Even after so long - decades in which we have held relatively stable control down here - it is difficult to say with certainty what Iye is. Indeed, for all we know, it may not even be deep underground, as the House suggests... What we do know suggests a cunning and dangerous entity - one that moves with its own purpose. At all times, caution should be advised. Iye is not your friend. - General Emmanuel, Varuun in Iye. Dated TUR 4826.
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An explosion penetrated through Aliso’s thick blanket of exhaustion and sleep with surgical precision – a reminder that dreams and fantasies exist only where the light cannot touch. Slamming hooves and shifting momentum threw the youngblood upwards momentarily, before sending him crashing back into the wagon’s wagon with resounding force. From around the Caravan, shouts of panic and alarm rang out as the caravan guards prepared for battle.
Air freed from the smoky prison of his lungs, Aliso groaned groggily – sore muscles stretching as he stood and patted down a comfortable blanket of dust.
When’s the last time I slept so sound? Aliso mused sleepily, swaying dreamlike as exhaustion, shock, and weariness battered away his feeble attempts at orientation and clear thought.
The lost battle would result in another unfortunate (outcome) – as the re-moving wagon sent the inattentive Aliso tumbling out the back.
He grumbled – dirt reintroducing itself to his clothing like a grandmother presenting meals to a skinny child.
Well, could’ve been worse. Aliso began thinking, dusting off again. Could’ve fallen deep beneath the despondent waves of the briny deep.
Behind him, a small laugh rippled through the still air. Aliso turned to see a woman sitting atop a massive black creature he had never seen before.
Tall – showcasing a slim figure and well-defined muscles – she sported a well-fitted black, white, and red leather overcoat alongside a pair of rugged tawny cargo trousers and silver boots, all stained with blood. Beneath the overcoat was an armless silver breastplate; a faded symbol etched into the center. Her hair was woven and tied in intricate dreadlocks, loosely falling over her left shoulder and covered by a comically large high-crowned hat, wide brim casting a shadow over her face. She wore shining neon blindfolds – and despite her light-devouring midnight skin, she somehow radiated with divine light – emanating from inside her, somehow.
All in all, it made for a terrifying and strikingly beautiful figure that made Aliso jump up and yelp in shock and fear.
Rather than scowl as he expected, the woman laughed louder, her beautiful voice vibrating in the chilly morning – at least I think it’s morning – air. Aliso eyed her suspiciously as he regained control of himself. He succeeded in controlling his physical reaction, but unfortunately, his emotions still roiled loudly on his face; painting a visage of confused embarrassment - although more of the former than the latter. Thank god she can’t see me. Then, a question.
“Wait, you saw me fall off?” Aliso blurted, confused.
Still chuckling, the woman climbed off her mount and strode toward him – a smile draped across her face.
“See? No. SEE? Yes.” Snorts of laughter escaped her like a waterboarding prisoner gasping for air. Aliso shrugged - accepting the answer. He'd seen weirder.
“Would you like a ride?” She asked, waving a hand to her companion – whose nostrils expelled steam like a train as it examined Aliso up and down.
Covered entirely in black fur – with white stripes running horizontally across his body – the creature was massive, standing twelve feet long and a hair under seven feet tall on all fours, each paw sporting three sharp, white claws. It had a massive body, bearlike, but with a long snout in place of its mouth and an equally slender tongue that slithered about its face.
“Thanks, but no thanks, Milady,” Aliso replied nervously. “I’ve caused enough trouble, and you’ve helped me enough as it is.” He paused, before adding: “Thank you very much for the offer though.” In truth, Aliso’s aching feet would’ve loved a ride, but he wasn’t sure if the creature would love him for a ride.
The woman chuckled, and before he could protest, she picked him up by the arm and jumped almost ten feet high – deftly landing upon the creature, who moved to catch her. Aliso let out a yelp as he found himself seated in the woman’s lap – a small piece of her armor stabbing near his family jewels. He adjusted – nearly toppling over as the creature began to march on, following behind the reanimated caravans through the large crop fields covering their escape.
“Don’t worry about Baloo. He doesn’t bite.” Her voice nearly made Aliso jump out of his skin – coming in as but a light whisper behind his ears. He managed to respond with a stiff: “I see.”
