The last image the guides who Daniel accompanied on their hunt recalled was the outline of Nyeusi’s figure on the horizon. He appeared in silhouette, given that the sun lay behind him and its light was in their eyes. A second before that and the image of pouncing cats imprinted itself on their minds.

The fear, the terror, the pain they felt was no fiction, yet there they sat out on an open savannah unscathed.

The outline of three men with drawn swords, glistening in the light of the sun, moved toward them.

They rose, turned around, then ran as hard and fast as they could.

What started as a sprint progressed to a long steady jog.

Alas, they observed, a forest lay yonder.

Exhausted, they threw themselves onto the grass at its entrance.

Keita looked up at the sky.

“On our journeys, we have been this far east before. Have we not? We traveled this far and more for the better part of a day, and there was always more grassland to cross before reaching the forest,” he said.

“We are not where you think we are,” Ossouna replied.

“That I can see,” Keita said.

“But do you understand?” Ossouna said.

Keita did not reply.

“We have never been here,” Ossouna added, trying to cover the note of dejection in his voice.

Keita became pensive.

“Have you no recollection of anything?” Ossouna asked.

“I do,” Keita replied. A chill came over him. He broke into a cold sweat.

“We were out on a hunt for the men of the north. Weren’t we?” Aswad interjected. “Do you recall?”

“I do,” Keita replied. His body began to shake.

“What else do you remember?” Ossouna asked.

“Being attacked,” Keita replied. “Mauled by savannah cats, and I would swear they belonged to Nyeusi. I saw him as I gasped for what I thought would be my last breath.”

“What do you recall, Aswad?” Ossouna asked.

“The same,” he replied.

“Then can you explain to me, if this is what we all remember, how then are we here?” Ossouna inquired. “And, where exactly is this place?”

“’Tis not our home,” Aswad replied. “Or, at least I don’t believe so. Any reference to it is a deception.”

Keita was visibly shaken.

Ossouna’s heart raced. He hoped to wake himself from what he thought must be a dream only to acknowledge he was very much already awake.

“Had I the courage to ever venture to the top of the lair, at this time I’d sooner have jumped off and dashed my head against the rocks below in preference to this here, you hear me?” Keita said.

“Get a hold of yourself, man!” Aswad said in a hushed tone. “Lower your voice. We don’t want to draw any attention to ourselves!”

“This cannot be! It must not be! What is this, and what or where are we? In a dream? I want out of it!” Keita continued.

Ossouna got hold of him. He wrestled and pinned him down onto the grass.

“What’s wrong with you? Get a hold of yourself,” Ossouna said.

“Get off of me!” Keita yelled.

Ossouna pushed his hand firmly down onto his mouth as he tried to wriggle himself free.

“Settle down, Keita!” Ossouna said in a hushed tone.

Keita moved his head, as best as he could, in an up and downward fashion.

A horrified Ossouna softened his grip as Keita opted to offer no more resistance. He removed his hand from over his mouth.

“What the hell is this place, and where are we?” Keita said under panting breath.

“Shut up! We should be dead, but we are not, and you panic? Rejoice that we’re still alive!”

“Is that what we are? How so? Are we now spirits? And, where are we? Are we safe here?” Keita said.

“I don’t know. I say we should get out of sight for a while. We should take refuge in the forest,” Ossouna said.

“You think?” Aswad replied. “And, what will we do when darkness falls, and we’re at the mercy of the beasts of the night there? Night will soon be here.”

Keita pushed Ossouna aside.

“And, what protection do we have from beasts being out here?” Ossouna asked.

“Look!” said Aswad. “On the horizon!”

They shot a glance yonder and saw the outline of three figures drawing nearer.

“If you still have a death wish, Keita. I suggest you stick around. I bet you’ll see it come true,” Ossouna said.

He darted toward the woods.

Keita and Aswad were hot on his heels.

With pounding hearts, they soon found themselves within an area with heavy overgrowth.

“Stop!” Aswad said under panting breath. “How much further?”

“As far as needs be,” Ossouna replied.

“But we don’t know where we’re going,” Aswad replied. “We are lost.”

“Did we ever know where we were going?” Ossouna remarked. “We still don’t know,” he added. “We must move on.”

“But please, not so fast,” Aswad said. “Allow me to catch my breath.”

“Very well,” Ossouna replied. “But keep walking,” he said.

“We must use our heads,” Keita remarked, a good thirty minutes further into their journey. “The canopy here is thick. Soon it will be as dark as night, and I mean long before the sun has gone down. We ought to look for a fork in a tree where we could lodge ourselves to get a night’s rest. If not one, well then two or three such trees large enough to accommodate us,” he added.

“No argument here, although I doubt I’ll be able to sleep a wink,” Ossouna said.

“The feeling is mutual,” Keita replied.

“Agreed,” Aswad added. “Never slept in a tree before.”

“We’ll need to get up into the canopy to avoid detection,” Keita said.

“We’ll need to be careful,” Aswad added, “and, I don’t mean, be on extra guard from men. I mean to be on the lookout for snakes!”

Ossouna breathed deeply then exhaled. “Provided we survive the night,” he began, “call out to me by whistling when you get up in the morning. Whistle like we did back when we hunted. Do not speak!” he added emphatically, “lest whoever that might be near hear us!”

An exhausted Keita, high up into the canopy, slept as soundly within the fork of a tree as could be.

Ossouna awoke.

Below, what appeared to be a procession of light could be seen in the distance. The bearers—he could not see who they were—appeared to draw closer and closer to him as the night went by.

His heart raced.

Aswad awoke and peered through the leaves at the goings-on. Neither could discern who the bearers were, nor what was the swishing sound they heard, followed by a dull “thud.” ’Twas like the sound low hanging fruit makes after falling from a tree to the ground.

By this time, the light drew nearer, and Ossouna, covered in sweat, feared stirring hand or foot.

Long before either of them had awoken, two-legged beasts, the likes of which they had never seen, hoisted and suspended gagged men feet first, from the sturdier branches of adjacent trees.

Before they’d suspended them, the beasts used vines to wrap their captives’ arms tightly to the sides of their torsos.

They cleaved their heads from their shoulders then quickly collected them while the restrained torsos wriggled to as much a degree as they could.

An earthen vessel shaped like a large bowl was placed under the corpses.

This process was repeated for hours on end throughout the night.

Ossouna and Aswad soon found they could no longer sleep.

