut herself off.
He almost feared she wouldn’t return the next evening, until she did, enquiring on Imhotep the Black, after he mentioned the old pharaoh. Mazin spoke of the power wielded from stories he read, for that was all he had. Once again, Mei’s attention never left him.
The door creaked as keys jingled on the other side. Mei wore a grey furred cloak and strode with confidence, without the previous limp. Her perfume was of plain soap, still enjoyable.
Mei beamed at him when her torch aided eyes made him out in the darkness. She lit the fresh torch in the sconce, and another scent rushed through his nostrils while she dragged her chair closer. Something bitter, something sour, something to water his tongue.
“You wouldn’t be carrying a flask, would you?” Mazin asked, unable to mask his craving. The wine the Bannerless gave him didn’t last and was diluted by water.
“Ah, that Tamer’s nose,” she chuckled after a fearful pause. She sat down and straightened her cloak before digging into her pants to produce the sloshing leather flask. “I hope you don’t mind. There was only one way to sneak it in.”
Mazin hoped he didn’t appear too greedy when he snatched the flask from her cool fingers. Half of the bitter sweetness soothed his throat when he lowered the flask. If it wasn’t for her raised eyebrow, shame wouldn’t have ravaged him.
“I’m sorry, it… has been some time since.”
“No, there’s no need. I can’t imagine my behaviour would differ if they denied me half the things they provide.”
Mazin couldn’t lift his gaze despite her words, but he raised the flask back towards her.
“Do you want some?”
“No, thank you. Consider it a gift, of sorts. Actually, I was hoping to buy an explanation, further elaboration on someone you mentioned before, Jian the Dark.”
Mazin frowned, lifting his eyes at her curiosity. She drummed her thighs with eager hands.
“But you know the Lion and the Tiger?”
“Yes, hence I ask for elaboration. His name carries, especially amongst the Tigers here.”
“What I know is before myself, and tales waft occasionally from district to district in the capital. It is said Jian was the greatest of warriors, and one of the emperor’s most loyal swords. A master Tamer who could muster the entire Dhaar Province with a single word if he wished. While possessing the strength of the entire Dhaar himself, eliminating the Bannerless heads was a trivial matter.”
“When the emperor mustered the full strength of the Tigers to start the war, it was because of Jian’s support. When he realised the errors of his choice, Jian the Dark exiled himself, taking more than half of the emperor’s strength as well, but the emperor still fights.”
“Why?”
“What?” Mazin jumped.
“Why does the emperor fight? Why did he start the civil war?”
“I… I am not entirely sure. They say the man is mad, so who is to say,” Mazin didn’t need a scent to know Mei was uncomfortable. “I’ve heard it said he blames my, the Lions, for his wife’s murder in the capital.”
“I’ve heard it said the Lions caused his madness, then again my ears are never around trustworthy lips.”
“I was born into it, learned that Tigers have been our rivals for centuries. Conflicts are common between our clans.” Mazin scrambled, hoping to slow her sliding mood.
He never considered how a Tiger would take a Lion’s opinion on the war, for he never spoke to Tigers until a few weeks ago. To call their emperor mad without thinking, Mei might have been a prisoner amongst the Bannerless nearly all her life, yet she was still a Tiger.
“Other than the odd skirmish along the borders of the provinces, there has been little fighting. The clans haven’t met in the field since I was born. To call it a civil war still seems an exaggeration.”
Mei grunted, and he lost her attention for a moment. He bit his tongue, sparing her from his next words. Her eyes wandered while he watched her clenched fists loosen.
“I never asked, why were you traveling north?”
“To bond.”
Mei turned towards him with a warmer expression. Confusion danced in her beauty. Her eyebrow rose as the silence lingered between them.
“Oh, to bond with my Tamed Sinha.”
Her expression remained unchanged.
“You are asking me to explain why we breathe.”
Mei laughed and washed away the tension between them.
“Were your companions prospective Tamers as well?”
“No.”