Baloo’s seat was too small for them both – which is the only reason he allowed himself to appear like a petulant child, rather than act like one. Evidently, his embarrassment – which had fled him during his time with Portus – seemed to have returned at an inopportune moment.
“What’s your name?” she asked conversationally.
“Aliso, Milady.” the silver-haired boy replied, trying not to squirm as the armor poked and prodded –thankful for the distraction.
“Ah – none of this Milady stuff, thank you very much! Call me Tarra.” She braced for a response – possibly recognition? – but when Aliso showed no signs of pressing the matter, she eased and continued.
“Where are you from? Long way from home for someone so young.”
“I’m not that young!” He protested.
She laughed – this time not bothering to conceal it. “How old could you possibly be?”
“I’m fourteen! A few more years, and th-” Aliso stopped himself midsentence – realizing he was about to give away important information. He worried about that – and so he fell silent as he contemplated.
Thankfully, Tarra interpreted this as bashfulness rather than a slip-up – and so she continued, barreling through the conversation.
“Don’t be in such a hurry to grow up kid – trust me. So, where you from?”
“Somewhere far, far away” He replied softly.
She rolled her eyes at that. “Lemmie throw a blind dart at a board… Dii Lainus?”
Aliso nearly stumbled from the mount at that mention of his birthplace.
“No!” He lied sharply, although his reaction had already given away the truth.
They sat in silence for a few minutes – before Aliso finally cracked beneath the pressures of his own mind.
“How’d you know?” he grumbled.
“Saw ‘em cut you up on stage.” She replied succinctly.
“Oh. So you know…”
“That you are a Vampyr? Yes.” Tarra ran her fingers down his neck, and it took everything for Aliso not to scream from how cold her fingers were.
“You don’t care?” he prodded.
She shrugged. “Not really.”
Aliso nodded – confirmation of her position rather than an expression of faith in her words. “How many others know?”
She shrugged. “Whoever was paying attention? The announcer wasn’t exactly keeping his voice quiet – although I doubt others were quite as close to the action as I was.” Aliso could feel her gaze begin peering into him – although he had no idea how.
I suppose it’s the same way she saw me fall from the wagon.
“Where are you from?” Aliso quizzed, clearly wanting to move away from the topic.
Tarra obliged. “Song.”
“Never heard of it.”
“Really? Well, that is a surprise.” From her tone, it was clear that her mind was caught elsewhere. He took advantage of her lapse of concentration to bombard her with questions – as to keep her own prying questions unasked.
“Where is it? Is it a country?”
“Song? …It’s out west, past the FTT… or, err… the Freemanese Free Territories. As for what it is… It’s not a country so much as it is a city-state, similar to the Grand Dutchy of Dii Lainus in that regard.” she began.
Aliso thought to interject with another question – ask what exactly the FTT, or what a city-state was – but restrained himself. Best not to let her know what I don’t know. Already tipped my hand too much.
Instead, he replied with a tepid: “I see.”
She chuckled. “I doubt it.”
Conversations died after that – another series of alarms ringing out across the caravan capturing Tarra’s rapt attention – to Aliso’s relief.
Eventually, however, nagging curiosity finally bit the bait. “Where are we going?” He asked.
“To a temporary camp, jusut-sideine-rfor-st.” She yawned. “Sorry. Just outside the inner forest.” She clarified. “Once there, we're gonna split up and head back to our camps or settlements or wherever everyone is going.”
He looked up at her in confusion. “Aren’t you all in the same group?”
“No. What you see here is the collaboration between six or eight different groups. One group wouldn’t have had the resources necessary to pull it off.”
“Well… how far is this ‘temporary camp’?”
“Maybe half an hour? We should be getting pretty close now.”
Aliso nodded, eyes dropping.
Then, before he knew it, he nodded off, gently falling asleep to the rhythm of the hooves as they ate through the land.
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Aliso awoke to the sight of a massive clearing – split into three distinct camps.
“Alright now, let’s go then. Uppsy daisy!” Tarra exclaimed.
“Wha-“ Aliso managed to get out, before he was once again soaring through the air as Tarra picked him up by the scruff of the neck and leapt off Baloo’s back, like a hound carrying a newborn puppy. She landed on the floor, gently putting him down like a fragile object.
“How was the ride?” She beamed.
