 
# The Sorcerer's Sword – Part 2

Jack Cee

Copyright 2017

ISBN: 9781370856411

Cover Design by Plumstone Book Covers.

To find out more about the author visit: www.jackceeauthor.wordpress.com

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

## Chapter One

"Shut up! Shut up, all of you! For Spirit's sake!"

Rahin put her hands in front of her ears, although she knew it would not help, to try and shut out the voices screaming in her head. She closed her eyes but could still see the horrors Spirit was showing her. Newborns being smashed against walls. People trying to get away but being slaughtered at every turn. Blood flowing down streets like coursing rivers.

"Oh, please. Please, make it stop."

To try and calm herself down she started to rock back and forth as she sat on the floor of the cave. Why was Spirit showing her all this? Had it not tortured her enough?

"What do you want from me?!" She shrieked in exasperation at the ceiling, at the walls, at nothing.

All she got for an answer was the echo of her own voice.

Number One, her dear sand dragon, came and lay down beside her. She lay down next to him as she was so exhausted she could barely stand to sit upright. He licked her face with his slimy, sticky tongue and eased somewhat the pain of the burning fever plaguing her.

Sighing, Rahin asked herself why she still bothered to try and scare the visions away. She knew that she could not escape them, no matter how hard she tried. Spirit wanted her to see what it wanted her to see and she had no choice in the matter.

The visions persisted until sundown, when Spirit apparently decided that she deserved some rest and made them go away. Rahin thought briefly that she should eat something as she hadn't done so in days but the exhaustion took over before she could find the strength to rise from the cave floor. She fell asleep as the last rays of the sun disappeared over the tree tops.

Number One woke her up the next morning by rubbing his head against hers. She felt a calmness as she awoke that she knew only Spirit could give and she received an instruction: to open her father's notebook and read his second vision.

It had been three winters since she had come to this cave but Spirit had told her for all this time to stay away from the book, that she was not yet ready to learn the rest of what was written in it. Now the moment had come. She opened the notebook and began to read out loud:

"Shortly after my beloved wife had passed, killed by vicious criminals, I decided to acquire a sword for my own and my child's protection. I gathered some money I had saved and made my way to the marketplace. But as I arrived, Spirit told me to turn around and go into the desert. That there was something there which I needed to see. So, I obeyed and walked out of the city.

The weather was still at first but as I went further into the sandy dunes a wind began to blow. Softly, initially, but then harder. Soon, a violent sandstorm was raging all around me. I hid my face inside of my turban and prayed to Spirit to not let me be buried alive by the sand.

Suddenly, I felt cold. Not just the kind of cold you feel further north when you forget to put your coat on before going outside. No, this was the most ravaging, icy cold I have ever felt. I began to shake so violently that I fell to my knees and when I looked up I saw that it was no longer sand blowing around me but snow.

The blizzard was so thick that I could not see where I was so I began to panic. I tried to run but could not move fast because the snow went up to my knees and the wind sent me one step back for every two steps I took.

I cried out, asking if there was anyone here, but got no response. So, I continued until I saw a figure further away. I asked it for help and it came slowly closer. When it was just a few steps away from me, I saw that the it was not walking but hovering above the ground. It was wearing a strange blank silver mask with no features and black and silver robes which blew menacingly upwards in the wind like the wings of a gigantic bat.

The figure began to chase me. I tried again to run but fell head first in the snow, pushed downwards by the furious wind. Quickly I turned on my back, only to see the mysterious being hovering right above me.

I heard someone, a child, calling my name and looked in the direction from which I had heard it. A group of boys were playing, kicking a boll between them in the snow. One of them was Ezlen, my closest and dearest friend and in this vision he was still a child. He pointed to something behind me and said:

"The sword! The sword will destroy the evil one!"

I turned my head and saw that there was a sword in the snow, its hilt just sticking up above the surface. With the little energy I had left, I crawled as fast as I could and grabbed it. In the same moment, I felt the evil one's skeleton fingers around my throat. He squeezed them into my flesh and blood began to drip, tainting the white snow below me.

I prayed to Spirit to give me strength and I hit backwards with the sword. A scream was heard and when I turned around I saw that the one Ezlen had called evil fell apart as dust which blew away in the wind.

Relieved, I sat up in the snow and took a deep breath. I closed my eyes and when I opened them gain I saw that I was back in the desert. Looking down, I saw that there was no snow anywhere on me and when I touched my neck the wounds were gone.

But the sword was still in my hand. I noticed that it was a finely decorated weapon with complex patterns on the grip and fuller. The pommel was shaped liked a crown and golden. The cross-guard was golden as well and had precious stones embedded in it, two smaller one on each side and a large one in the middle. Underneath the larger gem were two golden dragons, facing in opposite directions but their tails intertwined.

I thought that I was still inside of the vision as I had no weapon with me when I wandered into the desert and I had never seen this sword before. It was then that Spirit gave me knowledge, as it does with a deep feeling of peace. It told me that this sword was in fact real and of crucial importance. That it was the only weapon that could overpower a great coming evil. What that evil was or where the sword came from, I would not get to know. This knowledge was for others who would come after me. My purpose was to keep and guard the sword until my last day, when another would take it into their possession and bring it to its destiny."

Rahin put the notebook down and felt not quite surprised by what she had read. She had suspected that there was something special about the sword ever since she had seen in her vision what it had done in Djeen's hand. Then there was also what had happened by the pond when she had tried a spell on it but it had burned her, permanently scarring the inside of her right hand. It had been as if the sword itself had refused to be used by her in this manner. As if it had been waiting for someone else.