“It seems strange to send hundreds of Tamers north to bond. Wouldn’t it be simpler for the beasts to come to you?”
“They do. Only dark Tamers travel north.”
“Oh, dear Mazin, perhaps we should have started at the beginning of this Tamer business.”
Her lip nibbling quivered his heart.
“I cannot speak for all clans, but Lions travel north to bond. The capital is not fond of dark beasts, and with the demise of Pharaoh Heydar to a dark Sinha, you can imagine the Lion Clan’s own animosity.”
“That seems odd,” Mei muttered, and her gaze lingered on his ruby eye when she thought he wouldn’t notice.
“Everyone fears the dark.”
Mazin bumped his knotted curls against the wall, watching the shut door at the other end of the dungeon. The torch upon the sconce was dead, and his supper had long gone. His entire body resisted sleep.
His palms tingled on his lap, and no amount of gentle caressing eased the discomfort. He didn’t like how it coincided with the return of squeaking. Rats peeked their beady eyes through the cavernous cracks in the walls. Their fear rancid to his nostrils.
Their greedy screeches tested, and few dared to crawl out of their caves. He watched them investigate each cell, carrying their stink nearby. The vermin quietened as they edged closer, eyeing him.
Mazin stilled his boredom and watched. His hands prickled with memory. Perhaps they plotted their revenge. He snorted at himself.
He clenched his fists, and the rodent horde stilled their approach. Their eyes sparkled in the darkness. His palms tingled; attention fixed on the rodent horde even as theirs shifted towards his left. Mazin’s mismatched eyes remained glued on them as his fine hairs rose.
The darkness deepened in the cell to his left, forcing the horde back. He caught a flash of silver in his periphery and turned to face the dark Bagha emerging from the blackened cloud. A gargantuan figure, streaked by slashes of silver lightning, growled at the gathered vermin. It snapped and bared its knives for fangs, scattering the rats into their holes.
“You are earlier than expected,” Mazin said.
“You have given in on the brink of freedom.”
Mazin’s energy surged. He sat up, almost snapping his neck off, turning towards the red-eyed dark Bagha.
“When, now?”
“The next night, there is still the matter of educating you on your escape.”
He was already on his haunches, squatting life into his legs.
“When they return after your night meal, I will cause a distraction for you. I hope you have not neglected your strength. There is a room filled with treasures in the passageway beyond. Perhaps your sword is within.”
Mazin’s hand jerked after a jolt surged through it. He forced it behind his back. Wracked with guilt. Not once had his thoughts fallen upon his khopesh. The gift from Ma, an expensive one.
His hands snatched at non-existent pockets, forgetting about King’s thievery.
“Is that it then?”
The dark Bagha grunted at him, blowing warm disappointment onto his face.
“Cling to my tail until we depart. I will make noise while you journey south, behind the manor. Make for the towering roof tiled homes better suited to the Boor Province. There are never more than drunkards and vagabonds about. Beyond the border wall wrapped in vines awaits the Tamers beside the tunnel for your escape.”
“Tunnel?”
“It was the only method that pierced the illusion around this town.”
Mazin wished to speak of Mei, to inform the beast of his plans to free her, but the words refused to claw their way out of his throat. The fine hairs on his body stood upright once more, but his voice was too late to stop the dark Bagha from vanishing in another cloud of darkness.
Mei walked in with patchy pants, hugging her legs. Stained by old blotches of paint. She wore a faded cream shirt with long baggy sleeves lined with what seemed to be fur hanging off her torso. Kept together by a sleeveless cloak, just as plain, but without stains and more warmth.
Her face was bare, though not any less magnificent, with the customary stream of silky blackness flowing over her scars. The rest of her hair sat atop her head in a messy bun, holding itself together.
She cleared her throat and sat down with a sigh. Her aroma was strange, of fresh soil and grass. There was another sweet scent about her, one he couldn’t place.
“I see you’re becoming comfortable with me,” Mazin smiled.
