ONE MONTH AGO

“Hold this,” Hegess said, planting the box of dust into Oriyan’s arms. “It isn’t heavy for you?”

Oriyan strained slightly. “No.”

“Can you carry another?”

Her eyes widened a bit. “I can try.”

Hegess grabbed another box from the cart, giving it to the girl. “Good?”

She grunted, clearly struggling. “I’m fine.”

The bearded man was not buying it. “Do you want me to take it off for you?”

“N— no, it’s fine. Don’t worry.”

“If you want me to take it, I can take it. I don’t want any dust coming out of these things.”

“I can handle it,” Oriyan stated.

Hegess sighed. “Just watch your step. Sandals on a pebble beach in the dark isn’t exactly ideal.” He grabbed a spear from the cart, holding a smaller box in one hand. “Come on.”

The two moved over the beach. Oriyan found herself eyeing constantly further into shore, half-expecting a garrison of Elves to be patrolling over the beach. She still minded her step, the rocks and pebbles below gently illuminated by the million lights in the sky.

It had only been a week since she joined with the Banner. Hoping, like so many others, to oust the Elves off of Witaenal. All she had done since then was all the menial work; clean the weapons, keep the rats out of the grain. This may have been as menial as them, but at least she was able to do it in the fresh air.

Oriyan now gazed to the ocean, hoping to find something in the distance. The sea was at an odd calm, the violent waves she was too familiar with had seemed to have regressed this night.

“Who are we looking out for?” She asked.

“Friends of ours. Should be coming in from a boat.”

“Where are they from?”

“I have no clue, to be honest.” He scratched his beard. “Somewhere eastwards. Probably Krensk, maybe further.”

“Maybe they’re Jade?”

“Doubt they’d be that far. Honestly, it doesn’t really matter where they’re coming from. They’ve probably been the best thing to happen to us in a long time.”

“How so?” Oriyan asked.

Hegess stopped in his tracks as a roar came from the side. Loudening as it came ever closer. A bright light soon flashed from the sea, burning into Oriyan’s eyes and causing her to fall over.

“Dammit, girl!” He exclaimed moving towards her. One of the crates broke upon her fall, the breeze sifting the golden powder into the air.

She got up, finding herself rubbing her eyes constantly. Hegess pulled up the broken box, plugging any cracks and holes with his arms.

The light finally arrived, outshining the stars and moon in the sky. An accented voice suddenly came. “Flash!”

“Oh gods,” Hegess muttered to himself. “Err… thunder? No, lightning!”

Oriyan pulled herself up, shielding her eyes. “What’s happening?”

“Stay quiet, let me handle this,” he lowly said to her, before going back to the light. “I apologise, but our supply seems to have been damaged!”

The voice came again, ordering, “Take your hoods down, show us your ears!”

“Show them your ears,” Hegess repeated to Oriyan, dropping the spear and box, and then taking down his own hood.

Some chatter came from the light. A figure suddenly stepped onto the flat tide. “How many of you are there?” His voice wasn’t accented, quite similar to Oriyan’s Cardai accent.

“Just the two of us.”

The tone of the figure grew concerned. “Is that it?”

“Erm… yes?” Hegess felt as if he had no stake in the situation.

The figure stepped closer, revealing himself in the light. An odd chill came over the two. He seemed Human, yet there appeared to be something missing from him, something vital that they just couldn’t explain. His dark clothing was unusual, as if stolen off a clothesline, yet that wasn’t what irked them.

“I was expecting a bit more of a red carpet from someone like your boss,” he said, stepping closer. The two kept their distance, getting a concerned look from the man. He took a good look at the rebels. “How old are you?” He asked Oriyan.

“Old enough to fight,” she said, trying her best to look determined.

There was an audible sigh from the man. “Not the youngest I’ve seen in a rebellion but fine. I was hoping to’ve had a proper chauffeur along the way, but I guess we’ll make do. I go by Penn, by the way.” He then said to the others behind the light, “Grab the supply, lads. Vadim, pass me the arms.” He noticed the broken crate on the ground. “Leave one bag on board.”

