Chapter 31: The Descent
"How goes the watch?"
"Quietly," Kelund replied. With a jerk of panic, he quickly added on a "Sir."
The sergeant grinned. "Tired, son?"
"Uh, yes sir."
"Give it another hour. I'll send a few boys to relieve you. I want you to get home and get to bed, you understand? No drinking."
"No sir," Kelund quickly shook his head. "No drinking."
"Good lad." The sergeant clapped him on the soldier and walked away. The soldier sighed and huddled closer to the wall. It was a miserable night, cursed with a steady rain and too-large shadows. He hated those. It was next to impossible to do his job, even if his job was only to guard the garrison's entrance. He could hardly hear or see anything. He was lucky, though, that there was an overhang in front of the doors. At least he could keep dry.
Wait. There. His ears perked up. Kelund looked around and strained to listen. It sounded like... a dull hum, but he couldn't tell where it was from. All around him, seemingly. His suspicion grew. What if the beast was coming back? What if-
There was a thump. Then another. And another. And finally a splash in a puddle not twenty paces away. Kelund gaped. Something was there, one foot in the puddle, the rain bouncing off the otherwise invisible form of the figure. He cursed and struggled with his sword, which was typically stuck in its scabbard. He opened his mouth to raise the alarm-
And froze as he felt the cold kiss of steel against his throat. A man, garbed in robes of blue cloth and silver plate, had appeared out of thin air right before him.
"Scream and you die," the man threatened. His voice sounded off. Inhuman. Kelund shivered with fear.
"Y-yes sir!" Kelund whimpered. He didn't want to die. He still had so much to do. He had to see the majesty of Tüdosten Lake, the Floating Crystal of Eoam, the tundras beyond Ceunon! He still had to work as a guard until he had enough wealth to his name that Mirie's father would give his blessing to his marriage proposal! He had to-
The man before him raised a hand full of glowing purple, and Kelund knew no more.
000
Ikharos caught the soldier and carefully leaned him against the doorframe.
"Dead?" Kiphoris asked him in a hushed voice.
"Asleep," he answered. He regathered the veil of weak Void and slipped it over him. "And going to ache in the morning, but that's not our problem. Let's go."
They slipped inside the garrison as quietly as they could, only half-aware of where the their companions were in relation to themselves. The building was quiet and dark, with only flaming torches for light, and even then only a few brackets lit up - yet the gloom didn't bother them. They could see just fine.
A soldier wandered onto their path and suddenly found himself hoisted up. Before he could cry out, he was clouted across the head. The Eliksni holding him - Kiphoris, Ikharos assumed, given the ease with which the man had been lifted - quietly stuffed the unconscious man into the first empty room they came across. The small band continued onwards.
The garrison was unusually understaffed. Something had happened and the majority of the soldiers were away. Ikharos could feel residual Darkness, but no concentration. The Shade had been here recently, and it was the very same Shade who razed Ceunon. Formora was right: a stab to the heart was the only way.
They had a general idea of where to go. The damage had been visible from the air. Ikharos steadily made his way up two floors and finally arrived at the room with the gaping hole in the ceiling. Three soldiers - oblivious to his presence, talked amongst themselves as they studied the damage. Old, dried blood stained the floor from among the shattered tiles.
"I smell Eliksni blood," Kiphoris whispered from beside him. The Captain's cloaking generator hummed in his ear. A soft click emanated from the alien warriors around them. The pitter-patter of rain hid the noise, and the soldiers were none the wiser. "Mine-guards were here."
Ikharos nodded to himself. "Shade too, but not anymore."
"Dead?"
"No. If that were the case this place would be Darker. I'd feel it." Ikharos leaned down and held out his hand. The Dark was faint, only present in residual traces, but those traces acted immediately. He felt tiny pinpricks where it struck at his Light. He shrugged off the uncomfortable feeling and let his Light briefly flare out. Even the tiny particles of what had once been part of the Shade recognized a greater power and retreated an appropriate distance. "But he was hurt. He bled. He must have fought someone. Someone who could give him a challenge, so not a common ruffian. Likely your scouts."
One of the soldiers fell silent. The man peered in the direction of Ikharos and the Eliksni, somewhat concerned. "Hello?"
The other two followed where he was looking. Ikharos held his breath and, making as little noise as he could, drew his bow. His quiver ejected an arrow and he fitted it to the bow, drawing back on the string. He waited for the momentary concern to evolve into suspicion, but it never came.
"Must be nothing'," the first shoulder shrugged.
Another chuckled. "Rats have you spooked."
"Oh, shut yer trap!"
He eased the tension in his arm. Their obliviousness had saved their lives. Ikharos tapped the shoulder of the Eliksni beside him and the Marauder passed on the message to its neighbours. They retreated from the room back into the hallway outside. Xiān scanned for nearby lifeforms or surveillance devices and came up with nothing. Just to be sure, Ikharos extinguished the torches with a flick of his hand.
"Shade was here. And mine-scouts." Kiphoris's crackling, near-transparent form moved with the tense, coiled strength of a Venusian panther. Despite the proximity of the Fallen, Ikharos couldn't find it in him to fear the Captain. Not when he had Light to fight back.
"And something else," Ikharos noted. "Looked like a beast ripped its way inside."
"No beast. Dragon. Her scent lingers. She was here."
"I don't care about the dragon right now." Ikharos scowled distastefully. When Kiphoris didn't say anything else, he sighed and asked, "How long ago?"
"Weeks."
"Recent. Can you track it?"
"Not in rain."
"What do you think happened?"
Kiphoris paused. "No bodies. Too little blood. Mine-scouts did not die. And the dragon was not killed here. I would smell it."
"Then?"
"Escaped. Or captured."
Ikharos nodded. "Which is more likely?"
"Mine-scouts would not surrender."
"So we assume they escaped? What about the humans?"
"Humans are their duty, and mine-scouts would not abandon their duty."
"Maybe they had no choice." Ikharos grimaced. "But we know they were here. We need more intel. Let's find someone who looks like they're in charge."
Without another word the five of them moved on. Ikharos always knew exactly where the Marauders were; he could feel the Arc in their cloaking generators. The energy was faint, easy to miss, but he'd tangled with Devils way too often enough to mistake it. He knew what to look for.
The irony.
Here he was, a Guardian and veteran of the Eliksni Siege, working with Fallen against his fellow man. It left a bitter taste in his mouth, but worse yet was the idea that yet another Ahamkara was lurking about. Better the devil you know. He glanced over to where he assumed Kiphoris was. Or Wolf, rather.
They prowled throughout the almost entirely deserted garrison, slipping by unaware soldiers and checking for anyone of rank. Most of those they found were just footmen. For the second most heavily secured city in the empire, Gil'ead sure wasn't living up to its reputation. That in itself spoke volumes. Maybe the rest soldiers were out looking for the escapees, or they could have been delivering their new captives to Urû'baen. The only consolation he had was that there weren't any bodies.
Tellesa, and whoever she was traveling with, could still be alive.
They struck upon luck when Ikharos detected a mage. He used the Void to mask his mind as he closed in on the two men as they exited a room. The spellcaster was clad in a thick, waterproof traveling cloak. He was thin and scrawny, and his eyes darted about like he didn't trust his surroundings. Which was warranted, Ikharos supposed, as he grabbed the mage and cracked his head against the wall. The mage went limp and collapsed onto the smooth stone floor, out cold.
His companion, an armoured soldier with an expensive red cloak and a decorative helmet tucked under one arm, twirled around with a knife in hand. He stared at the half-visible Warlock, shocked into silence.
"Put that down before you get hurt," Ikharos murmured. A Marauder stepped behind the man and pressed a deactivated shock dagger against the side of his neck, while also dropping a clawed hand on his shoulder. The soldier didn't need any further convincing; he let go of the knife and held out his hands. His helmet clattered off the stone; they all winced as the sound echoed down the hallway. The Marauder behind him growled.
"Please," the man half-whispered.
Ikharos crossed his arms. Xiān assured him no one was coming to investigate, but it didn't assuage his worries. He pointed to the room where the man and his mage had come from. "Go," he ordered.