The following morning Keita’s face grew long after acknowledging he had awoken not out of a dream. Instead, he arose and found himself nestled within a tree.

He made his way down, turned around, and gasped violently for a breath of air.

His heel struck a root, and he fell backward.

He shot up to a seated position and stared transfixed.

Trembling with a racing heart, he broke into a cold sweat.

His chest heaved.

For as far as he could see, decapitated bodies, bound from their torsos down to their feet, hung upside down from the tree branches. As to their heads, they were nowhere to be found.

Earthen vessels positioned below the torsos were used to collect their blood. As if by art, or necromancy, the blood, which had been out in the open air for some time now, did not congeal.

Ossouna whistled short and sharply.

Keita cast a glance up at the canopy and saw him move his index finger toward his lips.

Keita nodded, and Ossouna made his way down from his place of concealment.

Aswad immediately descended from the tree he had climbed.

They walked on the tips of their toes toward him.

“Be as quiet as you can,” Ossouna whispered. “There is no time to explain. We must move swiftly and silently.”

They proceeded to walk, hearts in mouth, in agonizing silence among the dead.

The view of hung carcasses appeared to stretch on forever. Time seemed to stand still, stiller than the corpses that did not stir as there was no wind.

Birds chirped merrily. All manner of insects were no less vocal than they usually were, yet none of the three were much aware of it. For the most part, what they heard was an eerie silence punctuated by the sound their feet made as it came into contact with the fallen dry leaves.

“We’re walking around in circles,” Aswad whispered.

“We’re not,” Ossouna said. “Or, at least I don’t think so,” he said to himself, scrutinizing the scenery more closely.

“They could not have laid this many people out,” Aswad whispered.

“That’s the panic in you talking,” Ossouna replied. “Compose yourself. They went on with their ghastly business all night.”

Keita began to pray. “Who are they?” he whispered.

“Later, Keita. Apparently, you slept through it all,” Ossouna replied. “We ought to be silent.”

They continued to walk, and by degrees, the path ahead began to look less foreboding. Here they no longer saw any more suspended corpses.

Keita fell on his knees and wept.

Ossouna stooped before him. “There is no time for it, Keita. We are not out of harm’s way. Not yet. We don’t even know where we are.”

“Keita,” Aswad interjected. “We must press on. We must try to find a way out of here.”

“There is no way,” Keita said. “It’s all a trap. We’re doomed.”

“You don’t know that,” Ossouna said. “Come now, lest we suffer the same fate those who we passed did.”

“My legs feel weak,” Keita said. “Like I could hardly stand.”

“But you slept through the night, didn’t you?” Ossouna said. “I did not.”

“We must go,” Aswad replied, and Ossouna was in the process of helping Keita get on his feet when they simultaneously looked over their shoulder.

“Up! Now Keita!” Ossouna said. “Run!”

An arrow was dispatched and a creature that seemed to have appeared out of nowhere fell on its side, writhing in agony. The arrow had lodged deeply into its neck.

A fellow appeared out of a thicket and released two more arrows. Both lodged into the chest of the beast.

The archer came out into the open, followed by a wolf.

“Do not move,” he ordered. “And, don’t worry. I mean you no harm.”

He picked up the sword that had fallen out of the beast’s hand and was at its side.

He plunged it into its chest, turned it sharply, and watched the creature exhale its last breath.

The three came toward him.

“What is it?” Ossouna asked.

“A ghoul,” he replied.

“’Tis the most hideous thing I’ve ever seen,” Ossouna added.

“They probably feel the same about you.”

“Such a brutish looking creature with such a fine-looking weapon,” Aswad said.

“It probably did not make it. ’Twas taken from one of us, I’d bet. Taken after one of our clashes with them,” Noor said. “Although,” he added, “they are not without some sense of refinement.”

“What do you mean?” Ossouna asked.

“They’re not stupid. They’ve figured out how to use fire, how to extract and make use of ores, temper them and make their own blades, swords, axes, and so on. It takes a creature with a higher level of intelligence to do that, I’d say.”

The newcomers did not reply.

“Come. We must go. More will come. ’Tis the time when they arrive to get their wine and meat.”

“Wine?” Ossouna asked.

“Human blood,” Noor replied. “Come. We must go, and fast.”

“Should I take the blade?” Aswad asked. “We are without weapons here.”

“Fine. Take it, but we must leave now. More will come, and as stealthily as this one did. This is no place for a man to be.”

“Now!” he demanded, and they followed him into the bushes.

The three keep pace.

Their guide moved swiftly, purposefully. Here was a man who knew his way about the place, or so his movement inspired them to believe.

The forest, or so Keita, Ossouna, and Aswad thought, appeared to have no end.

“Where or what is this place?” Aswad asked.

“What?” Noor said. “Where are you from? Not from here?” he asked, feigning ignorance.

“No,” Aswad replied.

“From far off then?” Noor asked.

“Very,” Aswad replied.

“I see,” Noor said. “Yet another one. Or three.”

“What do you mean?” Aswad asked.

“No time,” Noor said. “Keep moving. You’re in the Forest of Souls.”

They proceeded with haste for over an hour before their guide and his wolf began to move at a more moderate pace.

“Were you born here?” Aswad probed.

“Hm,” Noor exhaled. “Born here? No, sir.”

“Raised then?” Aswad inquired. “You know your way around very well.”

“Hm,” Noor exhaled. “Raised?”

Aswad looked at him. He thought he appeared to be struggling with his thoughts.

“Did I say something that offended you? If so, I apologize,” Aswad said.

“You didn’t,” Noor replied and became pensive.

“You asked where this place is?” Noor began. “You can call it whatever you want. Hell, the second realm or tier, purgatory. Whatever.”

“Purgatory? The second tier?” Aswad said.

“Yes,” Noor replied.

“Why?” Aswad asked.

“Again, you can call it whatever. For now, you may just want to call it home,” Noor replied.

“Home?” Aswad said.

“Yes,” Noor replied.

They were perplexed.

“Why would we want to call it that?” A concerned Aswad asked. “Is there no way back to our real home?”

“And, just where is that?” Noor replied, feigning ignorance.

The men fell silent. Noor stopped walking and looked at them. “Where is your home?” he asked, stressing on the word ‘is.’ “Where exactly are you from? Think you can get back there?”

“We don’t know,” Ossouna said solemnly. “We’re not sure how we got here.”

