As You Go

The Rocky Peak Tavern sat like a black spot of decay in the midst of the white snow. Located in a little fishing town at the base of the Yumin Mountains on the eastern coast, it was sheltered from the worst of the blizzard's winds. That did not stop the snow from falling, however. And fall it did, in flurries so thick Zane feared he'd get stuck here if his informant didn't show up fast.

Right now, in the middle of a brutal winter, there was no fishing to be done. So the local sailors congregated here to drink, laugh, and gamble.

And smoke, Zane thought, watching wisps of thick tobacco smoke curl around the lanterns, bitter and unpleasant.

He checked his pocket watch for the fourth time since being seated. His informant was very late.

A woman sauntered up to him, wearing a sheer skirt and leather corset. Neither left much up to a man's imagination. She set her palms on the table and looked into the shadows of his hood, smirking.

"You've been sitting alone for a while," she said, voice sultry. "Can I get you a drink?"

Decay indeed, Zane thought. He made the mistake of looking at her corset; pulled so tight it gave one the impression her chest would pop out if she moved too much.

"White wine," he said. "Thank you."

The wrong answer, apparently, because she straightened, looking offended. "This is a tavern, you know. Not a damned nobleman's party."

"Could have fooled me," Zane said.

The sarcasm was not lost on her. "Look, mister. You want a drink or not?"

"Whatever's on tap," Zane said. "Thank you kindly."

The woman left in a huff.

A month ago, Zane might have felt sorry for the waitress. What horrific experiences had driven her to this line of work? Had she grown up without a mother to nourish her growing flower of femininity? A father to protect that flower?

But now Zane seethed. This woman could have saved her femininity, parents or not. Slaves like Varasach and Besai, on the other hand... They'd fared far worse, yet had so much more grace and elegance. They had worked hard- even in captivity- to preserve their virtues.

When we're given a choice, we choose wrong. When we're forced into something, we try to become the opposite. What is so wrong with humanity?

Zane leaned back, careful not to let his hood slide from his head, and mentally searched for a connection to Pixal's bird.

Still nothing. Pixal had gone missing the very hour of General Malian's rescue. Coincidence? No. Of that Zane was certain. She'd been a part of Kaytake's plan. Or at least, she had taken the opportunity and joined him then.

Should I be worried? he wondered. Yes. Definitely. But do I need to chase her down and drag her back to the aristocratic life she'd always disliked anyways? No, I think not. She's a big girl.

The woman returned with his drink- a frothy amber liquid in a pewter mug- and slammed it down. It splashed a little.

"You could have at least rejected me nicely," she muttered, then left with a swish of transparent skirts.

...But then again... Zane sniffed the acrid drink. Big girls tend to throw themselves into all sorts of unnecessary- and sometimes immoral- trouble. Maybe I should at least ask around, see if anyone's seen Pixal-

Before he could draw his thoughts to a conclusion, a gnarly old man with patchy gray hair plopped down in the seat across from him.

"You the one with the questions?" he asked, voice coarser than the wrinkled skin around his vibrant blue eyes.

Failing liver, Duskweaver said. The result of an unbalanced diet, hence the dry skin and bloated belly. His digestive track is-

"I am indeed," Zane said, clearing his throat. "You're late."

"Eh. Not too late," the man said, pulling the mug close. He took a swig, then set it down and stared into Zane's hood. "Why don't you take that thing off? You make me think you're something unnatural. Like I'd melt if I saw your face or something."

"I prefer to keep my identity secret, Joul."

"Call me Jo," the man said. "Let's get to the questions. I got places to be."

Zane pulled out his notebook. "You're the best botanist alive in the Middle today, they say."

"Dunno who 'they' are, but yeah. I am. I have a farm upriver, in the valley. Have all kinds of plants, wild and domestic-"

Sensing this tangent would lead them nowhere, Zane interrupted. "Excellent," he said. "So I'm looking for something specific. For a...patient of mine."

