Ayah glanced at the unconscious scout from the Nur Kingdom. His head lolled to the side as gravity pulled at his slumped form, stopped only by the ropes fastening him to the tree behind him.

For a second, Harith had turned to Loaye. Ayah could see the accusations at the slant of his furrowed brows. His shoulders had drawn taut, and his hand twitched towards his sword.

“It’s not a trap! I didn’t know they would be here! How could I know?” Loaye protested.

Ayah believed him. She had seen the flicker of surprise and shock at the sight of the magistrate– now ex-magistrate, she supposed. The scout had halted for a split second as his eyes fell on Loaye’s form, eyes blinking in confusion before he had righted himself and tried to bolt away.

Tried, was the word.

Harith had grasped him by the neck and slammed him against a tree. The wood splintered from the force of the strike. The poor soldier had lost consciousness before he had hit the ground.

Harith must have come to the same conclusion as she did. He cursed under his breath, his hand no longer reaching for his sword, but the glare was still etched on his brows. He paced around, shadows twisting and curling under his feet. At this rate, he would exhaust himself before they could reach Temsia.

Was there no other way to locate Shoaib? She paused, brows furrowed as one particular memory came to mind. She could track him. How did she not think of this? Ayah could track Shoaib’s location using his sword, the one she had gotten under her possession. It was true that it was his sword and not hers, but Hayna’s announcement at that time replayed in her mind.

“Hayna, do I still have Shoaib’s sword under my ownership?”

What was it called?

“Storm Blade.” She hoped she got the name right.

[Correct.]

She cursed under her breath. How did she not think of it sooner?

“Can you give me its location?”

[Processing…]

After a while, a map sprung up, showing the Pass and parts of the two kingdoms connected to the forest. At the middle of the pass was a green dot, and at one corner was a red cross with the name in bold red.

[Would you like me to assess the shortest route to your target?]

“Please do.”

She turned to the distraught general, still growling at the terrified ex-magistrate. The latter was silent, watching the general like a prey would its murderer.

“I can get us to where he is,” Ayah said in one breath.

Harith turned startled eyes to her. “Really?” The hope in his eyes was too palpable, too raw.

A grateful smile pulled at his lips at her nod, his shoulders loosening a little.

Their trek was fast and without rest. Girra traveled a few distances ahead, scouting the area for any potential threats. They took some detours to avoid confrontations with a dozen monsters and others to avoid the marching army, steering away from any and all distractions. The most important thing was to get to Shoaib before the two armies collided.

Two men appeared before them. Ayah startled. There was no warning from Hayna. Was it safe to assume they weren’t enemies? Harith looked at them, unsurprised by their presence. Ayah paused. Her eyes roamed around their figures, noting the dark blue armor under their cloaks.

Ah, Temsia’s scouts.

“General,” they greeted him with a bow, relief palpable in that single uttered word. They looked at him, relief momentarily forgotten as their expressions twisted into a frown. “In your absence, the Nur Kingdom has mobilized its armies and is currently heading towards the kingdom through the pass.”

Harith nodded. “I’m aware.”

“The crown prince has given order to the army to be ready for a foreseeable conflict. We’re currently stationed at the top of the Broken Hills.”

“I see.”

“Allow us to escort you to the camp.” They bowed.

Harith glanced at Ayah. “Do you still have his location?”

Ayah nodded.

He turned back to the scouts and instructed them, “No need. Resume your positions. Watch for any suspicious movements.”

“Understood,” they both said before vanishing into thin air.

The Broken Hills was a grouping of hills that, from a distance, looked like the remnants of a destroyed mountain, one side facing the Pass, with tall rocky walls sheltering it from the forest. Tents littered the even areas of the hills, and the banners hung high from their tops, swaying gently to the cold breeze. Soldiers sat huddled around cooking fires, chatting in hushed whispers. Their haunted eyes shifted around, searching for something beyond the forest line. They stilled as they glimpsed the sight of their general striding through the maze of tents and armor, their shocked silence soon replaced by exited whispers and hopeful chatter. Harith acknowledged his soldiers’ salutes with a nod, not stopping in his haste to reach his nephew. The war room was easy to spot– the biggest tent in the middle of the camp with guards stationed at its entrance. The guards startled at Harith’s appearance. They scrambled, stumbling to hurry inside and announce his presence. But one wave of Harith’s hand locked them in place.

This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings.

“Get him settled.” Harith motioned to Loaye, who was silently observing the soldiers around the camp.

They nodded and stepped to the side, allowing them entrance.

“We’ll talk later?” Loaye shot Ayah a hopeful look, letting out a small sigh of relief at her nod. He followed the guards, casting a last glance at her and Harith.

Shoaib and Jamila were at the center of the makeshift war room, hunched over a giant map on a large table, surrounded by other armor-adorned men and women. The other occupants of the room were the first to notice their arrival. Their eyes widened, shoulders drooped minutely, and their taut expressions eased before they stood at attention.

The sudden silence that reigned in the room drew Jamila’s attention first. She looked at the soldiers quizzically. Then her gaze shifted, and the speed with which her expression shifted was almost comical. Her mouth hung open, shock and relief washing over her face.