Kiphoris clicked in Eliksni, saying, "Eldrin, Kalaker, watch the hall."
"Yes, mine-Captain." Two of the Marauders drew weapons and remained outside as Ikharos as the rest bundled themselves into the office. There was scarce enough room in there for them all. The first Marauder forced their captive to sit in his ornate wooden chair. The man looked around in muted terror as if only just noticing the invisible creatures with them.
Ikharos fully uncloaked himself and took the stool opposite the soldier. "We don't have much time, so I'll skip the pleasantries. Tell us where the Shade is or my friends will eat you."
Kiphoris growled exasperatedly, but it had the effect Ikharos wanted: their captive rapidly paled and visibly shook with terror . "Wh-what are they?!"
"Hungry. Answer the question."
"The Shade y-you say? He hunts for..." The man hesitated.
Ikharos leaned forward. "The dragon?" The soldier nodded quickly. "Where?"
The man looked around helplessly and refused to answer. When Ikharos drew his knife, the soldier struggled desperately. A Marauder pushed back down onto the chair.
"You going to tell me or not?"
"Wait, something's off," Xiān said. "Check him."
Ikharos frowned. He reached out with a mental probe and recoiled upon feeling the tiny presence of something that didn't belong. A force bound around the soldier like shackles. It coiled around him like a serpent, constricting his very being. "He's made an oath. In the ancient language. He won't tell us anything."
"Maybe he doesn't have to tell us..."
Ikharos smiled thinly. He asked the soldier, "Did the dragon escape?"
The soldier nodded.
"Which direction did the Shade go? North?"
The man shook his head. No.
"South?"
No.
"East?"
Yes.
"Into the desert?"
Yes.
"Did he bring soldiers with him?"
The soldier hesitated, then nodded. Yes.
"Why so many?"
"It is the king's will that the Rider-
"Rider?" Ikharos raised an eyebrow. "So the humans were here... What about the others? Were there people with the dragon?"
"Yes!" The soldier answered quickly.
"Human people? How many?"
"Two!"
"Male or female?"
"Just... just two boys."
Ikharos froze. "Are you sure there wasn't a woman with them?" He pressed dangerously.
"N-no." Perhaps the man figured that he was treading a dangerous line, because he began to violently shake his head. "I swear to the gods, no! We never encountered a woman! Just the Rider, another boy, the dragon, and the demon!"
"Demon? Did it look like this?" Ikharos pointed to Kiphoris, who rapidly uncloaked himself. The soldier gasped and sunk down in his chair. He looked on the verge of fainting.
"Yes..." The soldier squeaked in a small voice.
"And were any of them killed?"
"No."
"Telling the truth?" Ikharos asked his Ghost.
She took a second before responding. "I think so. Want to make him swear it?"
"Not really." Satisfied, Ikharos stood up and nodded to Kiphoris. "We're done here."
"You'll let me live?" The soldier blurted.
Ikharos regarded him for a moment. Without warning, he darted forward and flooded the soldier's mind with a subtle touch of Void, emptying him of conscious thought. The man's eyes rolled up into his head, and he fell foward onto his desk with a dull thump.
A storm was building up outside. They waited out in the middle of the street; the rain pummeled them mercilessly all the while. Ikharos didn't mind. His armour was waterproof, and the regular tinks of water droplets hitting his helmet was oddly comforting. The Skiff was suddenly there, hovering above them, and he jumped up to where the eight drop-hatches opened, grabbing hold of an extended steel bar. He pulled himself onto the bar, and then into the ship with practiced movements. His eyes found the Marauders climbing up through other hatches, just a speedy and efficient.
The resident Splicer helped him up just as the Skiff shot off. "Find success, Kirzen?"
Ikharos shook his head. "Shade wasn't here. But we have a vague idea where he's gone."
Kiphoris uncloaked and shook the water droplets from his armour. "East does not help us. It will be difficult to find the Shade when there is so much that way."
"I just need to feel for the Dark in him," Ikharos replied. "I did it before, I can do it again."
"How close do you need to be?"
"A few miles. More if he's careless."
The Captain gnashed his fangs. "This is imprecise."
"It's all we got."
"Bah!" Kiphoris turned to the Splicer. "Javek pak Triilak, tell me you have found them!"
The Splicer lowered his eyes. "Nama. Whenever we try to reach Alkris and Paltis, we hear only static. Our attempts to triangulate their position have been met with failure. There is a disturbance between them and us."
"A disturbance? Can we reach the rest of our kin?"
"Uh... Eia."
"Then use that to learn where this disturbance is. Then we may use that to find our lost scouts."
Javek shifted uncomfortably. "Mine-Captain, as Tarrhis has gathered his forces in a single place, I will only be able to know the general direction of the disturbance, not the exact position."
Kiphoris growled. "Do it, Javek. Dallying ill-suits us. All information is important. A hunter must know all he possible can of both his prey and his surroundings - or he risks failure."
"Yes, mine-Captain." Javek scurried further into the ship.
"You run a tight ship," Ikharos noted.
The Captain spared him a blank look. "Of course." And with that, he stormed away.
Ikharos rolled his eyes and cupped a ball of Solar flames, using it to dry off. He noticed that one of the Marauders lingered nearby, exchanging a nervous expression with its fellows. "Speak," he ordered.
The Marauder stood straight, as if it were receiving orders from a superior officer rather than a foe. "An honour to work with you, Kirzen." Once more he looked back to his companions. "I desire to ask a question."
"Ask away," Ikharos had his Ghost open up a holographic map of the area. There wasn't much to the east aside from hundreds, perhaps thousands, of miles of badlands. A huge place to search, but now he had the advantages of a working ship. The Skiff could have made the journey across the entire desert in little time. It had only taken them a few hours to fly to Gil'ead and drop in.
"Is it true you are deathless? Like Hive?"
"Deathless, yes, but not like Hive. If you try to test that theory I'll return the favour." He met the Marauder's gaze. "Understood?"
"I… understand, Kirzen." The Marauder lowered his head.
"Good." Ikharos traced a finger out in a straight line from Gil'ead. There was a mountain directly to the east. If a Guardian, or Eliksni, was on the run, that would have been the first place they'd go. Even if they knew their hunters were moving on foot, the instinctual fear of being caught out in the open by airborne foes was strong. They would want cover, and he was willing to bet the guards would go there. Xiān retracted her map as they delved further into the ship.
Skiffs were roomy enough for a sizable crew, but half the hold was taken up by boxes of ammunition, fuel, and other equipment. Evidently Kiphoris wanted to be prepared for anything. Fallen were accustomed to living in such close proximity, and in uncomfortable conditions, but not humans - especially Formora.
She'd been left almost entirely isolated on big and empty Vroengard for decades, so the change was a likely drastic one. Upon seeing him she gave voice to her complaints.
"Will we not land to make camp?" She asked.
Ikharos frowned. "Why?"
"To sleep? Eliksni do sleep, don't they?"
"They do. If you're tired, find an alcove. That's what they do." He gestured to the rest of the hold. The Skiff suddenly rumbled around them, and Formora quickly grabbed hold of her bench. Ikharos found it amusing. "Just a little turbulence. I swear, it's like your first time flying."
"Second in a Skiff," she said quietly. "I flew too many times to count with... with my dragon. But it was never like this."
"You'll get used to it," Ikharos promised. "How goes study?"
Formora scowled and lifted up the datapad he'd left her. "Poorly. Why is Eliksni so complicated?"
"It's really not. English is the complicated language, and we've been brought up on it. The Eliksni just have a certain number of words. They make other words by combining two or three words, or with longer phrases. Sentences are short because they don't have as many 'useless' words. And then some phrases are straight translations. Velask, Formora-Zeshus. Hello, Formora-Wishbreaker."
"Velask is their greeting?"
"Velask is a formal greeting, yes. Simply saying Vel is more like saying 'hi'. Informal, often used between acquaintances or friends, but not relatives."
"Why not?"
"Kin don't usually use greetings. Eliksni families work closely together, so they'd see a lot of each other, thus no need for greetings. If they are separated for some reason and reunite, then they're more likely to use gestures. Or purr."
