Happy Third Birthday, That First Spark! 3

Remember, guys, Inktober 2020 is in full swing, dedicated to Diablo 3 and to this fanfic! Make sure to check out the links in the end note for the drawings and the short stories that accompany most of them!


Chapter 55

The desert was big. And hot. And very very yellow. And full of sand. That's why it was very very yellow.

Quiet did not really like the desert. The sand was annoying.

They traveled in a big group, with carts and horses and kamels. Kamels were very strange. They had fur and four legs and strong necks like horses, but they made very weird noises, their feet were wide and funny-looking, and the hump on their backs was just the weirdest thing. Humans put a lot of colorful carpets and pillows and stuff on top of it to sit on, but the hump was still very weird. And kamels moved very differently than horses: they stepped slower but farther and if you sat on them, you waved back and forth constantly like you were on a boat. Teeriel said kamels were often called the "ships of the desert" because of that. Quiet couldn't figure out why they had humps on their backs, but at least they too listened to him just like horses did. That was good.

The caravan had a lot of carts filled with boxes and jars and packages, they were mostly pulled by horses, but some baggage were piled onto kamels. Some kamels had strange saddles that had small canopies attached to them so they kept the riders in shadow. Gamlu insisted that Teeriel and Quiet rode on one of those canopy kamels. Teeriel sat on the many pillows and Quiet sat before him, both of them holding onto the wooden handle of the saddle. Teeriel also held those strings with which he directed the kamel. Quiet figured it wasn't so easy to tell the animal where to go when you couldn't directly ask it.

Quiet asked the air to remain cool around him and around the people, and they looked very surprised at this. Some tried to shout "miracle child" and run to him and surround him, but thankfully the big man Gamlu rode in on his big kamel and shouted at the people to behave and stay on the road. He had to take a big stick and hit some of the more stubborn men slightly on the head. He then nodded in thanks to Quiet before rushing back to the front of the big group.

- Quiet, what did I tell you about doing things that overexcites people? – Teeriel asked him when everyone calmed down.

- But hot air is not good – Quiet whined. – It makes you thirsty!

- Among many other things – Teeriel sighed, dropping the subject.

The strongest and nicest horses went to the armed guards who kept riding up and down next to the caravan, looking out for trouble. Some of them tipped their red feathered helmets whenever they rode by Quiet who uncertainly waved at them in return. Despite Gamlu's help, he could still very much feel the many glances and stares he got from the people around him.

In contrast to the days, the nights were very very cold for some strange reason, though the air still remained comfortable around them per his wishes. The desert turned blue and purple then, and the caravan travelled for long in the dark, the animals and carts carrying lanterns to light the way. Quiet often nestled into Teeriel's hug and fell asleep long before they finally stopped to make camp. They always woke up early (Quiet still hated it, even after days), and sometimes a sneaky worker passed by during preparations and quickly shook the child's hand while murmuring a thanks or a very weird sounding sentence – "prayer", Teeriel called those. It was a very weird thing, but at least the people did not shout (only Gamlu shouted when he saw it happening and he was always very angry), so Quiet tolerated it without much fuss.

One day something very skerry happened. At first, the bright blue horizon darkened into a greyish dark blue and the animals started acting strangely.

- Wind! Sand! – they kept repeating, but Quiet couldn't make sense of it, because there had been much wind and sand already in these past days. Why would today be different?

Teeriel was keeping an eye on the horizon as well with a worried face. A thin dust cloud soon appeared below the dark blue, as if a big crowd was approaching, but Quiet could sense no living thing in that direction. The humans were getting louder and more excited, though, he could feel that very well. The guards moved to form a tighter circle around the caravan, while people were rushing to cover their faces, secure the many vases and baggage and seal the flaps of the carts with strings. Teeriel's and Quiet's kamel tried to leave the group in the opposite direction to the strange thin dust cloud but the little angel managed to convince it to stay on the road. Gamlu rode up to them in a hurry, his kamel was also very nervous.

- Tyrael! Child of the gods! Forgive me for my brazen intrusion but a habbooob is incoming. Must have been sent upon us by evil desert spirits. Can you shield us from its insidious clouds? – he asked, bowing slightly in his saddle.

- Ha-what? – Quiet echoed, eyes wandering back to the strange dark horizon.

He couldn't help the shriek that escaped him.

The dark horizon was gone, it was swallowed up by a big, bbbbbig wall of yellowish brown sand that rolled over the dunes seemingly unstoppable. It seemed to move slowly, but it had not been there a second ago!

- If you direct the most important carts together, I can create a force field around those! – Teeriel said quickly and seriously, jumping off of the kamel. – Quiet, try to part the winds before the caravan! Make it go around us!

