First attempt

 Prologue

The dungeon was dark and damp, the stones black and cold. It was a large rectangular space under the earth with stairs circling the walls, leading Zefor lower and lower beneath the surface of his palace. He had a torch in hand which merely helped him see the next step his feet needed to land on and heat his face. To his left, was the pervasive combination of mist and darkness within an empty space, to which the more he stared down, the woozier it got. Surely no amount of fire could help one see where it ended. If the earth’s core had a path to reach, these stairs might have been it.

Throughout his life, imperial or fore imperial, Zefor had been lucky enough to witness a lot of oddities, a lot of challenges; the cut on his back traced like rubber from his right shoulder to his left flank was one of the many results; not feeling fear while walking in this massive unknown to meet the man of hundreds of years ago was, well, a reason to prefer the arduous way of hell over the lavish heaven, it was like a poison disguised in a rose.

His decision tonight to step into the royal dungeon was consulted with no one, it needn’t be. Not that it wasn’t crucial enough, indeed that would make them rage, backlash, and above all, remind them of who the one in power is. His kings and royal court members were fools enough to fight over petty things, and intelligent enough to recognize threats and whom they should obey. The sanctuary, however, was a threat in itself. He would embrace it.

Other larger torches appeared around the walls, shimmering like a candle he couldn’t say how close or far it is. Soon the stairway gave its place to a flat surface. Zefor took a few steps, hesitant, guessing by the torches surrounding the area it seemed like a hall, roughly two hundred meters in diameter. Still not much visible, but enough to make one eager to watch. The torches were 4 times the size of the one he had in hand, with a brown color that screamed of a long age in contrast with the fire that burned on top of them in youth. Intricate patterns and straight lines filled the walls and every thirty or forty meters around the chamber was a spot covered with the cast of shadow. Doors? Or corridors? This cryptic place smelled of mysteries and stories. But it was time for something else.

He walked to the center of the chamber, and at a proper distance, the figure of a man took shape through the haze and red light of the fire. He was floating in the air with the help of the chains tied around his wrists and ankles. His head was on his chest with long hair that covered his shirtless belly. Loose trousers cut on his knees were the only clothing he had on. For a fraction of a moment, Zefor felt bad for him. Valashi looked up. His eyes locked to his through the mess of long hair.

“You have survived well,” Zefor’s voice echoed in the hall. He paused. “Many play with your name like a myth and tell your stories beside the warmth of their hearth. Looking at you now, I see the cost of ambition, the way of great men. They don’t deserve to utter your name.”

Valashi was silent, gazing at him.

“I am Zefor, Cavebris’ current emperor. I need a mercenary; I need the devil to dead and my lands secured.” Zefor could read through his silence and eyes, so he continued. “I don’t believe the sanctuary; I don’t believe the religions. I have been pondering a lot, god killer. But this last incident was a nail in the coffin for me. If you had lied, why is the devil among us now? Where is the god to save us? I see no explanation but your story. If you have killed the god, surely you can kill the devil.” He winced. “But not with those chains locking you down here.”

“For the first time after an eternity,” said Valashi, his voice hoarse and ancient, “I slept a while ago. Nightmares are coming.”

 

 

Chapter One

The Shadow Within

The hundred days of rain had finished two days ago; the already greenish scrub forming upon the damp soil, radiant birds and trees cohabiting above, and the cool air despite the shining sun were corollaries of a third of a year’s gloom.  Ufery with her family, along with the captain of arms, the king’s steward, with some officers and guards crowded the royal training ground. It was her brother’s birthday, 3 years younger than her; yet her father, king Rivalees, deemed him worthy of being titled the crown prince of their nation. Not yet.

Her brother was pulling the nock on his shoulder along the bow’s string with one eye shut; a bad strategy. On a battlefield, the absent sight of what an eye offered could be vital. A bow’s range came with its prices. Sometimes people were too focused on the far ahead just to stumble on their faces.

She could see his awkwardness through the shivering head of the arrow and the amount of time he was wasting for the not arriving perfect moment. He would be the king one day. What a shame. Captain of arms, sir Kalvis Xheer, was a man of patience. Or maybe anyone would be while their king was a few feet behind watching and smiling like a proud fool. Sir Kalvis’s impassive figure stood up beside the little boy, whispering instructions in his ear. His presence alone gave a bit of reason to watch the boring archery. As the mighty prince released the arrow just to hit the target on the shoulder within a mere 20 meters of distance. Rivalees clapped. Ufery sighed, feigning disappointment. Her mother noticed.

“Resisting the inevitable will not serve you well,” her mother said without moving her eyes from her son in front. “Men are meant to be kings, not you. As long as you are part of this household, you are part of the tradition.”

“Yes,” she replied as his brother picked another arrow and adjusted it on the bow. “Men.”

“Don’t forget that he just turned 14. We don’t want to talk about what the princess did at that age.”

Ufery blushed and raged, a force that made her step ahead. She passed her father and the steward indifferently, trying to maintain her posture on the soft ground, and picked a bow and quiver from the archery spot. Her brother with the captain of arms, officers she didn’t know, and of course, her parents, were staring. They better be watching she thought. 5 straw targets in a line, she drew an arrow, and as soon as it was pulled, she released it right in the head of the middle. Next was the fourth, then hit the second, the fifth, and lastly the first.

She turned to enjoy the angry face of her father. “When I make a mistake, my hands aren’t shaking.” She said walking away.

The city of Yasray was in a good health. It looked like a painting that a breeze could tear apart, but not even the anger of nature could do it in a hundred days, let alone the kiss of it. When the rain hit, the streets were filled with water after the sanitary sewer system gave up. The city was built on a hill, and that helped it weather the rain period far better than the villages of the hillside or around would. Where they needed boats to get around and third-floor bunks were common.

Now, however, she could wander outside without the worry of getting herself wet, though she needed leather boots for that, and be careful of the puddles. Roads were filled with shops and an incalculable amount of people chattering over attire and sustenance in groups. Carriages were not uncommon in Yasray, but people preferred to have the sun watching them, especially during the first days of its arrival.

Ufery reached the palace and passed the gate guards without being inquired. The palace looked different compared to any other structure in the city. Its grey walls reached up to four floors, with a flat roof and a round tower on the left that felt like was keeping the whole building stable. There were as many windows as someone could fit on the façade, which was followed by a garden with old trees and then the gate. Altogether, the palace had an infinite vibe to it, like it was never built, it just always been… Her room was located in the western corner of the second floor, where her servant, Kalalai, was waiting for her. She entered the chamber and shut the door behind her dramatically.

“Your dress is ready…”

“I will not do it,” Ufery interrupted her servant. “I will not let it happen. It’s a disgrace both for me and Yasray. At least they could wait. What have I done worse than him?” She was strolling the room, asking nobody. There was a feast upcoming tonight, in celebration of the crowning event of the prince.

“With all due respect, there is no time to wait,” Kalalai said. she had a lean figure with a calm tone. “Have you heard the news?” She asked dubiously.

“The devil is among us?”

“Another one.” Ufery frowned. Her servant continued, “The emperor has freed the god killer. The letter arrived this morning. Your father was discussing it with the grandmaster and some others, times of turmoil…”

“Enough,” Ufery interrupted her again. “I could not care less about monsters and their assistants. Father never wanted me as the monarch anyways, always treated him another way. ‘Times of turmoil’ is another petty alibi.”