"Purr? Like a cat?" Her frustration gave way for bewilderment.
Ikharos smiled. "Not exactly, but the term's stuck. When Eliksni rapidly click their mandibles it's a sign of excitement, glee, or anxiety. Depends, really."
"What about fear?"
"Shaky voice, shivering, similar to us."
"Anger?"
"Negative emotions like rage, suspicion, and disapproval are conveyed through the narrowing or closing of their inner pair of eyes, depending on how strongly they feel about it. If they narrow all their eyes, then they're furious. Closing the outer pair is positive emotion, like happiness or pride."
"They speak through gestures as much as words." She nodded thoughtfully. "What of Kiphoris's sword? Ka'Den? What does that mean?"
His expression turned solemn. "It means 'Burn Forever.'"
"That's... rather grim."
"Grim is their reality, and they aren't subtle about it. They're cunning, yes, sneaky, absolutely, but not subtle. They're warlike, and they take pride in it."
"You respect them."
Ikharos shrugged. "The Eliksni came into being before us, and their people will be drifting around the galaxy long after we're dust in the wind."
"And you hate them."
"I'd like them a lot more if they changed their cloaks," Ikharos grumbled. "If Kiphoris wore blue Wolf armour, it'd do wonders for my nerves. I keep looking over my shoulder, half-expecting a Devil to plunge a weapon into my back."
"So you just hate the Devils, or..."
"No. Maybe. I just hate the Devils most. I've fought them more than any other House. They're the most... well, actually, no. I'd call them the most dangerous House around, but I'd be lying if I did. That would be Kings. I've fought Devils aplenty, but whenever the Kings pop their heads out it scares the crap out of me. Those bastards are something else. Thank the Traveler they're gone..."
"Gone?"
Ikharos waved the question away. "Another time. I wanted to ask you something. There's a mountain east of here. Know anything about it?"
Formora nodded slowly. "Marna Mountain. It's unusually tall, and impossible to climb. Other than that, there isn't much I can say. Why?"
"If I were Kiphoris's scouts, that's where I'd head after escaping Gil'ead." Ikharos began making his way to the front of the ship. "Mountains are a godsend."
"Did you find Durza?"
"No, but he was definitely there. We think he's given chase to our friends."
"The Dragon Rider?" Formora asked hopefully.
Ikharos briefly closed his eyes. "I was thinking the Marauders or Tellesa, not... that."
Her hopeful expression died away, replaced by stubbornness. "You still think the dragon is an Ahamkara."
"Either it is or it isn't," Ikharos shot back.
Xiān snorted from the back of his mind. "Well, yeah. Everything's either an Ahamkara or not an Ahamkara."
"And if it is," he continued, nonplussed, "I'll deal with it." He patted his Lumina. It was a relief to know it was loaded with real bullets. Having ammunition again was nothing short of a blessing.
Her eyes widened as understanding dawned on her. "No. No! We aren't killing them!"
"If this dragon is an Ahamkara, then I have to-"
"It isn't!" Formora snapped. "After all this time, surely you'd acknowledge that! I was a Rider! Et skulblaka ero néiat aí Ahamkara!"
"Just because you believe it, doesn't make it true," Ikharos retorted coldly. It was harsher than he intended. Formora inhaled sharply, and with a final angry look, she turned around, choosing to ignore him. He sighed. "Dammit."
"Smooth."
"Don't," he warned in a whispered voice. "Just don't."
He found Kiphoris speaking with their grizzled pilot, a Vandal named Calzan. Ikharos relayed what Fomora had told him about Marna Mountain, and then added his own thoughts on it. The Captain immediately agreed with him. "They have good instincts," Kiphoris reasoned. "They would seek a place to hide."
"I will set a course," Calzan muttered. "But this storm is irritating me. It is unnatural."
Ikharos frowned and looked out the viewport. It certainly appeared that way. It had come out of nowhere. But... something else was tickling the back of his mind.
"Stop it," Ikharos thought.
"That's not me."
He frowned. Then, as realization set in, he jumped forward and slammed the control yoke in front of Calzan downwards. The Skiff tilted down at a sixty-degree angle, narrowly avoiding the explosion of Arc that would have otherwise torn them apart. The shrapnel of erupting Arc missiles rained down on their ship, the sound indistinguishable from the tap-tap-tap of rain. Ikharos felt more than saw the second Skiff race out of the clouds like a shark who'd caught the scent of blood. The Arc of the storm broiled around it, a suspiciously Skiff-shaped empty space in the flow of energy, and he could sense it all too keenly. It was as obvious as an air bubble in water.
Calzan snarled and wrenched the yoke away. Ikharos clambered back and allowed the pilot to reassume control. He closed his eyes and reached out, tracing the threads of Arc in the air. He could sense the thrum of the other Skiff giving chase.
Ikharos turned around and shouted through the bulkhead, "Hang onto something!"
Another explosion rocked the ship before Calzan resorted to drastic evasive maneuvers. Ikharos and Kiphoris grabbed handholds and peered out the viewport, looking for any hint of their pursuers. The Warlock tried his best to crush his rising nausea as Calzan guided the Skiff through a series of rolls and sudden dives.
At some point Kiphoris turned to him and asked, "Can you use your powers?"
Ikharos ground his teeth and once more felt his way out to the unpredictable Arc. It struggled and bucked against his touch, wanting nothing more than to reign free, but he was undeterred. Ikharos began with disarmingly small attempts to calm the storm, and when it refused to comply, he erupted outwards with as much willpower as he could muster. The Arc attempted to break free, and it took every effort to hold it down. He needed to secure it, to leash it, and that was going to take a few precious moments.
A radio blared to life and a voice marred by static filtered through. "Kiphoris, you mutt! Kiphoris, you hound! I'll have your head, you soulless starveling!"
Kiphoris chuckled, a twinkle in his eyes, and activated the radio's mic. "Ah, Krayd. You do Krinok's bidding still? Fetch his ether? Shine his claws?"
"I'll kill you, you psesiskar! I'll dock off your arms first and then your-"
Kiphoris switched the radio off.
"Friend of yours?" Ikharos asked, still straining against the power of the storm.
"Krayd? Nama. He is one of Krinok's creatures. His family came to us as beggars, cast out of Kings by Craask-kel." Kiphoris closed his inner eyes. "Now we know why. Their plotting is incessant and they have no loyalty."
Another explosion rocked the Skiff. The Captain turned to Ikharos expectantly.
"Yeah, yeah, I'll get to it," Ikharos grumbled. He made a fist and grasped onto the static within the clouds. Each strand of Arc was razor-thin and threatened to slice through him, but he failed to react to the superficial cuts in his Light. He dragged the force around, no matter how strongly it resisted, and… it pulled itself out of his grip. Ikharos gave a start: it had been grabbed right from his hands. The storm was beyond his control.
The Arc flooded out in a series of angry lightning bolts, singing the tail of their Skiff. Their pursuers got a face full of the storm's fury and fell back into the cover of clouds, smoke trailing behind them.
"That wasn't me!" Ikharos gasped, full of hear-pounding surprise. The Scars ignored him.
"Shall we destroy them?" Calzan asked eagerly. He quickly dialed in firing solutions and hovered over the trigger.
Kiphoris leaned forward, his eyes picking through the clouds. With a great reluctance he tore himself away. "No. They might not be alone. Mask our signature and make for the mountain." He made a rumbling growl. "We'll kill them another time."
Formora climbed through the bulkhead, holding onto the metal bar built into the walls. "What happened?" She demanded, voice alive with panic.
"Krinok's pets found us," Kiphoris explained. "But we lost them."
Someone else shouted past the elf in a quick burst of Eliksni, "Are we damaged?"
"I hope not!" Calzan grunted. He fondly caressed the control board before him. "This Skiff is too precious." He locked eyes with Ikharos. "Do you understand me, Kirzen?"
"It wasn't me! I didn't call the lightning!"
"Then who?"
"I don't know. The storm did it on it's own." A thought dragged him away from the matter, and he quickly looked back, urgency fluttering in his stomach. "How's Kida?"
Formora stonily met his gaze. "He's fine. Still asleep and strapped in."
