Khalila I

PA 1 – May

They made their way through the jungle after their sudden pit-stop, continuing on as they always did, all five of them desperate to leave the jungle as soon as possible.

Khalila walked at the back with Ishi as she always did, the man ready to grab her hand and help her over any roots or logs or anything else that she had trouble getting over. She in turn latched onto him whenever she could, taking small comfort in the warmth of his hand even when the rest of the world felt unbearably cold.

He reminded her of her papa. But papa was still waiting for her at home, so she’d settle with him being a nice uncle instead.

He let her get a cat, after all. Papa never let her get another cat besides Kyti—he always complained that she kept scratching up the table legs.

Personally, she thought papa was just being stingy.

Speaking of pet cats, the baby tiger sat snug in her now empty backpack (her supplies having been transferred over to the others) snoring quietly. Occasionally she’d turn her head to try and look back at her, only able to see tufts of orange fur before she’d have to give up, content with the small glimpses she got.

“Have you come up with a name for her?” Ishi asked her during one of those moments, his raspy voice startling her.

It was surprising, since he’d been so quiet since she picked up the kitty. But she supposed it was only natural to be curious.

Ishi didn’t talk much. But that was fine—she didn’t talk much either.

“I’ve named her Gigi.” She nodded with finality.

“Gigi?” Ishi smiled at her. “A beautiful name.”

Of course. It was Gigi’s name, after all.

“Ha, finally!” a shout came from the front. Startled, Khalila instinctively leaned in closer to Ishi, before realizing it was just Jamal.

Jamal was loud. He tried to be quiet, but it didn’t come naturally to him, and he slipped up a lot. She still appreciated that he tried, though.

Even if it was hard to be around him most of the time.

It wasn’t his fault. It was just… every time she looked at them she saw…

Blood. So much blood. Other people’s blood, their own blood.

The people they killed in front of her.

The people they killed to protect her.

…She didn’t like to think about that day. About that week, really.

She missed Martin. …She missed her mama. And papa, when he wasn’t being stingy.

She wanted to go home.

But she couldn’t anymore. She… she wasn’t even sure where home was anymore.

She felt a hand land softly on her shoulder, knocking her out of her thoughts. Blinking the tears out of her eyes, she glanced up at Ishi, who gave her a reassuring smile.

She sniffled, trying to smile back at him. She only half succeeded.

“You think this is the way?” Mrs. Yue asked Jamal, following as he led them up a much steeper incline than before.

Mrs. Yue was strong, but also awkward and fumbled a lot. It probably had to do with the one hand. Khalila wasn’t sure what she’d do if she only had one hand.

“I’m pretty sure,” Jamal nodded, pointing. “Look, see? There’s a path here, where there’s no trees or branches or anything. In fact…” he walked over to a nearby tree, placing his hand against the stump of a branch sticking out of it. “See here? This branch was deliberately cut off. The locals probably use this path often to get over the mountains.”

“Is that right?” Yue hummed. “Do you think we’ll run into anyone on the way through?”

“Uh…” Jamal paused. “I hadn’t thought of that. Maybe? Though, if this is the only way through for a while, then it stands to reason that…”

“Hm? What?”

Jamal frowned, but shook his head. “It doesn’t matter. I think I speak for all of us when I say we want out of this jungle, and this is the fastest way through. So let’s just get moving. I want to try and get over this mountain before sunset.”

They all gave varying levels of agreement, and soon enough they were hiking their way up the mountain.

It was nearly an hour of walking later that they saw it. At first almost hidden in the trees, but as they got closer, there was no mistaking what they saw.

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“Yup, I was worried about that,” Jamal grimaced. “Of course something like that would be here.”

There, with tall wooden walls already grown over with moss and vines, was a city planted directly in their path.

--

In the end, they decided to enter the city. They needed supplies anyway, and if the ‘dry lands’ were what they thought they’d be, then they needed to make sure they were properly prepared.

Unfortunately, for Khalila, returning to a city after so long was… unnerving.

Seeing those city walls looming over them as they entered stirred up memories. Memories she’d rather remain buried deep and forgotten.

“I need you to run, Khalila,” Martin hissed quietly, lowering her over the ruined city walls. Behind him, the screams and shouts of their soldiers echoed near endlessly, almost drowned out by the fires raging throughout the city. “I need you to run, as far and as fast as you can go.”

“But what about you?”

“I’ll be fine,” he reassured her, giving her a small, pained smile. “I’ll be fine. I’ll follow after you in a bit, okay?”

“…Okay.”

But she didn’t run. She was worried. She was scared. Martin had been taking care of her since she’d arrived in this world, and she wasn’t sure what she’d do without him.

So she hid. And waited. And watched.

And watched.

And ran.

Khalila felt her whole body tense up, rapidly glancing back and forth warily as they walked through the city, pressing herself into Ishi’s side. The man held her shoulder comfortingly as they walked, but it only helped a little.

Still, as they made their way deeper into the city, the memories slowly abated. This wasn’t Mubalal. This wasn’t Martin’s city.

This city wasn’t on fire, after all.