It faded into regret when she didn’t share his humour.
Her grey gaze pierced through him, and he fumbled for an apology, averting his gaze. Then her lips stretched with mischief to wash away his panic.
“I’m glad you kept your humour. My last few visits had me worried this place finally broke you.”
“Your teasing might.”
“Ah, there he is.” Mei clapped. “I was thinking about a word you said, a title actually, if I may assume.”
You have said many things; you fool! Zaki’s admonishing voice danced through his mind, but Mazin nodded at her.
“Imhotep the Black, and Jian the Dark. Why?”
“You think them titles?”
“You certainly speak of them as if they are. I sense a theme. Do you know why?”
“No.”
“Hmm, you Tamers are disappointing.”
“Well, if you recall, I am not a Tamer yet.”
Mei sucked her teeth and grinned again, with far less mischief on her lips. She pouted, and Mazin put up no resistance.
“My guess is they are titles given because of their proficiency with dark Tamer abilities.”
“Beyond the strength and heightened senses?”
“I wish I could show you,” Mazin muttered. Mei’s head tilt loosened his tongue.
“I am often surprised by how many times I hear of this Jian. Especially amongst the Lions, if this civil war is as you say.”
“Bannerless speaking highly of a Tamer?”
“No, they speak often and violently when speaking of this Jian the Dark. Grand claims about how they wish to be the ones to bring down a great villain. I thought it would please you to know they speak of you similarly.”
“Really?” Dread filled him. “What do they say?”
“Now that I shall not speak, their sadism flowers with drink in hand. Lion this, Lion that, a desire to bathe in noble blood and worse.”
Did they let it slip?
The thought raced his heart. She seemed as she always was, not hiding any hidden revelation of him, or so he hoped. Her lack of a scent troubled him still.
“A morbid compliment, perhaps?” Mei grimaced. “Perhaps I was a fool to share it. Forgive me.”
“No, there is nothing to forgive. I expected nothing less from these… well, it is no surprise. If any of them possessed any true courage, I wouldn’t be alive.”
“I envy you.”
“How so?”
“To suffer their boastful lashings knowing that you can silence them forever if you wished to end your mercy.”
“Mercy,” Mazin snorted.
His gaze dropped when flashes of Ammon’s trickery returned to haunt him. The endless spray of blood. Mutilated corpses laid hewn on the red dyed road. Ammon’s faint stink irritated his nose.
“If you haven’t been lying this whole time.”
“Are you alone here, Mei?” Mazin asked, unable to delay his questions any longer.
Her frown was an amused one, but it quickly faded when his own seriousness lingered.
“I don’t understand Mazin.”
“What I mean to… are you their only prisoner besides myself?”
“If there are others, which I doubt, they’re kept from me.”
Mei’s fingers became restless in her lap. Her gaze lowered, avoiding him while she muttered.
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“Who stands guard, and how many before your doors?”
Mei’s nostrils flared, and her heart raced. Her chest heaved and her posture tightened. She glared at him while she trembled. He didn’t need a scent to realise her ire.
“Why do you ask?” Her question sliced at him despite being no louder than a quivering whisper.
“These details are important to know when planning an escape,”
“No!”
She screeched with shocking despair, trembling like a wet cat. Mei huffed in a panic, her eyes never leaving him, but her anger fearfully displayed.
“Mei,”
“Don’t you dare! Fuck you! Is this some trick, Witch?” She was all over the place. “Sabah spoke like this and you took her from me. I will not… No!”
“Mei what are,”
“You won’t deceive me again!”
Her eyes welled with furious tears as fear, and rage fought for control of her. Mei kept her voice low. She didn’t realise how close she stood to his cell, hands strangling the metal bars.
“She won’t let you leave, don’t let hope fill you with stupidity, or you will end up with worse than my scars.”
“Mei, they’ve come for me. I have help, let me…”
“Sabah promised me more. She had it planned, and I was stupid enough to believe her and it nearly broke me, not again.”
