Vachir was sick to his stomach and, it wasn’t because of the airship swaying beneath his feet. Over a week had passed since the ambush, and they were hardly closer to a solution. The candle that was his life was burning ever lower. Eventually, Lord Scieth would tire of waiting, and he would pay the price.

Following the ambush, search teams had discovered blood and tracks leading away from a nearby gorge. The problem was they led straight up the mountain and into the Black Forest.

“Nobody escapes the Black Forest,” his men insisted. And, they were right. Nobody in their right mind would venture into the forbidden forests of the north. Even cannibals, certifiably insane as they might be, stayed far away.

The evidence had been clear though. Someone, possibly someones, had fled into its dark belly. The Holy Land had dispatched two of its fastest airships (at Her Majesty’s personal behest) to help search the forest border. The small scout vessels cut through the air at five kilometers up, keeping a respectable distance outside the forest perimeter.

As part of the peace agreement during the last great war, The Prophetess had reduced the air navies of the Alliance and Federation to a handful of ships. Both sides were limited to a single squadron of six airships each. A paltry number compared to those of their ancestors.

Both the FCF and the Alliance held tightly to their tiny navies, reluctant to spend them in battle, instead choosing to throw their infantry into the meat grinder of the trenches.

Vachir paced across the Manzawood deck of their small airship as it creaked and bobbed through the clouds. They’d been skirting the outer edge of the Black Forest for days, but fear had kept both ships’ crews from venturing inward.

Nobody survives the Black Forest, he thought again to himself. Yet, something was pulling at the back of his mind. Someone was alive in there, and he would have to go in if he ever hoped to find them. His awakened sight didn’t reach farther than a few miles, but he could feel a distinctive presence deep in the forest.

Vachir turned to his second in command. who was manning the vessel’s wheel. Her eyes scanned the horizon nervously, always searching for threats. Though she’d been a ground pounder her entire career, Vachir suspected she had taken the wheel to distract her from the imagined horrors of the forest below. Her state of mind reflected the whole crew’s. Over the past days, everyone had been on edge.

Tales of dark magic, dragons, cannibals, and any other imagined nightmares graced the mess hall nightly. The awakened “watchers” assigned to his crew were especially unnerved. Their expressions were filled with dread and anxiety.

Being sensitive to the thoughts and emotions of those around them was working against them as they shared in the terror. They were practically drowning in the fear they unwillingly borrowed from the crew. He’d never admit it aloud, of course, but seeing the Prophetess’ minions so out of sorts gave him at least a little comfort.

He called up to Sandra Mason, “Colonel, could I borrow you for a moment?” Handing off control to the ship’s helmsman, his second made her way across the short deck. As she approached, she snapped a quick salute, “Sir!” Her attention shifted to the ground below for a moment.

Vachir saluted back and continued, “At ease, lieutenant colonel. Walk with me.” Sandra lowered her hands to parade rest as they walked across the deck. They paced for a while before Vachir began, “This is getting us nowhere. We have to go in if we ever hope to catch the fugitives. I’m going to order the ship east.” He braced for the inevitable argument.

The lieutenant colonel did not disappoint. “Sir, I believe that would be ill advised. The Black Forest is too dangerous. We may have awakened on both ships, but no amount of power can tear the fear from the hearts of the crew. Everyone’s on edge, sir.”

She was right, of course. Awakened of air could empathically detect emotion but could do nothing to calm instinctive fear. It was a survival mechanism built into mankind since before history was committed to paper. No amount of power could change that.

Vachir sighed, “I know, but I also know they’re in there.”

Sandra stared at him, skeptical. “And how exactly is that? I’m no awakened, but last I heard, you can’t just know where someone is unless they are very close by.”

Vachir, frustrated, stopped to lean against the side railing of their ship. The Black Forest crawled by below them. The treetops swayed in the gentle breeze, mocking him. He shook his head- “I know it sounds crazy, but they’re alive in there. I can’t explain it, but I feel like we’re close. We have to go in after them.”