“Oh yeah?” Noor said.

“Correct. We don’t know,” Aswad added.

“I bet I know how you got here,” Noor remarked.

Aswad was slow to respond. “And, what makes you think that? I wonder,” he said.

Noor looked him in the eye. “You tell me a story, my friend, and I’ll tell you one.”

Aswad said nothing.

“We don’t how or why we’re here,” Ossouna interjected.

“If you can believe it, neither do I,” Noor said.

“But you . . .” Aswad began.

“But what?” Noor said.

“You appear to know your way around so well,” Aswad continued.

“What does knowing my way around well have to do with anything?” he replied. “I learned, and in time you will too.”

They were silent.

“Any more questions?” Noor asked. “I mean ones you may really want to ask if you understand me.”

They said nothing.

“Why not just get it off your chest?” Noor said.

They were slow to respond.

“You do remember something,” Keita said. “Don’t you? About . . .”

“What do you remember?” Noor asked.

Keita did not reply.

Noor looked him in the eye, then he looked at Aswad. “You think I don’t know what you want to know?”

They listened.

“You came through the portal. All of you.”

“Portal?” said Ossouna.

“Well, maybe not,” Noor replied. “But I would bet on it.”

“Please,” Keita said. “Go on.”

“You have a perfect recollection of having a life somewhere, somewhere other than here. Consider it the first tier, but you’ve since moved on, my friend,” Noor added.

Aswad was slow to respond. “And, how would you know all this?” he asked.

“Take a wild guess,” Noor remarked.

The men said nothing.

“Could it be because I’ve been through the same thing?” Noor replied.

“How is this possible?” Ossouna asked.

“How is anything possible?” Noor returned. “I don’t know.”

“What is this portal?” Aswad asked.

“An entry to this place,” Noor replied.

The men listened.

“You know as much about it as I do,” Noor added. “Through the portal is how we got here, and that’s all I can say.”

“Is there no way to go back?” Keita interjected.

“Through the portal? Nope,” Noor replied, and he thought Keita appeared crestfallen.

“I should have said I don’t know,” he added. “Maybe you can go back through. Maybe when you die again.”

“Or, maybe then you’d move on to some other hellhole,” Aswad said in disgust.

“Maybe,” Noor replied. “Don’t kill the messenger. Come. We must press on. The woods are a world onto their own. One so vast you could be led to believe it has no end.

“Keep your voices low. The further south we travel, the safer we should be, but you never know. There can always be danger lurking in the shadows.”

They followed his lead.

“Where is it you’re going to if you don’t mind my asking?” Keita said.

“At first, to meet with some friends,” Noor said.

“Friends, eh?” Keita asked.

“Yes,” Noor replied.

“I like the sound of that,” Keita said.

“Same here,” Aswad said. “It would be nice to meet another welcoming face.”

“I understand,” Noor replied. “Considering your entrance was at the foot of the devil’s door, but a brighter world does exist beyond that.”

“Devil’s door? What do you mean this time?” Keita asked. “You mean the portal again, or the Shetani? Do you know who I mean?”

“I know who you mean,” Noor replied. “They are called by that name too where I am from.”

“And, where might that be?” Keita asked.

“Kemet,” Noor replied.

“The north,” Aswad said. “You are from the north.”

“I am,” Noor replied.

“And, I’m guessing you are southerners?” Noor added.

“Not as far south as you might believe,” Aswad replied.

“I see,” said Noor.

“And, where is home for you here?” Ossouna interjected.

“Beyond the great river,” Noor replied.

They continued to move with haste.

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“Why did you ask me about the Shetani?” Noor inquired.

“They are out to get us,” Keita replied. “Well, at least three of them were. They are what drove us into the forest.”

“They’re out to get everyone,” Noor said.

“Is that so?” Aswad asked.

“It is,” Noor replied.

“Why? I wonder,” said Aswad.

“Not sure,” Noor said. “Depends on who you ask. I’d say the best person to ask is one of them.”

“’Tis impossible,” Ossouna interjected. “They communicate with no one but themselves. They are said to not even be men, but rather spirits. That is if you believe any of those shaman stories.”

“They’re men,” Noor said. “Crazy men, but definitely men.”

“I never had any reason to think much of this or take it seriously before, but . . . well, according to our folklore, they can move between the underworld and from where we came,” Ossouna said. “How can any normal man do that?”

“I don’t know,” Noor replied. “I don’t have all the answers. What I know is they look and act the part of flesh and blood, or like mere men here.”

“And, where we are from too. Why do you say they’re crazy?” Aswad asked.

“Their beliefs. Rituals. Their practices,” Noor replied.

“Like what?” Aswad asked.

“The Shetani are nature worshippers, and we are not,” Noor said. “For them, that is our unpardonable crime for which we all deserve to die.”

“I’m not sure I follow you,” Aswad said.

“They’re extremists,” Noor replied. “Or, so I’ve heard. Let them learn that you’ve clear-cut what they think is too much of the forest, and they just might wage an all-out war against you. They’d get pretty ferocious when all that you’re doing is trying to make some more breathing space to live, or so legend has it.”

“I see,” Aswad said.

“So, don’t think they have something just against you. They drive everyone into the forest knowing very well what’s here,” Noor said.

The men listened.

“Their feelings about us is about what you’d have for say a disease,” he added. “Give them half a chance, and rest assured they’ll kill us all.”

“Back home, they were aloof. I never had reason to think they are as bad as you described,” Aswad said.

“That was there. This is here,” Noor said. “Back there, they just observe things, or so I’ve been told.”

The men listened.

“A good thing is you’ll probably never see one again for probably quite some time. Not after where I’m taking you,” Noor said.

“And, where is that again?” Ossouna asked.

“In time, you will see,” Noor replied. “Keep up the pace. This place is said to have ears.”

The woods seemed to go on forever like there was no end to it.

In time they began to grow weary.

“Not much further now,” Noor said, and they collectively breathed a sigh of relief.

“Stop,” Keita said. “Something moves out there.”

Noor looked up and ahead. “Don’t let it trouble your mind,” he said. He made a short sharp whistle, and what caught their attention came toward them.

A wolf now could be seen.

Four more arrived, apparently out of nowhere, in short order.

“Do not be alarmed,” Noor said. “They patrol these parts for us.”

The three watched the animals gather around Noor and his wolf. He stroked and ran his hands along their fur like one may do to a domesticated animal.