“Mei please,”
“No! I will scream, enough no more, not again. If you wish to die, do so without me!”
“Wait,” Mazin hissed as she stomped away.
His own panic seemed an age away. Mei was a different woman, awakened by questions, let alone a promise. Though her behaviour didn’t dampen his mood, despite his anxiety. Watching her rush away and slam the door behind her, ignoring the taunts of the mocking Bannerless on the other side, only made him more adamant he was right to free her.
Whoever she was, whatever role she played for the Bannerless, for this Witch, this Wise One, he was sure that taking her away from them would be a small step towards combating them.
Mazin couldn’t contain the adrenaline coursing through his veins. Sleep was intermittent and short, interrupting his bouts of reminding his limbs of their strength. Push ups and squats mostly. He didn’t want to risk bending the cell bars. A quick tug in the corner of his prison beside his bed and one of the metal rods bent like a twig.
He denied himself the void in his quick bursts of rest. Mei’s sudden eruption at him had the opposite effect. It awoke his dormant drive, washing away his wallowing. Then again, it could have been the dark Bagha sharing a definite date for his escape. He credited Mei more, and he intended to reward her.
For all his surging energy, time dragged forward. A torturous pace for his itching limbs. When his legs and arms bulged with returning strength, he paced all over his cramp space, stretching every threat of tightness from his body.
The rats didn’t return after the dark Bagha chased them off, yet the tingling returned to his palms. A hunger for more filling life. No amount of clenching fists and burying his fingers into his palms suppressed the ravenous want.
His first meal was little more than gruel, decorated with bruised apple slices. It smelled like oats, but every spoonful was a struggle to force down his throat. Still, all it meant was more energy.
He never paid attention more than that morning, eyeing every detail of each crudely armoured Bannerless guard bringing his food. From the shadows he studied their waists, where keys jingled their inept tune, beside sheathed weapons thudding against their thighs.
Mazin remained weak when within their vision, head bowed and arms wrapped before him.
“You finally get a taste of your freak whore?” A child-spot riddled Lion chuckled at him after retrieving the tray. His voice cracked as if the facial markings weren’t enough of a hint towards his youth. “Did you break her? She refuses to leave her quarters.”
Mazin bit his tongue when the Bannerless’ scent soured him. The bitter envy almost broke his facade.
“Don’t break your toys before you enjoy them.”
They discussed the possibilities as they strolled towards the exit, chuckling despite their failure to get a reaction from him. His back straightened when the door screeched open, after a struggle with the lock. He eyed the dimly lit passageway, searching for any detail that might aid him. The angles were against him. Then the door scraped shut.
A third voice chattered with the departing pair, but their nonsensical vulgarity lost his attention. The hours dragged again; napping proved impossible. When it came, he savoured the moments of calm he allowed himself.
With night-time approaching, he muttered his silent thanks. Mazin sat cross-legged in the centre of his cell, meditating as if he were in the void. In control of the unending supply of energy coursing through his body.
Another age passed before they returned with his supper. A bowl of boiled meat swirling in bland broth. His mind was far from the near inedible food. When he wished time would slow, it seemed to hasten, along with his heart.
After forcing the last scalding morsel down his throat, the fine hairs on his body stood upright.
“Be ready, boy, they come.” The dark Bagha’s scarlet eyes appeared from a cloud of eternal blackness.
It vanished before he cooled his mouth. The approach of boots grew louder. Mazin scrambled to his feet, almost choking in his haste to drain the water. He splashed himself with the rest, though his pungent stink lingered.
He scurried to the rear of his cell, his back glued to the wall, while he readied for the charge.
The Bannerless pair chatted about idle matters while they struggled to force the aged door ajar. His adrenaline took control as the door screeched shut, and a pair of Tigers stomped towards him, stinking of anxiety.
Their eyes were wide and searching. With one torch between them, he couldn’t imagine they saw much.