"You a doctor?" Jo asked.

"No, my Blade is."

Jo laughed uproariously. "My contact never said you were a snark," he said. "So. What's his problem?"

"Irrational behavior," Zane said. "Arguing with himself, excessive anger and violence."

"Isn't that the definition of a politician?" Jo asked. He chuckled, but sobered when he saw his companion was not laughing. "Ah, but your patient probably isn't a politician. There's a mushroom. It grows mainly in the Southern swamps. It causes hallucinations."

"Eraranu, right?" Zane asked, flipping his notebook open. "White, about the size of a fist?"

"Yep. That's the one." Jo leaned in, whistling. "That's a lotta research. This patient must be pretty important."

If only you knew.

"Give me a few more names, please. I need to check my list." Zane brandished his pencil.

"Poshi. Shaderoot. Bitterberry, gelegan and liren seeds can be boiled to make a nasty poison that makes people so crazy they often-"

"Heard of all of those. Not what I'm looking for."

"You're gonna hurt my poor head," Jo said, taking a large gulp of his- Zane's- drink. "Okay. Yellow marsh gerranger?"

"No."

"...Unripe drish bloom seeds?"

"No."

Jo threw his hands in the air. "I got nothing. Sorry."

"Okay, that's fine." Zane flipped back a few pages to another list of notes. "How about pale skin? Not just regular, sickly pale. Stark white."

Jo clicked his tongue. "Eh, that sounds like late stages of some kinda organ failure. Priestbanner?"

"No."

"Verile literoot?"

"That makes the skin gray, doesn't it?"

"Ah, you're smarter than I thought, lad. Just testing you." Jo scratched his chin. "The juices from the stem of a redwell flower?"

Zane hesitated. "I haven't heard that one before."

"Yeah? Jo shrugged. "It's rare. I've have only seen a few of the flowers myself."

"Does it kill, then?"

"Yes," Jo answered. "Within an hour, supposedly, you're vomiting up your insides, and naturally the lack of blood makes your skin white."

Zane sighed. "That's it, then?"

"Yep. That's all I can think of."

"Okay. I have one more." Zane folded his hands on the table, prepared for what was coming.

"Shoot," Jo said.

"He has red eyes," Zane said. "Bright as a cherry. What would cause that?"

Jo scoffed. "Let me get this straight," he said. "He's gone nuts, no self-control, talking to himself like a lunatic. He's got pale skin, white like eggshell. And he's also got cherry-red eyes?" He shook his head. "People usually say I'm the crazy one. But today, you've beat me good."

"Anything that you can think of that I haven't?" Zane pressed, showing Jo his notes.

Jo skimmed the page, then shook his head. "Nope. Nothing short of impossible supernatural things. Curses and the like. Sorry, sir. Will that be all?"

Zane nodded, pulling a handful of coins from his pocket. "Thank you for your time. Give one of these to the woman when she comes back, to pay for the drink."

"Sure thing," the man said, eagerly counting the small pile. "I hope to do more business with you in the future."

"Indeed," Zane said, though he cringed internally as he stood and stepped away from the dark booth. How much more time and money must I spend on this futile chase? he asked himself. It's been a week. I hardly sleep, I haven't seen my father in days, and I am no closer to finding my answers than when I began.

When will this end?

Ahlie slept in the center of the large bed, her ginger curls fanned around her head like a crown. She lay stretched out, blankets covering everything up to her chin, a small smile on her lips.

"She'll wake up an orphan," Liana said as she sat on the bed. "It's not fair. Look at her, Daddy. She has no idea what just happened."

Cyrus set a hand on his daughter's knee. "Life is never fair," he said.

"But it doesn't have to be cruel, too," Liana said. "Can't we find a balance? Ahlie's been through too much. How will she cope with losing both parents?"

"I...don't know," Cyrus admitted. "She didn't seem to mind when Kai disappeared, but Besai is a different story."

