By the time Baor graced the world with its renewed presence Atef has already covered a day’s worth of marching. His eyes were dead set on his goal and his mind was finally in harmony. Greatness is his destiny and he needs to make it manifest. He just had to stay alive long enough; and in this cruel world of cudgel and spear and sword and axe, that meant being armed. Without a coin to his name and only a shirt on his back, he was dead set on reaching the Golden Boneyard. There he would dig, dig, and dig until he finds some poor sod whose bones are still encrusted in armor and whose rigid grip still holds a weapon worthy of Atef’s future greatness. The emerging dawn didn’t scare him anymore. He subconsciously knew nothing wrong will befall him and that the raiders have better thing to do than chase after a lonely “sorry excuse for a footman” whom most likely no one noticed as he fled the field of battle.

Even Chanka was baffled as he was catching up on Atef finding him with his nose.

Magic roll: 30 out of 100 [5d20s] ; 0 to speaking with animals ; current level 10/50

- Why no rest? You walked all night!

- I gotta do something! Follow me.

- What?!

- Seize!

- You’re being tricksy suddenly! Grrrrrr.

- If I tell ya, you wouldda stop annoyance?

- Depends on what you tell me.

- I’m going to seize my promised power! Now shush, got to use my noggin.

- Promised? Power?

- Shush!

Chanka could smell something new about Atef. It was much more than what he could initially sense back in the woods when he first chose to investigate the strange odor. He remembered picking it up by chance, considering what the sickly-sweetness of Atef’s sweat and breath could mean. He remembered in his beastly mind the deep sensation of stumbling upon refuse from human society, his match. And he could smell a speck of something unique tucked away in him. A mystery which now brewed new scents. Chanka interpreted it as scent of alpha’s spawn, a dominant perfume of might that is slowly intoxicating the boy’s body; a precursor to a growing sub-tissue reshaping him from the inside. The boy will very soon smell like a leader but his feeble mind could still be toyed with. He liked that, gave him room to feel comfortable around the youth. The growing natural magnetism that Atef emitted grew by a notch and Chanka felt that he made a right decision. He will be up for a wild ride with this one; the two of them being their own little pack. And he will be able to stand with him on equal footing, at least for now.

They were long past the secluded windmill, the first major milestone he could refer to get his way around. Heresborg turned out to be much vaster than the dull time passed marching made it up to be. His plan was to reach the farm where they stopped for provisions, warn them and also ask about directions to the Golden Boneyard. He was running solely on sunlight and air; both thirst and hunger were currently staved off by the compelling power of the word “seize.” Throughout the night, the magical property of the word that pushed through the dull buzz now living in his head was diffused to its most subtle elements, rearranged, and examined with the objective to realize the true power of it, its true potential. It felt like an intruding, arcane set of calculations whirred in his head, and yet, it appeared so biological, so fitting and potent that it was seamlessly changing his very physical being. And through that unnatural blending of the meat, soul, and gift, he emerged wiser, privy of the first seal that the power in him unlocked. “Seize” meant use for yourself, wield the golden reins freely, not rely on them in the moments of danger. His power was not to be a reaction to the external threat, but a free wielding tool that he will fully control. And it will grow. Atef knew it, hoped for it. And feared how well he will control it. Each step of the march towards the farm was now filled with the scintillating gold threads signifying how to use his power. These fibers of mysterious knowledge coalesced in his mind, his hands, his heart and made casting spells effortless, an exercise of deliberate thought. Like a suckling babe, he was struggling to pick up this flood of knowledge, reorganizing his way of thinking, expressing annoyance at the failed attempts of pushing the right triggers in his mind to fire so that he could make wonders happen. To Chanka, he looked mesmerized, floating in some invisible domain that the wolf will never understand. Suddenly, the boy’s hand raised and a surge of sparks filled the air, smelling like a forest fire. Chanka froze in place for an instant and then jumped back in surprise.