“They are our friends,” he said.

“Wolves are your friends?” Ossouna asked.

“These are,” Noor replied.

“They’re beautiful,” Keita said.

“Aren’t they?” Noor replied.

“Yes,” Keita said. “I’ve seen wolves before, but none quite like these.”

He was used to seeing a species known as the golden wolf. It was common to the territory from which they had come.

“I know what you mean,” Noor said. “Yes, these are a bit larger with a nicer coat and altogether prettier, I’d say, than the more slender ones I assume you’re referring to.”

“Right,” Keita said.

“You are truly a crazy one, Noor,” they heard, and a figure appeared from out of the bushes.

“Perhaps,” Noor replied.

“You are,” the fellow insisted. Mbou was his name. “Went out on your own again, did you?” he asked.

Noor said nothing.

“And, how far did you get this time?”

“As far as where men are butchered for meat,” he replied.

“Madness,” Mbou returned. “That’s a ways off from here to go on such a warm day. You’re a beast.”

Noor smiled.

“Your curiosity and courage will be your undoing, Noor. You’ve been warned a thousand times.”

Noor said nothing.

“Impressive, but again, unnecessarily risky. One day, Noor . . .”

“One day I’ll find out what lays beyond this world, or perhaps I’ll finally get the chance to rest.”

“You just might,” his friend returned. “Although, I don’t see what’s the rush.”

“There’s no rush,” Noor replied.

“You could have fooled me or the rest of us,” Mbou said.

Noor said nothing.

“Back at the camp, you once again gave us all a terrible scare there.”

“Did I?” Noor asked.

“Did you?”

“I feel so tired now,” Keita interjected.

“And, whom have we here?” Mbou asked, looking at him, Ossouna, and Aswad.

“Survivors,” Noor said. “Proof that my efforts are not in vain.”

“Indeed, but you know those efforts are often strongly against your ever getting back here, especially the farther out you go,” Mbou said.

“I wasn’t trying to be a hero,” Noor replied.

Mbou directed his attention to the newcomers.

“Welcome,” he said.

“Thank you,” the three replied in unison.

“Gentlemen, this is Mbou,” said Noor.

“Pleased to meet you,” Mbou addressed them. “I don’t doubt for a second you’re tired. Few of us have the energy of this man here, but come,” he added. “We must go. One can never assume he’s safe. Not even here.”

Mbou left nothing to chance despite the area being well patrolled by their sentinels, the wolves, who could detect ghoul odor from a distance up to roughly a mile away.

They would immediately go on a pack hunt should they pick up that scent.

Thus, the wary ghouls stayed tens to over a hundred miles and more away from where the sentinels patrolled; the woodlands near Besi, the great river..

Kimbilio, or the great village of men, where Mbou, Noor, and the newcomers were ultimately headed, was located on the other side of Besi.

This river spanned a distance of roughly sixteen hundred miles over varying terrain. Its narrowest width from shore to shore, near the span of woodland where the sentinels patrolled, was in the range of two hundred yards, and this is where Noor was headed.

“How much further?” Keita asked. “My weariness is such that I’m content to fall and die where I am. My legs feel like they will give out under me at any minute.”

“Try to keep up,” Mbou said. “It’s not too much further.”

“Noor has said that for what feels like an eternity,” Aswad said. “I barely slept through the night. I’m fading fast.”

“I am too,” Ossouna added.

“Just a bit more,” Mbou said. “I promise,” he added, and a party of seventy men appeared out of the woods fifteen minutes later into their journey.

A swarthy earthen colored one led the procession. His name was Zaeim.

“Three?” he said, addressing Noor.

“Yes,” he replied. “Just three. Three precious souls given a chance.”

Zaeim looked into his eyes.

“We’ve told you before. Please, please don’t do this again. When we go, we go as a unit. We go en masse. You know there are thousands of ghouls out there.”

“I do,” Noor said.

“We understand you’re impulsive,” Zaeim said. “But we can’t save everyone, and we can’t afford to lose you, especially not now.”

“What happened?” Mbou asked.

Zaeim directed his gaze toward him.

“The Shetani,” he replied with gravity. “They’ve been back.”

“No,” Mbou said.

“Yes,” Zaeim replied.

The newcomers looked at each other.

Mbou’s face grew stern.

“While their first flight was probably happenstance, their return was, without a doubt, a reconnaissance mission. It would be foolish to believe it wasn’t,” Zaeim said.

Noor’s face was one of concern. He swallowed his saliva, and Aswad saw his Adam’s apple move up and down.

“We believe they’re mapping the layout of the village,” Zaeim added. “We believe an attack is imminent.”

Mbou looked at him. “What else?” he said.

“We dispatched a messenger crow to alert our brethren in the northwestern lands about our situation,” Zaeim replied.

“I see little reason to believe they will come to our aid,” Mbou said.

“Pardon my interruption,” Aswad began. “Are the Shetani birds and not men? How can they fly above your village?”

“They come on the backs of the kilman, my friend,” Noor replied. “They harness it like one may do to a horse.”

The kilmanya, also known as the kilman, were the last of a series of prehistoric flying reptiles from which the dragon myth and legend likely evolved.

“Come,” Zaeim said. “We must go. We need every man back in the village immediately.”

What many of their brethren assumed was correct. The rider, whose name was Kifo, did make a return trip over their village to survey it. Those who saw the reconnaissance man noted on his first trip he came from the south, which they knew had a Shetani stronghold. To the south is where he returned.

On his second trip, although he flew in from the south, he continued going north.

The villagers, mindful there was also a heavy concentration of Shetani in the north, were divided about what to make of this.

Many wondered whether their tormentors would plan to attack them from both the northern and southern front.

Amri, the Shetani leader on the southern front, told Kifo to head toward the Black Mountains immediately after gathering additional information. His instructions were to go there to alert Nyeusi so he’d decide what should be their next move.

Nyeusi mounted a kilman within an hour of hearing the news Kifo brought. He, Kifo, and an immortal who was terrified of mounting the flying animal was instructed to get behind him and hold on, or his arms would be cut off should he refuse to comply.

They flew east toward the Sepulchral Range, a series of mountains some two thousand miles away, where the necromancer, the lord of the underworld, was thought to be.

Nyeusi, Kifo, and the fellow who held on to him while trembling the entire length of the way dismounted from the flying beasts. His legs shook so terribly after placing his feet upon the ground that he was surprised he could move or stand.

