On the morrow, Arakiel did not wake Aurora up in order to catch the dawn, as she was sleeping just a bit too peacefully.
After having taken care of some business in the night, he had further collected a few more items, most notably iron crafts and leftover food that he put into his Spatial Ring. Arakiel had even begun a new list where he meticulously wrote down everything he stored inside as there was no way to actually enter the ring’s space. If one forgot about something inside… that was it.
Sleep had been a luxury this night, but he felt more or less decent with Aurora’s fire burning inside him. Certainly well enough to spend most of his day on horseback.
The cool, almost chilly morning air helped and he even got to bathe in the nearby pond before someone else woke up, which was honestly kind of pathetic for a so-called military ‘company’, but so be it. Perhaps there was no need for sentries in the desert or maybe the guys that were posted as sentries had fallen asleep from stuffing too much food inside them.
Either way, the Shamshierum couldn’t be considered a proper warband, or maybe he was just a bit too paranoid – not that it mattered. No one had attacked them over the course of the night, be they wild animals or humanoid foes.
Ezekiel soon joined Arakiel at the shore of the pond, its surface acting as a mirror for the rising sun. A few crickets and flies made noises, but it was overall fairly tranquil.
The interrogator sat down next to him, taking a sizable bite out of some bloody sausage. “So?”
The implication of the question was obvious and Arakiel could only reaffirm it. “We follow them back into the desert. The jinnum’s hunch is correct, I’d wager.”
“Good – I saw you swiped a few things already. Good thinking.” Ezekiel spoke in what might be genuine praise.
“Heh,” Arakiel began, yet his partner-in-crime continued right away.
“Arakiel, thank you for bringing me along. I never did thank you, did I?” Ezekiel asked.
“You did not, but your actions spoke for yourself.” Arakiel returned cordially.
Ezekiel muttered absentmindedly, slightly shaking his head. “Gotta prove myself.”
“You’re doing well, very well.” Arakiel said to placate.
“Say, Arakiel…” The silver-haired man began, turning his face towards Arakiel. Something seemed to bother him.
“Yes?”
“If we pull this off here… think your House will take me in?” Ezekiel asked in all seriousness.
Arakiel briefly pondered the subject and then sighed. “Honestly, I can’t say. Selene ast Rhea is… a walking, swaying political scandal.”
“The relations between Kalanaar and Selenya have been deteriorating all this time, have they not?” Ezekiel queried, but Arakiel could only offer a shrug.
“I’ve no idea, Ezekiel. I haven’t been involved in House politics.”
“I see – thanks for being honest, though.”
“If it were up to me, I’d offer you some cousin’s hand in marriage right away.” Arakiel noted, speaking from the heart.
Ezekiel’s potential seemed limitless, well worth a minor scandal.
“Thanks, Arakiel. I’ll remember this.”
“Just don’t go wooing Mellia.” Arakiel warned.
“Why?” The other man asked, sounding actually curious.
“Because I know how you treat your women, no matter their station.”
Ezekiel chuckled heartily, eventually asking. “So a cousin’s fine, then?”
Arakiel shrugged. “Every House has ‘em, the weak-willed ones that’ll fall under their consort’s thumb… or heel in your case.”
“I wouldn’t mind it – a gentle, docile one with green eyes at day, only for them to turn to a soft red in the candlelight. I’d only teach her…”
“Spare me the details, would you?”
“I’m telling you, you’re missing out, Arakiel. You need a girl for every occasion.” Ezekiel argued but Arakiel merely shook his head.
“Got Aurora, she’s all I could ever ask for.”
“Arakiel, you need a wife at some point.” Ezekiel reminded rather pointedly.
“She might just become…” He began until he suddenly realized what he was about to say, with Ezekiel rightfully pointing out.
“She’s an immortal, Arakiel. Never forget that.”
Arakiel let out a sigh, looking down at his hands while inside him, Aurora’s fire burned peacefully. “As if I ever could.”
“I feel like you do.” Ezekiel warned, causing Arakiel to once again look straight at him.
“Got something to say?” He challenged directly.
The man’s amethyst eyes bore right into Arakiel. “I do. Our seraphim are immortals, Arakiel. Enemies of old, present and future. Keep her as your aurea, snuggle and caress her as you want to. Hell, even I prefer Selene to be happy, but I would never consider her equal to me. Don’t make that mistake, Arakiel – that’s how they get you, the immortals.”
