Thancred's idea involved buying the rough, ragged clothing the refugees wore and dressing them all in disguises. Arenvald and Thancred found clothes easy enough, but Arden was so tall that nothing fit him. Finally they found clothes from a Roegadyn who had recently died. They were rather like wearing a circus tent, but by cinching his belt around them, Arden managed to keep the pants up with the shirt tucked in.
"Well, we look like the rest of the folks out here," said Thancred, looking them over. "Our boots don't have holes, but I refuse to ruin my only pair for this."
"Now what?" Arden asked.
"We go around and ask for work or handouts, like the rest of them," Thancred said. "Split up and see if anyone approaches you."
Camp Drybone was built down in a small canyon, where the stone walls provided shade and cooler temperatures in the desert heat. Many buildings were carved into the walls themselves, making much cooler dwellings than outside. It was a nicer town than the Golden Bazaar, because it was where the common folk of Ul'dah stayed when visiting the graveyard to pay their respects to the deceased. Any refuse was cleaned away, the homeless were not allowed to set up camp on the streets, and a couple of merchants visited the town square regularly. On top of that, they had an aetheryte crystal, complete with guards and mages to operate it.
Arden was terrified of aetherytes. When he had been small, a story had circulated among his tribe about a contingent of Garlean soldiers who had tried to use the transport crystal in the Doma castle, not realizing it had been tampered with. The whole squadron vanished and was never seen again. "Turned to aether," his father had said.
Young Arden couldn't understand it. "But where did they go?" he had asked over and over. He had spent weeks watching the sheep, imagining using a transport crystal but dying in the aether stream and never reaching the other side. He'd had nightmares for years.
And now here stood one of the very aetherytes that had killed all those soldiers. He watched people touch it and disappear, or new people appear and walk into town as if it was as normal as stepping off a carriage. He forgot how he was dressed or that he was supposed to be questioning people. He only stood and watched the aetheryte traffic and tried to control his horror.
"Wishing for a ride, are you?" said a voice behind him.
Arden turned. A shorter figure stood behind him in a cloak with a hood. For a second he thought it was another Ascian, then he realized that this cloak and hood were much poorer quality, with frayed embroidery along the hems.
"What do you want?" Arden tried to sound poor and uneducated.
"Nothing," said the man. His hood was pulled so far over his face that Arden couldn't see his eyes. "But I have something for you."
"Like what?"
The man held out a card. "Faith, my friend! Faith is what you need to help you rise out of your present circumstance. If you'd like to talk more, I'm holding a service for the spiritually seeking outside of town at sunset. Meet me by the waterhole under the big mesquite tree."
"Thanks," Arden mumbled. He examined the card as the man moved off. It was an advertisement written in pencil and so poorly spelled he could barely understand it. He watched the man wandering the market square, targeting only the poorest-dressed people. Suspicious indeed, just like Sister Ourcen had said.
It also gave Arden an excuse to keep his back to the aetheryte.
When a guard told him to move along, Arden shuffled toward the ramp leading toward the city gate. There he met Thancred, and they waited for Arenvald.
Thancred held up a card similar to Arden's. "I see you met our suspicious faith peddler."
"He seemed to be working the crowd tonight," said Arden, glancing toward the setting sun. "We're supposed to meet him at sunset out at a waterhole."
"I know where it is," said Thancred. "You can't see it from here. Convenient, that."
"Are we in danger?"
"Probably." Thancred flashed a grin. "Keep your guard up. If you catch wind of any Amaljaa, fight for your life."
A few minutes later Arenvald joined them, looking average and unremarkable without his armor. "Nothing," he said. "How'd you two do?"
Arden and Thancred showed him their cards. Arenvald beamed. "Excellent! Let's get out there and see what happens!"
"Here's what we'll do," said Thancred as they walked along a dirt road curving out into the desert brush. "Arenvald and I will go wait under the tree. Arden, you're the biggest and scariest looking. You hang back in the brush. If things get ugly, you jump out and do that swagger thing."
"Swagger thing?" said Arden, amused.
"Yeah, that thing." Thancred spread his arms and exaggerated his walk, stalking along like a thug in a play.
Arden laughed. "I look like that?"
"No, because when you do it, I'm scared you'll gore my face with those horns," said Thancred. "Point is, be scary. We'll frighten a confession out of this scoundrel."