Wherever the sword was now it was probably with Djeen. Rahin did not know exactly where he was but she had seen visions of him wandering in the mountains of the North. In time, Spirit would guide her to him.

She stood up from the cave floor and got out of her clothing, a gorgeous yellow and gold dress she had bought in a village near Ily after having been released from the prison. Outside, the sun was shining over the new morning and the fresh forest air gave her new life. She took a deep breath and dived into the lake.

The water was a clear as the blue sky above and she could see without trouble the rainbow coloured fish swimming all around her. Bright green algae danced in the current, caressing her body as she swam by.

On a rock by the waterfall, she found the toiletries she had left there the day before. When she grabbed a bottle of scented oil, Spirit gave her a message; as it does without words.

She was now free, it told her. This very day she would be allowed to leave this place. After three winters spent in this forest, she was ready at last to carry out the mission that had been given her.

Rahin took a bar of soap and a razor knife. She proceeded to shave herself. Her arms, legs, stomach; all over. When she was done she looked up the tree tops and the waterfall, gazed over the lake and the soft grass surrounding it.

She took in this place which had been her home, and her prison, for three whole winters and she grabbed her long black hair. Cut off a chunk of it, about half, and let it fall into the water.

Finding the feeling strangely liberating she kept cutting off more, until the length was about the size of her thumb. She massaged some soap into her remaining hair and shaved it all off. Slowly and gently, to savour the symbolic moment when she cleansed herself; released the past and started anew.

When she was finished, she dived into the water to wash off the hairs that had stuck to her body. She swam until she felt clean and sat down by the shore. A warm breeze blew from the north, from the direction in which she would travel.

Somewhere up north, in the wild mountains, was Djeen. Now she just needed to find him. And guide him to his destiny.

### *

"Master! Master!"

Viktr awoke to the sound of his servant calling for him and knocking loudly on the door. He stood up, still half-asleep, from his bed and began to change from his nightshirt to his regular clothing: a white and bronze doctor's robe.

"The Republican Guard is here," he heard the servant say from the other side of the door. "They say it's urgent."

"Tell them I'll be right out."

Viktr took his bag of medicines and tools from off his desk and hurried out into the hallway. Two republican guards were waiting for him.

"Your presence is requested in The Golden Village, doctor. There... has been another one."

The soldier needed to explain no further. Viktr followed them outside, where a chariot was waiting for him.

They arrive soon at The Gold Gate as Viktr's villa was located near it. As a simple doctor, he was not considered worthy enough to live in the Village itself but the senators appreciated his services enough that they still wanted him to be close by.

The chariot stopped in front of senator Lonz's residence. Bazk, leader of the Republican Guard, was waiting for Viktr by the gate.

"Doctor! Glad you could make it so quickly. Although, I wish it was under different circumstances."

"As do I. I have been told that there has been another one."

"Yes", Bazk said and nodded. "But I feel I need to warn you: this one is... different. Follow me."

The silence inside the house was eerie. Not even a whisper was heard as they walked down the hall and into the dining room. There, they were met by a truly bizarre sight.

Senator Lonz, his wife and their two children were sitting around the dinner table. Face down into their bowls of soup. Freshly picked white hibiscus flowers were strewn all over and around the table and the dead.

Truly, this one was different. In the previous four white hibiscus murders, only the senator himself had been murdered and not his family. There had also been only one flower left at the scene; on or close to the body. But tonight's murders were similar in the regard that a strong, fast acting poison had been used.

Viktr walked slowly around the table. Took in the scene, made a mental note of every detail. He felt an ache in his heart when he looked at the two children, both of who he had helped deliver. As a doctor, he witnessed the circle of life and death on a daily basis. But there was nothing natural about dead children fallen face first into a bowl of tomato soup. It was such an abomination, such a crime against everything pure and true.

He put on his thick leather gloves and turned to Bazk.

"May I...?"

"Yes. Of course, Doctor. Do whatever you need."

Viktr moved the body of the senator, sitting him up in his chair. Which was trickier than it looked due to the stiffness of the corpse. With a napkin, he wiped the cold tomato soup from the senator's face and began examining him. He noticed the colour of the lips, the bleeding under the nose. And, as he parted the eyelids, the greenish discolouring in the white of the eyes.

"What are you doing with my brother?!"

A man had entered the room. From his clothing Viktr could tell that he was someone of the upper class but not a senator. With a face distorted by tears and anger, he rushed towards him. Bazk, both to stop him and calm him down, put a firm hand on the man's shoulder.

"It's okay. He's a doctor. He is helping us determine the cause of death."

The senator's brother simmered down but continued to glare at the doctor with suspicion.

"So?" He asked impatiently.

"Well," Viktr said, "the same poison was used as in the other murders: Zatum leaf poison. If it is of any comfort... It was a very quick death. It was over before they could feel any pain."

The man nodded and dried his tears. He kneeled beside the body of the youngest child, a little girl who had only lived through six winters, and took her cold hand into his own.

"Who could this? What kind of monster?" He asked, sobbing.

Viktr knew not what to say. What could you say in the face of such horror? Did any words even have the power to ease this grieving man's pain? Thankfully, Bazk answered.

"We will find out," he said as he looked with determination over the dining room. "We will find him. I promise you that."

### *

The sun was setting over the soft green hills and a much longed-for freshness could finally be felt in the dusky air. The sheep were grazing peacefully, the little lambs pressed closed to their mothers, while the dogs watched over them. No howling from wolves had been heard in days and Yurat felt somewhat confident that they would not be bothered by them tonight. A lone mountain panther might still try to take its chance to steal away a sheep from the heard. But the dogs would probably smell and chase away any intruder away before it had any opportunity to do any harm.