Magic roll: 65 out of 100 [5d20s] ; +2 to fire magic ; current level 7/50 ;

Madness roll: 67 out of 100 [5d20s] ; +2 to madness ; current level 13/100 ;

Secret roll: 65 out of 100 [5d20s] ; +2 to a mystery ; current level 12/100 ;

- Grrrrrrr uoahou that for? Kai, kai!

- Wooohooooo! You see that?! I made fire! On my own!

The wolf observed him in frightened wonder. When they were freeing the Aebor girl Chanka was too busy fighting to notice how Atef’s assailant was felled, but he remembered the scorching smell. He couldn’t have imagined in his wildest beastly dreams that Atef’s odd musk was bound to creation of fire. Was he to lie down now and show him his belly? Admit his supreme authority and pay attention to every growly word that he utters?

- On your own?

- I couldda never do it myself! Now I canna! – exclaimed excitedly Atef releasing a new gush of sparks above Chanka’s head.

- Stop that! – the wolf snarled unable to stay indifferent to the primordial enemy of wildlife.

- You afraid of incy wincy fire spurt? – mockingly asked Atef releasing a hail of sparks now from both of his hands. He looked like a fire djinn using parlor tricks to demonstrate credulity.

- Yes! Stop it! Or…!

- Or wha’?

- I’ll bite you!

- Fair – said Atef after a moment’s pause and lowered his hands. Then he whirled, lifted them again and released a new stream of sparks. He couldn’t help it; it was amazing and it was effortless. He pointed his hand towards the ground and a short burst incinerated a column of ants and some flowers. Then he exposed a rock to a whirlwind of sparks and bent over to touch it. He was quite surprised that it was pleasantly warm, like a stone in the hearth in the morning. The association with the hearth awoke the gaping hole in his stomach and he started champing and salivating thinking how will the next meal come his way. Chanka observed from a distance wary if the boy decides to pull some sort of a cruel joke.

- Wanna catch us something juicy? Why you dallying there, come closer!

- I ate. Grrrr, auhahua fire!

- I didn’t and I wanna not hurt you. Trust me?

- Not until you stop. Your hunger is my problem how?

- Tell ya what! You bring us something dead, meaty and raw and I wouldda make it great!

The wolf leaned his head sideways considering the suggestion. The badger did smell nice back when the Aebor girl prepared it. Without answer the wolf picked up the pace and disappeared in the distance in front of Atef.

- I reckon that’s a yea! – thought Atef and continued playing with fire.

*

The fawn was now just a pile of bones. Chanka chose to keep a leg bone to gnaw on when Atef finally decides to stop and rest. He had to give it to the boy, the roasted meat really tasted differently, succulently, however the aroma of fresh blood was sorely missing. He also liked the skin fresh and chewy rather than singed and crispy. The smell and taste of burnt fur made him uneasy. He once outran a forest fire and this smell brought back memories he would never want to relive.

Atef’s eyes were set ahead of him again. His look was otherworldly, compelled. The only proof reason was still residing in his being was occasional playful freezing along the way.

Magic roll: 36 out of 100 [5d20s] ; +1 to ice magic ; current level 3/50

Mastering frost, he would turn patches of tree bark into smooth, glacier-like ice or freeze a flower in his hand enriching its colors with a blueish hue. This talent Chanka accepted with less uneasiness as he didn’t fear cold, although it looked equally unnatural in the middle of summer. He just kept following the trail of mischief at a moderate distance and wondered what sort of an alpha Atef is slowly transitioning into.

*

- Ingrid, gather the kids. We’ll see if anyone remembers this boy’s face?

- Just trust him Bezok, why would the boy lie!

- Do not snap back at me woman! Do as you are told!

Ingrid’s angry look graced the ground instead of Bezok, one of the two grey-haired masters of the farmstead where Daemas’ host resupplied. Irlik, his brother, stayed silent letting his choleric, no-nonsense brother do all the talking and deciding. Numerous sons, daughters and their offspring reaching as far as three generations further down the line were quickly rounded up and lined up in front of Atef. They glared at him waiting for ol’ pappa Bezok to explain.

- Does any of you recognize this rover?