“Wonderful.” He replied, dazed as he sat down. “Thanks.” He mumbled out.
Another laugh rang out in the now significantly nosier air. “Alright well, I have to get going now.”
She stuck her thumb out – pointing to the center camp.
“You, head over there. That’s where we’re rounding up the freed slaves and tagging you. When you get there, just let them tag you, and ba-da-bing-ba-da-boom, you can go look for food!” She turned to look back behind – and Aliso followed her gaze to the endless crop fields from whence they came.
“Alternatively, you’re free to leave if you want, but I doubt you’d be able to make it far alone, even in light.”
“Thank you” Aliso reiterated – dizziness fading as he stood. “Where are you going?”
Tarra moved her thumb, pointing to the leftmost camp. “I’m off to the Officer’s Tent. Need to debrief with the others, whenever they arrive. Couple hours of boring politics blah blah yatta yatta all that garbage.” Tarra mimicked some yapping gestures with her hands as she spoke, her voice drenched with exaggerated exasperation – before swapping back to her cheerful tone. “Now Aliso, it’s time to go.” He pulled him into a hug – which was less than comfortable due to her armor. “Wait – before you go tell me, how long have you been in Iye?” she asked, pulling away.
“Uh-huh.” She shifted her feet and crossed her arms – staring into his eyes, unnerving as her own were covered by those glowing blindfolds. Somehow, Aliso knew that she saw through his lies – as if she could naturally tell that he was a few months away from being a few months away.
The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.
She glowered at him – as if she was willing a locked treasure chest broken open with her gaze alone. Evidently, it was a sound tactic, as Aliso folded almost immediately.
“A few weeks.” He confessed sheepishly. “I fell here, came to, and before I knew it I was on my way to an auction. Happy?” He tried to put a note of defiance into it, to dare her to contest him further. Instead, he came away sounding more like a whiny child.
Which in her eyes, I probably was.
“Hmm.” She responded, then she turned and headed off to her camp.
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“925!” the guard screamed, stamping the number into Aliso’s back – who promptly yelped, jumping in surprise. His words of protest died in his mouth as another large muscular guard ushered him forward – purposefully using enough force to send the youngblood flying forward, arms flapping wildly like a chick tossed from the nest.
Aliso threw the dumb oaf a hateful glare.
Bastard. Doesn’t even care. Aliso watched as the white-clad man lumbered– moving to assault another poor, innocent man.
“Out of the box and into the coop, isn’t it?” A voice called out from the shadows - well, shadowless shadows. Aliso jumped back in surprise for what had to be the third time today – turning to see a slight young woman standing behind him.
A head taller than him, she wore a tattered pewter tank top, a charcoal military coat (likely gifted, given it was three sizes too big), and thin, maroon pants: across which snaked a minefield of roses and irises in the form of leaking cuts and well-work swellings. Her hair stood out brightly, silky blonde – almost golden – as it ran long, cutting off just above her hip.
Aliso rubbed at his back – where the number ‘925’ had just been stamped. It stung slightly, but his face stung more than his back. Once again – he was astounded at how quickly embarrassment returned. He grinned a response at her – covering his stumble.
“You’re right. A revolution indeed. Personally, I’m glad to be a part of it.”
His grin widened as confusion clouded her face, letting the white of his teeth show as he took pride in his wordplay. A few moments later, a smirk cut through the fog. “Careful now, too many spins and you might find yourself in another plot, one you’d rather be apart from.”
“As if this was a plot of my choosing?” Walk too many lines, and eventually, you’ll be walking a circle. One destined to trap you in and wring you out. Aliso shook his head ruefully, letting the grin fade off his face as he offered out his hand. “Aliso. By the way, what number you got?”
She smiled, walking over and clasping it in turn. “Misha. And Seven hundred and seventy-two.” She turned to show her back – where the number was stamped. “Although I only arrive a handful of minutes before you.”
Aliso sniffed the air – catching a small whiff of garlic, elderberry, purslane, and honey on the air – then recalled his earlier conversation with Tarra.
“I think they’re making food out that way.” He said, pointing out to where smoke billowed into the air.
“Lead the way!” Misha exclaimed. “I could eat an ox right now.”