They whispered their fears to each other when they peered around the front of his cell. Their scents were overpowering, and for a moment, he hesitated. One Tiger trembled as she knelt down for his tray, with the other flashed the torch in his hand.
Do it!
Mazin glanced at the doors, waiting for the promised noise by the dark Bagha. The woman trembled when she lifted the tray, clattering the crockery atop it.
A panicked cough escaped his lips, winning startled gasps from the pair. They stilled their movement and searched the darkness, almost weeping.
Nothing.
The Bannerless pair broke their statuesque nature, despite the endless racing of their hearts. Mazin’s chest tightened at the beast’s tardiness and scrambled for an idea as he stepped out of the darkness.
They squealed, and the tray clattered to the floor. Mazin reminded himself to play meek once more. He kept his head low, gaze lower while edging closer to the cell bars.
“Where is she?” He asked.
“Who?” The woman trembled in reply.
“The girl refuses to leave her room,” the other found his courage.
No one spoke or moved, but Mazin strained his ears for a hint of the dark Bagha’s return. His lowered gaze fixed itself upon the keys on the woman’s waist.
“Why?”
“We don’t, we were not,”
The fine hairs on his neck twitched towards the right and his head darted for the door, ignoring the trailing mutterings of the Bannerless.
Mazin hesitated again when he faced his target, whose own attention had shifted towards the door after he did. Ammon’s stink mingled with their fear when he reached for the crude gorget.
She remained oblivious. He braced for the blow while turning away. Her face cracked against the cell bars after a gentle yank forward. She yelped, but was immediately silenced, after cracking bones lurched Mazin’s stomach.
The tray hit the floor and woke the other Tiger. Mazin tossed the limp Tiger into him. They crumpled into a heap, and he strained with the bars as quietly as possible.
The metal groaned as much as the conscious Bannerless guard trapped beneath his companion. A growl rumbled, then came a crash, and a stifled moan. He snapped the chain around his ankle with a grunt. Mazin yanked the bars of his cell apart next and stepped out for the first time since he awoke in it. His mind tricked him into tasting fresh air, mere steps from his cell, but the hint of metallic blood from beyond the door reminded him to hasten.
He knelt over the Bannerless woman and ruffled around for the keys, whispering his apologies and avoiding her face. The other beneath her moaned and wheezed, eyes shut but threatening to wake.
Mazin snapped a few keys until he found the right one. He swung the door off its hinges and caught it before it slammed to the ground. It was the quiet option, or so he hoped. The dark Bagha stood within the darkened passageway, with a nearby torch still radiating the warmth of its recently doused fire.
Its red gaze turned towards the first door on his left and Mazin followed, trying his best to ignore the corpse in a pool of blood. Splinters of shattered wood and the snapped legs of a stool soaked beside it.
“I will wait at the end of the passage. It is a straight walk.”
He glanced at the beast, with only its streaks of silver within the darkness giving away its silhouette.
He tested every key with more control this time, yet none of them worked. Mazin glanced down at the corpse below and spotted the open throat before snapping his head away.
No chance.
He braced his shoulder and charged, snapping the door off its hinges and denting the centre. Once more, he caught it before its crashing to the floor alerted the entire manor.
His mismatched eyes enjoyed the cramped shelves overflowing with dusty gold and jewels. The number of strengthened pieces surprised him, from shields to sheathed blades. Katanas appeared more often than most. Bastard swords and glaives, shields in many shapes. Most with worn leather straps. There were incomplete sets of armour, with gaping holes where precious jewels were dug out of and lost forever.
Mazin shook himself, waving away the floating dust before searching. Every khopesh caught his eye, but none possessed the grand ruby pommel of his own. There were few that were strengthened.
He tossed aside bracers and pauldrons, stale leathers and chiming chain mail with missing links. A strange mace with a winged head and a roaring Sinha caught his eye, before a flash of ruby made him toss it aside.