Liana watched Ahlie's little chest rise and fall for a few moments, her eyes moist.

"We have to get them back," she said. "All of them. Besai, Kai, Jay, Merv..."

"...Cole, Pixal, and Chedva," Cyrus finished, closing his eyes. It was heartbreaking, thinking back to when Cole had surrendered just a few minutes ago. Pixal had run away. But against seventy stone warriors, she had been no match. She and the baby were taken captive.

Without much of a choice- he dared not resist and kill his entire population- Cyrus had let the boy Senzo leave with all his spoils.

"We can't fight the Overlord," Cyrus said. "I tried. That's what killed your mother, you know."

Liana nodded. "I just...I hate this. Feeling helpless. Jay is out there, and we're stuck here."

"We're never helpless, Li," Cyrus said. "You know that."

"So, what?" Liana's voice grew bitter. "We're just supposed to trust in your Retired God?"

"Liana-"

"No!" Liana stood. "If your god actually cared, wouldn't he have done something by now? Wouldn't he have stopped Mother from dying? Protected me from my imprisonment on the Dark Island?"

Cyrus opened his mouth to speak, but no words came.

Liana's eyes narrowed. "If an all-powerful being like that actually cared about us, wouldn't he change things so that evil beings like the Overlord can't hurt us?"

"...Sir?" a tentative voice spoke by the door.

Cyrus turned his chair around, glad for the interruption. "Yes, Wyatt?" he said.

The blond man- Cyrus' first Nindroid, a clone of Zane- stepped into the room. "I have the report you asked for."

"Go ahead, then."

Wyatt ran a hand through his hair. "Ah... The stone warriors gained access through Section Three, just like Aysha said. They killed the Watchword- Christi- with a sword and ransacked the house until they found the secret corridor. Then they shot the Nindroid on duty at the bottom with an arrow- a lucky shot; he was paralyzed. From there, they went silently through to Section Four, where they took you and the other prisoners."

"Only one dead, then?" Cyrus asked.

"Yes, sir. Christi. But the Nindroid is fine, he's being repaired as we speak."

"Good."

Cyrus was disturbed. In his experience, stone warriors were loud, brazen creatures with no regard for subtleties. All Cyrus' defense mechanisms- alarms, traps, and the like- had not been set off because they had been designed for a more habitual Overlord attack.

This proved just how ineffective Cyrus' efforts really were. No matter how much he toiled, his people were never truly safe.

I can't give up, though. Never.

"I'll pay my respects to Christi later tonight," Cyrus said. "Her body is in the cooler, I assume?"

"Yes, sir. But...we are running out of room. We'll have to start putting the bodies in storages above ground until spring's deadthaw."

Cyrus sighed deeply. This plague had taken several hundred of his people thus far. More fell every day. Winter had only just begun! Where would they find space to store all the frozen bodies until the ground was in deadthaw?

"All right. Thank you, Wyatt," Cyrus said. "Is there anything else I should know?"

"We're running low on the antidote, sir," Wyatt answered. "The latest group of Nurses returned from patrol. They reportedly used over a hundred vials these past three days."

A hundred! It both amazed and discouraged Cyrus. A hundred vials can cure up to two thousand people!

"I'll talk to my drug team," he said, adjusting his spectacles. "We'll get started on that in an hour."

Wyatt nodded. "All right. Is there anything else you need, sir?"

Cyrus looked back at Liana and Ahlie. "Who does Ahlie know here in the keep, Li?"

"Herlyn, probably," Liana answered. "One of the child caretakers."

"That's fine," Cyrus said. "Wyatt, please summon Herlyn. Have her spend the night here. I don't want Ahlie to wake up alone.

"Yes, sir." Wyatt nodded and left.

"Get some sleep, Liana," Cyrus said. "I'll see you at breakfast."

"Yes, Father." She looked like she wanted to say more. Instead, she walked swiftly past his chair and down the hall, leaving Cyrus alone.

