For a split-second, Arakiel lost all senses. Then, he felt foreign knowledge enter his mind as the language card transferred anything related to the dead man’s language right into him, as though he had always known it.
It was just another one of the endless marvels that the god-in-grey had to offer for those willing to pay the price, even though Arakiel always felt several shivers run down his spine after using one of these.
Being utterly deprived of every sense, even for a split-second, was… disturbing. Right now, he felt reminded of the voidfallen plane he had visited in order to become a Traveler, the Wanderer’s Final Rest… those-in-the-know called it, for it was there that Wanderers became Travelers, following in the Transcended’s footsteps.
He missed…
“Arakiel?” A familiar voice from the side asked and he blinked, getting a grip on his bearings at last.
His maneuver had been a bit risky, but necessary nonetheless. If they intended to establish contact, they needed to be able to communicate… which is what this risk would enable. Arakiel wasn’t one who liked risks, but they were necessary in order to be successful, especially among the planes.
“I’m fine… just… ugh,” he responded in the Kalanite tongue and lightly shook his hands and arms to get rid of the aftermath. Another shiver, but that should be the last.
Around him, people were talking about all manner of things – most seemed to focus on fallen friends or inquired about who needed help while a few others tried to bring order into the chaos that the knights’ attack had left the defenders.
Several voices were still groaning, some even screaming. Occasionally, a groan or a death rattle was silenced, followed by hateful insults.
Arakiel turned to Ezekiel who was splattered with blood, handing him the language card that had fallen silent and inactive once more. Reusable ones were exceedingly expensive, but his mother had most certainly not skimped on costs when it concerned Mellia – and Arakiel still thought that he was mostly supposed to take care of Mellia. How this whole affair might benefit her, he couldn’t tell just yet.
“Here, don’t get the wrong guy,” he said right as another voice resounded in his ears, one that seemed very close. It addressed him.
Arakiel turned to the side and saw the guy in the lemon-colored yellow flames approach, his gilded conical cap having cracked from an impact. It slipped off of him and he didn’t seem to notice or care.
“Thank you for your help, strangers."
The man was reasonably tall and the sleeves on his wide dark clothes were more or less slashed to ribbons in most cases, revealing a fairly dark-skinned, almost bronze skin beneath. Traces of mail armor and another layer of cloth could be surmised on his chest.
The Fire Alterator pulled the long shawl that had been wrapped around his head off, revealing a fairly handsome face and eyes that shone like rubies. Soft facial hair grew on his chin and it seemed as though he hadn’t shaven in weeks.
“I am Zari Amar al-Aliriq, leader of the Shamshierum, the finest company of al-Aliriq!” He introduced himself, holding out his hand as his eyes carefully and respectfully returned Arakiel’s own glimpse.
The native’s language sounded a little crude in his ears, but so did every language that wasn’t Kalanite. Even the other Eternal Cities had agreed to use the Kalanite tongue as the lingua kalans, the official language of all diplomats and envoys.
Nonetheless, he fully turned towards the man, holding out his hand which was still aflame in a fiery, golden aura. In his barely held-together pocket, he gripped one of Aurora’s dawnshards so that he could draw upon the red right away.
Around him, he noticed several of the surviving defenders watch their exchange with interest. Most glanced, some stared.
“Name’s Arakiel il Kalanaar, Scion of House Alexandrite of the Eternal City of Kalanaar,” he introduced himself as well, making no attempt at skulduggery. It was plain obvious that neither Arakiel nor Ezekiel were from this plane.
He gave Zari Amar al-Aliriq a curt bow, who then bowed in return. Right afterwards, his own fire faded and Arakiel dropped Aurora’s aspect as a token of goodwill.
“Envoys from beyond the Boundary!” The defender’s leader shouted and a murmur went through the surrounding men, some of which began to whisper, carrying the message far and wide – not that there were a lot of people left to receive it. The losses that the defenders had suffered were rather sizable, perhaps even large. Oddly enough, the leader didn’t seem too upset by it.
Arakiel kept his cool. This was probably the reaction most independent natives on pristine minor planes showed to actual planeswalkers – it was either that or a full-on extinction war from the get-go. He much preferred the former.
Another cry resounded from close-by, Ezekiel having briefly drawn everyone’s attention as he pulled the language of another dying man’s mind.
“A measure to properly communicate,” Arakiel explained right away, giving the leader a slight apologetic shrug.