Gamlu was already shouting orders at the people driving the carts and Teeriel disappeared into the crowd. Quiet stayed on the kamel, being just as skerred as the animal. That wall of sand was so big and so fast, it was so skerry! Gulping, Quiet tried to push past the fear and sense the cloud. He was very surprised to find… nothing but wind, rain and sand in there. It looked so evil and skerry, but it was just these three normal things, no evil magic like Gamlu had said, no bad monster.

But it was moving very fast, and it was very big and a lot of sand.

Quiet demanded that the wind and sand go around the caravan, just as the habbooob reached them with a loud roar. He almost fell off when the kamel staggered sideways. Some of the wind and dust listened to his command, but not all and the caravan was still swept up by a stronger wind. It became very hot all of a sudden, overwhelming the comfortable air around them. Dark clouds could be seen occasionally beyond the dust, and it looked like it rained but no drops reached them strangely.

- Stoopid wind! Go away! – Quiet tried to shout but sand filled his mouth.

He hung onto the saddle's wooden handle, his traveling cloak whipping around him madly. Everyone else was in similar state, they had their faces bundled in shawls, and they leaned onto the back of their mount, and held onto the sides with both hands. Quiet tried to mimic their posture while spitting out the yucky dust somehow.

He could see the pale light of Teeriel's shield around some carts farther away. Despite the stoopid loud wind and darkness, it was still somewhat easier to see the now completely stopped caravan. But beyond the group, there was just a very skerry and loud swirly wall of sand. The animals were very skerred and some of them wanted to run, but Quiet ordered them to stay put because it was too dangerous and also the people would get hurt then. He tried to lessen the bad weather further, but it was very difficult. The wind was too quick and hot, the sand too much and the weird rain above that never reached them was just very weird.

So Quiet focused on staying low on the kamel's back, which had found a stable position against the wind, and he tried to keep the storm from getting worse. He could feel his magic steadily leaving him, making him more and more tired. How long will this storm last?!

- We help. We help – said his kamel and others around it.

Immediately, the memory of the poor snake offering the same and dying for it flashed into his mind, and Quiet panicked.

He yanked his hands away from the saddle, falling off of the kamel with a yelp. His magic slipped a bit and the wind noticeably picked up speed.

No! Don't help! You will die! he shouted in fear, crawling away from the nervously stomping animal.

The wind was pushing against his magic now, Quiet struggled to keep a hold of it.

- Many help. No die – said the kamel, anxiously shaking its head.

- Many help. Many help – said the horses too.

Quiet sat in the sand, his cloak whipping around him and he cried. His tears made the sand stuck to his cheeks and it stung and he was so very afraid! He did not want to hurt anybody but the storm was getting stronger and the people and the animals were staggering and Teeriel's shield was flickering and—

Quiet reached out with his hands, wailing his tiny heart out but he touched the nose of the kamel and drew strength from the mounts coming closer to him.

The wind and sand lessened and the heat receded somewhat, giving everyone a chance to breathe easier. Quiet cracked one eye open, so skerred of what he would find. All the horses and kamels were still standing around him, most of them still touching their noses to him, but otherwise looking fine. The humans dared to peek out from under their cloaks and hoods. Quiet stopped drawing strength with a sob of surprise, his hold once again steady on the storm.

The kamels and horses did not get hurt. Why didn't they get hurt? Quiet didn't understand, he did the same thing he had done with that poor snake.

"Many help"

Was it… was it because there were more than one kamel or horse? That snake had been all alone and was much weaker than these animals. Also, when there had been all those bugs and bats, Quiet also drew power from them to heal himself, and none of them died. Quiet rubbed his eyes, sniffling, trying to wipe off the sand from his face. He was very confused, but also very relieved that nobody got hurt.

The habbooob lasted for an hour more, but thankfully the little angel's magic did not falter this time. He had enough time to calm down somewhat and climb back onto the kamel by raising the sand under him. The mounts went back to their places, with their riders staring wide-eyed at them then at Quiet then back at the animals. Wiping off the sand was very annoying and the wind kept bringing more, so Quiet gave up temporarily, and he just sat on the saddle, eyes darting across the humans and animals to make absolutely sure everyone was alright.

oooOOOooo

Calling it a "smooth sailing" might have been an overstatement, but Quiet had managed to shield the entire caravan from the worst of the haboob, which in on itself was an achievement, considering its size and speed. Tyrael had raised a shield with El'druin around the most valuable carts (packed with food mostly, as he had suspected) to completely block out the wind and sand. Once the storm finally passed, he quickly rushed back to their camel to check up on Quiet. The child seemed a bit ruffled but okay. His invisible face slightly glittered from the sand stuck to it, as if he rubbed it there himself.

- Everything alright? – Tyrael asked, checking the camel's saddle.

The canopy was pretty much broken and torn to pieces but he hardly cared for that.

