Twenty-third of Nirakos

Year 1182 of Emancipation

True to his word, Greywall had led Belkai south from Mirask, skirting the mountain of Morilam, though they had passed close by the settlement that had been attacked by the werewolves. They were still gathering the dead as Belkai passed by, and the agony that she felt from them was almost overwhelming. They hadn’t stayed long, and the carriage driver had pushed the horses hard to make it across the steep hills of Nimura before they came to a rise that looked over the southern deserts. Belkai and Greywall dismounted, standing beneath a lone tree as they scanned the wastelands below.

“It looks dead,” Belkai murmured. As far as the eye could see there seemed to be nothing but sand and the occasional rocky outcropping.

“It is,” Greywall confirmed. “It used to be far to the south, but over the centuries it has grown until it now reaches the very foothills of Nimura. They say that no one returns alive. Of our scouts that followed those beasts, only three remained. We lost four to the desert. They were taken during the night. You won’t be alone out there, Belkai. You will be hunted.”

“You may find that I’m quite the hunter myself,” Belkai responded. The Brilhardem were an unforgiving Order, shaped by the Ikari orcs that they lived amongst. Though they appreciated the finer things in life and the luxuries of the wealthy, they were built on a foundation of hardship. The initiate’s first year, of course, was spent in utter silence as they studied and trained. The night of their newfound speech was one of celebration, a party at which they were confirmed as members of the Silent Order. That same night, as they slept off the results of that celebration, they were drugged, thrown on the back of a horse, and dumped somewhere in the Ikari wilderness. A handwritten note made it clear that if they wanted to be a Brilhardem, they must make it back to the Order. It was a tough pilgrimage, and many either lost their lives or turned away from their calling to marry or start new lives. It was the crucible that tested their spirits. Belkai had been dropped in a region renowned for its hatred of humans. She had found a fellow pilgrim strung up and slaughtered like a cow on her third day. She had sworn that she would survive – and she did. Three weeks later she made it back to the Order rested, content, and ready to learn. She was marked as a star pupil. So in her mind the desert held little for her to fear, though she reminded herself to stay vigilant. The power she felt in Narandir had been weakening the closer she came to the desert. There was another force out there that was drowning out Narandir’s influence. That puzzled her, but there was nothing that she could do about it. Davos was out there. That was all that mattered.

“The nearest ruins,” Belkai said. “Where are they?”

Greywall pointed to the southeast. “Four, maybe five days that way. That’s where the vatriloi seemed to be headed. But you’ll want to travel at night. The heat is quite unbearable during the daylight. Nothing moves in the sun. The hunters come out at night, but if you stay moving you should be safe.”

“What is out there?” Belkai asked. Greywall shrugged.

“No one knows, really,” he replied. “Few return to tell the tale. But I believe that most creatures live beneath the surface and come up during the night. Beware of where you step, Belkai. Things are different on the sand.”

Belkai didn’t reply as she returned to the carriage to fetch her pack. She unstrapped her sword before putting on the pack, then clipped the weapon to its side. It was unwieldly, she knew, and Loranna would have fainted at the sight of such a setup, but it worked for Belkai. She had practiced retrieving the sword of a night when the dwarves were sleeping and was confident that she could easily bring it to bear. The obsidian blade given to her by Arak was strapped to her thigh.

“Wish me luck,” she said as she came back to Greywall.

“The gods be with you,” the dwarf said, and bowed to her. “Until we meet again, Lord Belkai.”

Belkai returned the bow, then began to make her way down the hill. Before her stretched the hot sand that held her Davos. Creator preserve me.

***

There was a shaft of sunlight coming through a window above Davos’ head. The blazing heat that came with it had Davos sweating harder than he’d ever experienced before. The night had been equally cold. Adrianna may have wanted him alive, but she certainly didn’t care about his health. She had come to him at first light to give him some water, and he’d been alone since then. He could hear and smell others in the building, and he recognised the signs of the vatriloi that had been in Solstia. The stench of rotten flesh told him that they had recently fed. He wasn’t on the menu, at least not yet. He hoped that they had no intention of changing that.

He heard footsteps approaching, then the brother, Kane, stepped into the little room. Davos was in good shape, capable of taking on most human or elven opponents. But Kane was on a different level, exuding raw power from every muscle. He sat against the far wall, dropping a pack beside him, and glanced around the room.

“Do you have any idea where you are?” he asked.

“The southern deserts,” Davos replied. “Some sort of ruin, but I can’t identify it.”