"Good. Good…" He sighed in relief.
She ducked back into the hold. Javek replaced her, his head darting around. "Will I be needed?"
"No." Kiphoris practically shoved him out of the cockpit. "Don't show your face until you have results."
"Er, yes mine-Captain!"
Ikharos took the co-pilot's seat. He could still feel the lightning behind him, tearing up the sky. He still couldn't figure out why it didn't buckle under his control. He had enough Arc Light built up. It should have worked.
Calzan spared him a curious look and asked, "Can you fly?"
Ikharos hesitated. "Sort of. You should probably keep at it."
"Ah." The Vandal redirected his attention to the controls set before him.
Ikharos's chair shook as Kiphoris leaned onto it. The Captain loomed over him, eyes bright. "I did not anticipate Krinok to begin hunting for us this soon. That may not be the last of Krayd. It will be likely he has others with him when he finds us again."
"We'll deal with it when it happens."
"That is not what I mean. I need to know if you can do that-" he waved to the storm outside the viewport. "-again."
"No. Storm's too strong. I can't control it," Ikharos answered. "But I can cook up something else if need be."
Satisfied, Kiphoris retreated and left altogether. Ikharos leaned back into the rough Glimmer-woven leather seat. He decided to follow his own advice and tried his best to dispel the anxiety in his heart, but he couldn't shake it. A pit of worry had opened up in his stomach and everything positive fell right through. Xiān enveloped him in reassurances and comfort. "We'll find her. You know that."
"I'm worried we might be too late. If she knows about Durza's survival, she might do something reckless."
"She's not alone. Kiphoris sent her off with guards."
"That doesn't comfort me. She's just a kid. I shouldn't have left like I did." He closed his eyes.
"We will find her. Trust me."
"And the dragon? What's to say it hasn't already destroyed her?" Memories of Riven flitted through his mind. He shivered uncomfortably.
"Now you're scaring me. Just go to sleep, grab a nap. Or I'll make you. You know I will."
They managed to outrun the storm by the time they reached Marna Mountain. Calzan shook Ikharos awake as they circled the lonely peak, and he groggily peered at it with uncomprehending eyes.
"Think there's caves?"
"Oh." He nodded. "Must be."
The mountain was tall, and it rose on an almost vertical spike of rock. The land around it was dry and cracked, with sparse vegetation. For an Eliksni or Risen, it was perfect. All they would have needed was to climb up and find a handy nook large enough to house them. Unfortunately, it looked utterly impossible for any other type of human to feasibly scale.
"They're not here," Ikharos realized. "Not if the humans are alive. And... I don't feel the Shade."
He stared at the mountain helplessly, and that was how Kiphoris found him. "Well?" The Captain asked. Ikharos shook his head. The Wolf growled. "A waste of time, and we are without clues. We will have to turn about and risk-"
"Wait!" Ikharos pointed at the summit of the mountain, thousands of feet above the ground. A small clearing laid out, and it looked to be linked to a steep, well-hidden mountain trail. A part of the place was shrouded over by a rocky overhang. "There."
Kiphoris turned to Calzan. "Can you land us?"
The pilot scoffed. "Of course."
Ikharos slipped past Kiphoris. He found a half-dozen faces looking at him in the hold, awaiting orders. He hesitated. "Gear up. We might have found something."
The Marauders darted away, going for their equipment. Formora blearily looked up at him from where she'd made a makeshift bed on a bench, using a cloak for a blanket. "Have we arrived? Already?"
"Yeah." An awkwardness swept over them, though Ikharos was positive it was only for him. She looked too tired to feel uneasy. He exhaled and checked his Lumina's ammo. Still fully loaded, like it had been since they left Ceunon. With a final shrug directed at nothing, Ikharos continued to the back of the Skiff and waited. It didn't take long.
The moment the hatch opened, he leapt out with his cannon raised, a pack of armed Fallen behind him. They flooded out in practiced synchronization born of common sense and professional experience rather than any real form of cooperation. It was all for naught, though; the clearing was empty of all life. The air was thin, so he activated his helmet's filter. Xiān linked him up to his personal air supply.
Beneath the overhang lurked the remnants of an ancient outpost. Not a primitive dwelling like Ikharos expected, but a fully-fledged bunker with thick steel walls, covered in a layer of dust and markings of an unfamiliar language.
"Here," one of the Marauders, one named Revlis, said, nudging what appeared to be the remains of a long-extinguished campfire. All that remained was a ring of stones. A fat desert spider crawled out from under the displaced rock, startling the alien soldier. The Eliksni hopped back and watched with wide eyes as the creature skittered away.
"What... is this?" Kiphoris asked. He too stared at the relic bunker, which looked to have been abandoned centuries ago. Or millennia, even.
"Keep watch," Ikharos warned. His eyes darted to every corner, half-suspecting they were walking into a trap. "This place could be crawling with Frames and Exos."
They slowly inched their way outwards from the landed Skiff, looking for the vaguest hint of an ambush. Only when he reached the bunker did Ikharos allow himself breathe easy. If Exos had been waiting, they would have already taken the shot. "Alright, we're in the clear."
"Relvis, Eldrin, stay. Watch the Skiff, and watch our backs." Kiphoris laid a hand against the shut metal door. He gave the sturdy old thing a heavy kick. It flew open and swung around on its hinges, slamming on the backside of the wall. The inside was lathered in darkness and the bare steel floor was crisscrossed with scratches of rodent claws. The rickety skeletons of the trapped animals laid only a few feet inside.
Xiān cast a light ahead of Ikharos, illuminating what turned out to be a massive cavern within the mountain. At the end laid a stone table where a collection of animal skulls were arrayed like trophies. Or offerings. Before that, though, was a pedestal upon which rested a dusty Golden Age datapad. The sides and ceiling were bare rock, and the rest of the chamber was bare. A strange marking had been drawn in the centre of the room with a smooth bowl-like structure in the middle of it. More runes dotted the rest of the floor and the walls, but Ikharos couldn't decipher them.
"Check for traps," he muttered. Xiān flew from his shoulder and set about scanning the room. A minute later she returned.
"No pressure plates, no tripwires, no motion-sensing turrets. Nothing. But stay on your guard."
He nodded and carefully made his way forward. The Eliksni spread out behind him, checking the corners. When he reached the pedestal, he double-checked that it wasn't attached to anything before removing the datapad. When nothing happened, he diverted his attention to the dead device.
"Little help?"
Xiān huffed and sent a beam of energy into the datapad. Ikharos pressed the on switch. The cracked screen lit up. He had to wipe away the outer layer of dust before he could make out the letters. Even then, it was an incomprehensible mess. Just like the markings all around the room.
When Kiphoris reached him, the Captain asked, "What is it?"
"I... don't know this language." He looked up. "It's not Earth in origin."
He handed it over. Kiphoris skimmed through it with a perplexed expression. "No. And neither is it of any I understand. Not Eliksni, not of any Cabal dialect. Perhaps your Harmony language?"
"Maybe, but I don't know how to read that. Though Formora might."
Kiphoris turned about. "Kalaker, fetch Formora-Zeshus."
"Yes, Kiphoris-Veskirisk." The Marauder raced off.
The Captain turned back. "What do you suspect?"
"I don't know. A final bastion of the Harmony before they died out?" Ikharos shook his head. "But the floor and doors are of human design. It's simple and... Xiān?"
"Looks Glimmer-made," she told him. "The dimensions are perfect. The steel is only that, pure steel. Nothing but Glimmer can make it so." She squinted at the datapad. "Looks like this thing was left behind long ago. As in almost at the beginning of life on Kepler long ago.."
"So..."
"I don't know. Time's slower here. My calendar's all jumbled up."
Kalaker returned, with Formora in tow. The elf approached them slowly, lookin all around the chamber with thinly-veiled awe. "This is dwarven," she announced as soon as she reached them, drinking in the sight like a bottle of the Reef's finest wine. Ikharos suppressed groaned. Oh, how he missed the wine.
Kiphoris handed her the datapad. "Can you read it?" He asked.
She only took a moment before saying, "Yes."
"It is of the magic language?"