- Y-yes? I think – came the timid reply.

- You think?

- I… I got very skerred for a bit.

- That storm was very scary, yes – Tyrael scooped up Quiet from his seat and tried to rub off the dried sand from his face with the edge of his cloak.

Why was it stuck there so hard?

- The storm wouldn't listen – Quiet mumbled, showcasing some divine levels of tolerance for Tyrael's clumsy wipes. – And then I got tired, and it got worse. Then the kamels and horses said they would help and I… I got very skerred because I thought they would die like the snake. And then I fell off of the kamel but they said "many help" and I cried and then I got magic from them and then the storm listened again. And they were all fine – he finished, looking around for the mounts just to check.

Tears would explain the sand caked onto the cheeks. Tyrael grimaced at the memory of the snake dying from a single touch and Quiet completely freaking out.

- I dunno why they are okay – the child went on as he was placed back onto the saddle. – But I am happy they are. I did no-not want to hurt anybody.

- They said "many help", right? – Tyrael asked, something clicking for him finally.

- Yes. "Many help, no die". Animals are hard to understand sometimes.

- They shared the burden then.

- The what?

- You drew strength from them so you could keep the storm at bay – Tyrael explained, patting the grunting camel on the neck. – And because there were so many of them, each of them only had to give a little bit of strength to you, so small that they probably barely felt it. That snake had had to give it all because it was alone.

- The bats and the bugs were very many too.

- Yes, exactly – Tyrael nodded before turning away slightly. – Although I am still not sure about why they had made such hellish noises in the first place.

Shaking his head, he turned back to Quiet and smiled reassuringly.

- You did very well. You protected these people from that terrible storm – he patted the child's knees. – I will check on everyone to make sure they are okay. Stay here.

Tyrael rushed across the entire length of the caravan, waving around carts and animals. Everywhere he went, he heard whispers of the "miracle child" and how he had bewitched the horses and camels "to form a circle of protection" against the haboob. Tyrael figured they were talking about the animals gathering to aid Quiet. At one point he ran into Gamlu who were also doing the rounds, making sure everyone was accounted for.

- All is well, sir? – Tyrael asked, pushing back a hanging baggage onto the back of a camel.

- Yes, it seems so, as of yet. Thank the gods, and thank their herald indeed – Gamlu nodded briskly, leading his massive camel by the reins. – Haboobs can be most vicious around this time of the year. I was hoping we can slip by them but the gods willed it otherwise.

- These horrid storms are regular here?! – Tyrael balked at that. – I have traversed these dunes once or thrice myself, never run into them before!

- Ah, yes, but Aranoch is vast and full of secrets. Those who travel across it their entire life cannot claim to have seen everything, either – Gamlu smirked. – I know more than most, but still I would be a fool to assume I have done more than scratching the surface.

- The desert really is another world, then – Tyrael looked over the rolling ever-shifting dunes that proudly withstood the attempts of charting for eons upon eons.

- It most certainly is. I will be honest with you, Tyrael sir: this is our smoothest, easiest crossing yet so far, thanks to the Miracle Child. His generous boons enabled us to cover more ground every day.

- I… take it you want to get at something with this? – Tyrael frowned slightly.

- A mere question, if I may. Are you headed to Lut Gholein to save that city?

Hells. Tyrael should have seen this coming.

- No. No, we are not – he admitted with a defeated sigh. – Lut Gholein's problems go far beyond mere hot air or disabilities. We would need to reshape the entirety of Sanctuary, and rewrite its recent history just to help that city. That is beyond even the gods themselves, I reckon.

Gamlu nodded with a serious face:

- I have thought as much. Yet it is not a crime to hope, yes? If there was a magical cure for Lut Gholein's wilting, there would be no problems and ills in the world either.

- Yes, most definitely.

- Then it is not my place to pry further. Wherever you may be headed, I hope you will bring the gratitude of the people with you.

With that, Gamlu rode off in the direction Tyrael came from, leaving the mortal angel behind with his thoughts. Tyrael had to admit to himself – how easily and readily Quiet had offered to help two people back in the bazaar honestly surprised him. Not in that moment, back then he had bigger problems to worry about, but now that he had time to process it. Quiet was a far cry from the megalomaniac Inarius had devolved to, or even the talented and proud warrior he had been at his peak. The child helped people, simply because they needed help. No buts, no catch, no recompensing. Was it Lyndon's influence on the child? "Heroic scoundrel" was a contradiction in on itself, but by the end of their shared journeys, Lyndon somehow reached that title (how, Tyrael had no damn idea). Or was it the small sliver of angelic being surviving in him in his previous life, coming to the forefront once again? In a theory proposed by Itherael, every fallen angel, no matter how twisted they might become, retained a small seed of goodness and order within them. This was based on the work of Serenities, a type of Hope angels who could heal corrupted angels through a long and often arduous process. Regrettably they rarely had the opportunity to achieve this during war times. But they did have success in this field, so there had to be merit to Fate's philosophy.