A shrill cackle suddenly echoed in Arakiel’s mind, a shrill cackle paired with the desperate cries of a girl. Flames everywhere, blood all around him. Pain, so much pain. And then the arrogant glint in the phoenix’s ruby eyes as he grabbed Arene before ripping her clothes apart.
Arakiel still recalled the appraisal in the immortal's eyes, the way his lips slowly curled upwards.
He felt sick all of a sudden, nauseous even.
“Thanks for the reminder,” Arakiel noted darkly, spitting as though that could wash his mouth clean, get the bitter taste out. It didn’t work.
Ezekiel lightly tapped him onto the shoulder. “It’s alright. No need to go overboard, just keep it in the back of your mind – the reason you accepted Shemyaza’s deal, the reason you joined the Seraphim Covenant.”
“I wonder why you did? Shem never told me.”
“Maybe I’ll tell you someday, but not today. Besides, the others are getting up. We should get ready.”
Ezekiel stayed true to his word and got up, walking away.
Arakiel remained behind just a little longer, staring out into the pond. He thought about the night of his elder sister’s abduction and wondered whether he could draw a connection to Aurora, but no matter what he did, he could not.
And when he saw her approach a little later, he almost forgot about the incident, her smile bringing him the kind of positive emotions that only Marianka had managed to over the years.
But Marianka was gone and Aurora was here.
She might be immortal, but she was his immortal. A small but decisive difference.
Aurora greeted him, he greeted her back with a little kiss and then some subtle intimacies when another voice suddenly came from the side, a very familiar one whose pattern of speech left no doubt about the source.
“Arakiel, wouldst thou lend me thine ear? I have a matter to profess.”
Profess?
“Do you want me to leave, Lady Mellia?” Aurora queried quietly, respectfully.
Arakiel felt as though he saw his sister shaking her head beneath the wide hood. “No, thou art my brother’s aurea, I trust thee.”
“I am so ever glad to hear you say this, Lady Mellia.” Aurora whispered in a voice that relayed these exact emotions quite openly.
“Thy devotion is without question, aurea. As for thee, mine kin,” Mellia replied and her voice turned to a whisper. “Thy progress is admirable, but thou must not forget thine intention and thy mission.”
“Is there something I am unaware of, Mellia?”
“Thine oath to me. Thou art to safeguard me against any and all threats, even at the cost of thy life.” Mellia quoted, adding. “I feel unsafe with these people. They dislike, perhaps even hate me and I cannot discern why.”
“Anyone who so much as tries to touch you, I’ll cut off their fingers, hands or even arms if necessary.” Arakiel declared, meaning every single word.
“As thou might’ve gleamed, brother mine. I am not used to such violence. Please refrain from cutting off fingers or other limbs in my presence.” Mellia said in a slightly upset-yet-dry manner.
“I’ll try to, but I can’t promise it. I mean it, though. I’ll guard you with my life, little sister.” Arakiel said, holding out his free hand as the other one was occupied with Aurora.
“You can trust me,” he promised and although his past promises hadn’t always ended well for the women or girls involved, he felt fairly confident this time.
“Keep thy hands to thyself. They are covered in grime, grease and dirt – never mind the blood.”
“I just bathed you know,” Arakiel objected but at a closer glance, water without any soap could only do so much.
“I remain hopeful our new allies have discovered the secret of bodily hygiene,” Mellia said quite flippantly and Arakiel chuckled, feeling reminded that he had uttered likewise thoughts not too long ago.
When no answer returned, he considered the discussion over.
It was time to head out.
The Shamshierum, packed to the brim with all sorts of things, and their new allies left the battlefield after several more hours, some of which were used to make use of some of the left-over food in addition to changing bandages and ensuring that the wounded were properly secured on the wheelbarrows.
Then, their little caravan went south, back into the desert, with Zari Amar and Rahul spending most of their time working on the now thoroughly-stripped and bound count in the presence of Ezekiel who had volunteered to ‘help’ with the interrogation.
If you encounter this story on Amazon, note that it's taken without permission from the author. Report it.
The sight of the interrogator alone made the count pliable, pliable enough that he did not give away all the information that Ezekiel had pried from his mind over a set of three extremely agonizing hours, but he did give away the snippets that Zari Amar needed to hear.
King Cahir of the Middle Kingdom was indeed preparing for war, but it wasn’t a war that he declared. The relatively new High King Nerigal of the Land of Mountains had declared the ‘Great March’ in revenge for a generation of grievances that the Middle Kingdom had supposedly inflicted upon the proud people of the north.