After having completed his daily count of the herd and finding to his satisfaction that no sheep were missing, Yurat walked up to the tent at the foot of a small hill. He opened the fly sheet and crawled down next to Tomeer, greeting him with a kiss on his hairy butt cheek.

"Hi, there," Tomeer said. "I've missed you."

"I was just out counting the sheep."

"I know. I've just been waiting to do... this."

He grabbed Yurat's leather loincloth, pulled it down and kissed his cock. Right then, the barking of dogs was heard.

"Oh, Spirit! Why now? Stay here, I'll take care of it."

Tomeer grabbed his spear and ran out. Leaving his lover alone in the tent with his newfound arousal.

Yurat lay back and closed his eyes to rest an instant after a long day of walking and herding. He opened them again with a jolt when he felt someone lying next to him.

"It's okay. It's me," Tomeer said. "False alarm, out there. Just a small mountain fox, nothing to worry about."

Yurat felt his eyes getting heavier and his cock getting harder again. He wondered which one of his needs would end up winning.

"You want to sleep?" Tomeer asked.

"No, I'm fine. I just..."

He let out a yawn and blushed. Tomeer smiled.

"It's okay. Get some rest," he said and lay down next to him; rubbing his stubbly cheek against Yurat's. "We have all the time in the world."

### *

Viktr had always enjoyed Ily's book market. Loving both reading and knowledge, he loved few places more than this one. But as he walked today among the stands, he felt a certain sadness over the loss of what this place once had been.

Before the Justice Party had succeeded in their plan to pass a law to tax all books sells, this market had been something truly different. From best-selling authors to the wisest philosophers in the Republic to small children selling short stories written on cheap sheets clumsily tied together with string, all had been free to share a wide range of works and ideas. After the tax had been passed, many sellers had disappeared. Mostly people from the poorest classes who could not afford to pay it and still make a profit.

Another, in Viktr's eyes far more sinister, consequence of this tax was that the state now had control over who got to sell at the market. Only those deemed to have ideas and works worth spreading were given a license. Those considered to have opinions harmful, that is to say contrary, to the beliefs and values the state wanted the public to hear had to now take their business elsewhere.

While the tax was originally an idea spawn by the Justice Party, the change had been welcomed by most in the senate. The great book market of Ily had long been, with its free market of unconventional and controversial ideas, an annoyance to the ruling class. And now they had finally found a way to take control of it.

Behind a small wooden table where books and pamphlet about medicine were displayed, Viktr found his old friend Trak. The old man had been one of his teachers at the Academy of Medicine and they had been friends ever since. Nowadays Trak was retired but he would often be selling at the book market to make a little extra money in addition to the meagre pension paid to him by the city.

"Viktr!" He exclaimed when he saw his former student. "How are you doing? And how are the kings of our grand city doing?"

"I am well. And Ily hasn't had kings in a long time, you know. How are you?"

"I am very well. Oh, but our great city has kings! Now they just call themselves senators."

They shared a laugh over their shared disdain for the Ilyian authorities and Viktr sat down on the edge of the table like he would often do when he came by to see his old friend.

"Something seems to be troubling you, Viktr. Do not say no, I can see it in your eyes."

"Yes", he said with a sigh. "You must have heard by now of the recent series of murders in The Golden Village. After each of them I was asked to come in and determine the cause of death."

"Oh, yes I have heard. How tragic. A whole family decimated in the last one. Those poor children!"

Trak shook his head with tears in his eyes. He had always been a deeply emphatic person, which was probably why he had chosen the path of medicine. Viktr felt comforted to know that there still was some compassion in the world.

"Well, there are some things about these murders that the public has not been informed of."

He spoke now in a low voice, to avoid attracting attention. Leaning closer, he whispered:

"Such as... white hibiscus flowers being left near the bodies."

The old doctor sat back in his chair. Frowning and scratching his beard like he often did when thinking.

"Do you know what it means?" He asked.

"No, unfortunately. That's why I came to see you. I don't know anyone who knows as much about plants and botany as you do. I wondered if maybe you had of idea of what it could mean."

Trak rubbed his chin and pondered for a moment.

"Well, the white hibiscus is not a symbol of anything as far as I know. And it has no specific properties that would be relevant to all of this. I can't..."

He stopped, as if he had suddenly thought of something.

"There is one thing but I doubt that it really could have anything to do with these murders."

"Let's see."

Trak brought his chair closer to Viktr. He looked around a bit, making sure that no one was eavesdropping on their conversation.

"Do you remember the story of the great Brock?"

"How could I not?"

The story of Brock, the legendary founder of the Ilyian kingdom, was one of the very first children were thought in school. History told that a long time ago the young and ambitious chief of a small tribe set his mind to conquer as many other tribes as possible and unite them under his rule. He made it his life's work and overtook forty-nine other tribes. Ily was then founded as the capital of his kingdom. The city now called "The Jewel of the World" had then been the first metropolis in history.

"The books speak of him in great extent," Trak said. "But they say very little about his family. Especially his wife. Brock was as known a bachelor for most of his life as he was focused on always conquering new territories and had very little time for such things. When he got older he realised that he would not have an heir to take over his kingdom when he passed away. So, he asked his brother for his daughter's hand. This was of course at a time when it was still common place to marry one's relatives. His brother agreed and gave him his youngest daughter, a beautiful young maiden of only sixteen winters. She soon bore him three children: two girls and, most importantly, a boy who would inherit his kingdom. Then Brock reunited with Spirit and his son, Brock the Young, took over as king of Ily. But it is said that his mother always had an interest in Ilyian politics and was a great influence on his rule. Her name, I forgot to mention, was Fayanna. Do you know the meaning of that name?"