Clasping the still fresh hilt felt like a familiar hand, yet the longer his fingers stayed, the comfort tainted, and his mind threatened to flash with the memories of his last fight with it. Mazin checked the blade and found nothing off with the script strengthened steel. Other than a coating of dust, his now sheathed khopesh was unchanged.
He caressed the bulbous ruby pommel and strapped it to his waist as he darted out of the treasure room.
“Silence for our ascent.”
Mazin crouched in the darkness, up the winding stairs, close to the dark Bagha’s tail. It was a slow rise, but with every step, winter’s chill peppered his unprotected flesh. With only a thick shirt, pants, and boots that required a scrub, he braced himself for the night.
Light flickered at the top, and distant laughter echoed through the chipped passageways of the manor’s first floor. Hairline cracks decorated every arch and wall, ruining the dusty sky-blue paint. Large cracks marred the pattern of the tiles below, severing painted vine stems and snipping off petals from blooming yet faded flowers.
“Avoid the first left. There are guards loitering within. Continue through the third left until you reach the hall. We will meet again in the manor’s front garden. Do not move until I have darkened this passage. Do not fear the screams that follow. I shall draw their attention while you search for fresh air.”
“Wait, what do they guard?”
The dark Bagha was gone despite his inquiry. His mind focused on Mei the moment he heard of guards. A promise to be kept.
He watched the torches fade as the beast passed them and edged for the first archway, clinging to the shadows. Aromas of ale and sizzling meat long denied watered his tongue. An icy wind whistled through the building, hinting towards the cool freshness of escape.
“All I need is a sniff and I’m snatching the opportunity,” One guard whispered with a yawn.
“Don't think like that. The last time a fool dared to touch her, we found them inside out in the market, bloodless. If they gave the whip to you, whip, and nothing more. I doubt the Wise One would take kindly to one extra mark.”
“I thought we were all running away from fucking duty, and why were they those strange ones wrapped in black? Old Gronn told me they were Tamers,”
“That bastard has more age spots than sense. If you know what's good for you, you’d avoid them.”
They were both Jaguars, pale ones in gaudy plate armour. Their spears kept them upright, on either side of a door.
“Find yourself a pretty thing amongst our rank,” the dark-haired one continued. “Our little princess is not worth the risk.”
“I don’t know how you do it. I’ve never seen a better-looking Tiger, and I have bedded plenty.”
“Please.”
Mazin drew his blade with a patient hand while he listened. He crouched low and rounded the corner after a deep breath. They didn’t notice him entering the dimly lit passage. There was no attempt at stealth, yet they remained oblivious.
He studied them for keys as he edged closer, but the blond turned, and his eyes widened.
“Hey!”
Mazin was already on them. The spear split in two after one quick swing. He used the curve of the khopesh to steal his balance, and the blond clattered to the floor.
His grizzly partner yelled to give away his jabbing spear, not that he needed it. Mazin snatched the spear and yanked him closer, before slapping the side of his helm with the flat of his khopesh, sending him flying into the wall.
He hammered the blond with his pommel, ending his stirring. Relief came when their breathing remained healthy. His attack was loud, no thanks to their armour, but he froze and waited, listening if more would come.
A musical sound came from the other side as Mazin shattered each lock. His dry lips smiled when a vast array of perfumed oils and flowery aromas trickled into his nose. After a quick shoulder barge later, the final lock snapped, splintering the wood, but thankfully not knocking it off its hinges.
The door groaned open, revealing a homely, though cramped, room. An assortment of colours decorated the walls, each one a different shade from the other, blending together in the corners.
The bath and bed took the most space. There was a vanity table riddled with pages and open books. Beside bottles of perfume before a large round mirror. A vase filled with dead stems decorated the solitary table beside the bed, with dead petals browning around the base.
Mei lay curled in a ball atop a mattress that was long overdue a change of stuffing. Her cloth was plain but fur lined. Elegant dresses and rich silks lay strewn all around the floor, some squashed and piled in a corner close to her wooden bath.
“Get it over with!”