"No, it's... it's in Dwarvish." She turned the tablet around. "And it's written in the Hruthmundvik style."
"And that is?"
"An ancient form of the runic alphabet used by the dwarves. It's oafish and difficult, but not too different to the methods they currently employ. Yes I can read it."
"Mind translating?" Xiān asked.
Formora nodded, clearly enraptured. Her finger followed the first line. "Âz knurl deimi lanok. Beware, the rock changes. Barzul Volvrencarach. Curse the..." Formora frowned, and she glanced at Ikharos. "Curse the slayers of the eternal-war. Sheilven werg. Disgusting cowards. Volhort vren. Every moment is war. Menthiv, jok ingh otho oen korda il Grimstborith, Farthen Dûr rak Knurlan, il gor Jurgen. Sons, bring your faith and your hammers to the clan chief, father of dwarves, at the dragon mountain. Qarzûl menotho tronj. Cursed faithless giants. Etsil carkna bragha. Stop the great danger. Akh Guntéraz dorzâda. For Guntera's adoration. And... that's where it ends."
"Who's Guntera?" Ikharos asked.
"The king of the dwarven gods." Formora looked back to the datapad. "But... Guntera doesn't exist."
"Maybe it was Scipio they wanted to help," Xiān supplied. "Or Nezarec, if they were tricked."
Ikharos shook his head. "Not Nezarec. The warning of a great danger - that sounds like what Nezarec and his servants will bring. Where are the dwarves now?"
"Within the Beor Mountains, far to the south," Formora told him. "But dragon mountain... they mean Du Fells Nángoröth."
"Where what now?" Xiān barked a laugh. "Say it again."
The elf rolled her eyes. "Du Fells Nángoröth. The Blasted Mountains. It was an old dragon nesting site" She continued excitedly. "Though they had no settlements, it was as much their capital as any place ought to be. The wild dragons considered it their home. It's in the centre of the Hadarac desert."
"Why nest there in the middle of the desert? That can't be good."
"The Hadarac wasn't always desert. It used to be a vast grassland, where the dwarves originally lived. When it began to turn bad, the dwarves left. And the dragons, their long-time rivals for that very land, claimed it all for themselves."
"Faithless giants..." Ikharos murmured thoughtfully. "Are the dwarves called that because they're short?"
Formora nodded. "They are."
"Then giants could just mean humans. Or Harmony, or Frames, or anything taller. Dragons?"
"No. Jurgen means dragons. While dragons are large, they don't call them giants. Apparently, the dwarven gods went to war with the giants in a conflict their priests call the Supernatural War."
Xiān laughed again. "Did they fight chupacabras and yeti? Werewolves, ghouls, ghosts? I do love ghost stories."
Formora exhaled slowly, fighting off exasperation. "No. Just giants, they said. And later the dwarves fought dragons, when both came into being. According to the Quan, of course. The Quan are the dwarven clan of priests, responsible for upholding their faith."
"What does this tell us?" Kiphoris clicked his mandibles impatiently. "Could our kin have traveled to these mountains?"
"I... It's a hard and long journey to make. Two months from Gil'ead on foot," Formora said. "But if the dragon's large enough, then it could fly there in less, even with people riding it."
Ikharos grimaced. If there was anything he truly hated about his mission, it was this. The idea of a rogue Ahamkara freely roaming the world didn't sit well with him, and then knowing Tellesa was with it... "Damn lizards," he glowered. "I was done with dragons a century ago, and I'm more than done with them now." He took a deep breath and tried his best to ignore Formora's sudden scathing look. "Seems a bit of a shot in the dark."
It was Kiphoris who replied, saying, "If they flee the human empire, then where could they go?"
Xiān helpfully laid out a holographic map of Alagaësia. Formora gestured first to the sprawling forest to the north. "My people live here, and while they would welcome a Rider free of Galbatorix's control, being led to such an understanding would take time and charm. Besides, the cowards hide themselves deep within Du Weldenvarden, and traps litter the way to their cities. It would be a gamble, and as the location of the elven cities is doubtless unknown to the Rider, the forest would not be their destination. Humans think it cursed, and rightfully so. Magic permeates everything there, making it a dangerous place to the unprepared."
"What of other places?"
"The independent kingdom of Surda, maybe, but that's an even longer distance than Du Fells Nángoröth is from Gil'ead. And the king has spies in Surda. It wouldn't be safe."
"Across the desert?" Ikharos inquired.
Formora quickly shook her head. "That distance is too much for a dragon to take on in one flight. They would need to rest and drink, and water is in precious little supply in the Hadarac desert. There is an oasis by the Blasted Mountains, but that isn't common knowledge, and it's hidden."
"What about sneaking back into the empire?"
Kiphoris growled. "No. Mine-scouts would consider it a hostile territory. They would steer clear at all costs."
"A pity we can't raise them up on comms." Ikharos spared one last look around the chamber. "This has been a waste of time."
"Agreed. We should continue the search elsewhere."
"The problem is where." He pointed to the mountain range past the desert. "What about this place?"
"The Beors," Formora said. "An untamed wilderness, and again dangerous for the unprepared. It lacks the magic of Du Weldenvarden, but the colossal beasts that roam the place make up for it. It's all icy mountain peaks and forested valleys."
Ikharos nodded. "Sounds like a paradise. All those mountains - perfect place to hide. But it's too far." His finger traced from Marna Mountain around the Isentar lake, treading close to Du Weldenvarden, and into the empire. "I've been here. It's mostly uninhabited, and what settlements there are are only villages and hamlets. If they could get past that, they could reach the Spine. Any mountain range will do, and this is closer than the Beors."
Neither Formora or Kiphoris opposed or argued it, and so they were decided. They checked the room over once more, then left.
Outside a maelstrom was building. The storm had caught up with them, and it was furious. They raced to the Skiff, and the moment all were aboard, the ship ripped away from the ground with a roar. The winds rocked them to and fro, and Ikharos knew they were teetering on the edge. He'd never - not once - felt a storm act like this. He quickly rejoined Calzan in the cockpit. The Vandal pointed out the viewport. "Look!"
Ikharos did look. He stared at the series of lightning bolts striking through the air before the hovering Skiff, a boundary of electricity that did not cease. "This is intentional," he realized. There was no way a natural storm would do that.
Kiphoris roared. "Shades?!" He had to shout over the deafening thunder.
"No! They aren't this powerful!"
"Nezarec?!"
"I... I don't know!"
Again and again the lightning struck, keeping them from leaving. It curved about, cordoning off the north and west in a conspicuous manner. The boundary closed in; Calzan turned the ship around and activated the thrusters. The lightning gave chase.
"They herd us!" Calzan struggled to control the ship. The winds were tossing it about and the lightning strikes running only just behind them. The ship's lights shuttered as a strike caught them dead centre and the Skiff jittered in air.
Ikharos exchanged a panicked look with Kiphoris. "I can't fight this!"
Kiphoris closed his inner eyes. "Fly, Calzan!"
"I'm trying!"
The power returned moments later. The Skiff tore ahead at full burn, a thin line of plasma trailing right behind, and they headed in the opposite direction of the hurricane. They would have been visible to anyone in the area, especially other Fallen vessels, but the time for stealth was long past. Kiphoris disappeared to help his crew harness down a loose crate in the hold. The entire vessel shook dangerously, and at one point Ikharos thought he could feel the ship coming undone around him.
They got out ahead of it for a second time, but the storm was relentless, and it chased them for miles and miles on end. It was an ugly blue-purple bruise in the morning light. Calzan had eased off the throttle when they were in the clear, but nerves were still up and no one was under the presumption that they were in the clear. Ikharos joined Formora, Kiphoris, and a couple of other Fallen up on the command deck.
"We need to find cover," Kalaker, one of the Marauders, said. "Our Skiff is damaged. It will not survive another storm-strike. We must bring it to shelter."
Ikharos agreed wholeheartedly. It was the sensible thing to do. But Kiphoris shook his head. "No," the Captain argued. "This storm is not natural. It is directed. Something is using it on us. This may not be their only weapon. I refuse to die cowering in a burrow."
"We could travel on foot," Formora offered, speaking through Xiān.