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Sandra was in deep thought for at least a minute. Finally, uncharacteristically, she shrugged and simply said, “Very well. I’ll inform the men.”

Before she could turn to leave, Vachir stopped her. “Whoa whoa, wait, colonel. Never in our decades of service together have I known you to give up on a good argument so quickly. What are you up to?”

Sandra smiled wryly. “I have no idea what you are talking about sir. Besides, this is hardly the place to discuss such things.” Her eyes shifted covertly to a group of air awakened loitering at the far end of the deck.

More secrets? I don’t like secrets. Vachir stared at his second in command, gauging her intent. “Does this have something to do with our conversation the other day?”

Again, Sandra glanced at the Priests, just out of earshot. “Perhaps,” was all she could say before dismissing herself to assemble the troops below deck.

Days before, she had revealed her involvement in an underground movement against the Prophetess. A good soldier would have arrested her and charged her with treason right there. Then again, they didn’t report to the Prophetess. Not officially anyhow.

Both of them were loyal soldiers of the Free Citizens Federation. Technically, they weren’t breaking any laws. He would have to keep quiet for now, and he wasn’t quite ready to admit it, but the prospect of a real underground resistance against the Prophetess wasn’t entirely unwelcome.

Vachir shelved his curiosity for the time being.

***

“Vachir, you are completely insane!” The leader of the awakened watchers was on the verge of panic.

Both ships had anchored in a valley on the outskirts of the Black Forest. Even at the treeline, the temperature was still uncomfortable. The blazing sun had begun to dip in the western sky, but it would be hours longer until it set.

Vachir waved away the priest’s outburst. Unlike his troops, the awakened contingent assigned to them was not bound by military code or any rules. They worked for the Prophetess and thus said and did what they wanted - usually with great arrogance.

The assembled soldiers and crewmen shifted uncomfortably at the priest’s treatment of their superior. The frightened man didn’t seem to notice them as he continued, “The Black Forest is a death sentence. If you go in there, you won’t be coming out. Just because Lord Scieth set the price of your failure as death doesn’t mean the rest of us have to go down with you.”

Vachir calmly smiled at the man. “You are absolutely right, Priest Hakiim. I was indeed given that alternative. So, knowing that, I don’t have much to lose by going in after them now, do I?”

Hakiim’s white-grey eyes burned. Vachir’s patronizing tone had gotten under his skin. The priest jabbed a finger at Vachir. “Then YOU will go in after them, ALONE. No need to senselessly waste our lives on a fool’s errand.”

Somehow, Vachir knew, Hakiim was only speaking of the lives of his fellow awakened. He doubted the man cared at all for his troops or the crew. He could hardly contain his disgust. Turning away from the seething awakened, Vachir addressed the assembled troops.

Raising his voice loud enough for all to hear, he shouted, “Funny, I didn’t know the Prophetess cared so deeply for the soldiers of the FCF.” The crowd laughed.

Before Hakiim could protest, Vachir continued, “I’ll be heading east, into the Black Forest. None of you are to come with me. Hakiim is right in one thing. There’s no need to risk your lives on an errand that is my burden alone. Return to your ships and report back to the barracks. If I find the fugitives, I will return with them in chains to this location in exactly seven days. If not, assume I’m dead.”

The assemblage was stone silent. Finally, Lieutenant Colonel Sandra Mason stepped forward, “Then, I’ll be accompanying you, sir.”

Others begin to step forward.

“Me too, sir.”

“And I.”

“Reporting for duty, sir.”

Twelve including his second in command stepped forward. Vachir shook his head- “I appreciate your courage, but this is my task, and I can’t risk any more lives on this mission. I’ll go alone.”

Sandra spoke, “Sir, if you go in there alone, you’re dead. You’ve commanded the Ninth Battalion for most of my professional career. It would all count for nothing if I let my commanding officer venture into the most dangerous place in Ruin by himself.”