Not alone, he reminded himself, casting one last look at the sleeping toddler. I'm never alone. He is there, I know it. He will always protect us.

He will protect our Knights.

Kaytake could not remember the last time he'd felt this low.

He sat in his room at the White Rose, watching Malian slide in and out of consciousness. Had Cole deliberately forgotten about them, or was he held up by the blizzard? It hardly mattered now, with Malian on his deathbed.

The end was near, Kaytake could tell. Malian's chest rose and fell too slowly with each wheeze. His now infrequent coughs were thick with dark, drying blood. His forehead- once creased with pain- now rested smooth, his body too weak to upkeep the expression.

I don't even want to imagine what his family will think when I tell them, Kaytake thought. He would have sent for them, but the blizzard was getting far too strong for Risa- let alone the children- to make the journey.

Malian managed to blink, turning his lethargic eyes to Kaytake. With considerable effort, he raised his palm.

Hesitantly, Kaytake stood and went to him. "Yes?" he said, taking the general's cold, clammy hand.

"Closer," Malian said.

Kaytake knelt, nearing his ear to Malian's lips. The disease traveled from person to person via touch. But Kaytake had already been so exposed, it hardly mattered.

In fact, Kaytake secretly hoped he would get sick. It would be a proper retribution for all his criminal acts.

"You have too much pride, Milord," Malian breathed into Kaytake's ear, "if you think I did this for you. Don't feel bad. The only guilty one here is me, for being so attached to this Host-cursed country. Regardless...promise me you'll take care of Risa and the twins. Don't let them go hungry."

Kaytake's throat constricted, and he nodded. I did this, he thought. All this pain is because of me. Malian doesn't deserve this.

I should have been in that prison. I should be the one dying.

Why do the innocent people get hurt while fools like me live on?

There was a knock at the door.

"I…I'll get it," Kaytake said, standing. "It's probably Grayren with some tea." I'm going to pay the poor man a fortune when I leave. He deserves it.

He opened the door, then blinked. It was not Grayren.

"May I help you, ma'am?" he asked.

The woman standing at the door was tall. Snow dripped from her clothes, forming slushy puddles on the floor. She bowed.

"Good evening, Milord," she said. "Sorry I'm late. My name is Josi. May I come in?"

Kaytake shook his head. "We have the plague," he said. "You shouldn't be here."

Josi smiled gently. "It's a good thing I'm immune to it," she said, strolling past him. She slid off her cloak and left it on the floor behind her as she walked. "Now. Malian's the one in the bed, I'm guessing?"

"…Yes," Kaytake said, shutting the door. He walked around the cloak, eying her as she pushed her short, honey-colored hair out of her eyes. "You…look a bit familiar. Have we met before?"

"Oh, I doubt it," Josi said. "But I know you've met my brother."

"Who's that?"

She raised her blonde eyebrows. "Kyle, of course," she said.

"…Of course," Kaytake echoed. His heart beat faster. "Cole made it, then? He told you we needed the antidote?"

"Yes," Josi said, her attention already focused on Malian.

She knelt, resting her head on his chest. "Breathe like normal," she said, closing her eyes.

"You're a Nindroid, right?" Kaytake asked.

"Of course."

"So…how could you have a brother?"

"He's not my biological brother," Josi said. "Cyrus just likes to assemble us in pairs, sometimes. Kyle and I came as a set. Same good looks, same jobs, compatible personalities."

She lifted her head and sniffed Malian's breath. "Okay, sir, give me your hand."

Malian put his hand in hers.

For the first time since arriving, Josi frowned. "Can you move your thumb for me?" she asked.

Malian's efforts were noble, but in the end his hand remained inanimate in hers.

"All right…" she mumbled to herself, lowering his arm back to the bed. She cupped his face in hers and felt the glands in his neck. "Ah…hmm. Okay."