Viktr knew only a little Old Ilyian but enough to understand the meaning of fa yanna.

"White hibiscus."

### *

Rahin was used to turning heads. Wherever she went the colour of her skin and the way she dressed always attracted people's attention. And sometimes their malice. It hadn't been any different as she had travelled northward in the Republic. On the contrary, the further north she went the more people took their time to look at her. With even a few coming up to her to touch her hair or skin, almost as if to check if she was real.

Although lately it hadn't been Rahin who had caught the most attention but her sand dragon Number One. Such animals were probably a rarity so far up north and judging by people's reactions it was likely that most of them had never seen one.

Number One did not seem to mind, if he noticed at all. And Rahin felt relieved to not have to be the centre of attention for once. Which she unfortunately often ended up being against her will by simply being who she was.

Among those who were the most curious about Number One were children. In every town and village she had stayed in there was always a group of kids following her around, wanting to ride on her dragon's back and play with him. She let them most of the time, which made Number One very happy. Sand dragons were mighty beasts capable of breaking a grown man in two with a single bite. But being pack animals they had a natural instinct to protect youngsters and never hurt children.

Quite the opposite, the dragons' worst fury was usually reserved for those who did harm to little ones. Something the man Number One had cornered against the wall of the Village House had apparently not been aware of. Having beaten a boy for stealing a cabbage from his stand, he had triggered the protective instincts of the dragon and would soon, unless Rahin stepped in quickly, be his next meal.

"Number One! Stop this immediately! Don't make me tell you twice!"

She hurried among the merchants' stands and squeezed herself past the crowd gathered around the scene. Number One was still closing in on the poor man. Drool dropping from his scaly grin and unto the dirt floor. Rahin put herself between him and his intended victim.

"I said: stop this at once! Stop! Out!"

She pointed towards the entrance and stomped her foot furiously to get her point across. The dragon shook his head, let out a disappointed grunt and obeyed her order. Avoided to look into her angry eyes before he made his way through the terrified crowd who jumped aside at his passing by.

"I'm so sorry," she turned around and said to the merchant. "Are you okay?"

The man stared at her with eyes wide open, mumbling something in a local dialect she did not understand. A woman ran out of the crowd and took him in her arms but he still shook like a leaf. His face was as pale as snow.

"Oh, father! I was so frightened!"

The woman gave Rahin a furious stare and when the sorceress looked around she saw that so was everyone else. From the elderly ladies with their canes to the little children in their mothers' arms. All saw her with disdain.

A man came towards her. From his long beard decorated with the finest jewellery as well as his elegant clothing, Rahin concluded that he was someone of authority in the village. Perhaps even its leader.

"I think it is best," he said, "that you leave this place. It has become quite obvious that you do not belong he..."

"They're coming! They're coming! Hurry!"

Children shouting outside. The people's faces, who had just a moment ago stared at her with anger, now lightened up and cheers and laughter filled the Village House. All ran out to greet whatever it was they had been celebrating and waiting for all day. Only Rahin and the bearded man were left behind.

"Young man," he said and Rahin felt her body cringing at being called that. "As I was saying: it is best for you to leave our town. I want to see you on your way as soon as the travel road is opened again. And for Spirit's sake, keep that vicious beast of yours from my people!"

He gave her a last angry look and hurried out after the others. Leaving her alone among the stands with a familiar aching pain in her chest. She sat down, leaning against the dry stacked stone wall, and sighed. Both out of relief and disappointment over having find yet another place where she was not wanted.

Familiar heavy steps echoed between the walls and Number One approached her. His head hanging down in shame, his eyes looking up at her with a begging. He was like a sad dog that just got caught defecating on the carpet and Rahin could not resist patting his big scaly head when he rubbed it against hers.

"I'm very disappointed in you, One. You really scared that poor man."

He made a sad grunt and looked up at her with his puppy eyes as if to apologize. She hated how he always found a way to pull at her heartstring.

"Fine," she said. "I forgive you. But you better not do it again!"

She stood up, grabbed Number One's leather collar and walked back to the tavern where she had spent the night. The streets outside were empty. All the clowns and musicians were gone and the sellers' stands abandoned. Laughs and singing were still heard as an almost ghastly echo coming from the main road.

Rahin left Number One down in the stables and went up to her room. She made herself a cup of calming herbal tea to sooth her anxious nerves and sat down by the window, staring down at the road outside to see what all the fuss was about.

Coming down from the hills and passing through the town was what seemed like a never-ending stream of sheep and goats. On the sides of the road were the townspeople, dancing and cheering as the animals passed by. Some loosely clad women were rhythmically shaking their feet and wrists on which were many small shiny bells. Others were banging what looked like small tambourines against each other. The music, loud and unharmonious, ringed all the way up to Rahin's room and ever more so as she opened the greasy windows to get a better look of the spectacle.

Strange colourful clouds rose up and as she looked down again she saw that the people had now started to throw colourful dust at the animals. Purple, orange, yellow, pink and blue and all other colours of the rainbow covered the beasts and all the people around. Some more orderly chants than had been heard before rose up with the clouds of powder and Rahin thought they sounded like some sort of blessings or prayers. Probably some superstitious pleadings to a local god or spirit.

Rahin shook her head, out of exasperation rather than contempt, at their ignorance. She saw a group of children throwing powder over their heads and dancing in it as it rained back over them. With eyes closed and innocent smiles on their angelic faces as they twirled and twirled in the bright colourful mist. They looked like the very manifestation of happiness itself. Ignorance did bring on more joy than wisdom ever could.