There’s more. Vachir caught a quick glimpse of duality beneath her words. This was more than loyalty. She was up to something.

He decided to play along. After taking enough time to appear to be wrestling with a decision, he replied, “Very well, volonel, you and your men gear up and prepare to move out. The rest of you, return to the vault for now. We’ll be back at this spot in one week.”

Finally, Hakiim could contain his rage no longer. “You are insane, Vachir! You would take these soldiers to certain death! The Prophetess would never allow-”

“The Prophetess does not command my soldiers. We are loyal to the Federation. Not her.” A shout rose up among his men.

The angry awakened was unphased. “You would dare defy Her Majesty?”

The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

Vachir’s patience had expired. In a second, he crossed the distance between them and grabbed the frightened man by his collar. Vachir’s eyes sparked with barely contained awakened power. Hakiim slumped.

After taking a moment to abate his own feelings, Vachir spoke with deadly ice in his words, “I am the liaison between The Prophetess and the Federation Military. She has tasked me with retrieving the fugitives. Last I checked, that order still stands. Now, if YOU would dare defy Her Majesty, please tell me now so I can reduce you to ash. Otherwise, return to the ship and contemplate your cowardice.”

Hakiim blinked. Without another word, he turned quickly and retreated to the nearest ship. Vachir motioned to his second in command, “Make sure they come back for us in a week.” His second smiled and nodded, trotting off toward the ship, as she barked orders.

Now, we just need to survive the unsurvivable forest and capture the uncapturable fugitives that I’d just as soon set free. No problem.

***

Vachir and his volunteers pushed their way through the steadily thickening forest. With each meter, the trunks drew closer together. As the trees became more numerous, their size grew.

They’d started at a brisk pace, intending to cover twenty kilometers before nightfall. After a few hours, the forest seemed to be draining Vachir and his soldiers of will. Some were visibly distraught. Even the more disciplined among them, including his second in command, were distant.

As an empathic awakened of air, he could feel their mood darkening his soul like a descending cloud. It didn’t help things that common sense should have been warning enough. “Stay Out of the Black Forest” was as commonly known as “chew with your mouth closed” or “never talk to strangers.” It had been ingrained in every person from adolescence.

And now, here they were, in the belly of the beast, the place of nightmares.

Finally, the team reached a clearing. The sun was setting as the western faces of the treetops, far above them, glowed a warm orange. This was as good a place as Vachir could hope to find.

Holding up his hand, he called back to his weary men, “Make camp. We stay here for the night.” He could feel the inward collective sighs of relief from his soldiers. None would ever complain to him openly, but as an awakened of air, he possessed a view into the souls of men.

The strange sounds of an unfamiliar forest filled the air. Vachir had lived his entire life in the deserts of Ruin. After all, most of Ruin was a desert, with the rare exception of the Northern Tribes’ lands. But, those were off limits, fiercely guarded by their significant air fleet, unhindered by the restrictions that the Prophetess had imposed on the southern empires.

Unlike the lands of Southern Ruin, the Northern Tribes had never been touched by the Prophetess’ war machine during the last crusade and thus, they retained a sizable force to protect their fertile green plains and forests.

The Prophetess. She occupied his thoughts far too much lately. Usually, he tried his best to think as little of her as possible. He knew as well as most, probably more, that she was evil. Every time she summoned him back to Golden Spire, he’d muster all his mental control to keep her sickening influence out of his mind.

But, planning an invasion of Ruin? How? And with what forces? Wouldn’t he, her liason to the military of the Federation, have caught wind of such information? Perhaps his lieutenant colonel was right, but how could she know? He’d have to find the time to speak with her.

Their meeting would happen sooner than expected.

***

Fire crackled and popped, warming Vachir and his soldiers. Pine smoke drifted lazily into the night sky, glowing from the broken moonlight as it cleared the treetops. From time to time, an unfamiliar creature would cry out in the night, startling the soldiers.