She stood, pulling a package from one of her pockets. She opened it, spilling the contents on the bed. There were two glass vials and several individually wrapped syringes. "By the look of things, he's been sick for nearly two weeks," she said. "I've only known one person to come back from something this far along."

"Who was that?" Kaytake asked.

Josi turned, giving him a look.

Kaytake cleared his throat. "Patient confidentiality. Sorry."

"Your stepdaughter," Josi said. "Besai, the original carrier of the plague. You didn't know?"

Kaytake shook his head. I hadn't ever asked Kai about his wife, he realized. I had assumed she'd survived, but still… No wonder he was so angry. I've treated Besai like she doesn't matter. Like it's no big deal she survived this horrific disease.

He determined that if he ever saw Kai again, he'd make sure that him and his wife felt the love and respect they deserved.

"Besai is a woman, so of course she lasted longer than any man with the disease," Josi said. She used a cloth from the washbasin to clean Malian's arm. "And I'm not just saying that. Women can hold the blood in their wombs, while the men take it in their lungs and brain. Malian should have died days ago."

Was she encouraging Kaytake, or preparing him for bad news?

Josi filled a syringe with clear liquid from one vial. "This'll sting a bit" she said, pushing it into Malian's arm. "But you'll feel much better afterwards."

Malian closed his eyes, letting her pump the mysterious medicine into him without complaint.

When she was done, she packed up her stuff and stood. "I'll be leaving now, Milord," she said quietly. "He'll fall asleep in a few minutes. If he wakes up, give him some broth. May the First King guide your steps."

Kaytake followed her to the door. "The innkeeper's wife is sick as well," he said. "Please go to him."

"Already done," Josi said. "I went there first, as Kyle instructed. She'll heal just fine." She picked up her cloak and threw it over her shoulders, snow flying.

Kaytake caught her arm as she opened the door. "What about Malian?" he asked.

Josi hesitated.

Kaytake felt sick to his stomach. "You didn't give him the antidote, did you?"

She shook her head. "I gave him a sedative," she said. "To help him sleep through the worst part of the illness."

"The worst part?" Kaytake's throat closed like a vice.

"The swelling in his skull," Josi said. "It will tear his brain apart. Blood seeping through every orifice. I'm sorry. I…I really am. But I was too late."

"Don't leave like this!" Kaytake hissed, not wanting Malian to overhear. "How am I supposed to tell his wife what happened? How do I tell his little girls that I sat and did nothing as their daddy was killed by the disease?"

"But you didn't do nothing, Milord," Josi said. "You fought admirably, freeing him from prison. You stayed put, trusting Cole to send help. You kept Malian company as he deteriorated. Please, don't beat yourself up. You made all the right choices. What happened isn't your fault." She shrugged out of his grasp. "Go. Be with him. And be at peace."

She left, shutting the door soundlessly behind her.

It isn't my fault… Kaytake sank to the floor, shivering. Well. At least I'm not the only one who's good at lying.

Hours passed, and still Kai still could not relax. His jitters and aches were deep-rooted, and he'd long since given up on trying to pull them out. Instead he ignored them as best he could, distracting his mind with Kyle's soft voice. The words the Nindroid recited were ludicrous. Tales of love and hate, strength and weakness, trust and doubt.

Then Kyle stopped. Whether to catch his breath or to allow Kai to process what he'd heard, the brunet did not know.

Kai looked up from his fist, which he'd been attempting to unclench for a while now. "He...died?" he asked, unable to believe his own words.

"Yes," Kyle answered.

"Why? He's God, right? How could he die?"

"Only his mortal body died, Kai. His spirit lived on, as it had for an eternity before his physical birth."

"But why did he die?"

Kyle was silent for a moment. "Remember those animal sacrifices the book talked about yesterday?"

"Yeah."

"Those were merely foreshadowing, I think. They were symbolic. The transfer of sin from wicked man to the blood of an innocent animal."

"It didn't mean anything, though?"

