They never found Ziln. There were no tracks, no signs of a struggle. No blood, or dropped toys, or torn bits of cloth to offer any sort of clue. It was as if the lud girl had simply vanished into thin air.

Callan did his best to put it out of his mind as he lay down to sleep that night. The only possible explanation was that the girl had found some place to secret herself, some place not shown on the map. She was still alive, or he would have received an alert about losing a point of faith.

Most likely she’d turn up tomorrow morning or whenever she finally got hungry. He remembered doing the same to his own parents on an occasion or two.

----------------------------------------

The next day was much like the one before it. First, Callan sent six lud back to the remains of their village to watch for signs of the cult. Even though it would be weeks and weeks yet before the caravan reached the center of Urslang, he didn’t like the idea that some of the priests with it might double back. Better to keep an eye on the ruins for any sign of approach than getting caught with their pants down later.

He also authorized Lynthia to begin hunting for small game on the plateau, and another group of lud led by a Daisa woman named Origi to forage for any edible plants. A diet of emergency biscuits might sustain them, but it wasn’t smart to live by itself long-term.

It was only after he managed to track down Sworv to follow up on the chimney plan that Callan began to appreciate the complexities of the situation he now found himself in.

Sworv sat in his room, a yellowish bruise blossoming on his face like some obscene flower. The lud’s eyes widened at the sight of Callan standing in the doorway, then hurriedly rose to his feet.

“Apologies for yesterday, Avatar. It was presumptuous of me to bother one such as yourself with such a selfish request.”

“It was hardly a bother.” Callan frowned as he studied the man. He couldn’t tell, but from the way the lud winced when he stood, it seemed his face wasn’t the only place that was bruised. “What happened to you?”

“An accident, nothing more. Please don’t trouble yourself about it.”

“Um, okay.” Callan had been forced to sit through enough Lifetime movies with his mom to know that was a load of crap. But he could also tell the man clearly didn’t want him to pry. “I’ve gone over the schematics of the temple. The room directly above your kitchen is one of those we don’t know the purpose of. I could probably craft a staircase directly between the two given enough time. Should we do that, and turn the current room into a dining hall?”

The lud turned and gave a quick bow. “I should have explained immediately, avatar, for this I apologize again. I am no longer the lead chef in the kitchens. The project is mine to manage no longer.”

“Oh. Who should I talk to about it then?”

“That I do not know. If you stop in the kitchen, though, I’m certain one of the others can tell you.”

Callan nodded and turned to leave, only to stop and return. “Did you not want to be the lead chef anymore?”

“It is not about what I want.” The lud looked away. “Please. I do not want any trouble. Just speak with the others.”

“If you’re certain—” Callan’s words cut off as the door closed in his face. He took a step back and frowned.

“That was odd, right? Tell me I’m not the only one who thought that was odd.”

You are not. Clearly there is more to this story than the lud is telling us. Perhaps one of our priests can provide further insight.

It only took a short search to turn up Argas, who was directing a small gathering in one of the empty libraries. The lud immediately stepped away from the group at Callan’s approach. “Good morning, avatar. Or perhaps good afternoon. It is too easy to lose track, living underground like this.”

“Yeah, this temple could really do with a few clocks. Or maybe a skylight.” Callan glanced at the others, but they seemed to be busy with... sewing? Were they repairing clothes? No, they appeared to be modifying several of the priest robes from one of the storage rooms.

It only now occurred to Callan that most of the outfits he’d seen so far had been made for humanoids with only a single pair of arms. Guess that would necessitate some customization.

“Anyway, I wanted to ask you about Sworv. The cook from the other day? He seems to have suffered an injury.”

Argas nodded somberly. “Yes, most unfortunate. It seems I wasn’t the only one who was upset about his stepping outside his caste. I do not condone violence, but I also understand how his actions may have been viewed by others.”

“Wait, this was because he was Daisa?” Inwardly, Callan was kicking himself for his lack of foresight. Of course something like that was going to result in conflict. He glanced at the lud unstitching and restitching fabrics, then back at Argas. “We need to find who’s responsible.”

The priest frowned. “Avatar... this is a private lud matter. It is better if you don’t get yourself involved with it.”

“This is Xeph’s temple, I’m not going to allow—”

“Callan.” It wasn’t clear who was more surprised at the use of his name, him or Argas. The priest recovered quickly, and repeated, “Callan. You asked me yesterday if we could be friends. So let me offer you some friendly advice: don’t get involved with this. It is a lud matter, and not something that will be improve by an outsider’s meddling.”

“Why not? What if Xeph decides he’s not going to allow this caste nonsense inside his temple?”