Vachir had never seen or heard a dragon. For all he knew, any number of these strange noises could be one… if they even existed. His thoughts were interrupted by the voice of Sergeant Grell, third after Lieutenant Colonel Mason, “Colonel, now’s as good a time as any. Are we going to tell him?”

Vachir raised an eyebrow and glanced at his second. “Tell me what exactly?”

Sandra shot a quick glare at the Sergeant before responding, “Why we’re here.”

Vachir shifted uncomfortably and shook his head. “I assume because you all volunteered to help me track down the fugitives and end this manhunt once and for all.”

Sergeant Grell chuckled, “Not exactly, sir. Well, it’s not that each of us wouldn’t be honored to follow you anywhere, into any hellhole, even the Black Forest, but that’s not why we all offered to accompany you.”

Vachir scowled. Being kept in the dark by his second in command and now, apparently, an entire group of his best soldiers was unnerving, and if he was being honest, left him feeling a bit dejected by the men whose trust he thought he’d earned on plenty of occasions.

Sandra could see the general’s expression and spoke quickly, “Apologies, sir, the sergeant and I, hell, all of us have pledged our loyalty to the FCF and to you. You’ve been kept in the dark long enough, and frankly, keeping secrets from my commanding officer is not something I like doing.”

The group all nodded their heads. Most couldn’t meet his gaze as he stared across the fire at each of them. Mason cleared her throat uncomfortably and began, “Sir, the other day, I spoke to you of an underground resistance.”

He nodded for his second in command to continue. Sandra motioned to the men around the fire, “The men you see here are all resistance members.” She paused for effect.

.Vachir remained silent, reserving judgement so, she continued, “We formed this group over a year ago upon Sergeant Grell’s discovery.”

Finally, Vachir held up a hand. “Over a year ago? My troops, my leadership has been keeping this a secret from me for over a year?” The looks around the fire were a mix of embarrassment and shame. He added, “Sorry. Continue. You made a discovery...”

Sergeant Grell stood up. It was his turn to address the group. “As you are no doubt aware, all soldiers of the Free Citizens Federation serve in the military at the age of eighteen for a mandatory four years. We are refined in the trenches against the Warlord Alliance.”

Each man grunted, each with their own stories of death and heroism no doubt. Sergeant Grell added, “After that, we’re each given the choice to continue our military service or return to civilian life.”

Vachir nodded for the man to continue. The sergeant began again, “One of the benefits to continued service is of course a three month per year leave. Some choose to spend the extra time with their families or on holiday, along the lakefront. Others, like myself, spend the spare time working a civilian job to earn a little extra money.”

Vachir thought back to his own early days as a young officer. Like many, after his four years, he’d chosen to pursue a career in the military. At the lower ranks, pay wasn’t very high, and it was common for young officers to take up secondary jobs during their downtime. He’d spent many off months assisting a florist in one of the many busy market streets of Hurria.

Once, early on, he’d made the mistake of revealing his off duty job to a fellow officer. Naturally, everyone knew within a day. It took years, and a few heated brawls, to eliminate the title “Flower Man Vachir” from the vocabularies of his comrades.

The sergeant carried on with his story. “I myself have always had a knack for logistics. Most people hate tracking shipments and the endless number crunching, but I find it relaxing.”

One of the men called out, “Get on with it!”

Sergeant Grell glanced around the fire, scowling, searching for the perpetrator. He continued, “Anyhow, I spent my last leave as a senior logistics coordinator for Huria Deep Mining.”

Vachir knew the name well. Huria Deep Mining Company was the primary provider of all black crystal to the Federation. Although the FCF and Warlord Alliance were severely limited in their airship navy sizes and thus needed very little black crystal to maintain them, the material was used to make black coin - the primary trade currency in Ruin.

The Sergeant’s voice pulled Vachir from his thoughts. “As you know, our government makes a pretty tidy profit from export taxes on all crystal.”