Whatever the answer was, Tyrael ought to be grateful for this, he reckoned. Rushing back to his camel, he noted the perfectly repaired canopy on the saddle… and the general lack of Quiet himself.

- Oh, Anu damn it – Tyrael hiccupped, looking around frantically for his charge.

Spotting a smaller gathering near a cart that had not belonged to the group he had protected, Tyrael rushed there, already fearing what he would find and readying himself to toss harassing people aside. Instead, he found Quiet patiently repairing the flaps and casually merging together the smithereens of broken jars, equally casually herding back the liquids into them, including honey and water retrieved from the among the boards of the cart. A bunch of workers stared with almost divine reverence at the child doing his work. Excited murmuring broke out whenever a material rebuilt itself or merged with its kind seamlessly, as if made of molten wax. On that, Tyrael could not fault anyone for being bewildered: general mending spells did not work this way. They usually involved light effects and sound, and they had their limits – repairing a broken jar was easy (provided the pieces were still there and big enough), but retrieving its content to the last drop and filtering the sand out of it were well beyond its capabilities. This straight-up morphing of matter belonged to only one being (?) in Creation – the Worldstone.

- There – Quiet stated as he gently levitated the last jar back into the cart. – Now you have your stuff back.

- Blessed be the child of the gods! – one man exclaimed happily, but before everyone else could join in, Quiet sternly pointed at them.

- No shouting! – he frowned.

The workers quickly clamped their mouths shut and eagerly nodded. They quickly scattered, murmuring thanks and praises, when they noticed Gamlu glaring daggers at them from a distance. Quiet slightly wobbled, rubbing his red eyes.

- They asked you for help? – Tyrael walked up to him, gently scooping him up.

- Yes. They saw me repair the canopy – Quiet murmured, his strength finally spent. – Said their cart got rekt… whatever that means.

- "Wrecked". It means it got really beaten up and ruined by the storm.

- Yeah. That.

Tyrael climbed back up onto his camel with Quiet rapidly falling asleep in his arms, just as the guards rode past them, shouting orders to set out once more. There were still a couple of hours until sunset, they needed to cover as much ground as possible until then. The hot air returned, Quiet had no strength left to keep it cool around them. Tyrael huffed as he quickly took his cloak off, before spurring his camel into a light trot.

The caravan once again set out into the sea of sand, following the sun and the stars.

oooOOOooo

Lut Gholein was… well, it was pretty much gone.

The once proud, albeit a bit weathered port was now on its death throes. The city walls looked unassuming enough, but the second they appeared on the horizon, Gamlu rode to Tyrael to pass on some bad news and advice.

- Aranoch had been accepting refugees from Kehjistan – he explained. – Most of our delivered supplies go to them, the rest to the city guards keep some semblance of order. These people are desperate, with good reason, and they can get very dangerous. They have survived tracking through war zones, evading hunters and beasts in the desert, they are ready to do anything to ensure their survival. I fear for the Miracle Child, Tyrael sir. They might tear him apart.

Tyrael nodded grimly. He had seen a refugee camp before, during their hunt for Belial in Caldeum. Those people, while also understandably desperate and testy, could still be considered tame and well-organized. The groups fleeing for their lives through the now war-torn land of Kehjistan? Those were a different matter altogether. Tyrael felt immensely sorry for them, he wished he could help them somehow, but he was also not a fool – he knew Gamlu's words rang true. These people needed to arrive to safety first and calm down, before they could be reasoned with and properly helped.

He had to keep Quiet away from them, tough as that decision may have been.

The caravan arrived through the main gate of Lut Gholein to a barricaded part of the city, with a number of inns and lodges for the workers and animals to rest in and restock for the way back. What remained of the city guard was mostly concentrated here, keeping the makeshift walls of wood and rope under tight watch and some patrolling the streets and buildings. Beyond the barricades, the empty city was swallowed up by makeshift tents, camps and filth. Countless people milled about, all weathered, tired and with haunted look in their eyes. Families and groups stuck together, huddled around fires and eating, or moving from one place to the next, watching out for anything and everything. Tyrael, who risked peeking over the barricade, saw smaller bands of ragtags who tried to steal supplies or mess with gatherings they deemed weak enough, to get what they want. One thief tried to yank a basket of fruits out of the hands of a shrieking woman before the husband arrived and let his stand on the matter be heard with a right cross straight to the offender's face. Tyrael sucked in the air at the sight, but before he could properly sink into despair, he spotted something else in the crowd: people helping each other, sharing supplies, escorting or making the injured comfortable. Teams of strong and fit men patrolled the camps, trying to get a hold of or at least scare away the ragtags. Healers used whatever supplies they could to prepare medicine and bandages and distributed them. Sent by their parents, no doubt, children weaved across the adults swiftly to deliver food to the old.