Argas pursed his lips. “That is the god’s choice, of course. And if Xeph-Zul-Karatl decides thus, I promise you, every one of the villagers here will pick up and leave. Better that than lose our way of life.”

“Everyone?” Callan asked. “Even you, Argas?”

“I—Of course not, Avatar. Paeral and I have sworn to serve, and we shall. But that is also why by becoming priests we are elevated to Leadership caste. It places us above such worries.”

“I still don’t understand the whole lud societal structure,” Callan muttered.

“While I will do my best to assist, someone who has spent their life as Leadership caste might be a better choice. Shamain, perhaps.”

Whoops. Callan hadn’t meant for that to be overheard. He tried to play it off with a laugh. “Have you actually met Shamain? If I ask her, she’d never let me hear the end of it.”

“She can be slightly... contrary on occasion,” Argas acknowledged hesitantly.

“Downright hostile is more like it.” Callan shook his head. “Look, I’ll take your advice and drop the subject for now. Just... let me know when there are conflicts in the future, okay? I don’t want anyone getting hurt because I didn’t have all the facts.”

This book's true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.

Argas nodded, and Callan took his leave. As the door closed behind him, he turned in the direction of the nearest training hall.

Where are we bound for now? Xeph asked.

“Somewhere I can punch something until I feel better about this whole situation.”

They returned to the hall he and Argas had cleared the day before. The now-broken golem still lay where it had fallen, so Callan took a bit of time hauling it to the far corner and sweeping up the wooden splinters as best he could. Once that was done, he practiced a few basic punches against the least-mobile of the golems until his arms shook.

After that, he and Xeph returned to their advanced technique practice from the day before.

Remember to breathe, mortal. Steady breath is key to feeling the flow of my power through your body. Once sensing it comes as naturally as using any of your other organs, you’ll be all the better prepared to call upon the skill in a moment of crisis.

“You never did tell me if my other bounties can be manipulated like Mountainform,” Callan said, making absolutely certain not open his eyes. His head-mate had also drilled into him how important it was to block out external stimuli whenever possible.

That is a more complicated question. Wurmchain can be manipulated in several ways, though it is more difficult to do so as you are affecting something outside of your body rather than within it. Shape Stone theoretically can also be altered, but because of how that orison works, the effect is notably removed from how one would expect.

“Oh? In what way?”

We shall leave that subject for another occasion. However, it might be prudent to accelerate your study of Wurmchain’s advanced aspects, given yesterday’s battle. A weapon too long and cumbersome to be used is no weapon at all.

“Does that mean I can change Wurmchain’s length?” Callan asked, suddenly feeling excited. There were several applications he could put such an ability to use.

Among other factors, yes. For the moment we should master one of the simpler advanced skills and move on from there.

‘Simpler’ turned out to be a rather generous description of what Callan was practicing. If manipulating the ball of energy that was Mountainform was like trying to rub your belly and pat your head at the same time, doing the same for Wurmchain was like attempting both those things while balancing on a beach ball.

At the end of the first hour, he still hadn’t managed to manipulate the weapon at all, whether summoned or not. According to Xeph, the easiest task to learn was getting the spike on the end to generate elsewhere along the chain, but Callan didn’t even know what mental muscle to flex.

Xeph assured him that with practice and concentration he’d start sensing energy outside his body, but so far, nothing. It was like trying to grab ahold of the air itself.

With his Mountainform he had better luck. By the time he and Xeph called it a day he’d managed to move the stone encrusting his hands all the way to his shoulders. Doing so cost an additional five percent of Apotheosis, but given the reduced costs of his other abilities, that was no longer such a heavy price to pay. He still couldn’t manipulate the manifestation at all unsummoned.

They left the training room with Callan sweating and feeling like a wrung-out rag. But in a good way.

“Amazing how much of a sweat I worked up just standing there,” he said as he closed the training hall door behind them.

Utilizing mental energy and focus still places a strain on the body. All the more so with my power flowing in your veins. Given time and sufficient followers, primitive acts such as sweating may become a thing of the past, but for now they are an unfortunately necessary biological process.

“Yeah, that was a bit too clinical a comment for my tastes, but I think I got your point.”

So are you ready to talk about what is bothering you?

Callan frowned, and almost missed a step. “I’m not bothered.”

Human, I literally live inside your squishy meat sack of a mind. You aren’t so skilled as to hide your emotional state from me.

“There you go with the clinical talk again.” He sighed and came to a stop. Luckily, the hallway here was deserted. “It’s just the whole thing with Sworv earlier left a bad taste in my mouth, is all.”

Because of the conflict over this caste system.