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Unfortunately for Misha – whose stomach was still growling while they ate –, the camp served only a single bowl of stew to each person – notching a small mark on the number on their back to indicate they’d been served.
“Are you from the auction too?” she asked – greedily slurping a mouthful of stew between syllables.
Refraining from bursting out laughing, Aliso trusted himself only to nod sagely.
“I wonder,” she idled, stopping the relentless evisceration of her bowl, “are we really in better hands now?”
This time, Aliso couldn’t fight off the bitter laugh that escaped – spittle of stew accompanying it.
“Hey!” the blonde girl protested, jumping back and wiping the table as Aliso wiped his mouth.
“Sorry, Sorry. Just that, well, short of infinite torture, I think anything is better than that place.”
Misha stared at her bowl for a moment – as if she had just now realized she had stopped eating – then redoubled her effort for the time lost.
“Maybe, I don’t know. I mean, what do you think they want with us? Surely, they didn’t save us out of the goodness of their hearts.”
“Who knows, maybe they’re just good people.”
Another harsh laugh filled the air – Misha’s, who followed it with a small rant. “There’s no such thing as a good person down here. Maybe even up there, but definitely not down here. No, whoever comes down here comes under the influence of greed or lust or pride or because they’re a shit person or some shitty accident. No one comes down here for good reason” The blondie paused, before asking “You new?”
“New to what?”
She rolled her eyes. “You just exchanged in the equivalent of verbal warfare with me earlier, don’t take me to be stupid.”
“No.” He lied – chowing down another spoonful of his own stew. Objectively, the meal was mediocre, but for Aliso – and by his estimates, all the other former slaves – it was nothing short of the greatest meal of their life.
They sat silently for a few moments before Misha brokered another question between bites.
“Why lie?”
“Why ask?” he replied.
“Wanted to test your character.”
Silence again – the comment hanging in the air before Aliso beat it down like a child taking to a piñata.
“Then consider me sufficiently judged.” Anger sharpened the edge of his words – and ushered in another wave of silence, as they sat and ate quietly.
Finally, Aliso broke the discord. “What gave it away?” he sighed.
She shrugged. “You still seem hopeful.” She replied, to which Aliso had no response.
“How long have you been here?” he decided it was his turn to make some judgment calls.
“Few months.”
Before he could respond, three loud ‘BANG! BANG! BANG!’ rang out in the air. Immediately after, a voice boomed throughout camp. “ALL NUMBERS, PLEASE COME TO THE MAIN CAMP AREA. I REPEAT, ALL NUMBERS, PLEASE COME TO THE MAIN CAMP AREA IMMEDIATELY.”
“Guess that’s our signal,” Aliso said – glancing longingly at his unfinished bowl of stew. “Shame, gonna have to leave this here…”
Misha looked over at him – then down at her bowl. “Over my dead body…” she muttered – then set to devouring all that remained as fast as she could. Aliso took one look at her, then followed suit.
In fact, looking around, one would notice that none of the former slaves moved until every last drop of broth sat in their stomachs, an ocean of warmth for the cold and miserable journey that surely lay ahead.
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Misha pulled Aliso to the side, a boat’s length away from the clamoring crowd gathering at the foot of a large wooden stage. Resting atop the brown barge were seven people – varied in physique and uniform yet carrying themselves the same: as leaders.
Two slightly glowing figures stood at the front – Tarra and a man who neither Aliso nor Misha recognized- while five others sat in a row behind them.
They waited for a while – the two on stage patiently looking over the crowd – until a sea of bodies finally amassed. The man to Tarra’s left walked forward.
He was of average height; with sharp eyes, nose & jawline accompanying his pointy ears, and a stout muscular physique that looked to be carved from stone. He wore a maroon, grey, and black uniform and pants – some type of military emblem stitched into his jacket. Most striking – aside from the fading red glow emanating from him – was his skin and hair. He had a tussle of wild brown hair, with burnt branches sticking out from a few places, and rough, multicolored (although mostly brown and grey) skin that folded and created small bends, like tree bark.
When he spoke – the voice came out deep, singed, and monotone.
“My name is Coriven, leader of this expedition. Firstly, I want to congratulate you all on your freedom. Yes, you are free from slavery. Please, hold your round of applause until after this is finished.”