Ayah glanced at Shoaib, his frowning eyes still locked on the map, gaze lost in something beyond the ink and the minuscule depictions of armies and towers scattered before him. She smiled. He was so engrossed in his thoughts that he failed to see the shift in the air around him.

The soldiers smacked their fisted hands over their breastplates.“General,” they called in unison.

Shoaib startled. His head snapped up so fast Ayah could hear it from where she was standing. She winced.

“Uncle! You’re back!” He called with a slight squeak.

Shoaib darted toward him. He stopped before him, only a couple of feet separating them. His hands twitched, making a half-aborted movement to lift up toward his uncle before halting and falling by his side.

He tried to school his face into a neutral expression but failed as his lips twitched, fighting a losing battle.

“I’m glad you're back, uncle.” He nodded, his fist connecting with his chest in a well-executed salute.

Harith’s stern face softened, a gentle smile curving the corner of his mouth. He put his hand over Shoaib’s shoulder and pulled him into his arms. Shoaib’s form tensed minutely before melting into the hug, shoulders sagging with relief. He returned the hug, squeezing his arms tightly around Harith’s dust-covered clothes.

The soldiers glanced at each other, half-concealed smiles pulling at their faces.

“I’m glad you’re okay,” Harith said.

Shoaib nodded, his answer muffled into Harith’s chest. Harith laughed.

Jamila stepped in front of Harith. She waited for the general to face her, then nodded at him. “General.”

Harith smiled. “Glad to see you again, Jamila.”

She grinned. “Likewise. Though I can’t say I’ll miss the damned job you saddled me with.”

He snorted. He looked at her, his relaxed posture straightening. “I relieve you of your duty as queen regent.”

She breathed a sigh of relief before she stood at attention, offering him a salute. “I am relieved,” she said.

“Ayah, I’m glad to see you well.” Ayah readily returned Shoaib’s hug.

“Careful, human,” Girra grumbled, his voice muffled against Shoaib’s armor.

Shoaib startled. He jerked back, only now noticing the small dragon draped around Ayah’s shoulder. The dragon had nestled there as soon as they entered the camp, grumbling under his breath, something about there being too many damn humans. He was so light that Ayah herself had forgotten his presence.

Shoaib gawked at Girra. “W–what is that thing?”

“I’m not a thing,” Girra sneered. “I’m the mighty Girra.”

Deafening silence reigned in the room before agitated murmurs erupted. From the corner of her eyes, Ayah could see some of the soldiers reach for the swords, their sharp gazes trained on Girra’s small form as he hissed at Shoaib, faint smoke bellowing from his snout.

Ayah put her hand over Girra’s mouth lest he try to shower Shoaib with his flames. “Be nice,” she chastised him.

“It speaks!” Shoaib took another step back, his eyes widening further. “Is that– is that–”

“A dragon!” Jamila said, voice filled with wonder. “Dear god, it’s a dragon! I never thought I would see one!” She approached the prideful creature, watching it with an air of awe and reverence. Girra preened under her gaze.

“A reasonable human, I see.” He shifted his wings and settled in a more comfortable position over Ayah’s shoulder.

Ayah rolled her eyes. Please, the last thing he needed was a boost to his already inflated ego.

“What do we have here?” Harith asked, his eyes roaming over the displayed map.

At his words, everyone assumed their positions around the table. Ayah hesitated for a second before she followed them, settling behind Harith on his left side—Shoaib was on the right side—the only opening through the sea of armor from where a sliver of the map could be seen.

The map was covered with drawings of mountains and valleys, with small curved scripts indicating their names. A huge body of water surrounded the continent, and ‘Dark Sea’ was written in large letters on all four corners of the map.

A shifting movement to her side revealed the side of the map they were looking over. Ayah debated for a split second before stepping into the newly vacated area next to Harith. The soldiers gave her a brief, unreadable look before their eyes returned to the map, taking turns giving their insight into the situation.

Girra peered over her shoulder, intently listening to their briefings.

The Broken Hills were naturally defended from the horrors residing between the trees by the tall rocky wall overlooking the forest. Their strategy was to push against the invading army and force them back through the pass or into the forest.

“We’ve tried the diplomatic route, but the Nur Kingdom refused to respond. We had no choice but to mobilize the army,” Shoaib said, a hint of anger in his furrowed brows and taut jaw.

“You did well, " Harith nodded. “This invasion had been long coming. No amount of talking or compromise would have changed things.” He regarded the dejected teenager, the fondness in his eyes softening their sharpness. “When did you grow up?” He ruffled Shoaib’s hair, smiling fondly.

“Uncle! You’ve only been gone for a week! How could I grow up in such a short amount of time!” He protested, squawking, his brows drawn into a frown, but the joy radiating on his face was unmistakable.

For the remainder of the meeting, Shoaib stood with his chest puffed out with pride, a badly hidden grin nearly splitting his face in half. He answered Harith’s inquiries, eyes shining each time his uncle nodded in agreement.