A little further behind them she noticed two young shepherds about her own age. One was tall and handsome and quite like the typical northern tribesman: hairy, rough-looking and with a thick blond beard.

The other one she recognized immediately although he looked quite different from the last time she had seen him. His hair was now dyed black, his musculature much less impressive and well-defined as it had once been. His face was scrawnier than it used to be and gone was the cocky, confident expression that had once been there. But she would have recognized anywhere those piercing eyes. They always sent a cold shiver down her spine.

# Chapter Two

Viktr entered the city library in the early morning when it was still dark and only the faintest orange light could be seen in the horizon. He knew that he would most likely be alone in the building at this time of day and it was exactly what he wanted. Already during his time at the Academy he had learned that few companions were more valuable to a devoted student than silence and solitude and few places offered so much of these as the grand library of Ily.

He picked a table in a corner of the main reading hall and took a moment to close his eyes and breathe in the smell of the millions upon millions of books all around him. This particular scent, so familiar but always exciting awoke many memories in him. So many adventures he had lost himself into in this place. So much ancient knowledge and wisdom he had learned about, lapping it up like a desert beast thirsting for cold water. Truly, the grand library of Ily was to him the most precious gem in this The Jewel of the World.

Rubbing his hands with anticipation, he got up and walked into the Archives. Situated in the next room just a few steps away, it was one of the largest ones in the building and contained almost half a million documents in hundreds of filing cabinets reaching all the way up to the ceiling. He consulted the list of topics he had written down, moved one of the sliding ladders and began to climb.

The first document he found in a drawer at the very top, so close to the ceiling he had to bend forward to not hit his head. It was a simple sheet of paper on which was written as the title the topic of "white hibiscus". Underneath was a long list of every book relevant to it with references to specific tomes and pages.

"Can I help you?"

The voice, coming seemingly out of nowhere, took him by such surprise that his foot slipped from the rung and he almost fell off the ladder which started to roll slowly on the tracks. In panic, he grabbed the stiles and screamed. His feet hanging desperately in the void.

"Oh, Spirit!" He heard the voice exclaim. "Hold on!"

Vikt felt the ladder stop. He put his feet cautiously one after the other back on the rung and dared for an instant to look down. A woman was looking up at him with deep green eyes and a look of concern on her face. From her red and brown satin dress the same colour as the walls, he could see that she was one of the librarians. Her wavy dark hair fell over her shoulders in gorgeous locks and she herself was of uncommon beauty. Her high cheekbones and voluptuous red-painted lips making him forget for a moment that he had just almost dropped to the hard marble floor of the Archives.

He reluctantly took his eyes of her and climbed down. Once he felt the comfort of ground under his feet he looked at the woman again and saw that she was unusually tall, about a head or two more than the average man.

"I'm so sorry," she said. "I didn't mean to startle you. Are you okay?"

"Yes. I'll... I'll be okay."

He nodded shyly and felt his cheeks turning red. He tried to think of something more to say but the air seemed to get stuck in his throat when he saw her lovely smile.

"Wonderful! I'm Tharasza."

"Viktr."

Tharasza went down on her knees and Viktr had to swallow hard and look away to distract himself from the inappropriate thoughts suddenly flooding his mind. She stood up again with in her hand a piece of paper which she gave to him.

"So... Botany."

"Botany?" He asked, confused, and looked down at the paper.

It was the one he had just dropped when he had almost fallen.

"Oh, yes! Botany. Flowers and... such. I'm redecorating my garden. White hibiscus flowers. Yes, gonna have that in my garden."

He bit the inside of his lips and cursed himself for turning into such a rambling idiot every time a beautiful woman payed him any attention. But Tharasza didn't seem to mind. She smiled like she found his clumsiness endearing.

"Well, just let me know if you have any questions. I happen to know a thing or two about plants. Gardening is sort of one of my hobbies."

"Great! I'll make sure of it."

He gave her an awkward smile which she answered with a shy simper and a blushing of her cheeks.

"See you around."

Viktr spent the next four days as in a trance. He would come in early in the morning to the library and not leave until late in the evening long after the sun had gone down. During the day his eyes were off the pages only when he took a moment to eat, visit a latrine or search for the next book in the massive oak shelves. Not since his days as a young Academy student had he been so consumed by a subject but the questions burned in him and he knew that he would find no rest until he had found the answers he was looking for.

What he did found was not much. The history books on Brock The Great spoke very little about his wife, when they did at all. Most did not even include her name, mentioning only that she was his brother's daughter. Two of the books of the seventy-three he researched claimed that Fayanna took an active interest in politics, her ideology leaning more towards what today would fall into the beliefs of the Justice Party. But since these books were newer and the older ones did not make this claim, he deemed it to be less credible.

By the end of the fourth day his eyes were weary of reading and his back aching from sitting. He decided to take a few days off from his endeavour. Perhaps taking a step back would allow him to see things more clearly.

Before he left, as he was putting his coat back on to go outside, Tharasza passed the table where he was sitting and put something in front of him. Viktr picked it up and saw that it was a package wrapped in brown paper and with a note glued to it which said: "Open at home." He looked up and searched for Tharasza but she was gone.

Well at home, he ordered his servants to go to bed for the night and to bother him only in case of emergency. Then he poured himself a nightcap, opened the window to let in some fresh night air and sat down by his desk.

He carefully unwrapped the package, finding inside of it a book. A newer one by the looks of it. Or at least newer compared to most of the books in the library. It was printed on poor quality paper and with blue ink which looked just as cheap. It was slim, he approximated it to be about fifty pages, and the cover gave no clue to who had written it. But he almost choked on his drink when he saw the title: The Secret of the White Hibiscus.