A wave passed through the crowd as people glanced about left and right in confusion – whispering amongst themselves. Promises of freedom were all well and good, but most of them would only believe it when they saw it happen. The oak man continued.
“Now, what to do with you? Some of you might be wondering about your own futures now, perhaps even curious why you were saved in the first place.”
Another muttering of whispered voices – many had been asking that very same question.
“Well, you can figure that out on your own. Honestly, I don’t care – my part of this mission is finished. To that extent, I leave with you Tarra NiVaneer – Paladin to the Child, and Caruso – your new leader, affirmative immediately. Good luck and farewell.” Without another word he sauntered off the stage, beginning his trek out of camp.
Stunned silence followed in Coriven’s wake.
“Charming fellow. Have to admit, whatever I expected, it certainly wasn’t that.” Misha whispered next to him. She looked over, and found her companion stood as stiff as a statue, paler than normal as the blood drained from his face.
A paladin. A paladin. I rode with a bloody PALADIN!
Panic roiled internally – sweat beginning to dampen his underarms as he recalled their earlier conversation.
Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit. What do I do, what do I do?
Aliso took a deep breath – letting his mother’s teachings wash calm over him.
Calm Aliso. Think. Okay.
Okay.
Okay. She said she didn’t care I was a Vampyr – and she had all the opportunity in the world to kill me while I slept in her lap. So why didn’t she? Did she really not care? That doesn’t make sense… they told me-
“Hey, you all right?”
Misha’s concerned, staring emerald eyes broke Aliso from his reverie – and he quickly began to retrace their conversation.
“I’m fine,” he lied, shrugging nonchalantly. “And honestly, he could’ve called us all pathetic groveling dogs who deserve to die, and I would still worship the ground he walks.” He shuddered involuntarily, memories of Portus surfacing. “Anything was better than that place.”
Misha looked over to him – cheeks coloring a slight tint of red – then looked away when he glanced back. “I was only trying to make a joke.” She huffed. “Now I just seem like an ungrateful bitch.”
Aliso coughed out a laugh – which gifted him a small punch in the side. While they bantered, Tarra took the stage.
“Hello everyone. My name is Tarra NiVaneer, and I am the Paladin of the Child, for the Order of the Five Wanderers. To those of you unfamiliar, the Five Wanderers is an ancient religion following the Five deities; whose names and histories I will not get into. Just know my deity – the Child – is one of truth.” She spoke in an oddly stoic manner – lingering often and focusing on enunciation. A vast contrast to her casual, almost lackadaisical tone with him.
“And the truth is – there is no grand reason we saved you. We saved you simply because we could, because we believe that it makes the world a better place. Now – you can choose whether you want to believe that or not.”
Admittedly, there weren’t as many rousing cheers as one would expect after hearing such a heroic declaration.
These people understood hope – a weapon more dangerous than any blade. A weapon that could cripple men more thoroughly than any lost limb. They all knew the saying.
It’s the hope that kills.
“As for your immediate futures – you have two options, an option few down here are afforded. If you wish, you are free to leave right now if you so choose – the guards will not stop you. You have my oath as a paladin. However, go with the understanding that you will be on your own. Alone. In Inner Iye. Alone. As several House Elites scour the lands in search of the courageous little cockroaches disrupting their criminal activities. Alone.”
She stood quietly, waiting for any particularly brave (or more aptly: foolish) individuals to distinguish themselves from the crowd. In response, nary a muscle moved.
“If you don’t feel up to that task, for whatever reason,” she said with a small wink, “then we have an alternative solution for you.”
Simultaneously, the remaining five stood up – walking forward so everyone could see them. “These five. Each of them has offered to take you in.”
Murmurs rose, seeds of doubt planting as fear and old memories began to wrap around the nervous crowd. Tarra clapped her hands, silencing the chittering.
“Remember, you can choose to leave if you wish – we wish you the best of luck. For those of you who wish to stay, know that we have decided to offer you a choice, rather than just throwing you willy-nilly into one camp or the other. Additionally, I give you my oath as a Paladin – not just any Paladin, but the Paladin of the Child – that they will bring you no intentional harm or torture. They will not abuse, enslave, or otherwise condemn you to a horrible fate. You will be safe with them. At least, as safe as you can be down here.”
The crowd began to unwind – slowly relaxing although not quite relaxing.