“Only a dead Middle is a good Middle!” A soldier spat in from the side, right after which he literally spat on a corpse.
“Oi, I wanna loot that!” Another complained and the two began to bicker as tension slowly lessened.
“Of course, envoy. You have shed blood with us – that has earned you more trust than any Middle could ever hope to!” Zari Amar followed up, the hate palpable in both face and voice.
“I assume that Middle refers to the citizens of whatever realm or faction they belong to?” Arakiel queried and then quickly added, deflecting. “We can discuss such matters later. For now, your men need you and we just may bring the succor you seek.”
The bronze-skinned man’s gaze darkened and he nodded slowly. “You are correct, envoy! We shall speak later. For now, we need to assess the situation and… the damage.”
Then, he turned around and began to order his people to bring the wounded together if they could be moved. Furthermore, someone was to boil water and bring bandages while two people he called out were supposed to scout.
It sounded oddly dispassionate compared to the hate earlier.
Arakiel stopped listening and joined Ezekiel that had taken a fancy to what might be a steel halberd on a relatively dark wooden shaft. The man who was still ablaze in silver handed Arakiel a broadsword.
“Iron, but it’s better than nothing.” Ezekiel noted and then added. “So, first contact’s fine ‘n dandy?”
“So it’d seem. Let’s fetch the girls and have them heal a few wounded. Should boost our reputation as ‘envoys’. I’d say they had extraplanar contact.”
“I doubt there’s any plane in existence that hasn’t had contact with anyone else yet.” Ezekiel assumed as both began to hurry back over the slope.
“None know how many there are – anything’s possible,” Arakiel retorted but when they saw the rest of their party approach, the two instead hurried over and were met with worried gazes and slightly restless questions. The Mortal Ascendants had to put some effort into placating their seraphim who were out of their mind when they saw them covered in blood. To Arakiel’s surprise, Selene seemed to take it much worse than Aurora.
Granted, Arakiel had taken a stab wound but it was light and not very deep. Any kind of basic protection would’ve negated it. Additionally, Mellia’s nature enchantment had already slowed the bleeding to a crawl.
“I trust thy success was well-earned?” Mellia asked, most likely looking them over.
“Mostly low-level commoners I’d reckon, but some were a little tougher. Doable, though. Ezekiel took on four by himself.”
“Thy behavior conceals thy strength, Lord Ezekiel. Consider me impressed.” Mellia returned in a respectful and slightly surprised tone.
“Your aurea’s shield is insane, Arakiel.” Ezekiel then added, looking over towards Aurora whose wings began to flap happily at the compliment, especially when Arakiel repeated it, saying.
“Indeed, your enchantment helped me a great deal, my love.” He said but when he came closer, she backed away, her sight slightly nervous at the sight of all the blood that covered him.
“Sorry,” he apologized and she looked away dejectedly. “Forgive me, my love… it’s just… a bit too much blood. And it’s not yours, too!”
“Would that make a difference?” Ezekiel queried and when Aurora’s head flushed crimson, he laughed out loud.
“Anyway, we need your help. They’ve got wounded and we want to make a good first impression. Think you can heal some of them… Aurora, Mellia?” Arakiel went on.
“If that is thy wish, I shall oblige… brother.” His little sister responded and as she was about to head out, she added. “Thou shall accompany me, however. I will not walk among strangers by myself.”
“Naturally.”
When Arakiel returned with his party in tow, the men of Shamshierum partially froze in shock while a very few began to prostrate themselves before the two seraphim, calling them messengers of the divine god-in-gold, the Holy Transcended.
The men’s reverence only increased when Aurora began to heal particularly nasty wounds through astral healing whereas Mellia’s small regenerative enchantment was met with distrust and downright rejection, which seemed to upset her quite a bit, even if the men would never find out because they couldn’t understand her.
Aurora burned through three more shards’ gold and although she had probably taken several months of the men’s lifespan, they would live to see another day when they otherwise might not have.
Her seraphic appearance made the natives regard her with awe, reverence and downright adoration, especially when she spoke and they only heard the sonorous, beautiful Kalanite tongue without understanding it.
Arakiel couldn’t have hoped for a better first impression.
After the emergency treatments had been administered, Arakiel, Aurora and the others met with Zari Amar al-Aliriq again, who was currently arguing with a fairly sizable and tall man that made Arakiel form the words ‘absolute unit’ in his mind. This guy’s shoulders were so broad he could fit two Ezekiels or one and a half Arakiel’s into it, his upper arms were as wide as Aurora’s waist and… to say he had plenty of brawn might be understatement of this plane. But he was fairly small, which made his appearance even more unique.