"And be battered against rocks? No thanks," Ikharos huffed. "I'm of the same mind as Kalaker. We need to get out of the way. Lose it, somehow. Maybe wait until the storm expends itself. If whatever behind the storm comes after us, well..." He shrugged. "If it comes to a fight, we can get in touch with Tarrhis and request aid."
Javek stepped forward, his eyes nervously darting from person to person. "We, ah, cannot contact Tarrhis."
Kiphoris twirled about. "What?!"
The Splicer cringed away from the seething Wolf. "We have ventured into the jamming field, mine-Captain. Whatever quietens Alkris and Paltis now hides us. And... I believe it encompasses the entire desert."
Ikharos clenched his hands into fists. "There's something in the desert, and it's not a friend. We've ventured onto its turf."
Melkris, a Vandal shockshooter, nodded. "It chases us deeper into the desert, to corner us like a predator would. Perhaps it means to herd us to its maw with limbs of lightning?"
Ikharos pointed at him. "That's exactly it. It's trying to trap us."
"We cannot flee," Kiphoris argued. "The storm pens us in. I say we either let the storm herd us in... or we find those responsible and face them directly."
"If something is powerful enough to control a storm," Formora began, "then what hope do we have of challenging it?"
Everyone looked at Ikharos.
"Here's an idea," he said flatly. "Why don't I fight it?"
Kiphoris clicked his mandibles. "Then it's settled. We will-"
"Bastards."
"-find the creature behind the storm and slay it."
"But where?" Formora questioned. "The Hadarac is a barren, lifeless place. There's nowhere to-"
Xiān perked up. "Du Fells Nan-whatsit. The Blasted Mountains."
"Du Fells Nángoröth," Formora corrected with a low groan.
"Yeah, that. If the dragons are gone, then something might have moved in. You know, ecology."
Ikharos sighed. "You can't just say ecology. That's not how it works."
"Then you explain it, genius."
"Fine. If an apex predator at the top of the food chain is rendered extinct, odds are another animal will rise to the occasion and take their place. That's one of the driving factors behind evolution: to better fit an ecological niche. Yeah, sure, you could say that's the case, but we don't know what this being is. For all we know it could just be someone playing around with terraforming equipment."
Xiān's eye flashed. "Nerd."
Ikharos just ignored her. "There's nothing else out here. The Blasted Mountains are the only cover for a hundred miles in any direction. Mountains really are the best place to hide. Or hold." He looked off into space. "I knew a few Warlords who used to do just that. I think it had something to do with pride..."
Formora frowned. "What about Durza?"
"No," Kiphoris shook his head. "We cannot reach them as it is, even if we knew their true locations. We must address that which threatens to destroy us. After it is done, we may resume the hunt unhindered. Agreed?"
They all nodded, some more reluctant than others. Ikharos was firmly in the reluctant camp.
Just as they'd anticipated, the storm continued after them with frightening speed. It spread out across the horizon behind them, a broiling wave of rain and electricity sweeping over the desert. Calzan made a point of utterly refusing to try and skirt around it.
"I'm not going near that," he announced. "We would be tossed around like a plaything. Like a half-starved Dreg in the hands of an Uluru Colossus."
Ikharos grimaced. He had experienced something akin to that before. "Could we outrun it again?"
"Perhaps, but our ship is damaged. I do not like it being damaged. I must see what is wrong." Calzan pointed to a red light above that continuously flicked on and off. "And that worries me."
"What does it mean?"
"It means we are nearly out of power. We are running on auxiliary reserves. If we are struck again, we will fall out of the air like a stone."
"So we've got to land, no matter what," Ikharos surmised.
"Eia."
"Is there any way to fix it?"
"I will have to replace wires and repair main engines, then find a source of energy. We may have to burn some ether."
That wasn't ideal, and Ikharos knew it. While they had a Servitor with them, it was small and unlikely to produce enough ether for both ship and crew. It was a dilemma Ikharos was glad he didn't have to navigate. He was fully willing to leave it for the Wolf.
Du Fells Nángoröth loomed ahead like jagged fangs jutting from the gums of the earth. It was a dirty tan-brown colour, only slightly darker than the surrounding desert, and appeared almost lifeless. What plants there were congregated around the oasis near the bottom, situated between two mountains. It was partially covered by an overhang and would have been practically invisible to those approaching from the ground. Trees sprouted up around it. Ikharos thought he could see the flutter of movement below. An eagle soared above the little pocket of life and screeched unhappily at the ship.
"Calm here," he noted.
"Eia," Kiphoris narrowed his inner eyes. "I do not like it. Calzan, bring us down. Slowly."
"Yes, Kiphoris pak Drakkir. By the water?"
Kiphoris looked at Ikharos, who gave a half-shrug: why not? "Do so. I'm sure the humans would like to replenish their provisions."
If it was meant as a barb it didn't work, because Ikharos just then realized how parched his throat was. "That would be welcome."
The Skiff, still smoking, drifted down on a weak breeze and dipped down onto the cracked ground without incident. Once more, Ikharos was at the forefront of those who burst out with weapons raised. It was only right, he supposed. If he took a bullet that would otherwise snuff out someone else's life, he'd survive where the others wouldn't.
The oasis was clear, for the most part. They'd landed amidst the raised rocks that hid the little paradise from ground level. The watering hole was sizable, certainly enough to supply the isolated environment, and it was fed by steep rivers running down the adjacent mountains. Palm trees dotted the shores and other forms of vegetation took advantage of the shade they brought. Birds were in plenty, and by the water's edge Ikharos made out a herd of hardy goats alternating between having a drink and staring at the newcomers.
"That's odd," he muttered. "Why would-"
A horse whinnied from somewhere nearby. Ikharos raised his Lumina and only just managed to shout "Don't fire!" before a group of horseriders galloped out of hiding and surrounded them, shouting and yipping. Most of them bore spears, and it was those who boxed the him and the Eliksni in against the Skiff. He was immensely thankful that the Fallen listened to him and didn't open fire.
One of the riders, armed with a curved sword, stared unyieldingly at Ikharos. He, like his fellows, wore a cloth wrapped so completely around his head that only his eyes peered out. His clothes were light and covered with sand. He wore little in terms of armour aside from a golden breastplate and his arms shook with gaudy jewellery. Embossed discs of creamy gold stretched the lobes of his ears, golden necklaces dangled from his neck, and a resplendent crown rested over his covered head, but despite it all, he looked a warrior. His shoulders were broad and his dark brown eyes were almond-shaped, narrowed to glare at the Warlock.
The horsemen very quickly became nervous, glancing between the growling Eliksni and the Skiff behind them. They paid close attention to Kiphoris in particular. The Captain stood at height with them, despite them sitting atop horses. Kiphoris, for his part, didn't make a sound. He only clutched his pistols tightly and eyed the strangers with an indecipherable expression.
"Wait!" Ikharos shouted in English, holding out an empty hand. He ignored the spears and stepped out between the Scars and the horsemen. "We don't want a fight!"
The leader of the desert people pointed at Ikharos with his blade. "You are trespassing," he barked angrily.
"We didn't know this place was inhabited!"
"These lands belong to the Inapashunna tribe. And you are trespassing."
Ikharos unclasped his helmet and flung it aside. He wanted them to see he was human. He hoped it would reassure them. "We don't mean any harm. We only wanted to-"
A flash of movement was the only warning he had of the arrow, and he deftly caught it out of the air. The horsemen quietened, eyes wide with awe, and pride flared up within him. He met the leader's gaze with a victorious look on his face.
The second arrow, however, caught him precisely under the chin.
000
The moment Ikharos fell to the ground, clearly dead, was the moment Kiphoris let loose a roar. Some of the humans' beasts panicked and bucked, and he rushed forward. He pounced the lead rider and his horse, and grunted as the human's sword cracked against his space-salvage pauldron. He forced the terrified, fighting animal down to the ground, ignoring its piercing shrieks. It hit him hard with its flailing hooves, so with a savage slash he tore out its throat with his claws. Kiphoris grasped the rider by his tunic and roughly dragged him away from the dying creature. With a third arm he grasped the human's sword and tossed it aside. Kiphoris retreated just as quickly, now holding his bloodied claws against his struggling captive's throat.