Hegess went pale. “We haven’t lost much.”

“Not to you, but a few grams of this stuff could afford us to arm a dozen more of your men. Our terms with your boss were simple.”

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“We can get it out of the sand.”

Penn scoffed. “No.”

A few more figures stepped onto the shore. Something around their mouths stuck out, Oriyan thought at first they were demons or such. They wore masks. Not made of cloth, perhaps a sort of leather? The rest of their clothing was unusual too, starkly different to the man’s.

“Keep your distance,” one of the figures ordered the rebels, their accented voice muffled behind their masks.

Like the man, something was off about them. That same cold chill came over the two. The girl felt like running before anything abysmal would have happened.

“Don’t mind them,” the man said, unloading a few large bags. “Not inoculated like me and Vadim.”

A bald figure, wearing similar clothing to the man, stepped off, likely this ‘Vadim’ person. Hegess had seen many low faces like his. Many battles, many harrowing sights had made their mark on his eyes. They briefly made contact with the rebel’s, to which he averted his gaze.

A few bags were passed to the two. “How much can the girl carry?” The man asked them.

Oriyan said, “As many as you—”

She was quickly cut off by Hegess. “Pass them to me.”

“Fine,” Penn said. As Hegess began to pick the bags off the floor, he then warned him, “Careful with those, by the way. Our stock of those things are decades old, might go off.”

Oriyan picked up Hegess’ spear, assuming she was demoted to lookout. “What are we taking?”

Penn overheard her. “Doesn’t she know?”

“I apologise. She’s new to the Banner,” Hegess replied, a bag wrapped around his back.

Penn placed a bag down, gesturing for the girl to come over. Oriyan stepped forward as the bag was opened. The man pulled something out. A blend of wood and carefully carved metal was what she was met with, shaped like an imitation of a northern rune, save for the more detailed shaping on its various parts.

She was allowed to hold it, almost dropping it once its weight was known to her. The metal felt cold against her skin, as if she was holding the embodiment of death itself.

“What is it?” Oriyan uttered.

“The full name of it is the Avtomat Kalashnikova,” Penn said, his smile present in the light. “Where I’m from, most simply call it the AK-47.”

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Comfortable was probably the closest Daifan could accurately describe it. Still on the twilight between the material and spiritual. Visually, it was as if his mortal mind was basking in a painting of infinity, barely comprehendible, but with an odd beauty like no other. There was a warmth to it, like every worry, every fear, just disappeared. He reached an understanding of sorts, something that he quite couldn’t place into thought.

It felt as if he was journeying somewhere in the Bind, drifting along the waves. Throughout, it seemed as if all of time flashed in front of him a thousand times over. Stars came and went, plants grew and shrivelled, cities built and demolished. The deeper he floated into the Bind, the less he seemed on the twilight with the material world. The borders of the Null and Dark realms were visible to him, almost within the reach of his fingertips.

Eventually, Daifan came to a halt. At least, he thought it was a halt. The waves were, and that warmth dissipated away. Something here clearly didn’t tolerate him. The beauty of infinity’s painting was no longer there, something much less grand took its place.

He felt stiff, a heavy breath took over with his hairs standing on end. All instincts now favoured survival. Anything the boy felt was out to get him remained invisible to his mind’s eye, or were instead incomprehensible. He knew there was something lurking about. Daifan was cold now, completely vulnerable, as if he was ripped straight out of all aspects of the Bind - here and in the material world.

His eyes darted around as everything became ever darker. That twilight seemed long gone now, his mind was fully stuck here.

The sounds of a million cries suddenly screeched all around him. He covered his ears, but the laws of the physical didn’t apply so well here. It only ended as something grabbed his arm.

The dark went away, and the oak of his home blurred back into focus. He looked to the side, there was a Human boy, a few years older than him, crouching by. Cheap armoured and tired eyes. It was Arral.

“You okay?” He asked Daifan.