### *

In the darkness of a back alley by the tavern, Rahin stood. She had put on a long black dress and covered her head with a shawl just as black, to make herself less visible to curious eyes. For most of the night she had waited patiently for him to come outside and was beginning to feel restless and wondering if maybe she should give up and go back to her room when the wooden door of the dirty drinking joint suddenly opened.

Expecting to see another drunkard staggering out unto the paved street, she was surprised to see that it actually was the man she had been waiting for. He leaned on the wall of the tavern and took a pipe out of his vest. With a small piece of flint and steel he lighted it and smoke rose up, carrying with it the bitter odour of the intoxicating herbs all the way to Rahin's nostrils.

She kept observing the man and saw how he took the first deep breath of fume and closed his eyes. The drug seemed to have effect right away, the muscles in his face and body relaxing as the smoke found its way down his lungs. Rahin noticed how pale he looked in the light of the oil lamp hanging from the eaves. White like death, as her father would have said.

After a short moment of hesitation she took a step out of the darkness and into the light. She stood now so close to him that she could smell the faint odour of his sweat over that of the drug and see in his eyes when he opened them the dancing reflection of the flame from the oil lamp. He jumped back when he noticed her and instinctively put a hand on the small knife hanging from his belt.

"Piss off, mate! I don't got any money!"

Rahin put up her hands to show that she meant no harm and took another step towards the light.

"I don't want any money."

Her words did nothing to reassure him. He had recognized her and his face turned red from anger. And something that looked a lot like shame.

"You've come to kill me?"

"Kill you? Spirit, no! Why would I want to do that?"

He let out a confused laugh and stepped towards her, whispering:

"I'm The Fire Demon Who Killed A Thousand Warriors In One Battle, remember? Half the Republic wants my head on a spike."

Djeen stepped back and threw up his arms. Rahin could see tears glimmering in his eyes.

"Well, knock yourself out! Fucking kill me if you can! See if you can figure out something I haven't!"

She put her hands up again and let him know once more that she had no desire to end his life.

"I just want my sword back."

He seemed to calm down for a moment but kept fixing her with his eyes, as blue in the dim light as the seas of ice of the northern mountains on winter nights.

"I don't have it anymore," he said. "I threw it in a lake after what happened back in Ily. Look, I'm sorry I stole your weapon but it's probably turned to rust by now."

"No," she said confidently. "It hasn't. Not this sword. It's special. But you probably know that already."

Djeen cocked his head to the side like a hungry wolf studying a prey before the kill. It made her blood freeze.

"What do you mean?" He asked.

"Djeen, what you did back in Ily when the fire took you over... You already had such powers. I know it. I have seen visions of you, of the past. But what you did in the capital, that happened because of the sword. It connects to you, to the Spirit energy inside of you. It makes you stronger."

He shook his head, rubbed his temple as if her words were physically painful to him.

"Then that sword is evil. We're all better off without it."

"I'm afraid not."

Rahin tried to find the right words, to speak in a way that would ease the distress she could sense in his being. Finding no such words, she figured it would be best to let him know the truth as soon as possible. She put a hand on his shoulder, looked into his eyes and said with her softest voice:

"They are coming. The undead ones, the risen corpses. I have seen them. They are coming from beyond the mountains."

### *

A new day was dawning over the horizon. Thin summer snow was spread over the soft grass of the plain like fine flour fallen from the sky and The Beloved One found his thoughts once more drifting to where they should not be.

He had seen some days ago a group of people grazing like oxen outside a nearby village. Driven insane by hunger and desperation, they had thrown themselves at the first chewable thing they could find.

He had found the spectacle deeply disturbing but since there was no passage in The Perfect Book forbidding the eating of grass, he had realized that it was a wrongful feeling driven by a compassion that should not be. The Mighty had made perfectly clear and simple in His Word that whenever the people lacked food it was because of their own wrong, a punishment for spitting in the face of The Perfect One with their disgusting imperfection. Whenever a man suffered, it was the will of The Mighty. All things lay in his hands.

Still, The Beloved One could not shake off the feeling that something was just not right with the way things were in the land. He had suffered from these wrongful thoughts for a long time. Already as a child they had plagued him and tried to hurt his faith in The Mighty. But they had gotten worse lately.

Ever since The Mighty had introduced the Redeemed to the people, ever since he had seen these repulsive beings and felt their putrid stench in his nostrils, he had been fighting day and night against himself. He could not allow himself to think that what his God did could be wrong or that He could ever not be good. The Mighty knew all things, saw all things, and would surely know of his budding apostasy. Then his head would roll. And what worse was: he would deserve it.

The Beloved One looked up at the flat roof of the temple and forced himself to stare at the Redeemed standing guard above it. He reminded himself that this was the will of The Mighty and that it must therefore be good. No matter if the parts used to make these creatures had once belonged to humans like him. Humans who had laughed and loved and had been loved. Humans who had been someone's sister, mother, father or brother. The Mighty had decided this to be good and it therefore was. Because he was God and only God could judge of what was true and pure.

One of the Redeemed lifted its rotten finger towards the north and when The Beloved One saw what was approaching he hurried back into the temple. About one hundred and fifty Beloved Ones from all over the land were gathered in the main hall and waiting with both anticipation and fear.

"He will soon be here. Bow down your heads in shame for none is worthy of His Perfection. Follow me."

He led the march outside and following by example fell to his knees, face first in the dirt. He started the chants and his brothers followed him in the rehearsed verses.

"No one is greater! No one greater than our God! Mighty and exalted He is all over the world! Praise be He! Praised be He!"