She spun around, creaking her bed, and glared at him with weeping rage. Bloodshot eyes, all her hair in a bun atop her head. Then she froze, and another chilly breeze whistled into her room, flickering a candle.
Mei sat up with her chest heaving and her eyes unmoved. He saw the jagged scars on her face. Black cavernous gashes that looked like claw marks the longer he stared.
She rubbed her welling eyes with disbelief, and her lips quivered. Neither of them broke the silence. A distant crash and a scream brought her to her feet, and her breathing became erratic.
“Do you have a spare cloak? There’s a nip in the air.”
Mei said nothing. Her lips quivered. She sniffed and darted for the solitary wardrobe. She produced a bag and stuffed it with many clothes. Mazin poked his head outside to check for others. The two he dealt with were still unconscious on the floor.
He turned back to watch her stuff pale feet into sturdy boots. Her heart raced. She glanced at him, then swiftly looked away. Mei loosened the silk in her hair and let it flow down free.
“Can I help?” He asked as she tied her cascading black hair into a tail behind her.
She shook her head, which was low, and handed him a dusty cloak.
“It might not fit.” he had never heard her so meek; it chilled him more than the nightly breeze.
“Thank you.”
Mazin sheathed his khopesh and forced it on. The sleeves were too short. They dug into his armpits, but it was warm. The hood fit his head, much like Mei’s. Who rushed towards her bed and produced a bracelet of black beads to stuff into a pocket.
“Let me carry it.” Mazin took her bag before she pulled it away from him. “Are you ready?”
She nodded, avoiding his gaze.
Mei struggled with the darkness left behind the wake of the dark Bagha. She stumbled and bumped into him, not to mention her bouts of whispered panic whenever a Bannerless guard heard them.
“Take my hand,” Mazin offered, and she snatched it up without quarrelling.
Her fear jerked her hand at every crash and scream of agony in the distance. Roaring and clashing steel, violence spread. The moonlit hall was close by. It was his turn for his heart to race.
“We are going to run. I will leave my arm behind. I don’t want to crush your hand… it would be best if you held on me.”
“Don’t go too fast, please.”
They edged closer to the final passageway.
Mei yelped after another crash. She whispered an apology when he glanced at her. Her eyes still avoided him.
“Are you ready?”
She nodded. Her quivering hands gripped his grimy arm, and he jogged. Half way through and the noisy violence worsened, he tasted blood in the air. Mei was already panting.
Mazin slowed when chaos exploded in the moonlit hall. Mei’s nails dug into him as a body slammed to the floor. His throat gurgled with overflowing blood pouring out. The fine hairs on his neck danced, then plummeted.
Mei cursed when they stopped, and he only moved when death took the corpse. A stink grew as the noise petered out. Moonlight flowed into the decrepit hall on the right. Here there were more cracks than wall.
The doorless opening stood a few strides away, but his eyes refused to believe it. His own panic matched Mei’s as they stepped into the open. She strangled his wrist with both hands when they stood in the dead garden. Twigs littered the stone path beside crunching leaves and withered petals.
Mazin’s eyes searched every darkened corner of the garden. Beneath the brightly lit night sky, hoping to glimpse the dark Bagha. There was nothing, not even guards, before the metal gate left ajar.
“What are we waiting for?” Mei asked.
It was deathly quiet. There was the odd light straight ahead. Leading towards the north, where grand shacks littered the road on either side.
Where are you?
“Are we meeting someone?”
Mazin sighed. Mei’s anxiety yanked him into action. The gate squealed when he opened it, and they both rushed out.
He dragged Mei east, along the vine encrusted wall around the manor. The silence was off-putting. It would reveal any sign of approach long before harm arrived, but he kept his free hand close to his khopesh.
At the corner they veered south, into deep darkness, with hardly a light amongst the tall, yet crooked buildings before them. He glanced back at the manor, surprised by the sky-blue beauty of its exterior walls, with healthy green vines wrapping around it. Moss stained the roof tiles.