The boy’s breath was still heavy. “I… I don’t…”

“Calm down, calm down.” Arral placed his hand on Daifan’s forehead, moist in cold sweat. “Looks like you’ve come down with a fever. Come on.”

He helped him up onto a chair. Daifan looked around, something was missing. “Where’s Master Alanus?”

“Whilst you were sitting in this… whatever it is, I gave him a message, and he disappeared off to Antalm.”

“Why Antalm?”

“No idea. He seemed in a hurry to get there though. So now, I’m stuck here looking after you.” Arral began to browse through the cupboards, hoping to find something for Daifan to eat.

“Shouldn’t you be working?”

“Worry about yourself for the moment.”

The boy’s head continued to throb. “Did he… Alanus, he went through the Bindgate didn’t he - that wooden arch in the other room?”

“I don’t keep track of all the things you two get up to. There was something shining there, I guess.” He picked out an odd-looking jar, taking a whiff of it. “Why is there dung in here?”

Daifan eyed up. “It’s for an ‘experiment’.”

“It seems more like the Elf didn’t have time to go to the outhouse.”

He wanted to laugh, but that feeling his Master was here silenced the urge. “Look in the cupboards on the far right.”

“Would be nice if you labelled everything. I really am not in the mood to grow a third eye in my next meal. I mean—” He looked around the whole room, packed with what he could only describe as a collection of magical junk, “—It’s a maze in here. I don’t know how you people find anything.”

“We have a system.”

“Not a very good one it seems.” He took two jars out the cupboard. “You don’t have anything for illnesses do you?”

“I don’t know where my Master keeps them. In his room somewhere, I think.”

The young guard took a peek into Alanus’ room, before stepping away.

“I’m there’s a chance I’d turn into a frog if I touched something in there,” Arral remarked. “Right, I’m going to make you some soup instead. Hopefully should sort out your fever. You want me to add anything to it?”

Daifan groaned as his head began to throb more, before telling him, “Add what you want.”

Arral grabbed a pot, filled it with some rainwater from a barrel, and hung it over the fireplace. Multiple herbs he hoped were edible were sprinkled in alongside a bit of salt, and already he just decided to wait until the pot boiled. It wasn’t the greatest meal in the world, but he was starving and the boy seemed like he was going to collapse.

He sat adjacent to Daifan at the table. “How are you feeling?”

The boy’s face was now dug into his arms. “I feel like my head’s on fire.”

“What exactly were you sitting on the ground for?” He looked over where the boy was sitting earlier; dark-yellow powder still remained on the floor.

“Master Alanus wants me to access the Bind. It’s…” Daifan was too tired to get any words out. “It’s the only way anybody can—”

“Access magic, I know the stories. I’m assuming it isn’t going so well?”

“It’s getting better… kinda.”

“You look half-dead, Daifan.”

He chuckled a bit, not really grasping why. “This is… no, this is nothing.”

Arral sighed. “Be honest.”

“It’s just a fever, Arral. I’m fine.” This was probably the fifth attempt at accessing the Bind, compared to what he went through the other four times, an illness was nothing. To him, it only meant he endured the worst that came from it.

“What do you even see in there anyway? Does a spirit come up to you and suddenly decide you should come down with a plague?”

“It’s like…” Daifan tried to find the words. “It’s like you’re floating, far above anything bothering you. You’re just staring at the bigger picture.”

“And you get a fever, why exactly?”

“When you’re there long enough, if your mind can’t… connect properly, it sees you more as a…” His headache spiked causing him to clutch the side of his head, just about answering the young soldier’s question.

“All right, you need to lie down.” Arral helped him off the chair, carrying him into his room and onto the bed. The boy barely seemed awake, only digging himself into the fabric. “One of these days, you’re going to go down a hole I or anyone else won’t be able to pull you out from. When Alanus comes back, for your own sake, set a line somewhere.”

There was just silence from Daifan, and then snoring. He probably didn’t hear what Arral said, and he likely wouldn’t have listened to him if he did.