Vachir sighed, “Sergeant, is this going somewhere? I could think of a hundred more interesting subjects than economics.”

The group laughed and, one shouted, “hear, hear!”

Sergeant Grell chuckled and nodded. “Sorry. To make my long story short, over the past three years, I’ve noticed a steady increase in crystal exports to the capitol.”

Vachir interrupted again, “How much of an increase?”

The man took a deep breath and answered, “About a thousand percent.”

Vachir stared at the Sergeant for a moment before replying, “I’m no economist, but even I know that minting that much crystal would cause massive inflation. Our economy would crash in a week.”

Now, the sergeant's words came quicker as he grew more excited. “That’s right, sir. I came to the same conclusion. So, I decided to do some harmless investigating. I’ll spare you the exciting details of BS’ing my way through half a dozen different security checkpoints. Suffice to say, I missed my calling as an actor.”

The general liked this man. Confident, intelligent, and likely occupying a station way below his capability. Sandra made a good choice in making that man her second.

The sergeant lowered his voice, “My search ended at Parliament. It took enough bribes to empty my bank account and guarantee I’ll never retire, but I finally discovered where all that black crystal was going. Not the mint, by the way.”

Vachir was intrigued but growing impatient. “This is the part where you tell me where it was going.”

Lieutenant Colonel Mason yawned and added, “Alright, mister actor. This isn’t the stage. Don’t keep the general in suspense.”

“The Holy Land.”

“The Holy Land?”

“The Holy Land.”

Vachir wasn’t sure what to think. For what purpose? He wondered quietly. She has no need for more money. She has her airship navy and more importantly priests planted throughout ours and the Alliance’s military and cities.

He must have been quiet for a while, because Lieutenant Colonel Mason broke in, “Sir, someone in our own government has been funneling an enormous amount of black crystal to the Holy Land.”

Vachir shook his head. “How? And to what end?” Another man, opposite of the sergeant arose from his spot. He was the thinnest of the group but moved with a grace and assuredness that betrayed a specific skillset in stealth.

He recognized the soldier as Specialist Hartzell. The man was absolutely deadly with a rifle. Add a scope, and it was game over for anyone stupid enough to find themselves drawing his attention.

The normally quiet soldier paced silently as he contributed his part of the story. “That’s where I come in, sir. Sergeant Grell may be a great actor, but getting into the Holy Land requires stealth, or being part of Her Evilness’ cadre of awakened. Thankfully, I have one of those covered.”

“With a little work, I was able to sneak in with the tribute caravan. Unlike the sergeant, I don’t care much for storytelling so I’ll skip ahead to the end.” Vachir was quietly thankful. Specialist Hartzell continued his pacing, his voice monotone, unemotional, “After two weeks of travel via caravan, we finally reached our destination. Sir, if I may ask, what do you know about The Great Rift?”

Vachir thought for a moment and replied, “It’s a huge canyon. Stretches beyond the horizon toward the great salt sea. Rumor says there is a giant river of poisoned water running through it that kills any creature that tries to drink from it.”

“I’ve only ever seen it from a distance when the Prophetess summons me to Golden Spire.”, he finished. The thought of her touching him, draining his life, sent a chill down his spine.

The specialist continued, his voice steady as a stream, “Sir, the entire rift is a massive shipyard and staging ground for an invasion force.”

Vachir was astonished at the man’s words. It took him a few moments to clear the dizziness and collect his thoughts.

Finally, he found his voice. “Putting aside the fact that you claimed to have found some ultra-clandestine fleet under construction at the bottom of a seven kilometer deep rift, next to a toxic river, I’m having trouble believing that you were able to sneak past the Prophetess’ many checkpoints and awakened guards.”

Vachir chuckled, “I’d hate to break it to you, but air awakened such as myself can easily detect a non awakened amongst ourselves. Especially if they are alone amidst others like us. It’s like hearing a bass voice in a choir of tenors. Regardless of how many tenors there are, the moment the bass sings out, everyone knows it.”