All is not lost then, Tyrael thought as he let out a somewhat relieved sigh. Crisis brought the worst and the best out in people, simultaneously. The fact that most of these refugees stubbornly hung onto their humanity even in these horrible conditions meant they had a good chance for a better, productive life somewhere in Aranoch or in the West, and it was also strangely uplifting and motivating.

He went back to the caravan. The workers and riders were busy packing out and distributing the supplies among the city guard. Gamlu watched over them like a hawk, making sure everything ended up in its rightful place. Quiet thankfully remained right beside their camel, awkwardly patting its leg and praising it for behaving very well.

- Come on, Quiet. Let us figure out a way to get a ship – Tyrael took his hand.

He gave one last farewell pat on the camel's nose and headed towards Gamlu.

- Ship to Kehjistan?! – the huge man balked at his question. – Are you mad, Tyrael sir?!

- I wish we did not have to go there, but we must – Tyrael tiredly defended himself.

It was a bit difficult when they had no actual real reason to go there outside of "looking at some long gone ruins". Deep down the archangel dreaded the notion of having to drag innocent people into this mess, and force them to go to Kehjistan. It all sounded selfish and foolish, and he wished he had the power to just stop it from happening.

- Kehjistan is beyond the reach of the gods, it is a hellscape!

- Gamlu, forgive me, but you have sworn you would not pry into our goals. Can I count on you to keep your word now?

The big man clammed up at this for a second, but his eyes did not lose their desperate shine.

- I know it is skerry – Quiet chimed in from next to Tyrael. – But I have to go!

- Is there a ship leaving for Gea Kul, or anywhere else soon, by chance? We have to know – Tyrael asked.

Gamlu sucked sharply on his pipe (he only took it out now that they arrived to Lut Gholein), almost visibly making a big decision.

- There's a… carrack, heralds – he finally admitted, sounding like he physically had to force every word out of himself. – Soldiers are being sent to the fledgling Kingdom of Norua, north of Gea Kul. Norua might be the only sane place left overseas, they wish to maintain contact with the West and offered to protect fleeing refugees in their territory, and help them along their way. Aranoch is working close together with them to diffuse the situation.

- That would be ideal… if they took us in, in the first place – Tyrael mumbled.

- Maybe if you prove to the high commander that you are indeed heralds of the gods themselves – Gamlu scratched his head. – I can vouch for you, but the man prefers action over words.

Action that we cannot afford right now, Tyrael thought bitterly.

He could not allow Quiet to be at the mercy of a desperate crowd.

- We would be grateful for your assistance in this – he finally said.

Gamlu, still clearly conflicted about this, led them to a barricaded corridor that skirted around widely the city center and offered an uninterrupted, if a bit lengthy, walk to the port from the main gate.

The once bustling and proud port now only held two ships. One which brought the refugees from that Norua land, and the other was clearly being prepared for a voyage. Gamlu had to stare down and or push aside quite a number of dock workers and guards to reach the high commander. The man immediately tilted his nose up at the idea of taking in civilians, and he and Gamlu ended up in a heated argument. The caravan leader sworn up and down that he had seen the miracles with his own eyes and that the high commander was committing straight-up blasphemy by denying them boarding. The commander waved these oaths away angrily, accusing Gamlu of being a superstitious fool. Tyrael tried to chime in some words but he had no chance and had to retreat somewhat from the duo.

Quiet kept looking back at the distant cordons that walled off the port with a worried look.

- I feel… I feel sadness from there – he said in a small voice, drawing closer to Tyrael. – Very big sadness. And anger and…

- Those poor souls are refugees, Quiet. They have lost their homes and they fled across many dangers to arrive here. They are looking for a place to live in peace.

- It is very skerry.

- It is, but it is not of their own fault. They have been through a lot and that made them sad, angry and desperate. We need to be immensely careful around them.

- They need help?

- Yes, but there is nothing we can do for them.

- I can.

- Quiet, if you help them, they will do far worse than shouting – Tyrael frowned at the child. – These people are desperate. They will drag you in, and demand that you help each and every one of them, and they will hurt you in the process. Most of them will scream to be helped first, and people will start fighting over who gets to go sooner.

Quiet looked positively horrified but still he glanced back at the barricades.

- But… they have no food?

- The caravan brought food for them, but that probably won't be enough for long, yes. Quiet, as much as it pains me to say it, we are too few to help these people. An entire army would barely be enough.

Quiet looked up at Tyrael again.