Kifo urged him to get a hold of himself. He bound his hands behind his back, and the three of them walked past the necropolis of the ancient city Sanctuary where in times past, men defeated and ran its goblin inhabitants out of its valleys and the caves within the mountains facing it, in what some called a gore-filled bloodbath.

By this time, the men had long become emboldened after discovering there was a curse many of them began to regard as not a curse at all but rather a blessing. They noticed they never felt hunger or thirst there and did not, and could not, die for want of nourishment. They consequently organized themselves into an army to make the lands at the foot of the Sepulchral Range into a place of refuge.

Many suspected the curse was the work of the necromancer, but no one could say so with any certainty. For that matter, no one or few could say anything about him with certainty.

Most of what they knew or thought they knew stemmed from hearsay, although one could find no shortage of them who swore what they heard was true, or they’d behave as though what they heard was something personally witnessed.

Many also heard that he used sorcery to lay the victorious men of the battle mentioned above to waste.

According to the legend, they went about their day-to-day affairs in complete ignorance regarding why so many of them suddenly fell ill and died within a few days from the flu or a flu-like virus.

Some thought it was a plague. Others suspected foul play.

Within a week or two later, after they all died, the necromancer appeared on his black horse, hitherto a creature unknown in those parts. He went past the city of the dead and selected the deepest cave within the range to take up abode.

The stench of decay left no impression on him, but his alleged dark arts perhaps proved to be a bit taxing.

He left his steed at the mouth of the cave, knowing he needn’t fear the well trained, devoted, and loyal animal would stray or abandon him.

He ventured deep into the cavern and found a convenient location to place his infamous stone, a crystal ball.

He then lay down on a slate that masons, now dead, and what remained of them lay out in the open valley, had carved from the surrounding rock.

His steed sought shelter from pouring rain by walking further into the cave. It got onto its side. Then, the horse and owner fell into a deathlike sleep.

The Sanctuary Nyeusi, Kifo, and their captive approached was a ghost town.

Its only burial ground, the one they passed by, the one its inhabitants called the necropolis, was surrounded by the remains of thousands within the valley who supposedly perished by the necromancer’s dark art.

Nyeusi broke into a cold sweat. His heart raced. Kifo’s pounded in his chest. Meanwhile, the robust steed that lay on its side however many years ago, was now an emaciated shadow of itself. All muscles in its body atrophied to the point where one would have been able to count every rib outlined against the skin that hung onto its frame.

The necromancer, who also hadn’t moved since venturing into the cave, was a deathly pale fellow.

A lifetime living in caves and lack of exposure to any light rendered his complexion into something diaphanous, although this was well concealed beneath the hooded garment he wore. It covered him from head to toe.

“Are you sure it’s safe to be here?” Kifo asked. “Safe to try and approach him? Are you sure he’s even here?”

“These are questions one can never guarantee,” a shaken Nyeusi replied.

“Should we turn back?” Kifo asked.

“Turn back?” Nyeusi said. “No. We should proceed.”

Their captive, who trembled more violently than he did while atop the flying kilman, felt his legs give away. He fell, and Kifo was startled.

“Get up!” he ordered, then pulled him onto his feet. “Try to get a hold of yourself!”

“What is this place!” the man yelled. “Why did you bring me into this godforsaken valley and this pit not fit for the devil!” he said, backing away.

“Compose yourself!” Kifo exclaimed.

“Never!” the captive screamed. His heel knocked against a rock, and he fell again, but this time onto his back.

Kifo stepped toward him.

“If you’re to kill me, do it here! Do it now!” the captive urged.

“I have a mind to!” Kifo said.

“Go ahead then. You may as well because I will go with you no further!” the captive added.

Kifo turned and looked at Nyeusi.

The former held onto the end of a branch he had brought with him and struck the bound man firmly along the side of his thighs.

“Not too much,” Nyeusi said.

“Enough for you!” Kifo said.

“’Twill be enough when I am dead,” the captive replied. He thought it was best to close his eyes, to offer no resistance, to try and reach into those deep recesses of the mind one feels compelled to when it appears inevitable the end is at hand.

He grunted after receiving each blow. They now landed mostly on the sides of his arms and legs.

Kifo then reached for something he had wrapped in a bit of cloth and held it firmly against the incapacitated captive’s nostrils.

The latter, if he had his eyes open, might have suspected this was smelling salts or something meant to revive or shock him back to alertness.

However, whatever Kifo forced against him provided the opposite effect. The fellow went out like a light in the dark.

“Tie him like they do to slain pigs or boars from where they are from. I mean in the same manner they do when preparing to take one back to their village for a roast over a fire,” Nyeusi said. “Look. There is a pole there sturdy enough to use to suspend and carry him.”

“Right,” Kifo replied.

Nyeusi assisted him, and before long, they were on their way through the valley with their captive between them hanging like a wild catch.

They continued walking through the valley, then through a narrow passage where a range of smaller, rocky mountains stood close to each other.

“There,” Nyeusi said, pointing in the distance. “An opening in the rock.”

Kifo took note, and a chill came over him.

Nyeusi saw his Adam’s apple move up and down.

“You don’t look too excited,” he said. “He’s got to be in one of these caves here. At the very least, now we can begin narrowing down our prospects.”

“I don’t know,” Kifo replied. “Something tells me we won’t have any narrowing down to do. I feel like something has lead us to exactly where we are now.”

Nyeusi looked him in the eye. “You’re superstitious,” he said. “Finding him is never easy, but in any event, I hope you are correct. I have a feeling we’re on the right path as well.”

“Okay,” Kifo replied.

“Let’s go,” Nyeusi said, and they walked around the rocks on their left then up a gradual incline toward the opening.

“We will need light to venture within there,” Nyeusi said.

“We will,” Kifo replied, “so, let’s put him down for a bit and get a fire going.”

He wrapped a bit of cloth around the end of the tree branch he had brought along with him.

“Please help. Prepare one for yourself too,” he said, addressing Nyeusi, who did as he was told.

“Hold them close to catch the fire,” Kifo said, and he passed his branch to him.

The former proceeded to rub two sticks he’d been mindful of bringing with him for precisely that purpose. He did so until he saw smoke and got a fire going. He used it to ignite the cloth they’d wrapped at the end of their poles.

“Good,” he said, looking at the fire. “Now we can go.”