You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.
Still, how had Arakiel missed him earlier?
“Amar I beg of you, think of our brothers! We have suffered grievous losses and retained most of our loot. Why would we need to risk our lives when we’ve already got so much?” The beefcake plead, but the leader wouldn’t have it, shaking his head.
“Relent now, brother Rahul? When we just sent the Middle dogs back with a beating they won’t soon forget!?” Zari Amar objected quite emotionally, his gestures very articulate and expressive.
“Over half of our brothers died, half of those that survived are wounded, some grievous!” Rahul repeated in an equally pleading and slightly effervescing tone. “We do not have the manpower to follow them!”
“We have finally struck the beast and now you want to retreat!?” The Fire Alterator shouted and only then did he notice the newcomers.
Both natives turned towards the planeswalker party and made a slight, respectful bow. “Divine messenger, thank you for blessing my people with your light!” Zari Amar said in a most respectful tone towards Aurora.
“He thanks you for your service, Aurora.” Arakiel translated calmly while his eyes watched the muscleman.
“Tell him it was my pleasure, please.”
“She is relieved to hear your words, Zari Amar… although I cannot help but wonder what you’re arguing about?”
It was then that the big buy spoke up, addressing Arakiel and Ezekiel directly. Again, his voice was very stressed.
“Divine envoys, please listen to me! I am Rahul ibun Munir, Shamshierum’s second-in-command. Please help me make my brother-in-arms here see reason!”
“We have beaten back a punitive expedition, Rahul! No one has ever done that before!” Zari Amar pointed out, sounding quite proud.
“Aye, brother – because we normally do not let them catch us.” Rahul objected sourly.
“It was your idea to use the wheelbarrows,” Zari Amar returned and after a bit of back and forth, the two men concluded that another reason entirely lay at fault.
“There were no suitable slaves to carry the loot!” Rahul ended up exclaiming.
“Yes Rahul but think, why would King Cahir suddenly draft all his able-bodied men?” Zari Amar asked and when no agreeable answer returned, he answered it himself. “Change is coming, old friend. I told you! He’s planning to wage war on the High Realm!”
“Or on us,” Rahul pointed out, slightly shaking his head that was covered in dark, short curly hair and a thick, thoroughly unkempt beard.
“Nonsense, how would he lead an army into the desert?” Zari Amar exclaimed and Ezekiel shot Arakiel that kind of look, the one that indicated he wanted to give them a slap across the cheeks to make them shut up.
“Gentlemen… context please.” Arakiel then chimed in before they went off on a tangent again. Everything they said was good information, but he’d prefer it a little more structured.
The big man sighed, yet Zari Amar spoke up once again, saying with underlying anger.
“The Middle Kingdom has kept us from their lands for generations, denying us our rightful clay! We are forced to live around the few pockets of life the desert offers us while they have vast, near infinite amounts of unused soil and forest where only the rabbits and the wolves live!”
“The Middles think us less than rabbits!” Zari Amar concluded and spat out, his ruby-colored eyes glinting with genuine, unfiltered hatred.
“They can also breed like them, the rabbits I mean. While we, we must keep strict laws in place as to not…” Rahul trailed a little off, but it was rather easy to tell in which direction his thoughts went. He spoke up once again, saying. “The first envoys of the god-in-grey helped our situation a lot, but it’s still bad. Food is scarce.”
“When did they arrive?” Ezekiel asked straight away.
“Roughly two decades ago,” Rahul responded, causing Ezekiel to let out a long whistle that caused both natives to briefly glance towards him with somewhat confused looks.
“I see, carry on,” Arakiel suggested so that these two men didn’t think on why Ezekiel had asked. Meanwhile, he briefly pondered that particular piece of news. Over twenty years was a lot of time to still be considered a pristine plane. Had something gone amiss?
“To make things short… there is a lot of animosity between our people and…” Rahul began, with Zari Amar continuing.
“And the time to strike back is almost upon us! King Cahir of the Middle Kingdom as drafted all able-bodied men from throughout his entire realm, undoubtedly intending to march on the High Realm in the northern mountains.”
“And why would he do that all of a sudden?” Ezekiel queried.
“To gain access to their superior steel, their gems and all their rare minerals that his lackeys trade with us, of course.”