There looked to be only the one road going straight through the center, with buildings and tents packed tightly together along it. People stared back at them as they walked, some with suspicion, and some with careless indifference.

Eventually Jamal sighed, and with a “Let’s just get this over with,” he turned and made a beeline straight for the nearest villager, the rest of them following uneasily behind him.

“Hello there!” Jamal greeted the person with fake exuberance, an older woman lounging outsider her tent. “I was wondering if you had any food or supplies you’d like to trade? Or do you perhaps know of someone who’d be willing to do so?”

She gave him a passive look, before nodding her head down the road with a grunt. “You’ll want to talk to the King ‘bout that. He’s the one in control of any trade that passes through here.”

Jamal’s face showed just how little he wanted to do that.

“…Then could you give us some advice, at least? I heard that the place beyond your village is called the ‘dry lands.’ Could you explain what they meant by that?”

She blinked at him. “‘Dry lands?’ You mean the desert?”

“Yes, that. What’s it like?”

“Hmph. I haven’t been since before my bones started creaking. However, I doubt it’s changed too much since then. The desert’s dry, for one thing. Dry and hot. The ground’s not dirt like it is here—it’s sand, all rough and coarse. I hate it—it gets everywhere. The plants are different as well. Small and scraggly, they’re rarely edible and much less common. Ah, that reminds me—water. There’s little water in the desert. You’ll want to watch for that. Make sure you bring as much as you can with you when you enter, because it’s unlikely you’ll find any once you’re deep in the desert.”

To Khalila, none of that was new. It just sounded like a normal desert. Jamal looked like he agreed.

“I see, thank you for that. Is there anything else about the desert that you’d mind telling us? Any other advice? Anything at all?”

“Hm, anything else…? Ah, the scorpions. Those venomous bastards like to burrow in the ground, coming up and biting people’s toes if they aren’t wearing shoes. They only come out at night, though. Ah, but that’s when you’ll want to travel as well—it’s much colder at night, compared to the burning hot days. So if you’re to travel through the desert, I’d recommend traveling during the night.”

Jamal sighed, rubbing his forehead. “Maybe I’m just thinking about this too hard,” he muttered. “Anyway, thank you for the advice, ma’am. I’m sure it’ll help a lot.”

“Yeah, sure,” she grunted, waving them off. “Now, if you don’t mind, I want to take a nap.”

“Of course, we’ll be out of your hair—”

“HOLD IT!”

Khalila jumped, startling badly enough that Gigi woke up behind her. The baby tiger raised her head out of the pack, looking around curiously. Panicking at the thought of the tiger suddenly jumping out into the village, Khalila swiftly shuffled her backpack over to her front, pressing her hand down on Gigi’s head to hide her back in the backpack.

Crisis averted, she turned back to see who’d called out at them, only to find herself staring up at him.

Standing in front of them, tense and regal, was the King of this city.

Jamal stood across from the king, his arms tensed as he palmed the hilt of the bone dagger on his belt, staring warily at the soldiers arriving behind him. Unlike the other kings she’d seen, this king looked like he could have actually been one of the natives of this place. He was short, with dark skin and Asian features, with long matted hair running all the way down his back. He was shirtless—like many of the locals were—but his worn cargo pants gave him away as a God-King.

“I know who you are, travelers,” the King scowled at them, arms crossed over his chest. “Or rather, what you are.”

“Funny,” Jamal grunted, eyes flickering between the soldiers rapidly. “I could say the same thing about you.”

The King’s scowl deepened. “Don’t play around. Why are you here, travelers. The fact that that you came here without an army, and barely an escort—what are you playing at?”

“We’re just travelers,” Jamal stressed, “passing through. Nothing more, nothing less. I’m certainly no King, if that’s what you’re implying.”

The King of the city stared at them with narrowed eyes. “…Under the rules of this world, killing you here could only help me in the long run,” he spoke slowly and deliberately, his eyes not leaving Jamal’s. “For every dead God-King in the world, I get one step closer to ascension.”

“Ah,” Jamal licked his lips. “Then it’s a good thing I’m no King.”

The King stared at him hard for a long moment, before looking away with a sigh.

“Indeed, no one would look at you and call you a king. Vagabond, perhaps. Nomad, certainly. But King? No, you are not a King.”

“So, are you saying…?”

“…I don’t like to think of myself as a violent man. My city’s hidden out here, deep in the jungle and high up the mountains. I know it can’t last forever, that one day this isolation will end. But… I want to keep up that illusion for a while longer. And I certainly won’t be the one to shatter it. I don’t want to kill anyone, so I’ll just… pretend I never saw you. Today I was visited by a group of travelers from a distant land. And if one of them happened to be a fallen King, well… How could I have known?”

Jamal returned his tense smile, reaching a hand forward. “Don’t worry, O’ King. We’re nothing more than humble travelers. And this humble traveler thanks you for your hospitality.”

And as the two God-Kings shook hands, Khalila couldn’t help but feel there was a sense of finality to the act. A feeling that something unspoken had passed between the two of them.

She didn’t understand what it was. And maybe, that was for the best.

9,872 God-Kings Remain