"Probably not," Kyle answered. "But their god was so perfect, so innocent, flawless, and powerful, that he was a suitable blood sacrifice- for all men- forever."

"...Wow." Kai didn't know what else to say. "This is the Retired God, right?"

"Yes."

"Then, is that why the First King took over? Because the Retired God died?"

"No," Kyle said. "The Retired God lives."

"How?"

"He spilled his blood, locking himself in the prison mankind had once been doomed to themselves," Kyle said. "But, because no prison can hold him, he escaped and came back from the grave."

"Wow. Again." Kai rubbed his forehead. He was getting a headache. "It's hard to comprehend, let alone believe."

"Why is that, Kai?"

"Because who would do that?" Kai said. "No one has that much love. Or power."

Kyle chuckled again. "It's quite a mystery, isn't it?" he said. "Maybe one day..." He stopped, then began to murmur indistinctly.

Footsteps. In the hall, coming closer. Not the padding of bare feet, like the slaves who had brought Kai's meal an hour ago. Not the heavy clunking of stone warrior boots as they changed shifts in front of the cell door, either. It was a steady, leather-soled step made by short legs and quick feet.

Kai forgot how to breathe. He scooted as close to Kyle as he could, body rigid.

"It's all right," Kyle said. "Breathe. He's peeked in here many times in the past twenty-four hours. He hasn't hurt you yet."

The footsteps came closer. Kai trembled. Kyle resumed his murmuring.

With an echoing creak the door opened. Overlord strode in, leaving the exit open behind him. He looked at Kyle and shuddered.

"Come, Sanguine," he said briskly.

"Where are you taking him?" Kyle asked.

"Away from you." Overlord glared. "You are poisoning his mind. He will have his own cell, far away from you."

Take me away? Kai remembered how to breathe again, and he did so rapidly, gripping Kyle's shirt with his free hand. But he can't! I can't be alone-

"It's all right, Kai," Kyle said. "I'm sorry we didn't finish. Go. Be strong, and of good courage; be not afraid, neither-"

"Quiet." Overlord made a noise not unlike an animal growl. He took a step toward his prisoners. "Come, Sanguine. Now. I don't have time for-"

"Take hold of shield and buckler, and stand up for mine help," Kyle said. His voice was loud, confident, and quick. "Draw out also the spear, and stop the way against them that persecute-"

"Stop!" Overlord's eyes went wide with...surprise? Alarm? He took a step back.

"The wicked have drawn out their sword, and have bent their bow, to cast down the poor and needy, and to slay those who-"

Overlord drew his Blade and lunged with a cry of fury, landing on Kyle's collapsed body.

Kai tried to scream as he leaped out of the way, but only a strangled yelp came out. No! No, no, no!

He turned just in time to see the Blade cut into Kyle's chest, shredding metal skin as though it were no more than thin fabric. It pierced through, sticking in the floor, sending sparks in all directions.

The Nindroid's body jerked, then went still.

"Peace I l-leave wi-i-th you..." Kyle's voice crackled. "...m-my peace I give unt-to you. Not-"

Overlord slid the Blade up to Kyle's collarbone, its gem glowing a brilliant purple.

There was a click in the midst of the horrific screech of grating metal, and Kyle's eyes turned to meet Overlord's. "I know wha-at you are," he said weakly. "And I kno-ow-ow how to defeat you."

Overlord smiled grotesquely, his face inches from Kyle's. "Then your secret will die with you," he said, dropping his knife. He reached into the gash he'd created and pulled out a handful of wires.

Kyle grunted, and his frame stopped sparking.

Kai knew he should run: the door was open. But he couldn't pull himself away from Kyle's dead eyes. Still smiling.

Even in death, the stupid Nindroid was smiling.

Overlord took his Blade in both hands and stood, crunching bits of machinery under his feet. He turned to Kai, expression unnervingly cool. Almost relaxed. "Let's go," he said. "This took too long. I have work to do."