When The Mighty's procession was close enough that The Beloved Ones could feel its steps shaking the ground they began a new song:

"We are but filth! We are but filth! Not worthy of your forgiveness are we!"

To illustrate their words and as was customary with this particular chant, they rubbed their faces unto the group. Took handfuls of wet soil and smeared it into their hair.

The sounds of the steps ended and by the intensity of the stench, one could understand that The Mighty and his undead warriors were just in front of them. But none of The Beloved dared to look up. No one deserved to gaze at God, especially without permission.

"Silence!"

His shout echoed through the plain, resounded with power like you would expect The Divine's voice to. The Beloved Ones immediately turned quiet, knowing full well what would happen to them if they dared disobey.

The Mighty's litter was lowered to the ground and black leather boots as well as the lower part of a black and silver robe passed quickly before the kneeling men's sight. He walked into the open doors of the temple. His steps on the concrete floor loud and repetitive like the drums calling before an execution.

"Rise and come before me!" He exclaimed when he had sat down on the silver throne that had been prepared for him.

The Beloved Ones followed his order, walking into the temple in an orderly line and positioning themselves in exactly fifteen rows of ten men and exactly four steps between each men. Just as they had spent days practising in advance to reach the outmost perfection.

"Gaze upon me!" He ordered and they did.

A long moment followed where he studied them in silence from behind his mask. He looked into their eyes and searched for any signs of doubt or fear. He found it in a few of them but it bothered him very little. Only a short time left and none of them would ever feel such things again.

"You might wonder," he finally said and rose from his throne, "why I have called you all out here today."

He made his way down the few steps to where the men were standing and began to walk among the rows. Studying each man, staring him up and down like a war general inspecting his soldiers before battle.

"As you all know, the Day of Redemption is the day all mankind is so desperately waiting for. The day on which we will bring the world the final battle, create a new order and end all suffering. This day is now nearer than it has ever been. But some things need to be taken care of before we can fulfil this mission."

He walked back to his throne, sat down and raised his leather gloved hand.

"Guard! Come before me!"

A young man who looked to be somewhere between sixteen and twenty winters entered the temple. He was wearing the traditional guard uniform: white silk clothing with the words In service to God embroidered in gold on the chest. It was an unusual sight. One rarely saw any guards or soldiers nowadays as most had been replaced with Redeemed Ones.

The man stopped before the silver throne and kneeled before his God. The Mighty nodded in approval and turned his attention once again to The Beloved Ones. He pointed to a random man and asked:

"Dear one, what is according to The Perfect Book the greatest enemy stopping justice and righteousness from flourishing all over the creation?"

Without any hesitation, the man responded.

"Doubt and weakness of faith, oh Mighty One."

"Truly it is," he said and speaking in a voice as if to children, "and from this we can conclude that it is doubt and weak faith that must be abolished in all our soldiers before they can go out into the world and fulfil their mission. How will we do such a thing?"

The Mighty pointed to another Beloved and the man answered with the same certainty as the previous one.

"Put to death any person who dares question you, oh Mighty One, or your Perfect Word."

"Yes, it is a start. That is why I have ordered it in my Perfect Book. But you my Beloved can only know from someone what they dare say out loud. Many doubts and wrongful thoughts remain hidden secrets in the heart of men. Even amongst you."

He looked over them, seeing in many of their faces the fear his word had struck into them and which they struggled to hide.

"Do not deny it," he said. "You know I can read into your hearts. But I, in my grand mercy, forgive you. Truly, you are no different than any other men. For I say to you: if I had punished with death every person in this land who has ever been weak in faith, none would have survived. But I forgive greatly for I love you greatly. You, my Beloved and my people."

The guard was still kneeling before him. He was a young and eager one, fully invested in his faith and his mission. They often were at that age. Unfortunately, as they got older the youthful pride which made them think they had everything figured out slowly weakened until it was no longer there to keep the doubts at bay.

"And it is because my love for my people abounds," The Mighty continued, "that I have decided to end the torment of wrongful thinking within you. In my mercy, I will substitute your spirit with my Spirit and make of us truly one. Oh, my Beloved! Do you not long for it? For all your thoughts to be pure? For all the filth to be cleaned from off of you? For you all to be truly pleasant in my sight? Me, the Father who loves you all so much from the oldest one to the littlest one?"

Some of the Beloved began to tear up. There was even a lower lip or two trembling with emotion. And in all of the men's faces he saw that rare emotion which he knew meant he had them in the palm of his hand: hope.

"I promise you today, my dearly loved servants, that I will not allow for a single one of you to leave this temple before you have been healed from the perversions plaguing your spirit."

The Mighty rose from his throne, took the guard by the arm and gently made him stand up on his feet. He turned him around so that they both faced the crowd and continued:

"This young man has been serving me in my Highest Temple and I am deeply pleased with him. He is a man of great faith and great courage. When I brought to my guards a proposition to be part of a magnificent new thing, many felt doubtful and frightened. Men far older than him were weak in their faith and did not come forward. But this man, this wise young fellow, threw himself in from of my throne and gave pledged his very life to me. May ye all have even a tenth of his faith!"

He pushed down on the man's shoulder, making him kneel beside him.

"And now," The Mighty proclaimed, "he will be greatly blessed as he will be the very first of all living humans to be given my spirit. In time, all beings will have my life force moving through them. Pray for that day to come soon."

With a nod, he signalled to the Redeemed standing by the sides to extinguish the torches hanging on the walls of the hall. They obeyed without a thought, putting out the flames by suffocating them with their bare hands. A sickening sweet smell of rotten, burning flesh spread throughout the temple as darkness began to take over. The heavy, dragging sound of the stone doors being closed were heard and the last glimmer of outside light disappeared.