Count Fillan hadn’t known the details, but they weren’t that important. More important was the news that King Cahir and his consort Queen Fodhla considered the threat and announcement genuine enough that they gathered an army of unprecedented size in the capital city of the Three Rivers Abound A Sea Of Gold, or just Three Rivers. All the dukes and the counts had been forced to provide a hitherto unthinkable amount of levies and even part of their retinue for the royal couple’s plans and any who refused would be considered traitor to the realm.
When asked about the timeframe, Fillan claimed to not know the specifics and although the winters were mild in the Middle Kingdom, they were not in the north. As such, High King Nerigal either needed to attack in the upcoming months or wait until the winter was over at which point it was questionable why he had proclaimed his plans so early.
Zari Amar noted that the smartest move would be to attack right before the harvest so they could starve the cities that were supposedly walled and fortified. Arakiel internally praised the jinnum for his supremely acute thinking on the issue. Any minor plane was most likely to play after the old way of warfare, when the Class System was not yet able to unleash its full potential.
Walls were not much a threat later on and even Kalanaar only had them to keep out the undesirables that were too weak. It served no real military purpose anymore.
Back to the matter at hand: on this plane, the general harvest period was about two to two and a half months away, give or take a bit, which Zari Amar deemed enough time to unite the three cities of the desert, each one built around an oasis.
Fillan called him a maniac, Zari Amar cut off a part of the count in response, his hate palpable. Arakiel only heard snippets as he rode in some distance to keep Mellia and Aurora away, but he clearly heard Ezekiel fan the flames of the jinnum’s deep-rooted grudge to the point where Zari Amar struck down the defenseless prisoner first, before suddenly announcing an execution.
The count called him mad and cursed his and his family’s name, but Zari Amar couldn’t be stopped anymore, which was excellent.
The information about the Middle Kingdom’s strength, about their equipment and gear… about the treasures in the count’s keep or the way to enter it from outside – all of that alongside many other important pieces of information died with count Fillan as the hotheaded jinnum flayed him alive in front of a booing and cheering crowd.
Arakiel and Ezekiel had led the girls away so that they didn’t need to witness this rather cruel method of execution, especially when he later learned that Zari Amar had left the skinned count out on the edge of the desert, ripe to be torn apart by roving bands of wolves and the like.
The morale of the Shamshierum was high, ecstatic even and they kept joking about the way the count had whimpered even hours later while Zari Amar was hailed as a hero and an executor, a bringer of righteous justice for the oppressed children of the desert.
Their caravan, if one wanted to call it that, reached the desert proper near the evening, with many rocky formations once again protruding out from the desert, the occasional small or larger mesa all the way in the distance, behind valleys and hills of sand.
They marched until the people on the wheelbarrows were complaining about their bodies freezing at which point many campfires were made and this time, there was no feast. The Shamshierum only ate the absolute minimum and what they formerly lacked in discipline was returned twicefold. Shelters were quickly put in place, little trenches and palisades formed a defensive perimeter and four people were on patrol at all times.
The planeswalkers kept to their own corner in the camp and although Zari Amar briefly came over to visit in order to ask whether everything was fine, they were otherwise left alone, which was just as well.
It allowed Arakiel to teach Mellia and Aurora bits of the native language while Ezekiel once again returned to instructing Selene in an altogether different topic.
All in all, it was a relatively peaceful and relaxing affair and when everyone had gone to sleep, Arakiel and Ezekiel both snuck away in order to spar in some distance. It wasn’t the easiest since it was more or less pitch black, but when both took on their respective seraphim’s aspect, they could see one another well enough which was an interesting, novel experience on its own.
For now, they practiced without weapons and only very little magic. This was more of an exercise to stay in shape and shake off the aches of having to sit inside a saddle for so long.
The next several days went by relatively peacefully as traveling in a caravan wasn’t that different from a small group, only that they were a little slower since the wheelbarrows weren’t the best type of cart for the soft desert sand – but what the Shamshierum lacked in finesse, they made up for in grit and determination and the will to see their wounded return home.
They still had to rely on their mages, most notably the Earth Enchanter and the Wind Alterator, but they made steady progress every day and according to Zari Amar, the city of al-Aliriq wasn’t too far away as it was the northernmost of the three desert cities.