“It was a temple, once upon a time. Svaletan. This town you’re in was their northernmost settlement.” Kane shrugged. “Times changed, I suppose. You lot have always worshipped the sun, it seems. I guess it makes sense out here.”

He picked up the pack and stepped over to Davos. He reached down to undo his hands, then paused and looked down at his captive.

“You know what I am. If you try anything, you won’t have an arm left.”

Davos didn’t speak but gave a nod. Kane untied his hands, then gave him a slab of charcoaled meat from the pack. He didn’t say what it was, and Davos didn’t ask. It was tender but the taste was reminiscent of the crocodile that would be imported from Wexburg. It was surprisingly pleasant after his starvation over the past few days.

“I always hated coming to this desert. You Svaletans really messed it up before you went north.” Kane sat back down as he spoke, watched carefully by Davos.

“We had no choice,” Davos said between bites. “Our home was destroyed.”

“Of course it was,” Kane laughed. “Your mages made sure of that, didn’t they?”

When he saw Davos’ confusion, he cocked his head and frowned.

Reading on Amazon or a pirate site? This novel is from Royal Road. Support the author by reading it there.

“Did Adrianna tell you we were Palian?” He shrugged. “Our father demanded that we have advanced studies. So when I wasn’t hunting I was stuck in history lectures. You learn a few things along the way.

“For example, those idiots that Svaleta called mages tried to open a portal. That’s not overly complicated but I think they were studying teleportation, as if they could harness the power of the Arcane. They tore the fabric of reality and unleashed hell on your precious desert. Like I said, they were idiots. Now, this was only two hundred years before the Palian Empire came, mind you. So we had to deal with your mess.”

“So, what, now you want to avenge your hassle? Break Svaleta for what we’ve become? Do you bear a grudge after all these centuries?”

Seeing that Davos had finished eating, Kane tied his hands again before speaking. “I don’t care about your little kingdom. They’re all the same to me. The Arcane demanded vengeance, so here we are.”

“So Svaleta, our war that you intervened in, it means nothing to you?”

Kane laughed. “You really think you matter, don’t you? Gods, the arrogance! What do you think your continent is, Davos? These cursed deserts run to the southern coast. West of the damned elves is just wild lands crawling with witches. And north is what’s left of my Empire, and none of your scouting parties have ever survived that journey. Your ‘continent’ is a small island. I have seen countries bigger than this whole island. You have no idea what lies across the sea. There are lands beyond your pitiful imagination.”

“And yet, for all that,” Davos said quietly, “Here you are.”

“Here we are,” Kane agreed with a nod. “That’s how much of a nuisance you lot have made yourselves. But it’s fine with me. The hunt is just as good, no matter how important or worthless the prey is.”

He stood and slung the pack over his shoulder. “Well, you know I’m around, Davos. No doubt you, the half-elven mongrel, can smell the vampires...vatriloi, you call them? This is your prison. If you try to escape, you’ll be lucky if you’re dead.”

***

Belkai managed three hours moving in the daylight before she decided to follow Greywall’s advice. The sun felt like a furnace on her skin as she made her way towards some scattered boulders. It wasn’t much, but it was better than being completely in the open. It took half an hour to reach the boulders, and she collapsed in the narrow shade they provided as she took a gulp from her water bladder. She’d have to be careful, she knew. While she could hold off the worst of dehydration with her abilities, eventually it would outpace them. There would be a water source somewhere, but she’d need to steward what she had until she could find it. For now she would make a shelter for the day. She took her sword and plunged it into the sand, sinking the blade about a third of its length. She hooked her cloak onto the hilt and draped it over the nearest boulder, using a rock to weigh it down. The shade was negligible, but it was there. It would have to be enough. She lay down on the warm sand but frowned when she felt a presence. It wasn’t hostile, just curious about this bipedal creature that had strayed into its domain. Still, she felt the need to investigate in case that curiosity became something more. Things are different on the sand, she remembered Greywall saying, almost as if he’d had personal experience. She hauled herself to her feet and looked around. She saw nothing, but a nearby boulder a couple feet taller than her had enough crevices that she was able to climb on top and survey the area, holding up a hand to shield her eyes from the sun. She still saw nothing, but felt the presence draw closer.