“Bath is ready, and the garment will arrive…”

“Traditions. Huh. If that’s the case, I can challenge him to a duel, right?” Ufery looked at Kalalai for an answer, but her face was hesitant. “That’s also part of the tradition. When a king is incapable, anyone blood-related can challenge him and take his throne away. Yes… yes, I will do that. The same happens if he is dead.”

“I… I don’t know what you want to prove, your highness.”

Ufery looked at her straight. “They are wrong for not appreciating someone like me.”

The door knocked and Kalalai took a garment from two other young girls. She closed the door and brought the dress forwards for Ufery to see.

It was a deep-blue piece of silk, with translucent sleeves, tight around the waist, and a tall skirt after. “Can I fit my sword under it?” Ufery asked as she unbuttoned her jacket.

Minutes later she was in her warm bath covered in soapy water. The bathroom was behind her room, relatively small, lit by a few candles next to the shut window. The dim light reflected on the white bubbles which looked on the edge of bursting, a semblance to herself. Do what you are supposed to do, and be washed away at the end. What would the water do if it was sentient? Resist being thrown away or not doing well in the first place? She had studied war tactics and history, she could read and write when she was 10. She had practiced swords and bows for years every day. And was even the first to be born in the family. All for being replaced by a more immature, and less capable version of herself. Where has she gone wrong was a killing mystery to her. A knock on the door took her out of the overbearing silence. “Who is it?” She bellowed.

“Come to me when you are done, I want to talk to you.” It was her father. He had the lowest voice on earth.

“I can talk now,” she replied.

Rivalees sighed behind the door. “Come out, and meet your brother.”

“Wait,” she said, and reluctantly stood up, drying her hair, and went out with a loose white dress that covered her hands and feet. Her brother, Vessiel, was standing next to her father, shorter than her by a few fingers. He had an innocent face, which was intensified by the blonde hair he had gotten from their mom. She broke eye contact and turned to her father. “I am here.”

Rivalees looked thoughtful. “Do you know what I said when your brother was born?” Ufery didn’t know. “I said, ‘it’s the light of my nation.’ Now I understand its aggravation on you. But do you know what I said when you were born? ‘It’s the light of my life.’” King’s face with a trimmed ginger beard looked sincere. “You both are as special to me, and you cannot change that by stepping in each other’s paths.”

“We are not both as special for you,” Ufery said and looked away.

“One day you will be the strongest, wisest woman of these lands. I see conceit in you Ufery, but no deceit. Do you remember the day your brother fell off of the window and you caught him?”

“I was stick-fighting with a boy,” Vessiel said with a smile. Ufery gave him a dull look. “She also taught me how to hold a real sword.”

Rivalees smiled at him. “Tonight, I want you to be the one crowning your brother.” Ufery’s gut wrenched. His father continued, “I leave you two alone.” And left.

A bleak silence caught the room. Ufery sat on her bed, didn’t even want to look at Vessiel, and he started talking, “I know you think I have told mom and dad about… about what happened, but trust me I haven’t. I want you to be the person you were before.”

“You haven’t? Mom was mentioning ‘what princess did years ago’ today!”

“She might be meaning something else, a stupid affair or a mistake, she does this with me all the time,” Vessiel said urgently. “I swear I haven’t told anyone!”

“It’s all your fault. If you... If…,” she cursed and hit herself on the knee and covered her face.

“You can have half the kingdom, I promise. Or all, I have never wanted to be this. Just trust me, please…”

“Get out!” Ufery interrupted.

Vessiel got somber faster than Ufery imagined possible. He left, and Ufery yelled another curse.

The feast was held in the throne hall on the northern side of the atrium. Six pillars, three on each side, with a rectangular table between and many circular tables around them. Ufery entered the hot, noisy atmosphere of the room, and a group of 3 musicians on the right side, with a lute, harp, and drums, was keeping the mood up.  Food and wine were served; and of course, there was king Rivalees, queen Shady, and prince Vessiel on the throne. Her seat was empty on the left, waiting for her to accompany her mother’s side.

The garment felt a little uncomfortable, granted, she had her sword on her back under the glamorous cloth. It was the size of the tip of the middle finger to her elbow, sharp on both sides with a slight curve at the edge. The pommel touched her hair but was hidden well. As always, she maintained her posture as she walked, her family noticed her when she was too close to not be noticed. She took a seat next to her mom, giving a sly smile to her father, and watched the foolish roar of the royal family over a boy. She noticed her uncle, king Yavalees, coming all the way from Estela, he should have arrived barely on time, for Ufery didn’t see him before the ceremony. Yavalees had a big belly, red beard, and a mug of wine in his hand, accompanied by a woman who was too painted in the face to be of an important rank, and a few men with familiar faces she couldn’t name. Probably her cousins? Her uncle was sitting at the top section of the middle table. He was superstitious and impractical as far as she knew, with a deep love of his family, including his brother’s, the reason he was there tonight. There were a lot of reminding faces, but no friends. She wished Kalalai was with her.

“Where is prince Hane?” Ufery whispered to her mother through the hype of the hall. Hane was the prince of Bresien to their southwest. Three years ago during a conflict between Yasray and Bresien, when the emperor had gathered both families in Yasray to make them peace together, Ufery and Hane had clandestine visits, short but sweet, looking back at it now though, she was a moron. In the end, someone found it out somehow. Because there were rumors of an engagement between the two nations, which to her good luck never happened. Or maybe it was just a coincidence, people liked to see weddings as a sign of peace.

Shady looked at her testily. “He is not part of the family. Why do you ask?”

“I want to see if everyone is as concerned about their nation in these times of… turmoil,” she continued before her mom could read through her sarcasm. “I heard the emperor has messed up well this time.”

Her mother peeked at her again. “He is our emperor; we must have faith in his intentions.” She paused. “And yes, pray that he hasn’t lost his mind.”

“But don’t they say he is a faithless extremist? It makes sense for him to unleash the god killer. Huh.”

 “It’s not something to be talked about flippantly,” Shady said as she smiled at one of the attendants. “He is already facing consequences, and most likely, all of us will.”

Ufery bridled her tongue and turned back to watch the crowd, already bored. At least the music sounded interesting but difficult to listen to from the other side of the hall. It was the ballad of ‘The Dead Man’s Remedy’ if she had to guess. A story about a man in a cloak coming back to life. Luckily, soon her father stood up and unsheathed his longsword, pointing it aloft. He was a built man with a face that told everyone he could hold up multiple longswords with one hand and a smile on top.

The room gradually turned silent. About fifty pairs of eyes locked on the throne seats. It felt good, it was her time to shine. They better be watching.

“My father,” Rivalees exclaimed, “the greatest king Yasray has ever seen, one of the highest generals of Zefor prior to Cavebris empire, named Norleez, was the king of Yasray at 21. He crowned me as his heir before his assassination; may you rest in peace father,” he lowered his eyes and the sword to the ceramic floor, holding the pommel with both hands. An awkward silence, and then continued, “I will keep his prophecy and name alive. Tonight, my son, his blood, prince Vessiel Vurein, will be titled the king of Yasray proceeding me.” Everyone watched with anticipation as a clerk out of nowhere came forward carrying a golden crown, catching every eye in awe.