In unison the children’s heads started shaking, complementing the adults’ “no.”

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- Are you all absolutely sure?! It is very important!

One of the girls from the lineup, maybe a summer or two younger than Atef waved at her mother anxiously. A shy whisper later and the child’s mother made it known that Atef was indeed spotted by the girl.

- You sure Ilda?

The girl looked at her great-great-grandfather and resoundingly nodded her head.

- She liked the boy so she is sure – confirmed the mother attracting a red-faced look of ire from her daughter.

- So you were the part of the host. That is now confirmed. But do you lie? Are you a deserter boy? Should I send you to Jarat tied to a pole like a bleating sheep?

- I just wanted to warn all ya people. If you care, listen! I’m headed to Golden Boneyard anyways! Which way please?

- I am asking again boy, are you a deserter?!

- No! I’m a fighter. And maybe only alive one. All my friends were killed!

Bezok observed him with a long, examining glare that seemed to Atef as if endless hate resided in those eyes.

- So why didn’t you die with your friends saving our corner of the Empire?

- Because I kinda like living ya old fart – said Atef not knowing where the nerve for the insult came from.

Irlik’s lip flickered producing the slightest of grins at the mockery of his brother. It was satisfying, humbling even in this environment where his word was considered divine law.

- Is that so… Felix, Maxwell, Jonas teach this brat some manners! And then let’s see whether his tune will change! – decried Bezok calling in his burly grandsons as enforcers. The women of the family, especially the girl who fancied Atef, started pleading for the boy, abhorring the impending violence.

- Wait, wait! I sorry! I really sorry! I just want to go to the Boneyard.

Bezok lifted his hand and the enforcers held their ground.

- Kneel, and ask for forgiveness!

Atef never knelt before, even in front of the Pit bosses. The very idea of it stung him, although he never considered his sense of pride. What was slave-minded in him overrode his momentary impulses and he complied. Better that than incinerating someone’s father in front of the entire family, and then having to do that two more times as it seemed quite possible none of the three would fall back if one of them was turned to crisp. Atef slowly dropped down to his knees and stayed silent.

- Ask for it! I said ask for it!

- Please boss, forgive. I just wanna reach Boneyard.

Tempestuous silence awaiting Bezok’s ruling pulsated in everyone’s ears as the pleading boy waited for the words that would shatter it.

- Why? That sounds like something traitor would do! Those are Untar lands!

Atef started growing weary of this game’s dreariness. The ancient was incredibly stubborn and acted as an arbiter, elevating himself in his mind to the stature of the lord of the land. This was not uncommon in the Pit, and Atef knew first hand how bad it can be, horrific and bloody. A compelling answer was needed quickly.

- My momma is there.

- So you are one of them then! And yet you fought for us! Or you spied for them while pretending to fight for us?

Atef couldn’t believe his ears. The bastard was looking for more and more self-reassuring proof that whatever he is about to do is just. Just like the bosses toyed with Ekrem before bashing his head in. He could still remember the blood stain on the stone, its shape, the heat he would feel every time he’d touch it.

- I’m of Empire. Untar dogs took us from you!

Another pause, another, almost audible, grinding of gears in Bezok’s head.

- So why you don’t already know the way to your “momma.”

It was enough. The golden threads of his gift spun wildly in his mind granting more from the font of knowledge. Atef stood up and his gaze met Bezok’s.

Magic roll: 42 out of 100 [5d20s] ; +1 to Illusion magic ; current level 7/50

Bezok considered it impossible. His memories faded with the winds of time, shattered into millions of blurry shapes and colors that passing scents of earliest childhood could, for a moment, tie into a coherent whole. Everything was taken away from him and yet now, through a flash of blazing light, he could see her. His mother, her caressing and warm touch. One tear shed from his blue, murky eye. He was a babe again, in her clutches, safe and warm, far from any struggle.

- Let the boy go. Maxwell give him some food and send him on his way!

Maxwell gave Bezok a concerning look, even Irlik stood up from his rocking chaise to tend to his brother.