“Why are we going this way? There’s nothing here but… but the…” Mei whispered, and his eyes took stock of the strange western buildings ahead.
“The worst stay here Mazin, you might need to…”
The stink of death was overwhelming. He didn’t expect more corpses. He counted three in the darkness, then burned flesh forced its way into his nose and he stifled a gag.
“What’s that smell?”
Mazin shushed Mei and forced her behind before taking the first step onto the narrow road. He nudged her back and drew his khopesh in a flash, smelling sweat and blood on either side of him. Mazin waited and listened, catching the slightest hint of a breath from the strangers.
“Come out!”
Mei jumped at his sudden outburst, cowering a few steps behind him.
“Prince?” a woman replied to his right.
He heard the loosening of tense wood to his left. Mazin frowned, then sighed loudly before sheathing his khopesh.
“Who are you?”
They stepped out of the gaps between the buildings. He recognised the woman immediately, thanks to the golden crocodile necklace hanging around her slender neck.
Kamaria Sobek wore no armour save for the golden bracers on her forearms. Her cloth was thick, but plain and maroon. She sheathed both of her blacksteel straight swords on her waist and produced a stick, which burst into flame after she caressed the peak with her free hand.
The other was Galel Hathor, already thrusting an arrow back into his quiver, though his blue painted composite bow remained in his hand. He, too, wore golden bracers and warm cloth, though he favoured ochre colours.
“Prince,” he greeted with a small bow.
“Where is this tunnel?” Mazin asked when their eyes fell on Mei, who now stood beside him.
He feared looking at her. She certainly heard the truth from them. For once, he was glad her scent eluded him.
“This way Prince,” Kamaria led the way. Towards the end of the stone road, which turned to gravel, then overgrown grass.
A wall of dense shrubbery barred their way. He made out the stonework beneath it. Something pulled at him. An odd greyness floated ceaselessly beyond the normal sized wall. A fog hiding everything beyond it.
“Here,” Galel grunted, with a growing head of hair and a longer beard. He pointed towards a loose pile of dead leaves, which Kamaria shifted aside.
“Our Tamed are on the other side. We will follow,” she offered the torch to him, but he passed it on to the flustered Mei.
The Tamers did well to hide their scents from him, but their eyes betrayed their curiosity. For they hardly turned away from her.
“Can you manage?”
She nodded with a gulp and slid down the pitch-black chasm with help from his lowering arm. Mazin followed soon after and gasped at the sheer drop. He slid down until the bright bottom where Mei waited on her knees.
“I am right behind you,” he assured her and listened to her scrape ahead.
He had trouble seeing in the moist earth. The occasional root gave him pause, but other than the subtle turns and dips, the tunnel was uneventful. An age passed before the ascent.
Mei slid down a few times in her struggles. It forced Mazin to lift her from her thigh, which she thanked him for. His cheeks warmed, however, and he was glad for the darkness.
Mazin emerged from the tunnel reborn, inhaling the fresh night air by the bucket load. Mei was upright, dusting herself off.
“Prince,” both of the Tamed Sinha greeted him when he rose from his haunches. They lounged in the grass and bowed their maned heads at him, then their golden gazes turned to Mei.
Mei tightened with torch in hand when she noticed the golden beasts. She spun towards him and thrust it into his hands before collapsing back down with a whimper.
He turned back and frowned. The pull remained, yet there was only the grand fog beyond the tunnel. An illusion beyond imagination. There was nothing like it, nor any semblance of the town beyond it.
Mei was on her knees with her shoulders bouncing. Her head bowed as she wept. Galel and Kamaria emerged from the tunnel. He motioned them away before they spoke, and Mazin knelt beside Mei.
An awkward hand on her back was all he managed after grinding his teeth. Mei sniffed and looked up at him, her eyes streaming and red, tears dripping from her jaw, welling within her scarred flesh. Her lips quivered into a smile. That was enough for him.