Ufery’s hand itched for the sword, she stood up, his brother in his seat. Damn it, he looked majestic at that moment, sitting on his throne, with yellow messed-up hair and neat golden clothing. A proud smile on his face like his father. It almost felt like, this stupid boy would make a reasonable king one day. But what about her? She wasn’t to blame if they have been distressing her for years. Someone better make them see right and wrong anyways. Shady watched her solemnly as she reached to the back of her neck, gripped the pommel, just to be hindered by a ranseur opening prince Vessiel’s chest from the back. The ranseur was huge and abnormal, it pulled back and disappeared. Everyone shouted in shock, the prince hit the ground with a wide shaft between his shoulder blades. His blood covered the area around his corpse. Shady fainted to the ground. There was an open gap in the prince’s throne following another in the wall behind it, both bloody. The back wall shattered to pieces and 3 giant men, about 4 meters tall, stepped on the throne platform. Their red cloaks were on fire and their faces distorted. Mayhem filled the hall and no one remained civilized. Rivalees was frozen next to his son’s corpse, gaping at the giants with shivering lips. The king swung the sword above his head for a strike, but failed; one of the giants impaled him up in the air and launched him to a side. He hit a pillar, disfigured, then slid down with blood stains following. Ufery’s senses didn’t function properly, but she remembered one thing. She had a sword. She pulled it out, as they stepped on her mother, and blocked a thrust by one of the giants coming toward her. Its large blade didn’t go easy, it left a cut on her chest, collarbone, and then her arm, throwing her out of the throne platform on a table. She was alerted by the sharpness of the pain and looked up at the small remaining crowd being butchered while running toward the door. The shattered wall, however, was unguarded. The 3 giants seemed occupied, following people into the atrium. Ufery stood out of her torn garment, a bloody shift covering her body, and staggered for the shortcut outside. Standing on the edge of the second floor, with the blood and screams and corruption behind beating her heart to her throat, she jumped with no hesitation and thumped on the lawn of the palace yard. The combination of dump soil and grass helped to not break any bones, but she screamed when her left arm hit the ground and shook her wound. Vision bleary, she struggled to stand up and run, away from the palace as far as she can. It was not a better view outside. People were in chaos, no one knew one another, and some soldiers were going in but pulled back when another part of the palace wall shattered and sent a few soldiers from the inside to the air, one of them crashed on a tree’s branches. A piece of the wall hit a running man in the head. The giants were silent, but their actions sounded like a frenzy sword crafting factory. By the time Ufery passed the gate, the giants were out of the building, wrecking everything they could. It was a bright night, full moon, the devils burning in their cloaks, long weapons, unfathomable faces, and blood covering her chest, it was too much. Everything was too much. The princess stumbled on the corner of a road, distraught. Giants were faster than her, she couldn’t run could she? Maybe she should simply accept her faith.

But, remembering the day, wasn’t she the capable one? What if she could survive? What if she could take a few more steps? Her thoughts disdained her of groveling, as the feral demons were getting scary close, one of them charging after her with a weapon multiple times her size, she took three slow steps, and then, everywhere turned dark.

It wasn’t a sudden kind of darkness where you close your eyes for mental images to take the scene. It was in a wave, coming like a wind. Crossing her body and going beyond. Though it sedated everywhere and everyone, paralyzing fear made her touch the wall on the right and huddle down. Assuming the direction of the demon, Ufery watched with a prospect. Hearing her breath. A spark flashed across a distance, like a lightning, but with a sound of steel. The second time it flashed at a seemingly closer distance. The intense light of it snapped the overwhelming blackness and hurt her eyes. She looked away hands to face. And the third time it happened was right next to her, followed by footsteps. With a glance, she saw a shadowy figure, eerily visible in the shadow itself. Clad in a conspicuous black cloak radiating dark waves like a simmering coal, but his face engrossed her all. For he had a humane face. Not monstrous. He then mounted a large smoky creature; flew to the sky, and took the shadow away with him.

 

 

The Evil’s Shadow

Ufery’s room felt like the only safe spot in Yasray for she didn’t know how many days elapsing the incident. Her wound was healing, but her mind was still numb, unable to adapt the past as reality, let alone compartmentalize everything she needed to process for the present onward; the royal court looking forward to a queen being as one. One thing was for sure, she had changed.

Every time she got lucky to fall asleep, it was ruined by the man who saved her life. Her family felt like a burden of guilt and grief she didn’t want to dig into, and the monsters have lost their grandeur to the smoky man’s prowess, who was incessantly haunting her mind. She felt insignificant, irrelevant. If someone could become him, quarreling over a throne was the pettiest she could do.

Her father’s steward, sir Yadien Mobesh knocked and entered her room. He gave a head salute. “Funeral is happening soon.”  

Yes, Kalalai had died. Now the steward had to bring her the news, the palace has been understaffed due to many deaths. Fifty-seven, counting the soldiers, and six harmed counting Ufery. A bandage was wrapped under her right arm covering her wound to the left shoulder. The pain of remembering her family’s butchery was a cover-up for the physical pain. At least she didn’t have to watch her servant’s death. Poor girl.

She managed to sit down and look at Yadien with the frayed trail of thoughts. The steward, a medium-height man going bald, had Niakron disease. Tiny frantic violet plants grew on his eyelashes, mouth corners, ear lobes, and god knows where else. The disease would take over and kill him eventually.

“Your highness?”

“I heard you,” Ufery talked for the first time in days. She sounded like what her father sounded on wine. “Where is Kalalai’s body?”

Yadien looked dumbfounded. “Pardon?”

“My servant.”

“Uhm, I guess, with the rest of the casualties. Ready to burn.”

“Tell them to bring her body to my family’s funeral, and place my grave next to my brother’s, and then Kalalai’s.”

Yadien pondered for a moment but didn’t object. “Y…Yes, that will happen, your highness.”

She then opened her bandage with the help of a middle-aged woman, exposing her lacerated front shoulder, and went for a bath. The blood was maroon; the pain was alleviated with the help of some weird herbs the woman had used on her. The woman also talked about a cut in her collarbone and emphasized the necessity of using flat logs with the bandage to keep the bone in place until it heals. So Ufery let her bandage it again with the pieces of wood and dress her –for she couldn’t move her left shoulder yet- into a grey long dress as dull as someone could come up with, and walked out of her chamber.

The wrecked walls of the building were not yet recovered. She tried to avert them subtle enough for no one to notice and kept her posture straight. They brought up horrid memories. A carriage was waiting for her at the gate. Everyone regarded her with revere, now that the king and prince were gone she was replacing them in their eyes. Even more, there were rumors about the ‘queen’s’ survival through an act of bravery and miracle. She was divine. Is this what you wanted? She asked herself.

 Yasray’s dynasty cemetery was built next to a river that pierced through the heart of it and reached the Cavebris city of the Cavebris empire itself. Called Neverando, history claimed that a group of people who called themselves Haxua’x traveled to this land around a thousand years ago, in the middle of an ice age. They inhabited Neverando’s vicinity for its accessible water and fertile ground, then made civilizations soon after the ice age ended. The cemetery was fortified with thick walls made of similar stones used for the palace and bore 4 different dynasties, the oldest grave dated to 6 hundred years ago, along with the skeletons of proceeding regal families with monuments and their head sculptures on top.