Arden didn't know whether to be flattered or insulted. Grinning in an embarrassed way, he stepped into the brush and knelt. Thancred and Arenvald walked to the tree near the spring and waited beneath it.
The sun sank and the shadows grew longer as they waited. A few other ragged-looking people drifted in and stood apart from Thancred and Arenvald, heads down. Everyone waited for something to happen.
Arden's sensitive horns picked up the crunch of a boot on gravel. He watched from his hiding place as the hooded man approached from the direction of the wilderness, hands in the pockets of his robe. The man advanced to Thancred and Arenvald. "So, you've all come to listen to my message of hope and faith?"
"Sure," said Thancred, folding his arms. "Tell us what you're selling."
The man launched into a tirade against Ul'dah and how its discrimination had led to the suffering so many of them were experiencing. But there was relief to be found in other places, yes, other powers and benefactors. All they had to do was believe and follow where he might lead.
As the man talked, Arden kept thinking that he recognized his voice. Where had he heard that particular nasal tone? He kept an eye on the desert brush around them for any sign of kidnappers. The man's rant continued, his voice grating on Arden's nerves.
Finally Thancred raised a hand. "Excuse me sir, but what happens to your followers?"
"I beg your pardon?" the hooded man said.
"Don't toy with us," said Thancred, lowering his voice and stepping forward. "Your so-called followers are being sold to the Amaljaa, aren't they?"
Arden stepped out of the brush just as the hooded man bolted. Arden caught him by one arm, hauled him off his feet, and dragged him back to his friends. There Thancred yanked the hood down. "So, it's you, Ungust. I thought I recognized the oily smell of street food."
Arden blinked in astonishment. He gripped the arm of the merchant who had accused the innocent woman of theft, when the Echo had awakened and showed Arden the truth. He fervently hoped it didn't kick in now. He didn't want to see the inside of Ungust's head, no matter how useful the information might be.
"Unhand me, you ruffian!" Ungust snarled, then he looked up and recognized Arden. "Oh no, not you!"
"Would you have sold that woman to the Amaljaa, too?" Arden asked him through bared teeth. "What are they paying you?"
Ungust struggled and tried to drive his free arm into Arden's stomach. However, Thancred caught Ungust's arm and executed a series of precise taps to the man's face and jaw. Ungust snarled and fought, then abruptly went limp.
"All right, all right, it was me," he whimpered. "Don't hit me anymore!"
"I think we'll take him back to Drybone and let the Immortal Flames deal with him," said Thancred. "They'll make him talk much more than I could."
"Not the Flames!" Ungust whined.
Arden, Thancred, and Arenvald dragged their captive back to town. There they turned him over to the guards as a suspect in the kidnapping case. The guards immediately called their superiors in the Immortal Flames, Ul'dah's peacekeeping unit. The aetheryte became quite busy after that with men in uniform coming and going.
Thancred and Arenvald stayed behind to supervise the proceedings, but Arden slipped away. He rode a rented chocobo back to Ul'dah, which was closer than Venture Bay, and reflected on everything he'd seen.
A disreputable merchant was earning extra coin by selling human lives to the Amaljaa for sacrifice. It sickened him to the pit of his stomach. How could any man stoop so low as to prey on his fellow man? Arden recalled that day in the street, the smirk on Ungust's face as he accused the innocent women of being a thief. With any luck, the Immortal Flames would lock him up for a good long while.
There was still the problem of Ul'dah's refugees, but it was such a vast, complex issue that Arden couldn't see how it could be easily fixed. He put it from his mind with a sigh.
He arrived in Ul'dah just after sundown, passing through the arched stone gates with their pillars and guards. He left his chocobo in the livery stable and walked to the arena. People thronged the streets, as they always did after sunset, and Arden passed through the crowds of talking, laughing people, more alone than he'd been in the desert. He was glad to reach the healers hall beneath the arena, where the other healers greeted him and welcomed him back. He went to bed in the standby healer room and slept most of the night, but was roused early to treat a couple of sick people who showed up before dawn.
After that it was business as usual for a couple of days. The arena games kept the healers busy mending wounds and resurrecting the dead. Arden used his spare time to study water magic and Esuna. Water magic was much more flexible than earth magic, and the rules seemed to change with circumstance. But after much practice, he succeeded in using Esuna to cure a fighter with a shriveling curse on his left arm. The other healers applauded him, and Arden received all the curse breaking jobs from then on.