“Show yourself,” she found herself whispering. There was a quiet rumble, then the ground rocked. She dropped to her knees and looked down, shocked to see four crab-like legs extending out from the boulder. Each leg was dirt brown, easily as thick as Belkai herself, and as they began to lift the boulder, Belkai raced to climb down, leaping the last few feet and landing with her dagger in hand. Two pale eyes looked down on her from the underside of the rock, and scaly tentacles swept across the sand. The rock was just a shell, Belkai realised, and took a faltering step back. The creature groaned and turned away from her, heading deeper into the desert. Not a carnivore, she thought. She noticed that the sand was wet where the creature had been, and her eyes widened. A water hunter. She focused on what she could sense, and once she was confident that she could identify its kind, turned her attention to the wet sand. She dug for several minutes until water began to bubble to the surface. It must have been using the tentacles to dig for water, she realised. She returned to her shelter smiling. Whatever happened, she wouldn’t die of thirst.

She woke a few hours later, not realising at first that she’d even slept. The sun was on its way down, and the fierce heat was very slowly beginning to lessen. Belkai stayed on the ground for a good half hour, reaching out and listening for any movement, but she was truly alone now. It had been a long time since that had been the case. She found herself longing to have Davos laying there, his body pressed against hers. Gods, she missed his smile and the sound of his laugh. The thought of him being held captive – or worse – filled her with dread. She could remember what life had been like before him. She had been held fast by Ashelath. Her heart had been cold, closed to everything but pain and fear. She had sought love in many men but while they could satisfy her physical longing, it had never meant anything more than that. She’d almost enjoyed that fact, but the need for something more kept chipping away at the walls that Ashelath had thrown up inside her. Even as she began her travel to Narandir, she had been torn beside the desire to use its power to free herself and the craving for the knowledge and power that Ashelath had promised to give her. Davos had shattered that illusion. He had seen the darkness in Belkai and still chose to give her his heart. Where most wanted to use her, and Ashelath wanted to enslave her, Davos had simply wanted her. That love conquered Ashelath as surely as the fight in which she had put him to death. And now Davos had been taken away from her by the very ones who should have thanked her for ridding them of such a loathsome being.

Belkai pushed that thought out of her mind as she forced herself to stand in the dying light. Feeling the growing cold, she retrieved her cloak and threw it around her shoulders before putting on her pack and clipping the sword to it. I should have brought the horse, she told herself, but it was too late for that. She hadn’t wanted the animal to suffer, and in truth she hadn’t thought that it would make it through the first day. Still, it would have been useful as long as it lasted. It was tough going, moving through the ever-shifting sands. A breeze had come up, bringing at least some relief from the day’s lingering heat. Late in the night, she sensed something off in the distance. It never came close, but it seemed to keep pace with her movement. She was being hunted. Whatever the creature was, it was waiting for just the right time to strike. Belkai smiled grimly as she walked. If it came any closer, the hunter would become the hunted.

When the sun began to rise, Belkai dug a hole in the sand and lay inside before stretching her cloak over it. Without any real shelter, there would be no escape from the heat, but at least she could avoid direct contact with the sunlight. She realised her mistake when the cloak trapped the heat inside with her. I’d kill for a Narandir stream, she thought as she climbed out and looked around for shelter. Finding none, she set out towards the southeast. She was in agony by the time night fell, and she used the cloak as a sheet as she laid down to get some sleep. She awoke a few hours later when she sensed her hunter drawing closer. She didn’t move, didn’t change her breathing, just stayed still as she prepared her trap. She could feel it drawing closer, until finally around midnight she could see the faint disturbance on the sand where it was burrowing. She smiled. Welcome to the hunt. She reached out, sensing its hunger, and triggered its base instinct. It breached the surface, striking its talons into sand that turned out to be empty. It was reptilian, at least four foot long with tough-looking segmented legs. Its jaws were lined with teeth like razors, and two front-facing legs ended in two-foot talons. Belkai whispered a curse as it turned to face her and charged. She leapt to her feet and drew her sword even as her mind took hold of its heart and –

It convulsed, screeched once, then went still. Belkai slowly made her way over and thrust her sword through its skull. There was no reaction, but the shell stayed intact save for the immediate cut. She took a hold of one of its talons and pulled. It was shockingly light, though its muscles were quite strong. She walked for the rest of the night dragging it along. When the sun began to rise, she half-buried it vertically and hung her cloak on the upright talons, using her sword to pin the other end. It was a gruesome, makeshift shelter, but it would suffice. That night she used a firestarter from her pack to burn it, carving out its tender meat. Nourished, she walked through the night.

When she slept that morning, there were shapes on the horizon. Structures.