“In addition – each of the five will deliver a short speech, an introduction, so to speak. After the five finish, they will head to separate corners of the camp, at which point you can head out to their meetup points and head out with them – if you wish to follow any of them at all that is. Otherwise, feel free to leave the same way you came in.”
She clapped her hands – focusing minds wandering to the future – and then theatrically spread her hands. She really likes to clap, Aliso thought – mind wandering back to their first meeting.
“We leave camp in an hour. Make your decisions quickly – because we will not be waiting for the indecisive.” She nodded to the people behind her, telling them to walk forward. And with that, she jumped off the stage and headed after Coriven.
A mostly stunned crowd watched her go – questions brimming on the tip of their tongues that they were unable to voice.
As she left, another man took her place. This entire situation was obviously rehearsed – giving everyone enough time to register the information without enough time to understand the implications or ask questions.
“My name is Caruso.” The man said. “As Tarra said, you will be given a choice.” He pointed to himself and the four others. “Each of us is willing to take some of you in – although none of us can take all of you so consider carefully before choosing. But I want to make something clear: No matter if you choose to stay or come with us – there is a good chance you will still die. So, if you come along in hopes for a safe journey – well I would say you are in for a world of disappointment.”
He turned, pointing at the people behind him.
“Each of us is capable, confident, and intelligent. Choose carefully who to follow – because you probably won’t have another chance at this. Consider this an exceptional honor – not many people down here get a say in who they get to ride with.”
He nodded to one of the men in the back, who began to walk forward.
And so, the five of them laid out their pitches.
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Aliso pondered who to go with.
MaRae is out of the question – she strongly implied that she would only accept (or at least actively protect) Ishara. Besides, the less I have to work under one of those manic – the better.
Finn seemed smart but fake. There was a hint of insanity behind his perfectly manicured appearance.
That left him with Caruso, Alex, and Jermaine. All seemed good choices, but in the end, there was only one real option.
“I’m going to go with Alex,” Aliso told Misha. They stood off to the side, discussing what to do.
He hadn’t recognized Alex at first – given the last time they met, the man was soaked in blood and woke a silver mask – but as soon as he spoke, Aliso recognized him instantly as the man who saved him on the Amphitheater stage.
“Oh, really? Why? Personally, I was partial to Caruso myself.” Misha inquired.
“Caruso seems to be a good option,” Aliso agreed, “but I watched Alex in the field – I know, at least relatively, how strong he is.” Plus, I can tell he’s a good person. Aliso prided himself as a good judge of character – and while his time on the run and in Iye had certainly damaged his confidence, he trusted his instincts. “And… when we were at the auction house… he chose to go out of his way to save me. So yeah… sorry, not much to go on I know. Just my gut feeling telling me is all.” He looked down at his feet in embarrassment.
Misha shook her head. “No, no that’s more than enough. Honesty, I was just going to follow Caruso because he was well-dressed!” She laughed. “I like your way better. Let’s go with Alex then.”
And so – the two of them stalked toward the man clad in white.
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Eventually, around four hundred people showed up at Alex’s corner – including Aliso and Misha. Everyone who gathered around Alex was told to sit in Sanza – apparently one of the basic sitting forms. Together, Aliso and Misha sat – joining the others on their shins – legs falling beneath them a slight V shape. The posture made their ankles uncomfortable.
Finally – when a small tick went off – Alex stood from his own Sanza, looking over the crowd gathered in front of him, and nodded.
“Thank you for joining me. I should warn you, this journey will be arduous – and everyone here will be expected to look out for their own survival.” He turned, pointing to the exit of the camp. “We leave in a few minutes. Our journey will take us through Inner Iye, the Barric Barrie,r and through the Mountains – the entire trip should take approximately a month, give or take.” He nodded to a man to his left. “That is Mashan. He will coordinate the lot of you. Any questions? Remember, strapped for time.”
One hand rose up.
“How will we travel?”
Alex shook the question off. “You’ll figure it out soon enough. Besides, whether you know or not doesn’t change anything – so it’s a waste of time to get into the details. Any other questions?
This time, no hands rose. Whatever worries or questions they might’ve had – they kept to themselves. The sooner they got out of here, the better.
Alex nodded. “Good. Follow Marshan. Time to go.”