A crowd of officers and soldiers were gathered out of the cemetery walls with an aisle among them where Ufery passed through. There she saw four coffins and a newly dug grave next to hers, for Kalalai. No monument or sculpture was built for her, but she would take care of it. Royal court members like the head of the city’s watch, steward, captain of arms, and master messenger, were in a half circle standing with her, silent as the coffins were carried to their related graves and the minister-general in his stupid outfit –big sleeves and hat, with written designs at his waist- was murmuring prayers. Weirdly, Yavalees wasn’t present, nor they could find his body. The king’s grave was in the middle of his wife and son, there remained an empty grave between Vessiel and kalalai, which was hers. Looking back at the crowd, no, looking back at herself, waiting. Not yet, she thought.

After the burying was done, Ufery felt a twinge of sorrow for them, mostly for Vessiel. A few drops of tears ran down her cheeks, immediately swept off by her hand. She turned towards the attendants and said, “I am leaving Yasray.”

Men frowned, exchanging looks.

“I don’t know when I will be back, but until then, my father’s steward, now mine, sir Yadien Mobesh will sit on my throne.”

“People need their queen,” Yadien said resolutely. “After what happened only you will give them spirit.”

Sir Kalvis Xheer, with his calm tone and look, said, “let’s first hear, what’s so important about this sudden decision that justifies it. Our highness couldn’t talk to this morning. What clicked?”

Yadien looked anxious.

“Unfortunately, I cannot share details with you,” Ufery answered. “But it’s related to what happened to me and my family. I need to have a visit with the emperor and make sure this kind of thing is not going to happen again.”

The head of the city’s watch, Palviz Xheer, cousin to Kalvis, a young strong man had an aura of defiance to him. “What can possibly the emperor do with the godly monsters randomly attacking a section? We were caught off guard this time, but I assure you, your highness, next time we will be ready. Our engineers have ideas for weapons to fight against them.”

“As I said, I cannot share details with you. But trust me, Palviz, it is vital that this meeting happens. Looking at your mysterious background, imprisoned for 12 months by the enemy and still not giving up on the secrets of your nation and emperor, you should understand the worth of secrets. And besides, I don’t have to explain myself to you anymore. Make sure the ideas of your engineers are executed, just in case. And we will keep in contact,” she looked at the master messenger who nodded silently. “I will ride alone for Cavebris. Send the emperor a letter.” She paused. “But before departure, there is one more task I need to do.”

The creatures’ bodies were kept in the locker basement of the palace. Three bodies on the ground, they didn’t fit the tables. Each body was immaculately cut in two, a sly line from chest to waist. Their cloaks were removed and laid next to them; cut in two as well, but all the pieces were brought together. Holding a lantern above one of them, she saw no skin and tattered muscles. Black bones were twisted with black muscle tissues, creating patterns she didn’t know what to think of. It had long limbs compared to its trunk, and the head was distorted in a conflating manner, like an artist drawing something while having a nightmare. The eyes were big with no eyelashes, resembling two marble stones. She put aside the lantern and picked a glove from a table. Her left shoulder was useless. She put on the glove in her right hand and tried to pull the upper part of the body away to scan the organs. It was heavy, and sir Palviz Xheer gave a hand to haul it. Upon checking it out though, there wasn’t much to see, except rotten flesh-like matters which were stiffer than the muscles surrounding the skeleton sparsely, mostly empty. Their cloaks were red and not burning anymore. They were of thick and heavy fabric, yet cut so smoothly. Whatever the man who killed these carried, transcended a normal weapon. Ufery was not the only one witnessing the flashes, but she was the only one seeing himself. Something told her it was better to keep it to herself.

“I bet the creature responsible for killing these monsters has some artful crafts,” Palviz said with a chuckle, his voice echoing in the basement. “Will come clutch.”

“I bet,” Ufery didn’t correct him. The notion of the thing responsible for saving them being a human was an inane one. “Do you have any reports of similar happenstances?” She asked, still scanning the corpses.

“They are vague,” Palviz said, standing aside, his hands clasped behind him. “The monster killer appears in some of the monster attacks, but not all. The attacks rarely happen in big cities, and mostly in rural areas. Not sure where the first happened, but they say it started around three months ago at Darlain.

People call them ‘The Impalers’, and the sanctuaries and ministries burn their bodies. They believe these to be the children of the devil or the army of the devil. Some others believe in an abstract evil, that The Impalers are one of the many manifestations of it, so there should be more. Others even see it as a war between individuals of evil.”

“The Impalers, hah,” said Ufery.” Interesting,” She paused, remembering the death of her father. “But why does another creature start killing these things?” She thought aloud.

“A few believe that it is a newly promoted god. But ministries and sanctuaries condemn this as utter foolishness. That the god can never be as dark, and it is a mere separate evil, fighting for the same destructive purposes. It’s not the first time a devil comes in the way of another.” Young Palviz hesitated. “Though I must say, take these with a grain of salt. Ministries say loads of bullshit.”

“How else religions can give you comfort and hope? With nonsense.” She answered herself. “That’s a sense of direction. The reason I have faith.”

Palviz laughed.

“But there is a grain of truth in everything, indeed,” Ufery said and stepped up the stairs. “I will see what I can find.”

“Are you sure you want to forgo an elite, or… me?” Said Palviz coyly.

“Yes,” Ufery replied, not wanting to look behind and expose her smile. “I can take care of myself, captain.” And left the basement.

The recently finished skyburst had exerted villages far worse than it did Yasray. Hills were significantly shorter here, scattered among what seemed to be an infinite cycle of reservoirs and dry lands, well, almost dry; on which most villages were built, and as a result, more exposed to the caused flood. Arched and flat Bridges were there to help pass between some larger semi-islands, but once in a while, Ufery had to get her mare in the water and hope it to be shallow enough for the animal to pass, or else, she would have simply changed her route. Boats were practiced rather than bridges; in some cases, houses were built in the middle of a pond and used rowboats to step on the nearest land. Most of the buildings, specifically those belonging to smaller-sized semi-islands, consisted of multiple floors and shed roofs, while in contrast to those sites, flat villas took the scene. During the skyburst, rainwater would drown the smaller hills but the larger ones were immune, though it was unpredictable. None of the lakes had the size or depth of fitting a ship, so many teenagers swam and played casually under the soft rays of the sun, their laughter and shout audible from afar, meddled with the high-pitched tone of birds and splashes of water and snapped Ufery into a trance, a bad kind of it. It reminded her of the past times with her brother, instead of being a healing sight for the mental pain of what she had faced. She didn’t know what to think of the death of her family and her actions. Felt like an annoying conundrum.

Her route was somewhat clear; she knew the three intended towns to spend the nights at, there was a map in the rucksack among other provisions nonetheless. The village gates always had information signs that not only covered the name of the current place and warnings but also had directions for possible paths to different destinations written on them. Ufery preferred to recheck the details on her map despite it.