- Do as I say Maxwell! – repeated the patriarch stumbling in and out of his trance. He wanted it to last, to be able to pocket it and invoke throughout the remainder of his days. He made no sudden movements, risking already way too much by ordering that the boy is let go.

Atef’s mind buzzed communing with Bezok’s. He could feel the images that swarmed in the patriarch’s head. They tugged at his heartstrings as well, but he couldn’t give himself time to immerse, the old fool was still highly dangerous. With a pinch of understanding and forgiveness, he left the porch of the farmstead’s Big House repeating to Maxwell three times that they should flee because raiders will come from Heresborg. Maxwell said nothing, and Atef feared his warning will not be heeded.

*

- Embrace the forest. It is less cruel. – That will be fine, thank ya boss!

- You know it’s a good deal m’boy. Now take the shovel and happy digging.

The path to Golden Boneyard ended up being uneventful exactly because Atef adhered to Chanka’s advice. The wolf rejoined him after the farmstead escapade sticking to the beastly rule of avoiding contact with people whenever possible. It was annoying for Atef not to have Mutt by his side in tense situations, but this was definitely a safer option than having to explain why a shabby-looking wolf is in his midst. The “less cruel” of the imparted wisdom started ringing true the moment Atef decided to step back onto the path of his own kin. Asking around how to procure objects from the last great battle led him to a collector of curios, a local small-time merchant endlessly obsessed with the Tricolor war and all other that thundered across Golden Boneyard’s ranges. He offered a deal: “Bring everything you find to me and I will feed you. No find, no food.” Cruel, crueler than the Pit. There he was at least fed at almost all times. Atef’s “benefactor” was kind enough to show the general direction in which he should march with the shovel on his shoulder. He might have just as easily pointed in the opposite direction and none would be the wiser since Golden Boneyard was effectively an endless green flatland. At such a place devoid of character, it seemed that the outcome of any battle was a matter of numbers rather than superior tactics. With no terrain advantage, the side willing to bleed more would come on top. If Atef only knew where exactly they’ve decided to do the bleeding.

After seeing the direction in which Atef was moving, Chanka quickly rushed ahead of Atef sniffing out a potentially good dig site. The earth under him was rich, he could feel its history. He never ventured this far and was glad that no other wolves caught his scent on the way over, otherwise neither he nor the boy would make it. Relieved of that burden, he could now enjoy the softness under his paws, gaze into the distance as he rushes forward scaring rabbits, marmots, birds and other prey. Although he was feeling again like a pup in all this splendor, his keen sense of smell couldn’t pick up what Atef was after. The smell of metal he first experienced while stealing chicken from a farmer who stored his plow in the coop wasn’t gracing his nostrils.

Atef was following from afar, trying to identify a slightest hint of where weapons might lie.

- Above not as easy, as in the Pit. Where did the bozos decide to bash? Over there, nah, over there! Or maybe there? It’s all fekking flat! Fekking, fekking flat! Who can live here, even worse, fight! Wait! Wha’s that?

In the distance some sort of a barrier started emerging. It was glistening in the sun, lonesome and alien to the area. Chanka was halfway there, far from earshot so there was no point in shouting for him to wait. His growling stomach reminded him that it was best to hurry. The smell from the pot at the merchant’s place still besieged his nostrils and he was tired of the slim meals Chanka managed to procure in the last couple of days. The sour taste of maggots that the wolf dug up last night was still in the back of his throat, making the memory of the stew’s scent even more divine.

He was at it at dusk. Baor graced the odd formation with a sparkling shimmer that looked like gold specks were captured in there. It was a wall made of granite slabs that looked as if they were peeled off from a mountain. Oval, shaped like a cross section of a boiled egg they stretched for as far as Atef can see in both directions. Each slab was twice his height, unimaginably heavy and Atef wondered who planted them here and why.

- What now? – Chanka gruffly voiced the mutual confusion.