Toward the end of the week, Arden entered the triage room to treat the newest wounded and found Arenvald among them. The young man's armor was dented, his sword notched. He'd taken off his armor vest to reveal many scrapes and stab wounds across his ribs and belly.
"By the gods, man," Arden said, kneeling beside him. "What did you fight? A four-armed snake?"
"They brought in voidsent for the big tie breaker match," said Arenvald, forcing a smile. "A four-armed snake isn't far from the truth." As Arden set to work cleaning and mending his wounds, Arenvald added, "I didn't expect to see you here. Thancred's been on about you helping the Flames with breaking up that kidnapping ring."
"This is the first I've heard of it," Arden said. "I've had my hands full with gladiators and study."
"I offered to help," Arenvald said, wincing, "but Thancred wants your imposing looks. Some scheme of his."
Arden smiled a little ruefully. Back home in the Azim Steppes, he was just an average Auri man. Here in Eorzea, he was a towering monster. It weighed on his spirit to always be singled out this way, even though he knew Thancred was probably right.
He finished patching up Arenvald and moved on to the other fighters, but now he worried about a possible mission to fight kidnappers in the back of his mind. When he finished work that night, he went in search of Thancred.
He found the shady young man on the street not far from the arena, talking to a uniformed guard as if they were great friends. Arden approached and waited politely to introduce himself.
"Oh, Arden!" Thancred exclaimed, turning and spying him. "Just the man I wanted to see!" He turned to the guard, beaming. "It's thanks to Arden, here, that we bagged Ungust. He'll be just the one to help us catch the others."
The guard sized up Arden. Ul'dah's Immortal Flames all seemed to be huge ex-gladiators or Roegadyn. This guard was a male Miqo'te with a restrained, cautious way of moving that told Arden he was likely a ferocious fighter.
"You'll do, I suppose," said the guard. "Meet us first thing at the Hall of Flames. I'd say to wear something inconspicuous, but with those horns, I don't suppose there's any chance of that."
"I can conceal them under a hood," Arden suggested.
The guard shook his head. "Don't bother. They'll have a plan by tomorrow. Bring a sword, it'll likely turn to fighting."
Arden had misgivings, but Thancred and the guard were walking off down the thoroughfare, and Arden wanted his supper. So he bought a couple of pies from a vendor and took them back to his room in the healers rooms, where he ate and thought.
He was to help find more kidnappers, and he wasn't to conceal his identity. This told him that the other kidnappers would want revenge for Ungust's capture. He would bring his sword and wear a set of gladiator armor, if he could find some that fit him. It was better than walking into a trap with nothing between him and a blade but his thin cotton tunic.
The next day, Arden made his apologies to his fellow healers and set out with the Immortal Flames into the desert. He had picked up an old set of gladiator training gear. The breastplate fit him poorly and the greaves were uncomfortably tight at the knees, but it was all he'd been able to find. His own trusty shortsword occupied its place at his side.
"We're headed for an Amaljaa encampment in southern Thanalan," the sergeant told Arden. "We have a scout out there who's reported seeing bound refugees being taken into a cave there. Ungust is going to call out his accomplices and the Immortal Flames will be waiting in ambush."
Arden looked across the group to where Ungust rode a chocobo with his hands bound before him and head hanging. "You think we can trust him to give away his comrades?"
"He has no choice," said the sergeant grimly. "His cooperation keeps him out of prison. That was the agreement."
Arden eyed the sullen Hyur and his misgivings grew. He didn't trust Ungust an ilm, and the idea of entrusting his life to this man made his hackles rise.
They crossed the desert as the sun rose and the temperature climbed. This part of Thanalan was all rocky mountains and canyons with scrubby brush and trees clinging to life in the cracks. Lizards scurried out of their path as they rode along. Arden sweltered beneath his armor and grimly rode on.
They came to the ruins of an old settlement, just a few foundations and stone posts standing here and there. Wandering among these ruins were human figures, limping on rotted feet, their limbs withered and falling to pieces. Arden stared in horror. "Sir, wh-what are those?"
"Tempered," said the sergeant grimly. "The Amaljaa use them as slaves until they begin rotting. They're basically dead, you see. Once Ifrit tempers their aether, there's no coming back. It's kinder to kill them and end their suffering."