Specialist Hartzell stopped his pacing and turned toward the general. His grin stood out against the firelight under his hood as he spoke, “Tell me general, can you hear me?” Vachir hesitated a moment. He avoided using his powers in front of the men when possible. None seemed to mind though. If anything, they were eager to see him try. He could sense their anticipation.

Finally, he accepted the challenge. “Very well,” he replied. Vachir closed his eyes and concentrated. Around the fire, he could sense every living thing, every being. Each sang a unique song. Some were louder than others, but all he could easily pick out and assign to each member.

It was really quite beautiful. Some nights, he would sit alone in his office and listen to the song that rang from the souls of his troops outside. Although he could share his experiences and thoughts with the other awakened, he never bothered to. Each of them was possessed on some level by the Prophetess.

She had his body, but not his soul.

Focusing more intently on the group, he picked out each one. Mason, Grell, Huntley, and more. But… there was a pit of silence where Hartzell should have been. Vachir opened his eyes and stared at the specialist. The man was smirking as the firelight cast shadows across his face.

Vachir tried again, and again, and again. Nothing.

Finally, he gave up on his efforts, “What in the hell-”

“Ahh but wait, sir, there’s more.”, Hartzell interrupted. The man turned to the group. Motioning toward them, he added, “Go ahead and show him.”

“Show me what?” Vachir was becoming annoyed. This entire evening had been one surprise after another… and he hated surprises.

Mason was smiling now, “Go ahead, sir. Try again. This time, try to find any of us.”

Vachir sighed and closed his eyes again. This time, it was as if the fire was surrounded by empty pits. Not exactly nothing, but rather pits of nothing. He knew consciously that his soldiers were there, but his awakened power disagreed.

Opening his eyes again, he was visibly unnerved. “How in the hell do you all do that? That was both disturbing and fascinating.”

Mason replied, “It’s actually derived from an ancient practice called ‘meditation.’ It takes some time to master, but it essentially hides us from the powers of air awakened and lets us be free of their unwelcome probing.” She nodded to him, “No offense.”

Vachir laughed. The soldiers around, especially his second in command, looked at each other, confused by his reaction.

After getting it out of his system, he apologized, “I’m sorry. I’m not going insane. It’s just, I’m connected to the emotions and innermost desires of those around me. It’s horrible. Sometimes, I can’t tell the difference between myself and someone else. To know that someone at least has the ability to block me… It’s quite a relief actually.”

The group remained silent, unable to sympathize with his struggle. Seeing this, he turned to Specialist Hartzell and asked, “So, using this ‘meditation’, you were able to make your way into the deepest parts of the Holy Land.”

“Yes,” the specialist replied.

“Incredible,” Vachir exclaimed, “although, it seems odd that, during the entire journey, and I understand, it takes a few weeks on foot, nobody noticed a big dark pit where your… presence should have been.”

Hartzell shrugged. “I think you’ve gotten too used to being a free awakened. Her… slaves are practically without a creative thought. They meander about like half asleep apes. Have you ever tried to engage one in conversation?”

Vachir considered the question and chuckled, replying, “Never, if I can avoid it. It’s like talking with… her.” He shuddered again.

Hartzell agreed, “Same here. Basically, those brain dead acolytes never bothered to probe me, ask me questions, or ever engage in conversation. It was the most boring two weeks I’ve ever spent.”

Vachir considered his next words carefully. “There is only one way I can verify this information absolutely, you understand. A mental connection. However, I would never order you to do such a thing.”

Unexpectedly, the man knew what Vachir was talking about. He nodded and made his way over to the general.

Kneeling in front of Vachir, Specialist Hartzell closed his eyes and took a deep breath. After a few more, he whispered, “I’m ready.” Vachir kneeled down and placed his hands on either side of the Specialist’s head. Now, let’s see exactly what you saw.

The world around them faded to a white nothingness as the connection was made.