- We go around I think – replied Atef still inspecting the wall. The patches and lines of various minerals dispersed across the slabs almost told a story, allegoric and as ancient as time, yet incomprehensible. Atef reached to the stone, trying to learn from it, like in the Pit. The death of his candle has left him many a time reliant only on his sense of touch to examine the stone, understand its mineral value. Without a word, he started walking to the left along the wall, maintaining contact with it, letting his fingertips introducing him to each slab. Chanka followed finding what Atef was doing odd enough to try for himself. He licked one slab, then another, and then a third after which he established he is acting stupidly. Nothing was to be gained from licking some stupid rock, and he was sure that neither Atef will gain anything by sliding his fingers across it. The wolf found it far more useful to consider what kind of food he can scrounge up in this wilderness where speed will decide if his stomach stays empty or delighted. He didn’t admit it to the boy, but he ate a couple of rabbits the other day without telling him. Given that he was the only one chasing after food, it only seemed fair.

Suddenly, Atef stopped. His fingers felt a difference, minute but telling. The rock was smoother here, more ancient, ravaged by the wind and rain. It was a sort of a sign, unremarkable, but the kind which gives you the idea to trust it for some reason, only understandable in the murky back of the mind. The buzz in his ears also intensified echoing this feeling of “this is the spot.” The shovel hit the dirt a moment later and Chanka slanted his head in wonder.

- Why you dilly dally? Help, mutt!

- Nah, I like grrr wooooh auuuuuu.

- Standing on good paws…

- Which need to get us dinner.

- So, where dinner?

- I first want to see you find nothing.

- We will see, you trust-none bore.

Earth was soft, black, musky, teeming with life; one could say that Atef was uprooting a whole civilization with each shovel-full. And after a muffled thud about three feet deep, Atef knew someone has done the exact same thing before. He shoveled with renewed vigor, trying to find the edges of the wooden box below him. It was crude, merely a number of planks connected together by rotten rope and nails. Lita was already gracing the world with her moonlight when he finally opened the door to the land of the dead. A smiling set of teeth and empty eyes greeted him back. They hid behind a helmet of good quality, richly ornamented with etches in which three emeralds were inlaid. They looked like another set of eyes, menacing around a beaked nose guard. The metal was only partly rusty around the connecting points of tusk-like teeth that formed a crown. On the armored chest a sword was laid to rest, clutched by skeletal hands still adorned with two golden rings. Each bore a rune or a letter which Atef could not decipher.

- I right, you wrong Mutt! What say you?! – Atef exclaimed victoriously looking up at Chanka who was leaning over the edge sniffing the rot and the metal.

- How did you even…?

- I felt it. A great burning making me dig here. In my head! And you know wha’?

- What?

- That same burning tells me: Where dinner?

The wolf snorted at the jab.

- Here I won’t find much. Auuuuuu ow owuuuuuhhh grrr.

- So the merchant turd gets all this if I wanna feel my belly full…

- I think one of those rings is enough for a full belly. Grrrr uahuah owww.

Atef nodded and looked back at the skeleton below him and then proceeded to wrestle the sword from its hands. The effort involved in yanking it from death’s clutches was so vast that he could have sworn the bones gripped harder, not willing to part with the blade. Finally victorious, he lifted the sword up to the sky as a paragon of conquest and then proceeded to inspect it in the moonlight. It bore inscriptions in a foreign language and the hilt was bound in black leather providing contrast to a crystalline pommel. It was a rich man’s sword and somehow suited to someone of Atef’s diminutive, still growing stature. Placing the blade at the edge of the hole, he proceeded to relieve the buried from everything of value. That included a golden cape buckle, greaves, shoulder guards and chest plate and a drastically corroded chainmail. As he tugged and dragged from the remains, curiosity got the better of him so he tried getting all that metal onto himself. Chainmail was impossible to put on alone, so he quickly tossed it aside opting to play with the chest plate’s hinges and the rotten leather that was supposed to keep the helmet in place. Chanka looked at him quietly growling, despising the unnatural avatar that Atef was becoming before him. In the dark of night, a metal enveloped wraith was born and it started marching back to exchange riches of the days past for currency that buys future.