“You’re raiding a faction you’re trading with, is that correct?” Ezekiel queried and Arakiel, too, found it a little surprising.
Zari Amar motioned over to the wheelbarrows which seemed to be mostly filled with sacks of grain, vegetables and the like. “We need food and they refuse to trade for it even though they have it in abundance, so we take it whenever we can!”
“What do you trade with them, then?” Arakiel wanted to know.
The Fire Alterator pondered briefly and then answered after some hesitation. “Wares from the High Realms, mostly. Steel, iron, copper and the like.”
“I understand… and why would you seek to attack them again, now? You have your food, don’t you?” Arakiel went on, closing the arc to the beginning.
He had obtained lots of good information already, but he could tell that his opposites were beginning to grow a little careful, perhaps even reserved.
“We could take their women and have them carry the loot! Let that be the opening act for our great march of vengeance!” Zari Amar proposed, but Rahul immediately shook his head.
“We cannot afford to feed this many mouths and you know it! Men are fine because they die in the fields… we can’t have women work the fields.” Rahul objected matter-of-factly.
“The Middles let them all the time!” Zari Amar tried to begin, but the muscleman shut him down right away.
“And we are not as savage as the Middles. Now, Zari Amar, brother. We have wasted enough time on idle chatter already. Give the order to retreat. We cannot fight another battle!”
An older voice chimed in from behind. “I agree with brother ibun Munir, Master Zari Amar. Only ten men remain and we have over fourteen carts. We will need to leave some of it behind already in order to transport our brothers.”
“Leave behind food!? Inexcusable!” Zari Amar objected, with the older man who was still thoroughly wrapped in his black clothes challenging the leader directly.
“Would you rather leave behind our brothers – is that it, Zari Amar? Has pride and greed blinded you to the plight of your people!?”
The ruby-eyed man raised his hands and he opened his mouth to retort, but seemingly found none. With a sigh, he shook his head and then nodded. “Forgive me, Scholar ibun Qasim. My temper has once again blinded me to the wider perspective.”
“Your are young still, jinnum. But worry not, time will temper your hot blood with wisdom.” The older man noted while making a slight praying gesture.
“I hope not,” Zari Amar responded, shaking his head a little too harshly. “I’d rather not crawl behind veiled curtains while the people I am responsible for are suffering from oppression!”
“Do not speak ill of your kin, young jinnum. They are wise and know that change cannot be forced by the sword alone.”
“I object categorically!” Zari Amar returned while unsheathing one of his curved swords. It seemed of an excellent steel make and parts of it were even gilded. Such a weapon would’ve been reasonably costly on Kalanaar. “I will convince my kin that the time to march upon the Middle Kingdom has come!”
“If you’re looking for that kind of information… why not take it from the enemy?” Ezekiel chimed in, adding. “That knight with the plumes on his helmet… the one that used water. He should know about the state of affairs, shouldn’t he?”
“That was Count Fillan, the ruler of these lands.” Zari Amar responded in a low tone. “He and I have clashed several times already…”
“How about we catch him and ask him directly?” Ezekiel proposed, causing all the black-clothed men to stare his way. Arakiel stared too just for good measure.
The the side, the three girls of their party had found some other means to entertain themselves as they couldn’t understand a single word.
Mellia had refused the language card earlier, saying she would not kill, along the lines of ‘mine hands shall not be sullied by life’s crimson essence’. A rather surprising statement for a planeswalker, but given her strong connection to nature… perhaps it made sense.
Either way, he had to respect that – but it also meant that she had to learn the language manually.
“Divine envoy? Are you…?” Rahul had asked meanwhile, his dark eyes widening in disbelief as he glared straight at Ezekiel.
“I’m reasonably good at following tracks – and I slashed the guy’s horse as he passed by.” Ezekiel added with a smirk. “It’ll bleed out unless he notices. Either way, we can still catch him.”
Arakiel hadn’t noticed, but this was quite something.
“Yes… yes! Count Fillan will surely know what the king is up to. A brilliant plan!” Zari Amar exclaimed in what some might interpret as ecstatic.
To Arakiel, he sounded almost unhinged. If he had to take a guess, the young man could not keep his emotions in check just yet. It made him pliable, but also dangerous if nudged in the wrong direction.
“But how will we catch him?” The big man inquired, earning a slap on his shoulder from the Shamshierum’s leader.
“We have camels on our own, Rahul! Think with your head a bit more, will you?”