Ezekiel stopped wearing his armor on the third day, no longer able to take the heat and Arakiel’s skin was more than happy to find shelter behind a thick black strip of clothing, a shawl that every desert dweller used to stave off the sun while keeping sweat from getting into one’s eyes. Zari Amar had gifted every planeswalker except Mellia one.
The seraphim didn’t need them, but Ezekiel and Arakiel did and they both couldn’t wait to get their hands onto some of those airy clothes that the Shamshierum used. The jinnum promised that they’d find cloth and tailors aplenty in al-Aliriq, especially when they learned of their origin.
Through talks with Rahul, ibun Qasim and Zari Amar, Arakiel learned a few more interesting tidbits about the desert dwellers that called themselves the Holy Transcended’s Chosen, for it was their realm where the first extraplanar people had appeared, bringing not only the Class System, but also foreign, exotic goods for the low prices of little colored shards, most notably a blue and a brown sort that had occasionally been unearthed near the oasis or the so-called Valley of the Venerable Sixteen Pillars of the God-in-Sand.
Arakiel could well imagine what they alluded to and it was a little worrying, but also exciting. None of them could use earth or water shards, but their existence was noteworthy nonetheless.
Three potential Sites on a single minor plane – it was below average, but the chances of there being more was certainly a possibility. Usually, civilizations formed around those, as had most likely happened in this case as well.
More importantly, he learned that the Holy Transcended’s Chosen had been the first to embrace the Class System, yet they weren’t enough to make a difference against the Middle Kingdom which was much, much larger and had an entire magnitude of more people to draw from.
Food was sparse in the desert and as such, the Holy Transcended’s Chosen nowadays committed to a strict regimen and more importantly, hierarchy as a lesson from their recent past.
The jinnum were at the top – very few in nature but every single one had a strong connection to fire and even before the Class System, they had been the leaders of the tribes, the only ones with the foresight and strength to lead their people through the desert. Most importantly, they had been the ones to eventually unearth the three springs from which the oases had sprung forth and with them, a place to stay for those that had been rejected by the Middle Kingdom.
There, the jinnum had established cities of clay, brick and sand first, drawing in thousands of people over the course of a decade. But when the merchants from outside came, the jinnum and their people suddenly had an abundance of materials and food to work with.
A brief period of extreme growth, prosperity and immigration followed, only stifled by the eventual decline of the extraplanar trade, although it didn’t break off completely, but enough to plunge the new realm into chaos.
With no natural trading partner remaining, the people of the desert were forced to travel to their old enemy and ask for trade. The Middle Kingdom even happily accepted the foreign and exotic goods, even paid very handsomely for the spices and the exceedingly soft fabric called silk. However, they paid in mundane and rare metals, in wood and even in alcohol, but not once did they pay in food.
It led to a famine, one that drove the Holy Transcended’s Chosen to desperate measures for they had become too many in too short a time, especially in al-Aliriq which had been the center of refugees from the Middle Kingdom’s strict hierarchy.
The jinnum, with a heavy heart, had to make decisions to safeguard their people, save many at the cost of few.
A new tenant was put in place, one where a man’s worth was not about his ancestry or his wealth, but about his merit. Those who could contribute something useful, whether by craft, weapon or intellect were fed while those who could not had to look out for themselves.
But that addressed only a part of the problem, and it would become the jinnum’s greatest mistake. After all, there had still been the other half of the population, the females. Women had always held a special place in the Holy Transcended’s Chosen society, after all. Citing their unique ability to bear children, females had never worked, leaving all the tasks to men while they debated, advised and organized. Rarely did they raise the children and when, only their daughters, although most hadn’t even done that, choosing a life of carefree, boundless luxury instead.
The sudden shift in priorities hit them the hardest, for the one thing they had always cited as the sole and most necessary contributing factor had suddenly turned into a detriment.
Any further mouth to feed was a cause of lament, not celebration – and neither babes nor children could contribute much until many years later.
With a heavy heart, the jinnum set an ultimatum to the women, giving them two weeks of time to come up with a solution or accept the jinnum’s proposal: either, they submit to the same ruling as those of men or they reduce their number by other means left to their discretion.
The latter was chosen, but in a way that not only implicated the females, but all of the tribes’ populace… most notably that of al-Aliriq.