Arden had heard of tempering, of course, but had never seen a tempered person before. He sat on his chocobo and stared as everyone else dismounted and watered their birds. Finally he did the same, continually looking up to make certain none of those dreadful corpses had noticed them.
As they worked, a man in grubby clothes crept out of the ruins and hurried toward them. He saluted in the fashion of the Flames and made his report to the sergeant. Arden was close enough to overhear.
"The Amaljaa have been taking crystals into that cave yonder since last night. I fear the worst, honestly. The Amaljaa we suspect as being kidnappers are in their camp, just over that rise. All's ready."
The cave in question was a jagged gap in a cliff wall about half a malm away. Arden studied it for a while, fixing the location and direction in his mind.
"All right, Ungust," the sergent said, untying the merchant's bonds. "Go out there and call your allies. No tricks, understand?"
"No tricks," Ungust repeated sulkily. He stomped out into the ruins, ignoring the corpse men. He reached a certain foundation that was larger than the rest, stepped onto it with the ease of long familiarity, and whistled three times. Then he folded his arms and waited in the shade of a pillar.
The Immortal Flames waited among the rocks, out of sight. Arden waited five minutes, then at a nod from the sergeant, walked out to join Ungust. As he did, he spotted a group of several Amaljaa headed their way.
Amaljaa were lizard men with huge muscular chests and arms. They were covered in black scales and decorated their bodies with bright cloth and metal that jingled as they moved. The ones approaching wore armor and carried spears and swords. Arden's chest tightened.
"Yep, that's them," said Ungust out of the corner of his mouth. "Like the look of them, hero? With any luck they'll cut you down first."
Arden didn't react, although the longing to punch Ungust in the mouth crossed his mind. The Amaljaa were coming closer, and closer still, until they saw him and Ungust. The leader raised his spear, pointed at Arden, and bellowed something in his own language. The others roared in reply, and the whole group charged at Arden.
He drew his own sword and circled to put a couple of pillars between himself and attack. As the first lizard man approached, Arden danced backwards, leading them toward the hidden soldiers.
With a yell, the soldiers sprang their ambush and battle was joined. The Amaljaa fought the Immortal Flames blade to blade. Arden saw two men fall and rapidly worked healing magic to save their lives. He crossed blades with an Amaljaa warrior who tried to behead him, then dodged away as a Flames lancer stabbed the lizard man.
In a lull in the fighting, Arden looked around for Ungust. The man stood at a short distance, watching the battle. Now he smiled, raised his fingers to his lips, and whistled: two long, two short. Another gang of Amaljaa emerged from behind the rocks to the west, ambushing the Immortal Flames.
"You scoundrel!" howled the sergeant. "You betrayed us?"
"No hard feelings," said Ungust with a smirk. "It's only business, after all."
The Amaljaa fell upon the soldiers like a storm, cutting and stabbing. Arden was dragging a wounded man away from the fighting when a stone from a sling struck him in the back of the head. He reeled and fell to all fours with pain searing his vision with brightness. His last hazy vision was of Ungust swaggering toward him and pointing. "This one," he was saying. "You want to take this one."
Then Arden succumbed to the darkness.
Arden awoke to dimness and a throbbing in his skull that made his horns ache. His hands and feet were bound so tightly he couldn't move. He lay on the cold stone floor of a cave, and by the whispers and whimpers around him, he was surrounded by other captured soldiers and refugees.
"Arden!" whispered the sergeant's voice from nearby. "Thank the Twelve! Can you move?"
Arden rolled half-onto his side. His head ached worse, and he groaned and rolled back. His vision was still hazy and blurry. The part of his mind that remembered his medical studies observed that he probably had a concussion and maybe a skull fracture.
"Heal yourself," the sergeant whispered. "Arden! Do you hear me?"
"Give me a minute," Arden whispered, closing his eyes. An Amalj'aa guard stood nearby, and he didn't want to attract his attention.
Arden shifted his bound hands to the side and pressed the ends of his fingers to the floor. Earth magic swirled from the ground into his body, tasting of hot sand and oily brush, the prickle of lizard claws and the sourness of cactus fruit. The pain in his head lessened, the throbbing diminishing. His vision cleared little by little.