- But… if they don't see me do it? Will they hurt me then?

Tyrael fell silent for a second. That was enough for the child to quickly shuffle up to the arguing duo and yank on the high commander's cape.

- Loud man! – Quiet said assertively.

- Scatter, scrub! – the man snorted at him.

- How dare you address the child of the gods in such a manner! – Gamlu shouted, completely outraged.

- If I give those poor people enough food, you will let us on your boat! – Quiet returned the glare of the commander.

- What, you gonna throw an apple from your pocket among them?

- Would you do this, Miracle Child? Is it not dangerous? – Gamlu asked carefully.

- If they don't see me, they won't hurt me, yes? I can do it! Follow me, loud man – Quiet said, before rushing off towards the barricades.

- Quiet, wait! – Tyrael ran after him, along with the two adults.

The wall of boards and ropes were once more patrolled by guards, it was thankfully high enough that nothing could be seen behind it. Quiet stopped before under the cordon, inspecting it for a second.

- Loud man, climb up high so you can see it! – he pointed at a ladder that led to an elevated platform.

- You ordering me around, scrub?!

- The child of the gods is wasting his gifts upon you! Will you not at least give him a chance, infidel?! – Gamlu barked angrily.

-… You damn lucky you are the leader of the Silver String, you know that? – the commander hissed at him, but he finally obliged.

- Quiet, what are you planning? – Tyrael whispered behind the child.

- Give people food for long time.

Quiet crouched down, placing his palms onto the ground and closing his eyes in concentration. A minute passed without any sign.

- Any time now, child of the—Wha-what?! – came the sudden shout from the outlook.

Tyrael and Gamlu hurriedly climbed the ladder as well. The ground of the abandoned city rumbled and shifted, causing some of the refugees to scream, others to scramble for some kind of shelter. Instead of a devastating earthquake, however, the shaking stopped. On the patches of land that were not occupied by the makeshift homes, the earth moved fast but gently. Bright green saplings emerged all across the city, blooming into healthy trees and bushes in mere minutes. The newly born forest rustled with unseen power and the branches sprouted buds that quickly matured into flowers, and those flowers into fruit. Apple, plum, pear, peach, all manners of edible berries suddenly covered the plants, each and every one of them fully ripe and beautiful.

The people stared at the forest, nobody dared to make a move or noise. Finally, one small child close to the barricade reached for a low-hanging apple and plucked it.

The bricks of the buildings nearly fell apart at the shouting that broke out. Refugees screamed miracle and praise as they threw themselves at the new food source. Some used the front of their robes to gather fruit and quickly distribute it. Able-bodied men climbed to the higher branches to shake them off for those below. Some opportunistic selfish hacks tried to push others aside, or worse yet, climb on top of everyone, but this time the crowd pushed back, keeping them low and occasionally pointedly giving them a single fruit. Every time a plant got stripped barren, it would sprout new buds and begin the cycle anew, although slower than the first time around.

- Wha-what? – the high commander could do nothing but gawk at the sudden garden of abundance.

Even the guards stopped their patrols and just watched.

- You have not believed me, have you?! – Gamlu shouted triumphantly. – All hail the gods and their heralds!

Tyrael was already rushing down the ladder to check up on Quiet. Sure enough, the child was sitting in the dust, heaving and staring before himself, small wings spread out on the ground.

- Quiet, are you well? – the mortal angel skidded to a halt and crouched down next to his charge.

- Y-yes. Tired.

Tyrael quickly scooped him up.

- Did it… work? – Quiet breathed.

- Yes. The entire city is one massive garden thanks to you. You were amazing – Tyrael smiled earnestly.

- Can we… go to boat now?

- I'm certain the commander is convinced now.

- Good. Good.

Tyrael changed his hold on the rapidly falling-asleep Quiet. Some magical fruit might not solve all of those refugees' problems, but it offered them more rations and that already was a great help. The commander arrived in a slight daze, mumbling something about needing to outfit one of the quarters for his guests. Tyrael took this, as well as Gamlu's encouraging wink, as a good sign.

By the time Quiet woke up from his nap, the ship was just about ready to depart. Tyrael stayed with him in their new quarters, mostly to keep some very nosy soldiers out. Travelling low-key was completely out of the question at this point, and he had made peace with it, kind of. The stalker demon knew about their location either way (although throughout the desert crossing, it had been unnervingly silent), and Eirena had not shown up since that incident with the Beasts. Tyrael paused for a second, recalling something he'd seen in the Lut Bahada bazaar but he quickly dismissed the hazy memory.

With a bit of luck, they were in the clear for now.

- Are we leaving? – Quiet sat up on his bed, rubbing his eyes.