Overall, more than half of the Holy Transcended’s Chosen died in a single week as women kept sending their husbands, sons or even the men deemed unworthy to kill competitors and rivals. Vengeance spiraled out of control at every corner and the streets ran red with blood while screams and curses could be heard far beyond the city’s boundaries. Some whispered that the people of the Middle Kingdom celebrated each day in that time.
The jinnum wept at the close-mindedness of their people and were forced to intervene, bringing peace and stability with fire and sword.
Nearly all the instigators were put to the sword to break the cycle of revenge and the survivors were left to pick up the ashes.
When the other two cities heard of this disaster that befell al-Aliriq specifically, they sent their surplus over as their restructuring had gone off a bit more smoothly, although there had been casualties as well.
The jinnum did not reject the newcomers, but put them on trial in a different way.
From then on, only a male that had proven himself in the jinnum’s eyes was considered a man and only then was he allowed to woo for a woman’s favor, for the surviving females had been mostly girls and youths. Everyone else had fallen to the jinnum’s judgment.
The ensuing competition tempered the newcomers and the locals alike, always striving to be the very best and over the last decade, al-Aliriq has one again become a force to be reckoned with, one that constantly draws in more rejects and outcasts from the other cities that eagerly send their extra mouths over, although Zari Amar claimed the political intrigue is the most-cited reason.
But this system is flawed at its core and while those that arrive hope to make something of themselves, it is only a matter of time before there are too many people to feed again and the trauma sits deep.
Even now, the people of the desert fear another disaster which is why they work the slaves taken in raids to the death in their fields and quarries.
It made for a fascinating story that Arakiel listened to with great interest, especially since it harbored points to draw decisive actions from.
The Middle Kingdom that refused to trade food, the fear of overpopulation and most importantly, the confined space of their cities – all of that could be rectified if only they conquered parts of the Middle Kingdom.
He didn’t say it yet, but it was the line of thinking that Zari Amar followed and if the Middle Kingdom truly showed weakness, Arakiel was certain that the people of the desert could be convinced to go north, to wage war – war that would benefit them… but it’d also leave them open, wounded.
Roughly one and a half weeks after setting out, the caravan arrived at al-Aliriq and to call it a jewel of the desert might be fairly appropriate. It was certainly dwarfed by the Great Duality, but this was not Akh Karab, but some minor plane.
Al-Aliriq was indeed centered around a sizable oasis that was already special in that it emitted a constant stream of water that could be seen even from far away, its spray glistening in rainbow colors.
The city was surrounded by thoroughly white walls with sizable battlements and several towers that even had siege engines atop.
Inside, Arakiel noticed several hundred houses with thoroughly white walls, most with flat roofs but some larger buildings had huge, round domes whose golden or silver tiles glistened quite pleasantly in the sun.
He discovered fields and people working them close to the azure-colored water, but the one building that took most of his attention was the sizable palace in the city’s back, whose size dwarfed even the four larger mansions that had several onion-shaped towers.
That palace, which Arakiel presumed to belong to the jinnum rulers, consisted of a main building alongside six annexes, each one having larger domed towers than the last, with the central building housing a massive, round-shaped dome of what had to be glass in the middle.
Like the rest of the city, the palace and its adjacent buildings was painted thoroughly white, but the hundreds of windows of different sizes and shapes were painted in a myriad of colors while the two dozen or so towers with their thoroughly gilded domes gave it a rather unique appearance, one that he hadn’t seen in such a manner.
His first impression of al-Aliriq was one of respect and when he noticed a peculiar round building akin to one of the several circular amphitheaters in Kalanaar, he learned that the city had its very own arena where men fought in order to prove themselves before the jinnum.
Judging by the multitude of people that were hurrying through the streets, he was about to enter a fairly lively town – one where he could hopefully buy a proper set of clothes for him and Aurora – and maybe, just maybe, he could convince Mellia to wear something less hot because if there was one thing he had gleamed from his little sister, then it was the fact that she was suffering quite harshly beneath that cloak of hers, she just didn’t show it.
When he had asked her why, she had pointed to his then flaked-off skin, saying in a rather roundabout and quite cute way that she’d rather die than become disfigured like him.
He couldn’t quite follow her line of thinking, but his own skin had become somewhat more accustomed to the heat and the constant sun and with the shawl, it wasn’t that big a deal at all.
Maybe they could gain some insight into the way the Holy Transcended’s Chosen women guarded against the scorching sun, but Arakiel had an inkling that they just didn’t leave their homes a lot.
Nonetheless, he couldn’t wait to enter the city and get a proper bath.