They were a mere couple feet past the cave’s entrance when a sea of stirred creatures poured out of there.

They gasped for breath then ducked.

Theirs was a reflexive action, as was the movement of their arms that weren’t engaged.

They’d instantly released their grip on the lit branches. These fell to the floor but continued to provide light while they held their arms aloft.

Hearts raced, and they all but dropped their captive.

So spooked, focused, and fixated were they on the excited colony that it took a few seconds before acknowledging the blinding sea of darkness above, and in flight over their heads, were bats.

In time they finally exited, and the two looked at each other.

Their captive, now on the floor, slept as soundly as could be with fire blazing at the end of a branch, mere inches from his face.

Nyeusi got hold of it and moved it away from him. Their prize, he mused, is one he almost burned.

Kifo got his branch and they moved no further before noting there was something black lying on the floor on their left nestled against the cave wall.

They drew closer and felt a mixture of emotions when they now clearly saw it was a horse.

“You were right about your hunch,” Nyeusi said.

“So, I see,” Kifo replied, “unless there are other horses here aside from his.”

“There are no others. You know as well as I that it is an animal alien to these parts. He is the sole person who has one.”

“Is it alive?” Kifo asked.

“Looks like it is, but barely,” Nyeusi replied.

Kifo looked at the scrawny animal with scorn.

“Remember what I told you when we get in there when we meet him,” Nyeusi said.

“Right,” Kifo replied.

“Unless you have some desire to perhaps meet an untimely death, don’t dare say a word unless you’re called on to speak,” Nyeusi said.

“Trust me. I won’t. I’m not trying to get into any trouble, especially none of a supernatural or other nature,” Kifo replied.

“Good,” Nyeusi said. “Are you ready?”

“I am,” Kifo replied.

“Good. Let’s go,” Nyeusi said. “Let’s get our bundle and be on our way.”

What he so cavalierly referred to as our bundle was the captive who was still fast asleep. They got hold of the pole onto which he was bound, placed the ends over their shoulder, and Nyeusi led the way into the cave.

“I was hoping this would not be as deep and elaborate as anything that we have back at the Black Mountains,” Kifo whispered.

“You thought wrong,” Nyeusi replied, and Kifo began to feel warier of the weight they carried juxtaposed to encountering the necromancer.

“I’m wondering how much longer this might take now,” he whispered.

“Well, I didn’t think he’d be near the mouth of the entrance,” Nyeusi said as softly as he could. “Nor did I think he’d be at the entrance waiting to welcome us with open arms. What I’m beginning to wonder is if he’s even here or if we should have explored the first fork we saw as opposed to this one.”

“But recall we saw his horse outside,” Kifo whispered.

“That’s right,” Nyeusi whispered. “Where is my mind today?”

Kifo’s face grew long.

“What does it tell you? Do you get any sense of his presence here at all? You said you could feel such things,” Kifo whispered.

“I’m not ashamed to say I’m beginning to question that,” Nyeusi replied.

“Who goes there? Who dares enter here?” a voice echoed through the hallway.

Their hearts raced, and they stood frozen.

They looked about them but could not see from whom the voice came.

“Answer, lest I strike you down where you stand!”

Cold sweat appeared on Nyeusi’s forehead.

“It is Nyeusi. The dark one, sworn to you by the mark of an innocent’s blood. By blood did my father deliver me unto you, and by blood do I seek deliverance.”

An unnerving period of silence followed.

A figure wrapped in a hooded black garment made out of burlap appeared from around a corner and walked slowly toward them.

The garment covered him from head to toe. The length of it dragged on the ground, and his hood was pulled so far in front of his face that neither man could get a glimpse of his features.

There was a double edge battleax in his right hand sharpened to lethal perfection. He held it firmly and close to his side, and it glistened in the light their torches provided.

He stopped when he was a few feet away.

“My time here has been long. My experiences? Too many to commit to memory. How can I be assured I know thee?” he asked.

“If not by name or sight, by taste surely. My infant twin sibling’s blood and body were offered to you as nourishment so that in my hour of need you may know me. Our taste is the same, and by that, it matters not if you recall my name,” Nyeusi replied.

“And, what proof have you of this?” the necromancer asked.

“The supplicant asks whether he may present an offering?” Nyeusi replied.

“He may,” the necromancer said.

Nyeusi retrieved a small earthen vessel from his person. He sliced the inside of his left hand with his knife, let his blood collect into it, then he stepped forward and held the dia before him.

The necromancer took it, brought it to his pale lips, and the second after he sampled the content, Nyeusi’s self-inflicted wound healed instantaneously.

His blood, some of which had dripped onto the floor, immediately vanished.

The scrawny horse, the bag of bones that lay on its side at the cave’s entrance, immediately became stout. It got on all fours and walked away from the cave in pursuit of some healthful exercise.

“I know thee, son of Eyin. What is it that has brought you here seeking me?”

“The need for deliverance,” Nyeusi replied.

“And, from what do you seek deliverance?” the necromancer asked.

“The scourge,” Nyeusi replied. “It has multiplied a hundred if not a thousandfold upon our lands. We seek the power to contain it, and as such, my accomplice and I have brought you a sample so you may recall this foe.”

The sample he mentioned awoke from being under the influence of whatever Kifo had him inhale earlier.

He was on the cold floor, on his side. He saw a hooded figure in black conversing with Nyeusi, who continued his supplication. He noted he bore a double-edged ax in his right hand, and his appearance was shrouded in mystery.

For sure, he said to himself, he never saw any Shetani dressed like that, or was he one of them at all? Or, might that figure be the necromancer, he wondered, the alleged practitioner of dark arts and lord of the underworld he had so often heard mentioned.

He noticed Kifo was in the picture, off to their right.

He combed his mind to recall his last memories before awakening, provided he was awake.

His heart began beating violently.

He acknowledged he was not dreaming.

The last of what he could recall before he became unconscious was Kifo attempting to stifle him, or so he suspected was his intention.

But where or what is this place of darkness he found himself in now?

Why was he on the cold floor with his arms and legs bound? Those were questions that tormented him.

Unsure of what to do, he thought it was best to be silent.

His heartbeat thumped like a drum pounding in his ear.

He broke into a cold sweat and tried to compose himself enough to listen to what Nyeusi discussed with the figure draped in black. The figure who wore gloves and shoes plated in finely worked pieces of metal.