When he saw his crew made to follow his example, he snarled at them. "No! Stay!"
They obeyed, immediately. His loyal Marauders snarled and hissed at the humans, claws splayed and shock blades activated. Behind him others disembarked readied for war, joining their Captain in his standoff.
The human in his grip tried to break free and only managed to irritate Kiphoris. "Stop, or I will kill you!" He seethed. The human's struggles lessened for a brief moment, but they resumed before long. It was infuriating.
The other humans, however cried out in alarm and did exactly what he wanted: they kept their distance, afraid for their leader who yet remained in the grasp of the Captain. They brandished their spears and shouted in a language he didn't understand. Kiphoris wasn't impressed. They were not unstoppable Risen, nor coordinated Corsairs. The humans did not pose a threat, but they were annoying. He spotted their archers situated on the neighbouring rocks, wearing cloaks the same colour as their surroundings. Their weapons were fitted and strung, but much like their mounted brethren they refrained from endangering the life of their leader.
At long last, the horse he'd wounded finally stilled and died. The other beasts shied away from the scent of blood, the whites of their eyes showing, scarcely under the control of their humans.
Then what he expected to happen finally happened. Ikharos's Ghost, Xiān, finally appeared and hovered above his corpse. The little machine tutted and, after a moment, opened up its shell to envelop the dead man in its warmth. With a cough, Ikharos sat up and rubbed his neck. The man in Kiphoris' grip, as well as his underlings, froze and went deathly quiet. Even Kiphoris's own crew were struck silent. He recalled that it was the first time they'd seen the Guardian cheat death.
The Warlock picked himself up and grabbed his handcannon. He looked around and gave each of the attackers a stern, father-strong look. "There was no need for that," he muttered.
Kiphoris's captive went limp. "Unulunka Mulik!" He gasped.
"Speak sense," Kiphoris ordered.
"Unulunka Mulik!" The other humans took up the cry. They dismounted and dropped their weapons. Some of their beasts took the chance to run off, but none of the humans appeared to care overly much. They brought their hands together in prayer and, as one, fell down into kneeling positions. Before long they were joined by the archers, who did the exact same thing.
Ikharos was left baffled. Humans were always so very expressive. "Uh..."
"Please," the lead human begged. Kiphoris looked up and made a mental prayer of his own to the Great Machine, then let his captive go. Predictably, he too fell to his knees. Somewhere else, an animal let out an obscenely hoarse scream that picked away at his patience. He made a mental note to send a Marauder hunting later. He was hungry, and the thought of bloody flesh made his mouth water. Even if it came from the smelly creatures across the water.
"What do we do, mine-Captain?" Kalaker asked, clearly perplexed
Kiphoris huffed. "Let us see what Ikha Riis thinks. They are his people; their fate is his responsibility."
The lead rider shuffled forwards on his knees. "You are Unulunka Mulik!"
"I'm what now?" Ikharos turned on him, confusion mixing with a scarcely-restrained fury.
"Blessed of Unulunka, the Old One!" The lead warrior lowered his gaze. "It is my mistake that you were brought to harm. The Inapashunna never meant to... I am... I am deeply sorry, Unulunka Mulik."
Ikharos crouched down. "What's your name?"
"I am Sagabato-no Inapashunna Fadawar, chief of the Inapashunna," the human answered proudly. "It is an honour, Unulunka Mulik! A true honour!"
Humans were strange, strange creatures. No sooner had the Inapashunna chieftain introduced himself than they invited Ikharos, and his 'tamed demons', to join them for a feast in their village. Kiphoris wanted to say no. Ikharos wanted to say no. But Fomora said yes, so they accepted.
"They're one of the Wandering Tribes of the Hadarac," the elf explained. "If there is anything here of note, they would know about it."
"We don't have time to waste," Ikharos argued. Kiphoris was inclined to agree.
"This may save us time. Whatever we're looking for, we might not find it without their help." Her logic made a strange sort of sense. They hadn't seen anything unusual from the air, but Kiphoris doubted that being on the ground would change that. The mountains were large and steep, and the oasis was a prime example of how well hidden such places could be.
Ikharos proceeded to sigh and call ahead. "Fadawar!"
"Yes, Unulunka Mulik?" The chieftain asked, turning about. He was forced to hike ahead of them on foot because Kiphoris had killed his horse. The Captain found a petty satisfaction seeing the human brought low. He didn't like Fadawar. The man was a warrior, true, but his distaste for the Scars was blatantly obvious.
Demons? Really?
The feeling was mutual. Kiphoris didn't think very highly of the Inapashunna warriors. They were easily broken, easily frightened, and their prowess was questionable. By the Great Machine, he missed the Corsairs of the Reef. It had always been a fascinating experience to see them at work. He'd learned up a few things from them and it was likely that that training was what had allowed him to survive thus far.
They'd left Calzan and the rest with the Skiff. The damage from the storm had been just as bad as they feared. A terrible scorch mark marred the side of it, exposing the fried internal workings. The ship wasn't flight-ready, and Calzan, ever the little Baron, had made clear that they couldn't move until it was fixed.
"I will not die because I saw fit to fly a dying Skiff," the pilot had announced. He turned to those who were to remain and shouted, "Javek, come here and help!"
Before the hike to their home, the riders had stopped to gather their other domesticated beasts, the things Formora called 'goats', and herd the animals before them. They stank. Kiphoris was stumped as to why the humans would bother keeping them. He hoped they had other animals. He hungered, and not just for ether. Maybe he could find an excuse to double back and feed from the Fadawar's steed. That animal had been much cleaner in comparison, and there was more than enough flesh on its bones to sate him.
Kiphoris left the pilot with a couple of soldiers and the sole Splicer while he and the others followed the humans to their home. The Inapashunna village was just as concealed as the oasis: hidden behind a rising slope, the village of adobe buildings was situated in a lull between the mountains. It blended in well with the environment, further helping to conceal the tribe's presence. The village was largeish, housing maybe a hundred or so, and many of them gathered to meet the returning warriors and beloved animals. The sight of him and the Scars under his command raised panicked cries, but Fadawar shouted a number of things in that unfamiliar language of his, and the villagers nervously allowed the Eliksni to enter the settlement.
After a brief discussion between Fadawar and an elderly man dressed in the most ridiculous garb Kiphoris had ever seen - colourful clothing adorned with bright fanciful feathers and unusual patterns painted across his face, with a ring in his nose for good measure. The old human - who was undoubtedly a fraction of Kiphoris's own age - pointed furiously at him.
Then Fadawar gestured to Ikharos and said, "Unulunka Mulik!"
That seemed to be the answer to every issue these people faced - point at Ikharos and chant those odd words. Kiphoris wondered if doing it might give him what he wanted: an end to these terrible wars, safe sanctuary for his people, and a duel with the Light-Thief.
Not long after the argument was settled, long low-legged tables were dragged out into the middle of the village. Pillows were placed around, and they were invited to sit down. The Inapashunna sat cross-legged; Kiphoris struggled to do the same. Eliksni were not made for such things.
A mere minute later food was carried out on silver platters, dried meats covered in preservative spices, fresh fruit, and even cheese - a product the Inapashunna cultivated from the goats, if he heard correctly. Kiphoris recognized some of the meals, and others were similar to those he'd partaken in the Reef, so he confidently grabbed four handfuls of portions and feasted. His qualms about wasting time disappeared as he gorged himself. He could feel the frightened and inquisitive stares of the humans, but he refused to let that bother him. This was food, and it had been far too long since he had anything but sweet ether to subsist on. His warriors were of the same mind, reassured after seeing their Captain fearlessly ingest the foreign foods.
At one point the village elder stood and looked at Kiphoris. "What are you?" He asked in halting English.
He swallowed the food in his mouth and answered with, "We are-"
"They are the Eliksni, agents of Gokukara, the Mantis. They have been sent to help Unulunka's Blessed on his journey," Formora quickly interjected. The elf smiled pleasantly in a way that didn't reach her eyes, and she shot Kiphoris a quick look that told him to stay quiet. Bemused, he shut his mouth and turned his attention back to the food. There was a liquid they called fermented milk that was supposed to act as a replacement for wine, but it was disgusting. Kiphoris kept to his flask of ether, which remained cool in the too-warm air. It had a much more pleasant taste.