The mare, named Miro, was smaller compared to a stallion, brown in color with jet-black hair. A breed perfect for trots across long distances. Ufery gave it time to drink and feed on random grass multiple times a day. However, she should have made sure to reach her milestone by dusk, for not only the animal but she got exhausted as well. Riding a horse was not sitting.

She entered Favaros after sunset on the first night of her travel. The town’s entrance was determined by two pillars and an information board on the left, barely readable due to the lack of light, followed by a road leading amongst the population. She gawked at a paper pinned at the top of the board.

‘Don’t fear propaganda. Evil is inside of us. Always been.’

Huh, Ufery thought. I guess everyone has their own way of coping. Fools.

She walked on the road with the reins in her right hand. Her left shoulder was in a worse condition compared to the morning. But a good sleep would help, she hoped. The houses and roads were lit by lanterns and grates. Children with their pets and adults with weapons stared without recognizing her, as she reached an inn, left Miro at the stable, and made sure the groom would take care of her well. Then she stepped inside.

It was not as crowded as she had expected; dim and warm, it would do well. She had leather boots and pants, chainmail with her buttoned jacket on top, sword held from the middle of the sheathe, and had left the bow with the horse. It was enough to stay safe. She put the sword on the farthest table and sat down back to the wall, faced to a dozen men and women.

The innkeeper came forward to her table with a pen and sheet of papers in hand. “Are you in the right place, mis.. dame?”

He changed his word with a glance at her intricate weapon. Nice.

“Depends on how well you can serve me,” said Ufery. Despite his eyes being half asleep, his face shape said he was a straight-to-the-point guy. He chose silence. Ufery dropped a golden coin on the table out of her pouch. “A juice, not alcoholic. Roasted meat. And a place to sleep.”

He gauged her with his eyes, then picked the coin and left. “Welcome to Favaros, dame.”

After a while, a man in a corner stood up and approached her table. “Nice sword,” he said casually and tried to pick it up. Ufery kept it in place. He backed his hand and sat across from her. “You know what they say; ‘A lady with sword and gold can be three things: a killer, a trap, a royal.’ I am gonna find out which are you.”

“That might make me a killer,” said Ufery.

The man laughed. “You are funny.” He was a couple of years older than her, with blond hair that reminded her of Vessiel, a side sword, and a rugged face, he looked different compared to other villagers. “You must be from the south, that I am sure of. Going north?”

“Yes,” Ufery affirmed.

“The sudden death of the king was a tragic one.” Ufery frowned, and he continued. “Right when you think everything is going well, the worst happens.”

“Everything was going well? I doubt that.”

“It was better than now. The king was willing to give me a subsidy. A farm on one of these hills. With that, I could easily pay his half and make enough to leave this place and go to a corner of the world, far from these evils and monsters.”

Is he trying to ask me for money? “’ Evil is inside of us ‘”, Ufery quoted.

The man laughed. “You saw that nonsense? Some kind of strategy to keep people calm. The ministry’s price of prayers has gone up. ‘Buy these and stay safe,’ they say.”

“I have a lot of faith, sir.”

“I like that,” the man smiled. “I am going to Cavebris. What’s your story?”

“Something similar.”

“A sidekick won’t hurt. These lands aren’t as safe as they look, dame.” He smiled.

“I can take care of myself, you needn’t worry.” She said as she unbuttoned her jacket and leaned back, ready to draw her belt knife.

“We can have a walk outside; I might change your mind.”

She looked at him suspiciously. And then, something clicked.

“You are being followed,” he whispered.

“What’s your name?” Asked Ufery.

“They will be waiting for you by morning,” he whispered again. “The moment you step outside, you are gone.”

Ufery frowned, thinking. “A walk outside would do,” she said and stood up. The man followed.

Ufery didn’t know what to think of this, but she gave him the benefit of the doubt. They stepped out of the inn, it was dark with a cool breeze. They turned around into an empty avenue behind the inn, where the stable was located. She would pick Miro and ride somewhere else. That was what she thought at least. “So, what’s your proof?”

“Your bow,” he gestured his head.

Ufery walked to the stable and checked Miro. She could find no groom or bow. What? She returned to the man.

“But why?”

“They are afraid of your long-range attack. While planning a trap. You can’t face them all with a sword, but with a bow on a ride, you might.”

“How do you know so much, and why are you helping me? Who are you?”

“Listen, princess,” the man caught her on the shoulders and gazed straight into her eyes. “There is not much time. Sit on the horse and leave this place right now.” Then pushed her back.

Ufery hesitated, if he was an enemy he could have harmed her already. She ran back to Miro and got her out, with a subtle salute from the man, she galloped away. Perplexity at its finest, what is going on?

She passed the village towards the north. At the end was a gate like the entrance one, and then an arched wooden bridge leading to the next semi-island. Among the silence of the night, the sound of another ride arose. Ufery scanned around, and with a scowl, saw three silhouettes of men on horses approaching from a road on the right. In a panic, she trotted on the bridge. A few meters in, someone jumped from the land on the bridge right towards Ufery, she noticed when it was too late. He snatched her in the air, leaving the saddle, and they both fell off the bridge into the lake below. Ufery splashed under the water with a man on top of her. He took her out, the lake was deep to her thighs, and she saw the face of the man again, the one she had left outside the inn. He twisted her right hand behind her and locked her neck in his elbow. She was all wet, water in her eyes and mouth. “You coward,” she screamed. “You couldn’t face me you vulgar.” She tried to free herself, hitting him with her free hand, all in vain. She could barely hurt him with a damaged shoulder, it only increased her pain.

The man was silent keeping her in place. Two thugs and a woman lined up in front of them on the land, mounted horses.

“Good job Harrend,” one of them said. He had a long beard and shaved head with a remaining line of hair on top. “The little queen’s price is high. Boss will cherish us.”

 “I will kill you all, you fools,” Ufery shouted, but her voice was muffled. Her twisted hand was locked in a bad manner, and her neck choked. She was losing energy.

“You clear the way,” Harrend said. “And bring her horse. I and Yashka will tie her up.”

The two men, another one was a weird guy with hair in his eyes, went away. The woman, named Yashka, jumped off the saddle and into the lake, holding a rope. She had a pointed chin, small nose and wide eyes, smiling like a psychopath. She walked with difficulty through the thickness of water while making a tie. Harrend pushed Ufery under the water and pressed his knee on her back. Mud and water flowed into her mouth and cut her breath. Suddenly the pressure was gone and her hand was free. The sound of unsheathing a sword streamed around her. A body thumped underwater. It was Yashka.

Ufery stood up in haste, panting, and took a few steps back seeing the man, Harrend in front of her and his sword bloody. He pulled her weapon out of the lake surface and tossed it over. Ufery caught it.