As he worked on himself, Arden became aware of movement deeper in the cave: footsteps, harsh voices shouting, objects being dragged. As his head began to clear, he also became aware of their plight. He and many others were stashed in this cave like so much produce, ready to be sacrificed to the god Ifrit.
The thought sent panic beating through him. He lifted his hands and squinted at the bindings. They were tough leather straps, too thick to tear or chew through. Even a good knife would have a hard time cutting through them. Arden groped at his own belt, but his sword was gone. He rolled to peer at the sergeant. "Do you have a knife?"
"No, they searched us," said the sergeant. "Took every bloody weapon we had."
"They caught a bunch of Flames!" a woman sobbed nearby. "There's no hope for any of us!"
Arden tried to think. He couldn't let these people be tempered and turned into the living dead. But his limbs were bound, and he couldn't free himself. He tried tugging at the straps with his teeth, then hooking at them with his horns, but nothing made a difference.
As he had in the forest when cursed by the Ascian, Arden grew calm and still. He would face the demon like a man. Even though he was about to be tempered and have his mind wiped away, he would face his fate in silence, no whimpering.
"My friends," he whispered to those around him, "now is the time to make your peace with your gods. Implore them to receive your spirits and usher you to their halls."
People began praying and whispering all around. Arden closed his eyes and prayed to Azim, then Hydaelyn. Maybe a god somewhere would prove stronger than Ifrit.
Several burly Amalj'aa warriors strode in, followed by a priest in ornate jewelry and a sash. "Bring the prisoners," he ordered. "See that they can walk. Ifrit likes them to bow."
A burly lizard man stooped over the prisoners, cutting the bindings on their feet with a pair of shears. Arden watched in mounting dread. As each prisoner's legs were freed, other Amalj'aa yanked them to their feet. Several people tried to run and received a brutal clubbing with the butt of a spear. No one else tried it after that.
The Amalj'aa marched the prisoners across the cave and down a passage. They emerged in a vast cavern with a high ceiling. Once it had been an underground lake, now dry and cool. A hole in the roof let in sunlight that beamed down on a sandy floor. Boxes of aether crystals stood everywhere, lining the walls, scattered about where they'd been dumped. The results of all those robbed caravans. Arden thought of the bodies he'd helped bury in the churchyard. At least those men had honest deaths and had not experienced the living death of tempering.
The Amalj'aa elder strode into the middle of the cavern, beneath the beam of sunlight, which lit him impressively in the dim cavern. He began bellowing an incantation to the Lord of the Inferno, inviting him to come feast upon an offering of aether and the souls of his enemies.
Arden looked around at his fellow prisoners, hoping someone had a plan for escaping. All he saw were frightened refugees and men of the Immortal Flames, dry-eyed and grim-faced. Then, to his surprise, he spotted Ungust among them. The merchant writhed and fought the lizard man holding him. "This wasn't part of the deal! I helped you, you double-crossing filth!"
The Amalj'aa punched him in the ear and knocked him to the floor, then hauled him upright again. Ungust returned to his feet, whimpering.
Arden couldn't help but smile. Even here, moments from a fate worse than death, there was justice.
Throughout the cave there came a surge of magic so strong that Arden's whole body prickled with it. The aether crystals sparkled and dissolved, their magic flowing upward to create a globe of orange fire near the roof. This globe grew in heat and intensity, heating the whole cavern like an open furnace. Arden watched it in fascination, his heart hammering at his rib cage. Only a few more minutes left to live. What would it feel like to have all consciousness scrubbed away? How much would it hurt?
The fiery globe burst open, and out of it dropped a demon the size of a house. It landed on all fours, fire licking from its limbs. It was a powerful, gangly thing, its arms and legs longer in proportion than a man's and knotted with muscle. The head was a fearful amalgamation of man and beast with a pair of horns that curled from its head.
"I have come, my children!" Ifrit roared.
All of the Amalj'aa bowed and shouted words of praise. They forced the prisoners to bow, too. Ifirt's glowing red eyes swept the assembly in approval.
"Ifrit!" bellowed the elder. "We entreat thine aid against our enemies, the men who have invaded our lands and taken our hunting grounds! Here are some of them! Purge them of their wickedness!"
Ifrit's gaze settled on the prisoners and the fanged mouth widened in a horrible grin. "I shall purify them all in consuming fire! Witness!"