- Soon, yes. The preparations are almost ready – Tyrael nodded, sitting by a small desk and reading the detailed sea chart. Taking into account the typical winds this time of the year, the ship would probably reach Norua's port in four to five days, the commander had told him. Carracks were not the fastest but they were definitely among the best to haul cargo and troops.

- Have you ever travelled by ship, Quiet? – Tyrael asked.

-… Yes? We rammed a sea monster into it and then Leendonn puffed off of it because Johhana was there and she wanted to kill us.

Oh yeah… That sea battle story.

Tyrael could only hope this voyage would be a bbbit smoother than that.

oooOOOooo

The next two days went by uneventfully. The carrack, dubbed the Meridian, sailed on favorable winds, the Twin Seas were calm and gentle in their waving. Tyrael spent the time helping the sailors and teaching Quiet what little he knew about sailing, including the lifelines, the masts and the decks. Together they also learnt from the sailors the basics of navigation by the stars. As it turned out, there were over forty stars, the brightest among their peers, that were mostly used to determine position throughout the year.

Thankfully the soldiers were more disciplined than civilians, so nobody truly bothered Quiet or asked him to do miracles. The little angel usually busied himself with looking and waving at all manners of sea creatures that followed the ship for a while.

- No! Bad fish! – Quiet angrily pointed at the water the second afternoon, almost lying on the tall rails.

- What are you saying, Quiet? – Tyrael looked out at the sea but saw nothing out of the ordinary.

- There is a bad fish that tried to chew the ship – the child said in a no-nonsense way. – I told it to—I said bad fish! No chewing!

Tyrael still had no idea what he was talking about, but just then he thought he saw something slowly move by under the waves – a fin? A limb? Scales? Whatever it was, it was big.

- There. Now she listens – Quiet huffed in annoyance as he plopped back down onto the deck.

The sea grew lighter blue as the child shuffled away from the scene, his work apparently done.

Lighter?!

Tyrael realized with slight dread that up to this point he had been staring at an enormous shadow, far bigger than the ship itself. Glancing up, he saw a sailor sitting on a lower crow's nest, his eyeballs almost falling out of his skull as he too gawked at the disappearing… thing. Finally, the man moved and drew a crescent moon lying on its side across his chest – a common gesture to ward off evil in the East. Tyrael could only wave awkwardly at the poor soul, shrugging.

But besides the visit of the "bad fish", the voyage was smooth and peaceful. At the first night, Quiet whined until he got a very lame bedtime story from Tyrael (so lame, in fact, that the little angel had to sometimes add some actually interesting things to the narrative). The second night Tyrael held steadfast against the demands, so Quiet himself made up a strange story right there and then which was clearly stitched together from the tales he had been told in the past. It was completely nonsensical, full of twists and turns and Tyrael lost the trail somewhere around the first third. But the little angel was visibly immensely proud of the story that… mmmaybe ended in everyone being happy and the world being saved? So when it was done, Quiet contently lied down in his obligatory cocoon and fell asleep.

Children could be so strange, Tyrael mused as he too went to bed.

You should have taken my side, traitor.

Tyrael woke with a gasp, and he realized Quiet was screaming his name. The ship was rocking madly, throwing off his barely awake senses.

- TEERIEL! – Quiet was yanking at his arm with all his might, crying.

- Wha-what is going on?! – The mortal angel struggled to get out of bed, but the ever changing angle of the floor did not help.

- Something bad! It's angry-it-it's skerry!

- Another sea monster?!

- I don't know! I don't know!

Finally Tyrael got out of bed, and was almost immediately thrown against a wall as the ship lurched to its side violently. Quiet fell with him, screeching from terror. The mortal angel recovered with an angry grunt, lifted his charge up and fought his way out of their shared quarters, leaving his backpack behind.

- Hold onto me as tight as you can! – he shouted as he stumbled along the corridor.

He could hear wind roaring outside, waves crashing against the hull, and the boards creaking with almost unholy pain. A storm then. They could work with that. Shaking off the fatigue of a mere couple of hours of sleep, Tyrael now focused on getting through the hazardous ship, pushing Quiet onto his back so his arms would be free.

- Quiet, it is a storm. Can you calm it down?

- No! No, I can't!

- What?!

- It's bad! – Quiet wailed, holding onto Tyrael's cape for dear life.

The mortal angel did not understand but he had little time to ponder. Most sailors and soldiers were probably on the main deck, fighting the elements to save the sails, or maybe on the lower decks dealing with leaks. They were mostly alone, stumbling from wall to wall and making infuriatingly slow progress. It was impossible to predict the movement of the vessel, so Tyrael tried to react to every tilt as best as he could in any given moment. Finally he reached a somewhat opened area on the deck from where he could climb out to the main deck. He could hear muffled shouts of orders from deep in the belly of the ship. Already sore from being constantly thrown against the wall, Tyrael grabbed the ladder's sides to haul himself up with a few strides.