“Pick it up,” he said. “I hope you are good with it. We have to kill the other two.” He ran, sluggishly, forward. Towards the other side of the lake. Miro was nowhere to be seen. He took cover under the bridge, where the two thugs were supposedly coming, and beckoned her over. She got rid of her jacket exposing the chainmail and followed to take cover under the bridge next to Harrend. Crouched, they were waist-length in the lake. The bridge was about 2 meters wide and not distant from the surface of the lake. Even touching it in the middle. Ufery and Harrend’s eyes met; she looked away, still feeling betrayed and tensed by the caustic situation. Soon they heard the approach of three horses. They stopped on the edge of the land, judging by the sounds, the two thugs got off their saddle. They all waited, silent under the pale moonlight dissolving different images of the area in the liquid. A sword pierced through a log of the bridge from above, missing Harrend’s head by two fingers.  They both flinched and retreated, splashing in the water. Caught off guard, the two men dived on top of them. The man with a long beard and an unusually shaved head opposed Ufery, thrust his longsword diagonally through splashes of water. Ufery deflected it with an awkward front guard, her left hand useless, the sheer power stumbled her behind. She kept her balance meanwhile blocked a swing from above, then stroked forward with the tip of her short sword. The thug returned it with a clang, her weapon thrown away. He aimed for her neck, she parried burning a lot of energy to the density of their fighting arena, and retrieved her fallen weapon. It cost her though, the thug used the time to kick her in the belly, throwing her and the sword to separate directions. Her lungs emptied and her gut wrenched, crumbling which only left her head above the water. The thug attacked holding the longsword down in a straight line enclosing her vision. She struggled to move in despair. But was saved when Harrend threw himself on the thug and disrupted his strike. The two of them slumped in a chaotic manner. A battle to keep one another from getting out of the reservoir, taking turns. Ufery staggered looking for her sword, and found it next to the head of the other man on the lake’s surface, without a body. She hurried and ran for a strike on the thug who was strangling Harrend. The blade never met him. He evaded it at the last possible second and thrust Ufery away. He picked up his longsword and attacked with a high strike. Ufery faced him; knowing her limited options, she simply accepted his attack and exchanged it with a slash on his flank. The thug’s sword, however, was deflected away by Harrend, too close to not feel the never arrived injury inside her skin. The thug drowned under the water with an open side. He was dead.

Ufery released her weapon and fell to her knees beside the thug’s dead body, on the verge of crying. Rage, pain, shock, despair, blood, and water surrounded and swirled inside her.  She was overwhelmed like a brimmed cup overflowing.

She felt a hand on her shoulder, Harrend placating her. “It has ended. Let’s go back to…”

“Get off me,” she stood back on her feet with a scream. “Get off me,” She repeated and pushed Harrend away, the pond rippling. “Leave me alone!”

Harrend withdrew and disappeared into the dark roads.

 

 Chapter 3

When Ufery returned to the inn, her meal was on the table, with Harrend waiting for her. He perked up his eyes and looked very serious, unlike their first meeting. Four other men and three women were scattered inside in two groups, all eyes on her. She strolled for the innkeeper and found him stepping down the back stairs with a candle in hand.

“My room,” her voice quivered. She cleared her throat. “And a bath.”

The innkeeper scanned her stoically, mud and blood covered her clothes, face, and hair. He walked back upside and unlocked the door of a cell in the middle of a corridor. It was small, with a bed and a burning hearth. She locked the door from inside and removed her armor to check the wound. The red color had turned almost black, was it healing? Luckily, she had carried some herbs off the surgeon woman. A moment later the innkeeper informed her the bath was ready. Ufery cleaned herself and dried her clothes, bandaged herself anew, and went back downstairs.

She sat across Harrend at the furthest table, their chairs exchanged, her back to the entrance door. A moment of silence and blithe stares. Ufery started eating the now cold meat. “Who are you, Harrend?”

“I am Harrend.” He paused. “I am sorry if I hurt you earlier. But, I had noticed the hardship with your left hand, which honestly caught me by surprise, thus I used your right.”

She didn’t want to apologize for lashing out at him nor thank him for what he had done, instead, she drank the juice.

“Okay. It was an assassination attempt. Paid double if we… they, took you alive.”

“How do you know me?”

“Riding alone, glimmering with coins and sword and bow was enough to leak you out for me, and yes is not very safe. But we knew you and followed you from the very beginning.”

“Who is in order?”

“Well, it’s funny, because that part, I am unaware of.”

Ufery glared at him.

“I don’t lie to our blessed queen.” His tone was sarcastic. “I am a thief. Work in gangs. Criminals know each other. The thugs wanted someone to lure you out and catch you alive, someone subtle. Someone like me. For double the prize. You surely wouldn’t have fallen for their tricks with those looks. They just know how to kill.” His face had minor scars, and his green eyes looked sincere. “They told me who the subject was and talked about your ‘deft’ fighting style. I was going to get 15 percent in return. Who hired them was none of my business.”

So the one behind the scheme knew her enough to know she wasn’t an easy target but was unaware of her disabled left side. Interesting. “And why did you turn sides?”

He chuckled. “First of all, I am a thief, not a monster. Our gang went bankrupt after an unfortunate event a month ago.” He shook her head. “And your father was ready to give me a subsidy. I don’t pay someone’s generosity by killing their family. I am truly sorrowful for what happened to them, I am sure your brother would have made as great of a king as your father.” Ufery tried to ignore the scenarios popping up in her head. He turned Jovial, “besides, it sounds great to save a queen.” And made a motion in the air as if brushing an invisible wall with his palm.

“I am going to Cavebris,” she said, finishing her meal. “And I changed my mind, a sidekick won’t hurt.”

Harrend grinned.

“I will pay you. That will keep you from treason.”

The next two days of her travel were very similar to the first, except that she had a companion now. A retired thief, someone she barely knew, and somehow had saved her life. After all the adversities, she expected to come out stronger, but she felt… incapable? Self-doubt was creeping through the sill of a shut door. A door she never knew existed, but now was letting the weakening emotions in. She had been saved twice now. And the second time was worse, for there weren’t excuses for monsters, they were humans, or were they? At least in a physical form. But then again, wasn’t the man in an animate black cloak a human too? At least in a physical form? He had slashed The Impalers like pieces of butter. She hated it, she hated her position in the world. She could be more; she would be appreciated. That thought kept her going.

The second and the third night passed in silence. They slept at Vasah and Rebrio. Since Ufery preferred to stay away from trouble due to her discomposed state, she didn’t mingle much. Harrend wasn’t a talky man throughout the day, they just kept moving. But during the nights he could exasperate her. Unlike Ufery, he enjoyed being drunk and then acted stupid and all over the board. Once, he had a challenge over who can light up a stick using another stick and nothing else. He almost burned the whole table in a tavern and escaped perfectly. The next night, drunk again, he started selling jokes in the inn and attracted a crowd’s attention, got paid, and spent all of it on musicians and people themselves. A carouse that lasted until midnight, unsettling Ufery’s slumber.

On the fourth day, finally, when the sun was at its zenith, riding on a hill in the heart of mountains, Cavebris city of Cavebris empire appeared afar. She watched it from the top of a high ground which was a flat surface compared to what the city was built on. She was in awe; it was simply… majestic. The tip of some structures surpassed the walls. One building stood up among them, a white giant of a palace. No decorations, no embellishments. Just a flat rectangle tricking the eyes into reaching the skies. Radiating like a pearl.

Harrend looked back and forth between the city and her. “What is your business here? So important that you had to come on your own.”

“I want to meet Zefor,” said Ufery. “He is right there, in that palace.”

“For what?”