The demon spread its arms and a blast of fire erupted from its whole body. It swept over the prisoners and filled the cave with burning heat. Arden couldn't even shield his face. He closed his eyes, expecting to feel his mind burning away. What he felt was the leather straps on his wrists growing tight and brittle in the blast of heat, then snapping and falling away. He looked down and saw the flames flowing over and around him, but not touching his skin.
The fire ebbed, leaving the remains of the crystal crates around the cavern in crackling flames. The Amalj'aa, already tempered by their god, chanted a song of praise. Arden looked with horror upon his fellow prisoners. Every refugee and guard who had been sobbing or glaring now stood with blank expressions and slack jaws. Ungust raised a hand in worship to Ifrit. Their minds were gone, the aether composing their bodies forcibly aspected to fire only. Over time, that fire would burn them away from the inside out.
Ifrit looked upon his work and saw Arden had not been touched by his fire. "What?" he roared. "How is one of them able to resist?"
The Amalj'aa shoved Arden forward to face the god alone. Arden clenched his fists. He had no weapon except magic, and healing magic at that. But he did know conjury and he was adept at the earth element. Maybe he could end this monster, or at least put up a good fight.
Ifrit's fiery gaze swept him up and down. "I have heard of thy kind, infidel. Thou worships no god, yet thou carry the protections of one nonetheless."
"I serve Azim and Hydaelyn," said Arden defiantly, looking the demon in the face. "And if they prove greater than you, then your followers have summoned you in vain."
"Ha!" Ifrit roared, blasting Arden with fresh fire. Again it flowed over him and did not touch his skin. "If I cannot temper thee, then I shall tear thee limb from limb!"
The demon sprang at him, the claws reaching. Arden flung himself to one side, but he was slow and clumsy after having his head smashed and being bound. The demon's claws scored his side and back, grating across the ill-fitting breastplate. Arden fell to the stone floor and rolled as Ifrit pounded a gnarled fist where he had been a second before.
"Keep moving, keep moving," he panted to himself as he regained his feet. He drew upon earth magic for a healing spell, which he cast on himself as he circled the cavern, looking for a way out. Ifrit turned with him, clawing at him and breathing jets of fire. The fire didn't seem to harm Arden, but the hot air was growing difficult to breathe, and the demon's claws hurt badly, burning like cinders.
The only exit was the entry passage, currently blocked by refugees and spectating Amalj'aa. They watched their god play with his prey with wide, stupid grins. Arden would have to deal with Ifrit before he had a hope of escaping. In desperation he turned at bay to face the demon. Ifrit stalked toward him, backing him into a corner.
"Bow and worship!" the demon commanded. "Give me thy worship and I may yet spare thee!"
"I think not," said Arden, and conjured stone.
An element was easier to conjure if the mage was surrounded by that element, water with water, fire with fire. There in a cave with walls and floor of stone, Arden found the earth element plentiful and easy to reach. He gathered the heavy, dense earth aether to himself, formed it in his mind into a spike, and conjured it beneath Ifrit's belly with all his might.
A stalagmite shot out of the floor, impaled Ifrit, and rose all the way to the ceiling, where it merged with the rock there. Ifrit was lifted off his feet by the stone through his middle, and hung in the center of the cavern, roaring and struggling. Aether bled from his torso and back in fiery sparkles. The Amalj'aa roared in fury at seeing their god defeated so easily. Arden stood with his back to the wall, ready to conjure more stone should the god escape.
But Ifrit's struggles proved his own undoing. He tore the hole through himself wider and wider, bleeding magic, until he died suddenly, falling limp over the stone and his fires cooling. His body dissolved into magic and smoke. The Amalj'aa roared their disappointment and charged at Arden, spears and swords lifted.
Arden conjured more stone, impaling some and imprisoning others. None of the attacking lizard men reached him. Then he ran toward the exit tunnel, now open. He slowed his flight as he neared the prisoners, but they continued to stare into space, their faces empty of all thought save Ifrit worship.
He halted his flight long enough to address the Flame sergeant. "Sir! Can you hear me, sir?"
The man in his scorched uniform only mumbled, "All praise to the Lord of the Inferno … all praise…all praise…"
A sobbing cry burst from Arden and he fled that cave with as much speed as he could muster.