A sharp rap made him freeze before he could pull himself up. Quiet fell deadly silent as well, staring into nothingness as his senses picked up something. Tyrael took a very, very silent breath and moved away from the ladder to the other hatch that led deeper into the ship. He thought he heard shuffling, wet slurping sounds that were lost in the muffled shouting and the roar of the storm.

- Something—something moves. Sh-shouldn't move – Quiet whimpered, still staring into the distance, his tears returning.

Tyrael stumbled as the ship tilted and he fell, barely holding onto the sides of the hatch before he could disappear into the hole. Quiet bit down on a shriek. For a brief moment, the mortal angel leaned onto the frame with trembling arms, staring into the dark lower deck. Something moved there. Something huge and heavy, damp and rotten, scaly, grey, covered in algae… long rusted bells tried to ring as it moved around.

Tyrael threw himself backward and somehow got to his feet. The jerking of the ship almost forgotten, he flew at the ladder leading up and with two or three jumps, he was out. They arrived to an absolute chaos of rain, wind and waves. Tyrael managed to fall against the main mast and hold onto it for dear life at the next tilt. He collected what little magic he had and channeled all of it into his voice:

- THE SHIP IS INVADED! THOSE BELOW ARE TRAPPED! – he bellowed across the chaos.

Some stopped at the news, horrified, but they lost their footing on the wet boards. Somewhere in the wind, the high commander was spewing all manners of curses at the revelation and already he was shouting orders to his soldiers to rush to the lower decks. Sailors kept running and falling around them, shouting for ropes and the sails to be pulled in. They could do little except for saving the ship from the storm. Tyrael grabbed the lifelines hanging from the main mast, tossed some to nearby people, then secured himself. He set Quiet down a bit roughly and tied it around his waist as well. He crouched down and shook the frozen child by the shoulders:

- Quiet! I know this is terrifying! But please, do your best to calm down the storm, like you have done with the haboob! We need a calm sea to be able to fight those things down below! You must do it!

Quiet, however, did nothing. He stood there, completely still, feet planted on the boards so firmly not even that tilt threw him off. His eyes stared forward into—no, not forward. Above Tyrael's shoulder and straight at the sky, rather. Tears shimmered in his eyes and all he could do was raise one shaky hand to point at the clouds.

Futilely trying to shake the rain out of his eyes, Tyrael turned, squinting, to follow the gaze of the child.

And the storm gazed right back.


I do believe it is what the kids would call "shit goes down".

My workplace did its absolute best to murder me at the beginning of October with massive overtime. There was no chance for me to finish this chapter in that week, I'm sorry cupcakes. But it's out now! Remember, you can check out the Inktober challenge in three places!

- DeviantArt: www-.-deviantart-.-com/kenyizsu

- Art blog: www-.-kenyizsuartblog-.-tumblr-.-com

- TFS blog: www-.-diablo-that-first-spark-.-tumblr-.-com

And if you like what you see, you are most welcome to stay!

As always, thank you for your continued reading, support and patience! See you back here in November!

Lore & Trivia corner

- Haboob is a type of sandstorm that is created by an intense weather front on dry land areas. They are massive walls of dust that race across the land and are the heralds of storms. However, their inside can be so hot that rain never actually reaches ground level.

- "The fading seed of goodness" is mentioned by Itherael in his notes (in the "Destiny of the Nephalem" collectable tomes). He writes that all fallen angels, including Inarius and Izual still carry a seed of goodness within them, "like a fading star in the lonely night". I have further spun this idea, and hopefully it may appear a bit more prominently in Act IV. No promises, tho.

- Lut Gholein in Diablo 2: okay, no news by now, I do not like Diablo 2. In the slightest. The developers had said in interviews that the game had little to no art direction, most stuff was created for the manual, and boy does it show. Lut Gholein, the supposed Jewel of the Desert looks shabbier and more abandoned than the little shacks and outposts you find in Kehjistan in D3! You call those run down mud huts a bustling port of the East?! Bah! But I guess that is how the city looks like in my story now, so… props for that, D2.

- The Search for the one ship: the best and most frustrating part of writing is always research. I've read about so many topics already, just in regards to this one fanfic. From medieval medicine, to Arabic armor and clothing, and now what type of ship they could use for travel. I've tried to look something that would fit best with the historical period of Sanctuary – which is, roughly 12th-14th century, I do believe? Gothic architecture was around those times, at the very least. I have looked up some ships, including cogs, roundships and the (unfortunately later era) galleons, before my choice fell on the carrack, a ship used for both trading and military purposes. It has an average speed of 128 km/day, it is a reliable ship, comes in many sizes, and even Cristopher Columbus himself used these bad boys to sail across the Atlantic.