She looked at him petulantly conveying her apathy about being questioned. Harrend never treated her as he referred to, ‘your highness’, which only happened through sarcasm or indulgence. She trotted for Cavebris. Harrend rode faster and caught her side on a road among the green desert. “You know,” he said, his breath drifting with air. “You can be unkind at times. You wouldn’t have been here disregarding others if not for me. I want to know what we are doing here.”

She pulled the reins and halted the mare. “You can sit in taverns and spread the tale ‘savior of the queen’ and how you drowned her for fun to beguile girls into sleeping with you later on. Hah,” She snorted. “You were going north anyways.”

“That was a white lie, I came for you,” he said, mounted in front of her on a black horse.

“How do I know this isn’t a lie itself?”

“I wasn’t going north. I am here only for you.”

“I see the kind of person who has turned maudlin after drinking two nights back to back,” her tone was taunting. She passed him trotting again.

He caught up in defiance of a loss. “I might have been overdrinking,” he agreed, riding beside her. “But I haven’t even been paid yet.”

Ufery cursed under the lips, dropping a handful of coins onto the grassy ground out of her pouch, and didn’t look behind. She galloped forward. His noise diminished. After a while, she arrived at the city alone.

The Gateway was crammed with people wanting to enter. Merchants and caravans stood in line, blabbering with soldiers and stock clerks, sheets of papers in hands. Wall guards were high up on duty barely noticeable. The goods were carried on horse or Livar wagons, eight feet giants, 4 times the size of a regular horse, with white or brown fur and round face and eyes, which were too cute to be used in battles, but perfect for what they were used here, carrying heavy loads across long distances within any harsh environment.

Ufery skipped the lines, people opened the way for her without a doubt. She had her armor exposed, her sword sheathed and had found her bow fallen off the horse of a thug next to the lake. She approached two soldiers at the front and unveiled an amulet out of her armor, confirming her identity. It was emerald in the shape of a sun among two half-moons circled by comets. The two soldiers saluted, “We have received your letter, we have orders to escort you to the emperor.”

Ufery nodded, strangely, noticing sketches of four men hanging on the ivory stones of the wall above their heads.

‘Wanted. 500 gold for each head. Dangerous.

One of them was Harrend.

“First I have to check something outside your walls,” she said to the soldiers. “I will return.”

She headed back the way she had come from, galloping at high speed. First was riding down a slope, the road prominent by lack of density in the middle of the grassland, curved and lead up a slope to where Ufery had left Harrend. Soon after he was in her eyesight climbing down a hillside. Ufery rode and finally caught his attention. Harrend turned around and hindered.

“You,” she exclaimed, “really didn’t want to come here did you?”

Harrend grimaced, “that’s what I said.”

“You are not an ordinary thief,” she said. “The coins might have been helpful, but not enough to venture yourself into me, someone of rank, in hopes of coaxing them to use their reputation in your favor.” She snickered.

Harrend took a moment before replying. “We all make mistakes,” he said. “Nothing wrong with seeking redemption.”

“What did you do?”

“You know enough to get me into trouble.”

“Your death does not affect me,” Ufery said. “Your life might.”

“Whoever cared about my death is gone. Sometimes I feel cursed, your highness, I feel despair, I cannot even escape.”

“Visiting my father for subsidy was another lie. I don’t really think you repent enough.”

“If you have a way out of this, go ahead, my queen.”

“I actually do.” Ufery paused. “My destination, with Zefor’s agreement, will be the guild of mages. I don’t trust anyone to reveal it. But as you proved, a sidekick won’t hurt. We can keep each other’s secrets.”

“Before I ask any question about your horrendous journeys, what will I get?”

“Enough to get lost in another corner of the world. I don’t want anyone to know I assisted you. thus discussing it with the emperor is not an option.”

Harrend sighed. “Deal,” he said and offered a hand. Ufery accepted it and called a deal.

Cavebris city was a counterpoint to Yasray, it didn’t look like a flow of a painting, it looked forced; like it was built yesterday. Structures were firm and streets wide containing many narrow alleys. Even passing through the residential areas Ufery felt like she was walking through headquarters, or should do business. She felt lost in a world surrounded by walls, with enough diversity of occupations and people that would kill the need for the world beyond. Its intrigue for some people was obvious, but not for herself.

Three soldiers were navigating her to the palace. She had denied the use of a carriage, it was way out of who she was, and was riding Miro instead. Harrend, the strange man now fellow, was waiting for her in the middle of the green mountains. He definitely wasn’t someone to be trusted, but it didn’t hurt to be helped at times, she guessed.

Arriving at a square surrounded by an avenue and three streets, hordes of people were brawling with what seemed to be city guards. People were in a parade, creating bonfires and wrecking the streets. A text above them in fire was written ‘Zefor Evil’.

“We change our path,” one of the soldiers said. They were riding in front of her, wearing silver lean armors with an axe beheading a tiger emblem on their chest and a helmet that had two ears similar to the wolf’s at the top. They turned left into another road.

“What is happening?” Asked Ufery, eyes on the mayhem.

“People are pissed at the emperor calling him a collaborator of the great sinner,” said the soldier at the front.

“You mean the god killer?” Ufery said. “Has he really been liberated?”

“The Equilibrium has confirmed it,” the soldier continued. “The people you see here are religious ones.” He laughed at the end.

The palace was visible from any point in the city, a structure large enough to be out of imagination unless seen before and they were gradually getting close to it.

Ufery didn’t feel anxious

 

 Second Draft 

On seventy-first day of the skyburst rain hit harder than seventy days prior to it, but not enough to keep ships like Slither Silk away from sailing. A three-masted caravel loaded with trading cargo and around twenty crews, Maklevien was one of them now.

He had a simple job, clean the main deck. But like a reoccurring theme of the past, it got overwhelming to the point that at times jumping out of the ship didn’t seem unreasonable. Scrub the floor and don’t look up. He mumbled and moved the brush on the wooden floor. Paranoia, however, would keep wrenching his gut as long as the tall man with a flat face followed and looked at him like a prey, a treasure. Carefully delaying his attack, waiting for Maklevien to make a mistake and give him an alibi.

Maklevien glanced behind at the man’s suspicious eyes and cursed through the water washing his face. Clothes clung to his wet skin. He tried to scrub in rhythm, up right, left down. It messed up due to the ship not having a still stance, though that replaced the negative thoughts. Something to focus on other than blood and death. The third night of serving on Slither Silk, he regretted every moment of the past week. From the robbery decision on the emperor to involving Sailyn in their plan; ending with a desperate flee with this hell-box on the ocean right after everything went against expectations. And now a fool intended to ruin things beyond his capacity. Was this a weird game of the universe for his punishment? The floor needs to be cleaned, he reminded himself. Paranoia helped safety but could go too far. Then the most hateful man of his life, as if he could read his mind, stepped up the stern and whispered to the captain holding the rudder. Showing him a sheet of paper. Probably Maklevien’s sketch. Captain scanned the paper and Mak back and forth. Definitely his Sketch.

Maklevien tossed away the small brush and ran for the railing. As he was mid-air jumping out of this hell, the crew held and pulled him back in fulfilling their demonic job. They carried and thrust him to the rear mast. Captain stepped down the stairs and took the empty position in the circle of the crew surrounding him. People called him Jin, a sturdy man wearing a long rugged coat, with a build and dark skin that indicated someone who has never seen home. Jin studied the thick paper and tried to match it with Maklevien. “It looks like him,” he said looking at the man with a flat face who deserved worse than hell.