“Exactly. It just feels like what happened with Ishe all over again. Except, this time it’s not you holding me back, it’s myself.”

And what exactly are you holding yourself back from?

Callan shook his head. “I don’t know. Something. Anything! It’s just stupid that Sworv has to suffer because of who he was born as. Maybe that’s my Earthling bias showing, or whatever, but it doesn’t feel right to stand by and do nothing.”

Then make him a priest. That appears to have resolved our High Priestess’s issues.

“But that’s only one lud. What about the other Daisa caste members? I can’t make them all priests, even if they wanted to be. I just wish there was more I could do...”

Xeph was silent for a moment. Then, So do more.

“Huh?”

Do more. Force them to give up this caste system of theirs. After all, what is a centuries-old tradition in the face of love and adoration for their new god and his chosen representative? There was such a preening note to Xeph’s voice that Callan honestly couldn’t tell if he was being sarcastic or not.

“Didn’t you hear what Argas said earlier? The lud will leave.”

Then let them. If they wish to try their luck surviving on their own in the wilderness, that is their choice. You are the avatar of a god, above kings and commoners alike! And this is our temple, where your word is law.

The god’s words brought a smile to Callan’s face. “You’d give up your followers for me, just like that? After everything we went through to earn them?”

I would not be happy about it, but there are always more followers in the world. There is only one Xeph-Zul-Karatl, and only one Callan Whitlocke.

Callan wasn’t sure how to respond to that. Luckily, he was saved from the dilemma by a flicker of movement down the tunnel.

“Did you see that?” he asked.

I see whatever you see, mortal, and a little beyond as well. That said, no. No, I did not.

“There was... I’m not sure what.” Callan raised his voice and called, “Anybody there?”

There was no response. Xeph grunted. It is likely one of the lud. Still looking for the lost child, I suspect.

Right, Callan had almost forgotten about that. “Ziln? Is that you?”

A streak of shadows shot out of a doorway at the end of the hall and disappeared around the corner.

“Hey!” Callan took off running after it. “Come back here!”

What are we even chasing? Xeph asked.

“I’m not sure. But it might be the lost girl.”

If it’s the lost girl, why is she running away?

Callan didn’t have a good answer, so he said nothing. Instead, he dashed down one hallway, then another. He kept catching flickers of movement ahead, or just the briefest glances right before they turned another corner. Whoever they were wore dark clothing that covered most of their features.

Finally, he reached a hallway that ended with a single door. He glanced over his shoulder.

“Pretty sure they didn’t slip past us. Gotta be inside here.”

I’m still unclear who we’re chasing. I haven’t seen anyone.

Carefully, Callan pushed open the door. A single torch burned inside the room, casting wavering light onto a half dozen objects lying at odd intervals.

“Isn’t this one of the rooms that Argas didn’t know the function of?”

Hmm. Xeph took a moment in responding. I believe so, though with all that running I’m a little turned around.

“Ziln? You in here?” Callan stepped inside. On closer inspection, he saw the various objects lying around were pieces of old machinery, now rusted and covered in an inch or more of dust. Whatever their original purpose, they were long past it now.

The room appears to be empty.

“Yeah, kind of got that, Xeph.” Callan still made an effort to check behind all of the broken machines, even though none were large enough to hide a lud child. Nothing.

“I know I saw them come in here.”

And I keep saying that I never saw anyone ahead of us. Perhaps I allowed you to train for too long today. Your mind is clearly suffering from all the stress that your position as avatar is placing upon it.

"Gee, thanks, Xeph. Let’s just jump straight to assuming I’ve gone crazy.”

I never accused you of being crazy, Xeph said with a huff. Only under an inordinate amount of stress. I should have insisted you take more time to rest after our battle in the lud village.

“Well, I’m telling you I’m fine.” Callan frowned as he took a last backward glance at the room, but it really was empty. Besides the machinery there was a slight crack in the far wall, but otherwise the room was as plain and unremarkable as all the others.

It took a bit to retrace his steps, but eventually they found their way back to the training hall door. From there it was only a short walk back to the main hall—and more importantly, Callan’s private quarters.

When he reached the doors to his room, he found Argas waiting for him. The lud jumped at Callan’s appearance. “Avatar! I am glad to see you are unharmed.”

“Duh, I mean, why would I—” Callan paused. Alarm bells went off in his head. “What’s happened? Did someone find the girl?”

Argas shook his head. “No. Worse, two more have gone missing.”

Of course. Because nothing could be simple about this whole mess.

Callan did his best not to grind his teeth. “Gather the villagers for another meeting.”

“Already done. They’re waiting for you in the main hall.”