The gloves were made from interlocking pieces that moved harmoniously with every movement of his fingers. The pieces above the knuckles revealed four spikes when he made a clenched fist, and at the tip of his shoe was a spike so devilishly pointy, it could puncture and mortally wound a man or beast unfortunate enough to be the recipient of a kick from him.

None of what he and Nyeusi discussed sounded familiar to the captive. The old-fashioned manner in which they spoke did not help him get a better grasp of what most of it was about.

He was able to discern, however, Nyeusi apparently wanted some kind of advice or help from him about safely and reliably transporting a large body of his men over an area with limited resources. Requesting this help, as far as he could tell, required a sacrifice.

“After what you put me through today, I hope when it is your turn to die, it will be long, slow, and exceedingly painful,” he said, in a desperate attempt to combat the terror he felt was threatening to drive him to madness.

His voice startled them, and all eyes now focused on him.

“How dare you speak out of turn in the presence of our lord?” Nyeusi barked.

“What lord?” he snapped. “I have no idea what you’re talking about, nor do I care. What is clear to me now is you planned to bring me here for some type of ritual sacrifice, and your executioner seems more than ready for the task.

“So, on with it then, you scoundrel! I’m not going to cower and shrivel over you and your filth and your hate-filled intentions anymore.”

Nyeusi directed his attention to the necromancer.

“The time has come to make our offering to you,” he said.

“Very well. Fetch it and follow me,” he replied.

Nyeusi and Kifo once again got hold of the pole from which their bound captive had been suspended and carried, placed it over their shoulders, then followed the necromancer as he ventured deeper into the meandering pathway of the cave’s interior.

He led them to a chamber in which an ancient prototype for what would be called a guillotine was kept.

Hitherto, the captive had never seen such a device. He had a feeling it was meant for use on him notwithstanding, although he was ignorant about how that might be, or how one operated such a thing.

The creatures behind its conceptualization and construct were not men but rather the goblins that once resided within the caves.

Those goblins, like goblins in general, were every bit as bloodthirsty as ghouls for man-flesh. The guillotine was a novel spectacle among their communities as an aid in their food preparation.

Nyeusi and Kifo placed their captive onto the floor and undid the rope near the base of his hands. They ordered him to stand, and he offered no resistance when they then placed his arms behind his back and rebound him near the base of his hands. He offered no resistance when they took him and placed him stomach down onto the guillotine bed.

They brought the piece of wood meant to meet its counterpart together, given that his head and neck extended beyond the length of the bed.

At this point, he felt assured of how the device was to be used now. Surely, the sharp and angular blade above him, he said to himself, would be dropped onto his neck.

He felt his captors strap and fasten him firmly onto the slab on which he lay, so there was no chance he could stir to any significant degree, and what he now hoped for most was for the nefarious affair to be over.

The necromancer stood several feet away from him. Nyeusi, who got hold of the rope which held the blade aloft, looked at him for a sign of when to release it, and the last image their captive saw was the hooded figure give a thumbs down gesture.

The normally stoic Kifo’s felt like his heart skipped a beat after hearing the sound the blade made after it was released. The captive’s head now lay in a container, and blood poured from the neck of the victim’s torso.

Kifo was quick to remove the head from the container and put it aside, while Nyeusi watched the torso tremble under restraint as blood continued to pour from its neck.

Neither was stoic about what took place, but they were ever mindful the necromancer could not do his work if he were not the recipient of a sacrificial offering.

He needed to sample the element he was called upon to affect, not once, but on any occasion he was requested to render his services.

Nyeusi was granted a look into his crystal ball after he made an offering, the necromancer’s stone as it was known.

From there, he saw the alarming extent to which the scourge continued to exterminate the wildlife and destroy the habitat in the world beyond the lair.

“You are to return here in three days during the middle of the day,” the necromancer stated, and how he spoke sent a chill down their spines.

He was not next to them, yet his voice sounded as though it were coming from someone at their side, whispering into their ear.

“He would be stripped from his flesh then,” the necromancer added, “and, his bones dried and ground into a powder.”

Kifo swallowed, and his saliva felt like a lump of something solid going down his throat. Mindful of his accelerated heartbeat, he tried to breathe in a normal relaxed manner again.

The necromancer stated he would provide them with a vessel containing the powder, and he would give a specific set of instructions regarding how it should be used.

On the day they were to march toward the village of men, they were to whip it into a paste by adding a bit of water.

They were to then dip their finger into it, then use that finger to place a mark across the forehead of every man and beast they were to engage.

He added, “Have no fear of it being insufficient, stating they would soon discover its contents would not diminish or end until they used it on the last party they intended to employ.”

He further instructed them to observe the powder will behave like a pigment once applied. It would not disappear until they’d completed their mission.

His parting words, however, was using it would not guarantee a victory. Still, it would enable them and their animals to last a month without suffocating from thirst or want of water.

“I was hoping for more,” Kifo said shortly after they set foot outside of the cave.

“More?” Nyeusi returned.

“Yes,” he replied.

“More of what?” Nyeusi asked.

“I was hoping after all this, whatever he supplies us with will guarantee a victory,” he replied.

“Oh,” Nyeusi said. “That,” he added.

“Not so for you, huh?” Kifo asked.

“Well, maybe it will,” Nyeusi replied.

“And, you’re happy with that?” Kifo asked. “An uncertainty? After all this?”

“How long do you think we can last during our intended mission without refreshment or supplies?” Nyeusi asked.

“Not very long,” Kifo replied.

“So, there you go. The powder will be a great help.”

Kifo thought about it.

“You still don’t seem too convinced,” Nyeusi said.

“Oh, I am.”

“Could have fooled me.”

“Why do you say that?”

“Mm, the tone of your voice, I guess. Your body language.”

“I’m sure the powder will help, but I couldn’t help but think about the fact that he vanquished an entire city singlehandedly.”

“We don’t know for sure how that came to be,” Nyeusi replied. “And, it’s not our place to ask.”

Kifo listened.

“What, how, or why he does what he does will always be a mystery. He will forever be an enigmatic figure,” Nyeusi added.

The crow that was dispatched with a message for the men of the north continued toward Yagan, which aside from Kimbilio, was another safe haven for men that existed after the fall of Sanctuary.

Tazama was the fellow sitting just outside the cave entrance located at the region’s highest mountainous peak when he thought he heard the voice of a familiar friend on the wind.