“Yes captain, I am sure it’s him.”

“Or else why would he run away?” Jin asked nobody with a smirk. “Brave one. But petty. How much did you say?”

“Five hundred Coveras.”

“How much is it in gold, Rai?” Captain sounded annoyed.

“One hundred thirty coins.” A soft voice yelled from the circle.  

“Lock him up.”

Men grabbed and picked him up like hungry animals finding meat. “Wait wait wait wait,” Maklevien shouted. The roar stopped. They turned him horizontally on their hands until Jin’s face appeared. “These loads you carry; the emperor doesn’t own it.” Mak said, raindrops piercing his eyes. “The emperor doesn’t own the land; your people’s labor keeps it fertile.”

“I got paid, so I call it fair.” Jin said and stepped away.

“I was robbing seeds from repository,” said Mak.

Jin relooked at him impassively. “Yeah but you failed didn’t you?” He paused. “You can only paint your actions as heroic while no one knows what your intentions are. Lock him in the cell.”

They carried him down to the storage dock and locked him in a cell with Iron bars. The rat who had recognized him spat in the aisle and looped the key to his belt, leaving at the trail of others. Alone, Maklevien leaned to the wooden wall and slid down on the floor. It was dim down there and dry. Smelled of fresh plants and hay. His position was not arduous as a while ago, even comfortable in a way. But the idea of getting back to Cavebris to be executed while a bunch of crew reveled off of his blood heated the back of his head. Face-palmed, emotions swirled inside him trying to find a way out. A compound of emotions with obscure names that were as distant from him as Sailyn at this point. Indulging in them never earned him a merit, every person exceled at some specifics. He could be pragmatic, for example, and if he was going down, Slither Silk had to go down with him.

Maklevien squinted around in the dim light, his eyes adjusting. Infinite white boxes of food writhed by hay surrounded the cell with an aisle at the middle, where the cell’s door opened to. The cargo rows reached the tip of his middle finger when he stretched up. So he climbed the bars, groping for anything useful on top of the loads. checking right and left, uncovering the boxes filled with various foods, small and soft, another had leaves, another like soil. No tools. But one box on the far left close to the stairs contained heavy objects. He hurt his underarm to reach and pull one of them to the edge. It dropped along Maklevien, thumping on the wooden floor. A round piece of iron, a cannon shot. There should be more, trading ships didn’t take the armory as seriously like warships, but they had to be prepared.

The only thing this hell lacks is flame anyways, Maklevien smiled.

He removed a thin piece of metal off his boot, slightly shorter than his palm, held an end of it on the cell’s bar and hit the iron sphere on it. It wasn’t an easy task, but it might work. He hammered the end of the small plate between the sphere and the bar over and over again. Until his body sweated and his arms tingled in pain. He didn’t stop, continued the process, pushing the exhaustion away from his awareness. Until finally, the tip of the metal glazed in maroon. The hot metal symbolized the potential consequences of what he wanted to do, which resulted in more sweat and blood pump. He zoned out into the piece of metal. Reflecting, trying to decide. But, hesitation prevents any possibility of survival. He climbed the right side of his cell, where the majority of cargo and ship located, and ignited the hays of a box on the second column away from him. There came an ember now. He blew and fueled it with more hay. It burst into a small fire, and got bigger eating the woods Maklevien kept providing for. Heat and smoke forced him to jump down in his cell. In an ideal world the bars would keep the flame away from him until the ship’s walls opened a way for the ocean, but there was little hope for ideal. As long as Slither Silk wreck down with its crew, Maklevien was happy to be a part of it.

What Maklevien had underestimated was the intensity of heat and smoke. By the time fire catches him his body would be dead of suffocation. He coughed and cleaned his tears, kicking the side of the ship. Fire was consuming more and more of the cargo to his right, he could tell by the cracks of and light of it, blocked by the ceiling, which could go down at any moment.

A group of men following Jin appeared from the lift, eyes wide. The captain held the bars, “what have you done?” Hoarse smoke blurring his face.

Maklevien laughed and managed to give a smile in between. “When you…” cough, “loc... lock up,” cough, “the devil,” cough, “doom emerges from beneath.” He quoted.

Jin turned and grabbed the informer by the throat. “Who is he?” He asked and thrusted him to the piles of boxes. “You fool, you didn’t know. You didn’t know.” The captain picked him up by the throat until his feet left the floor, the tall man’s face choking like a beautiful scene in underworld, then dropped him down. At that exact moment, the side of the ship at the top of the cargo gapped, water flooded in sounding like a waterfall. The ship leaned to its side. Maklevien and Jin gave each other a last glimpse before everything diminished in an explosion.

Mak held the bars tightly as the current of water hit his back and devoured him in. It wasn’t cold nor warm, fiercer than anything he had ever felt. The sound of the world turned into waves, little was visible through the bubbles. Slither Silk burned upward, the crew fighting for their life and half burned boxes surrounded Mak as he passed them down, holding his breath. He shook the cell’s door, kicked the lock, slapped the bars. Nothing worked. Among all the chaos, something caught his eye on the right. The tall man with a flat face, the one with the key. He was fairly close, trying to catch a healthy box and swim away from the heat, failing in a helpless terrific manner. Maklevien immediately reacted, swam in the cell, forcing it by his shoulder to change its course towards the man. Nothing mattered now, except the energetic survival instinct. Emotional and physical pains were gone; fatigue, hunger, sadness, nothing existed. He was going down but at the same time getting closer to the man. The one who launched his death could save his life now. Mak pushed the cell up but it barely worked. Hand stretched upwards, he gave a final strong thrust to the cell, and among all the mayhem, grabbed the feet of the man and dragged him down with him. The man looked down, bubbles escaped his mouth when he couldn’t retain the shouting rage. He kicked Maklevien’s grasp with the other leg, but Maklevien held it like his life depended on it. The pressure of water was increasing and a lot of energy had gone reaching to this smuggle. Maklevien had to be quick. He grabbed the upper part of the man’s leg with the second hand passing through the bars, and kept pulling him closer. The man beat him in anger, struggling. When his legs entered the bar and Mak scrabbled to unleash the key, the man seemed to notice. He stared at the floating key hooked at the side of his belt, petrified, snatched it in hurry and unlocked the cell’s door. Maklevien didn’t let go of his leg. He passed the opening interlacing his knees to a bar and released the man from inside the cell and smacked him in the face as fast as the ocean allowed. The man could barely move at this point, but still tried to fight back. Mak held and turned him around towards the cell door, beating his face until the man was inside. Mak closed the bars on him, rotated the key, threw it away. The man shouted in vain, wasting his breath, falling in the abyss as Mak let go of the cell and swam upwards. His vision switched on and off, his brain span. He swam towards the sinking ship, holding on his life. Shattered woods and boxes appeared, familiar corpses of the crew, floating. Mak passed the grand ship which looked as dead as its crew under the water, with a huge gap on its left. No sign of the boats, so he kept moving. He could see the surface. He could see the air.

 

Behind the emperor’s palace the drizzle sounded heavier compared to the vicinity, where the roar of protesting people subdued everything, drew attention, including of the city guards. That