Fear turned to awe, but Kiphoris wasn't so sure he liked what he heard.
"And you?" The elder, the village priest, asked of the elf.
Formora blinked. "I am a katuro. I intend to assist Unulunka Mulik."
"Yes! This is good news, is it not? Unulunka Mulik has arrived at last," the old man muttered, a satisfied grin stretching his cracked lips. He looked directly at Ikharos. "Do you intend to scale the mountain?"
"Uh..."
"And slay the Eye of the Storm?"
"Oh, yeah, that. I'll fight the, uh... Eye of the Storm." Ikharos nodded. He glanced at Kiphoris, and the Captain understood. So it was there. They had found it.
"These people know a way to the storm-entity," Kiphoris muttered in Eliksni. His Marauders gestured to him that they heard and were ready.
"Where do I go?" Ikharos pressed.
Fadawar lifted his arm towards the rear of the village. "The path there leads up the Dragon Mountain. I warn you, it is treacherous. Peril waits at every turn."
"So pretty much the everyday norm," Ikharos muttered. He raised his voice. "Do you mind if we go now? Storm's coming, and we'd like to kill it as quick as we can."
"O-of course!" Fadawar quickly stood. He bowed to Ikharos. "Again, I must express my utmost apologies. I am sorrowful that our meeting came first to violence."
"And... I'm sorry about your horse," Ikharos replied awkwardly. He took a breath. "I think we'll set out immediately."
"Melkris, return to the Skiff and keep watch. Update Calzan on our plan," Kiphoris ordered of the Vandal. He saluted and raced off back down the mountain, leaving him with his Marauders. With a final look about the place, he huffed and marched away from the feast with his companions in tow. The humans in attendance cheered for Ikharos as they left.
When they reached the beaten mountain trail and left all the Inapashunna behind, he twirled about and settled Formora with a stony gaze. "What are you doing?"
She checked that they hadn't been followed. "They believe Ikharos to be a champion of one of their gods. How they came to that conclusion, I have no idea."
"Neither do I," Ikharos supplied. "But yeah, what were you doing?"
"Helping our case. The Wandering Tribes do not receive outsiders well. Under Galbatorix's rule, slavers have often made the tribes their primary targets. They are a hardy people, and they have survived because they remain suspicious of everyone not their own."
"I'm not their own," Ikharos pointed out. "They asked me out to dinner because I came back from an arrow to the throat."
"Most people aren't so lucky. Can you really blame them? I once thought you to be a god."
"What changed your mind?"
Formora exhaled fitfully. "I found out how bullheaded you are."
Kiphoris couldn't help himself - he laughed.
The mountain trail was not quite as perilous as Fadawar made it out to be. Perhaps the chieftain was speaking from the viewpoint of a clawless human, but Kiphoris wasn't so sure. Ikharos and Formora kept pace with him and his Marauders. They were well-balanced and did not tire easily. Even when they came to a series of narrow passages along the edge of a cliff, they simply worked in tandem with one another to ensure none fell.
It wasn't even difficult for Kiphoris. If anything was too steep, he simply dug in with his claws and climbed. The rock was stable, the wind hardly strong enough to ruffle the hair on the humans' heads, and the only problem he found was the dust tossed into his eyes. For that he cut a thin cloth from a bandage in one of his medical kits and tied it around his head to cover his face. His sight was impeded, yes, but better than the alternative. His Marauders had no such issue. Their helmets covered their entire faces, unlike his, and he envied them in that. He promised himself to speak to Javek about it later. Even a simple visor would have worked.
For miles and miles they climbed, unrelenting and unpunished. The only danger to sprout came in the form of a mountain cat, and that beast was sent skittering away with a growl. Eventually the path leveled out and, much like what they'd seen on Marna, they found a relic of a bygone time. Two colossal gates stood built into the rock, wide enough that if opened three Skiffs could have flown in side by side. Glyphs and markings that must have been Dwarvish lined the steel surface.
"This is the place," Kalaker said. He primed his shock rifle.
"This is the place," Ikharos agreed. He drew his cannon.
Kiphoris pulled shock pistols from his bandolier, a weapon in each of his four hands. "How do we get inside?"
The gates rumbled and dragged back on rusty hinges. A dull boom flew across the clearing when they fully opened.
"That answers that!" Eldrin chuckled nervously. "Do we enter, Kiphoris-Veskirisk?"
"We enter," Kiphoris told him. "Be prepared. They expect us."
He led the way and the others dutifully followed. Not one faltered, not even the humans, and that provided him with a sensation of uneasy pride. The chamber beyond was larger than the one at Marna, but Kiphoris expected more. All there was was a large, rust-bitten elevator connected to ancient chains. It was more primitive than what he expected from a human Golden Age installation. He gingerly put his weight onto the elevator and though it swayed, it held.
"Join me if you must, but be careful," he told the rest. They followed him on. Ikharos pressed the downwards-arrow button on a pedestal to the side. With a creaky groan and a terrifying shudder, the elevator began to crawl down into the depths of the mountain. The platform they rode had no walls, only iron bars to hold onto, and the floor was again bare steel. Basic machinery.
Ikharos made a startled gasp. "Something's here," he said in a hushed voice. "I can feel it."
"Shade?"
"No. Something else. Not Dark. But not Light either."
The elevator shaft was illuminated solely by dying lightbulbs fixed to rough stone. The daylight filtering through from above died away, allowing a deep gloom to settle over them. This was not the shadow of night-darkness, but that of the abyss, total in its obscurity. There were no stars, no moons, no comets, nothing to show them the way. The air was musty and damp, and smelled of bitter ozone. Kiphoris looked about; he half-expected to be set upon by a pack of hungry Thralls, but no living thing presented itself. They were alone, and yet... he knew they were not. He had no Light, but he could feel a presence nearby, watching him. Studying him. Testing him.
The very mountain suddenly quaked around them. A deep groan echoed up from below just as a sharp crack rebounded through the elevator shaft from above. Metal struck metal.
"Psekisk!" Kiphoris snarled. He grabbed the nearest person he could feasibly reach, which happened to be Formora, and leapt for the side of the elevator shaft. He didn't even have enough time to warn the others before the chain holding them snapped and the elevator plummeted. It fell fast, and was subsequently swallowed by the all-encompassing darkness. He didn't hear a crash.
Kiphoris looked about. Only Eldrin made the jump. And Formora, though she'd been dragged off by her arm. She grimaced as his grip pulled the joint painfully, and Kiphoris swung her over to a steady handhold.
"Are you injured?" He asked.
She hissed through gritted teeth. "I'll live." She looked over her shoulder, eyes wide. "But... they fell..."
"They did." He turned to Eldrin. "Are you wounded?"
"No, mine-Captain!" The Marauder breathed heavily. "What... the chain snapped!"
"No," Kiphoris said. His gaze turned upwards. "Something broke it."
"What of the others?" The Marauder grasped for his radio. "Kalaker? Kalaker! Come in! Riilix? Revlis?"
"It won't work, Eldrin," Kiphoris snapped, his voice harsh. "They have fallen into the trap."
"What of us?"
Kiphoris closed his eyes. He thought for a moment. "We cannot go up, or we will fall prey to whatever waits above. We must descend. And find our brethren, alive or dead." He swiveled back around to Formora. "We must climb down. Can you do so?"
"I think so, yes."
"What of your arm?"
Formora sent him an irritated look. "It won't bother me."
"It doesn't appear that way to me."
"I don't care."
He liked her fire. "Bravery is good, but recklessness is not. If you think you may falter, tell us."
She grumbled. Then asked, "Do you think they're still alive?"
Kiphoris didn't want to think about that. "I do not know." He looked down into the waiting darkness. "I wager we will find out soon."
AN: Big thanks to Nomad Blue for edits. He's been instrumental in criticism for this venture.
I will leave a bit of a disclaimer here. The next chapter will be darker than what I usually do.