He got on his feet and looked intently at the sky, toward the direction he thought he heard the sound come from.

Jogoo, the crow, called out again, and Tazama caught sight of him.

The former, mindful Tazama was not fluent in Crowspeak, landed on the rock next to him and excitedly uttered some words in that language notwithstanding.

Tazama, aware any visit from his feathered friend could only mean he was there on a serious errand, looked at his leg and noticed a bit of paper attached to it.

“I see you’re here on business as usual,” he said.

Like Jogoo, meaning being mindful of the language barrier, he was sure to speak a bit slower than he usually did. He took greater pains to articulate his vowel and consonant sounds.

Jogoo, who understood a little bit of what was called Manspeak in his tongue, crowed back at him, stating he was correct.

“Very well,” Tazama, who understood him replied, for he knew the sound crows make to say ‘yes,’ in their language.

“I won’t keep you long then,” he added. “I will fetch Bosi immediately because I remember you don’t much care for coming inside or being inside caves.”

Jogoo crowed once more, stating he appreciated this, and Tazama understood him as soundly as he did when he communicated with a pet wolf or dog.

He departed.

The former paced about in the usual manner crows do while musing over how paradoxical a creature Tazama and his ilk were.

Clearly, or so he asserted, they did appear to possess a reasonable degree of higher intelligence. Why they were against putting this to use in a manner that was ultimately beneficial to themselves and those things and other creatures around them, was a question that addled his mind.

Tazama returned with Bosi.

Four other men who were with the latter when Tazama brought news of Jogoo’s visit came with him.

Bosi removed the note from around his ankle and read it.

“What does it say?” Tazama asked.

“Shetani discovered Kimbilio,” he replied, and all faces grew glum before he could finish speaking.

“They must fear an attack is to come,” Bosi added.

“And, who wouldn’t?” Tazama replied.

“I will be back shortly,” said Bosi, a scribe, who hurriedly went back to the cave and wrote the words, “Our home is yours. Come if you are in fear,” onto a piece of paper, then he returned and affixed it to Jogoo’s leg.

The bird took to the sky, and the men watched it fly toward the horizon.

“What message did you send?” Tazama asked.

“I bid them come this way,” Bosi replied.

“Can we accommodate that many?” Tazama asked. “I understand they are several thousand now.”

“They can populate the valleys,” Bosi replied. “We can reestablish a Sanctuary here.”

“And, then what?” Thoroughmann, Bosi’s brother, asked.

“What do you mean?” his sibling replied.

“If they were to come here, when the Shetani realizes we are all in one location, they will, or with the necromancer’s aid, seek to eliminate us in one swoop,” he replied. “Just like they did at Sanctuary.”

“We don’t know that is what happened there,” Bosi said.

“We don’t need to know or have detailed accounts of all of the specifics,” Thoroughmann returned. “History has shown we can’t afford to risk being concentrated in one spot.”

“And, we won’t risk that,” Bosi said.

“How so, provided they come here?” his brother asked.

Bosi looked him in the eye.

“It looks to me like the time is approaching when we will finally unite, organize, and fight,” he said. “Fight to exist here and anywhere we choose to be within reason.

“I eagerly await the crow’s return and will welcome the arrival of our brethren, provided they do come.”

Thoroughmann thought about what he said.

“I believe all the ages we spent here suffering from a sterile and tedious existence which threatened to drive some mad and did so, was not in vain,” Bosi added. “The time has come to put that which we’ve learned, that which helped us pass the time, to use.”

What they learned was the concept of an afterlife was very real, but in their wildest imagination, none could have conceived it was quite like their newfound experiences.

The skeptics where they were from consequently continued with the most subtle or overtly nefarious practices unfettered, for there was never going to be any repercussion as far as they knew.

“Do you really believe it’s providence?” Thoroughmann asked, since Bosi’s remarks conjured images of the toil they endured and brought to mind stories he’d heard from souls confined to damnation long before his arrival, tales in which they spoke about never-ending battles with one of their greatest adversaries, ever-present boredom so imposing and all-encompassing, it challenged their resolve to face it and survive without losing their minds.

However, it was that same boredom and curiosity that led to the advancement of their technology.

It led to their discovery of nearby ores. It is what led them to learn how to extract and temper them and fashion them into fine tools and weapons. It was what turned many of those who knew nothing about stonework into some of the finest masons around.

It, combined with a propensity for mischief, led their peers in the forested regions near the plains to develop a big game hunting practice.

At least, compared to their victims, or their adversaries, the Shetani, it was a big game.

Recall these were men robbed of the ability to enjoy pleasures associated with the palate. Men with no need to consume anything for nourishment, yet they suffered from no ill effects.

Food was the last thing on their minds when they slew big savannah cats and other beasts of the plains. Magnificent and powerful creatures like giraffe and wildebeest were slaughtered for fun or target practice, and in the forest, apes of all varieties, gorillas, orangutans, chimpanzees, etcetera, were slain for amusement.

Valuing what one took for granted was a matter Thoroughmann heard his peers speak of. He felt he grew to appreciate what they meant.

In his world of sand, rock and stone, wood, and that element from which wood is derived—that is to say trees and forests—were perhaps valued only slightly less than the air they breathed.

After all, wood was what they so heavily relied on to make the handles for the tools, knives, swords, battleaxes, and other weapons they needed for combat.

Wood is what they relied on to make the poles at whose end they wrapped a bit of cloth to ignite and thereby create torches to help guide them through the darkness of their caves. And, wood is what they relied on to make those enormous catapults they positioned facing the marshland that lay just beyond them.

It was unlikely any enemy would approach by trying to navigate through the marshes, but in the event they did, they were prepared to hurl projectiles, huge rocks toward them, mindful that a misstep to one’s left or right while attempting to avoid being hit, would be sure to suck one down into the bog.

Thoroughmann’s fellowmen to the south, in their expansive world of greenery, valued the ores that were so abundant where he lived. They valued that and the knowledge of how to fashion them into tools and weapons.

This interest in their respective districts’ natural resources is what led them to develop a burgeoning trade route.

“Whether it is providence or not, I, of course, don’t know,” Bosi replied. “Nor do I know whether to believe if it is. I can only say I look forward to an association with them on a deeper level.”

“Okay,” Thoroughmann replied.

“A negative situation may have started this, but I don’t see why the consequence can’t be a more positive and stronger union,” Bosi said.

“Very well,” Thoroughmann replied.