“We will accompany you,” Arakiel offered. “I am quite interested in this Fillan character.”
“With the god-in-gold’s messengers on our side, how could we possibly lose!?” Zari Amar asked out loud as parts of his bronze skin began to catch his lemon-colored yellow flame. When he noticed, he quickly put them out again.
“Once we help you… we want some clothes and supplies. We just crossed the desert for several weeks.” Arakiel quickly added, not wanting the person to think he’d do it for free.
Mutual respect demanded payments from both sides unless one was supporting kin.
“I’d like to offer you something else, oh envoys… why not join me on my way back? Surely the plight of my people will stir your righteous heart and if you lend us your aid… you can be assured that al-Aliriq will reward you handsomely. If there is one thing we in the desert do not lack, then it is money.” Zari Amar offered, holding out his hand.
“I’m not promising you anything, but I’ll certainly consider it. Is that good enough?”
“Of course.” The jinnum agreed right away.
Arakiel had heard of a similar race back on Akh Karab. That one was venerable, patient and very vindictive – not quite like Zari Amar here.
“Then let’s catch ourselves a count,” Arakiel mused and as he turned to Ezekiel, he switched his tongue to that of Kalanaar. “Remind you of old times?”
“Actually, no. I’ve never hunted a man before.” Ezekiel returned while his lips inverted. “Can’t say I’m too happy with that realization, but whatever.”
“Fair enough, but that should give us a fairly good idea on what we’re dealing with.” Arakiel responded before he swapped back to the native’s tongue once more.
“Then let us head out. Every moment we wait here, the count is getting further away.”
Arakiel had never ridden on a camel before and to say it was a pleasant experience would be lying. Even worse, he had Aurora and Mellia sitting behind and in front of him respectively, both holding on to him for dear life as neither had ever sat atop a mount of any kind yet. And while both really didn’t take up a lot of space, the saddle had been devised for one man – not one man, his seraphic aurea and his little sister. It was all kind of awkward and Arakiel had even went so far as weave a concept of ‘air’ and ‘stabilize’ atop them, which seemed to help a bit with winds trying to somehow keep them in balance. It had cost an entire dawnshards’ white color, but that was fine. He didn’t have any good sigils for air yet, anyway.
Nonetheless, these one-humped beasts were surprisingly fast even if Arakiel was certain he’d be unable to walk straight for a while afterwards. Some of the camels had gone missing in the chaos of the attack, but there had still been enough for his party alongside Rahul, Zari Amar and the middle-aged Scholar ibun Qasim, who was an Earth Enchanter. Lastly, the tall archer with a name so convoluted that Arakiel had simply stopped trying to speak or remember it. He was just the tall Air Alterator that had come along to provide fire support.
Ezekiel and Selene rode upfront. The slaver had somehow picked up the trail of the count right away – or so he claimed at least.
Arakiel was one of the last, simply because he had trouble directing his camel which was expertly trained, given the circumstances. Still, kind of hard to retain balance and direct the reins when he kept being tossed about.
The surroundings around them began to change surprisingly rapidly, having reached a trail that crossed the stream that they had followed.
At that point, the surroundings turned greener with every minute until Arakiel felt like they were entering a normal, temperate biome.
Green grass and sparse but notable vegetation in the form of bushes and other undergrowth alongside many tress, some of which seemed to have grown for quite a while. All the trees were deciduous in nature, their leaves still ripe with green although autumn was but a few weeks away.
After about an hour of chase, the little hunting group passed through a small piece of forest that made their brush with nature a necessity, that’s how overgrown the trail was – yet the broken-off branches and the slight trail of blood on the ground left no mistake about their predecessors – the count had come through here and according to Ezekiel, he was not alone, but they were slowing down.
Not long now.
Arakiel felt oddly calm about the whole affair, even if he didn’t know the count and his knight’s strength. He still had several shards of fire to call upon and Ezekiel was an enigma, in a way. How was he so good at fighting?
He had been a cripple, had he not?
To kill four men with no wounds… that was impressive. A bit too impressive.
Or maybe, just maybe, Ezekiel wasn’t telling the whole truth just yet because deep down, Arakiel couldn’t quite trust him yet – a state of affairs that he estimated to be mutual.
Nonetheless, he’d treat Ezekiel with respect if only because he needed to.
He needed Ezekiel’s skills… of this, Arakiel had no doubt, especially now after their first battle.
The only problem was that Ezekiel knew that.
He had to.