All stood for a moment in the pitch-black dark. Nothing was heard, not even breathing. Then suddenly: a spark. It came and went. Came and went. Pulsating red and purple until it became a small flame.

Underneath it was the gloved hand of The Mighty. Its fingers moving as if dancing to the rhythm of the flickering fire. Behind it, the face of the guard becoming slowly visible in the low glow. His eyes were closed and an expression of serenity could be seen on his youthful face. The paleness of his skin, accentuated by the darkness surrounding it, gave the impression that one could have been looking at a corpse. That is, if it hadn't been for his breathing, which as it grew stronger took in the flames as if they were but colourful fumes from scented incense.

A barely audible chanting circulated around the room and from its gruntlike mumbling one understood that it was the Redeemed who were singing. If one listened closely one could even hear how they swayed their bodies lightly with the rhythm of their tune, which if it wasn't for how deeply unsettling it was could have almost put one to sleep like a children's lullaby.

When the guard had breathed in the last of the flames, his face disappeared into the dark once more and a loud thump was heard. The singing of the Redeemed continued as if nothing had happened.

A bright light. So sudden and blinding that many of the Beloved fell to the ground from the shock. All eyes turned towards the source of the mysterious blue-white light and saw that the guard was now sitting on the steps in front of the throne. His body was erect in an unnatural fashion, as if he was being held up by some invisible strings. His eyes were empty like that of a child's doll, or a dead man. And from his skin this strange glow emanated, illuminating the whole room better than a hundred torches.

He began to sing. But something felt wrong about the voice. Light and soft, like a child's or a woman's, it did not seem to match him.

"Praise be The Mighty. Praise be He, for he has freed me. Free! Free! Born once more! Freed from wrong! Brothers, sing His praise with me!"

With hands oddly limp as if he wasn't the one guiding them, he began to clap. His head and body swaying like seagrass in a soft stream.

"Sing with me!" He repeated and the Beloved followed in his song.

"Filthy, filthy I was. But He has cleansed me, washed me with the waters of His spirit. Praised be He! Praised be He for His mercy!"

The Beloved clapped along and imitated the movements of his body. Their voices rising higher with each word, becoming more and more like that of not many men but of one man.

"Only He can save! Only He can save! May He take pity on us and save us from our filth! May he wash us clean and breathe into us life!"

And all, Redeemed, guard and Beloved, fell to their knees. Bowed down before the throne of their God as their voices rose ever higher until they were nothing but desperate pleadings. Tears streaming down every one of their faces, the Beloved no longer felt any fear or doubt. Only an insufferable longing, a deep desire for their spirits to be taken away and replaced by the most Divine spirit of The Mighty.

## Chapter Three

Of all the beautiful things one could see in Ily, its many indoor gardens were among the most popular attractions. The by-far most visited of these gardens was Senator Langg's Botanical Dream, the city's largest collection of plants and trees. It was also a zoo with many different species, some very rare, from all over the Republic; which made it a much-favoured place among families with children.

It was the laughter of youngsters that welcomed Viktr as he entered through the doors of Langg's Dream, as it was sometimes called.

"Daddy! Daddy, look!"

A little girl pointing and jumping up and down with joy at the sight of colourful birds perched up on a tree. Her older brother studying with fascination a tortoise chewing on a piece of leaf. And for a brief instant a memory flashing by in Viktr's memory of two other children, fallen dead head first into their bowls of soup.

There were many amazing things to see in this garden, everything from snow lions to sand hares. But Viktr had not come here today for leisure or to be entertained.

He took another look at the map Tharasza had drawn on the back of the note she had left for him behind the last page of The Secret of The White Hibiscus. According to the red cross she had painted she would be waiting for him in front of the Cats of Pestilence's enclosure.

These creatures, who despite the name did not suffer from the plague, were a species of wild cats native to the south-eastern desert and which were covered in what looked like large warts but were in facts lumps of fat and water. This aesthetically repulsive feature was a survival mechanism they had developed to help them survive in the arid land that was their natural habitat. Still, many suffered from an irrational fear of these animals and their exhibit was by far the least popular.

It came therefore as no surprise to Viktr when he spotted Tharasza sitting by herself on a stone bench with no one around. Like every day around midday, as she had mentioned in her note, she was having her lunch in this quiet place. Meatbread in wine, by the smell of it.

He tapped on her shoulder and she turned around with red crumbs all over her lips.

"Viktr!"

She wiped her mouth and moved blushing over on the bench to let him sit beside her.

"I didn't expect you to come here so soon."

"Oh, I had to after reading the book you gave me. I went through the whole thing last night. What a fascinating read!"

Truly it was. Viktr had not been able to put the book down and had read it cover to cover in one sitting. He had then read it a second time. And a third.

It was written in the form of a diary, its authorship attributed to the White Hibiscus herself: Fayanna. To anyone educated enough in history, it was an obvious fraud. The text was riddled with historical inaccuracies and mentioned many things which simply did not exist at the time it was supposed to have been written. One example was the Republican Guard, which was not founded until long after Fayanna's death.

Although fictional, the book was still a very interesting read. It told a story, spanning four winters, during which Fayanna had been given no choice but to take over the reign after her son, Brock the Young, had become ill and temporarily fallen into madness.

Fayanna initially disliked her new position as she "despised the very thought of domination over any living being." But she soon realised that she had a unique opportunity to change Ilyian society for the better. She began to pass laws that even today would be thought of as inconceivable: Slavery was outlawed and all slaves paid compensation for their suffering. Non-Ilyians were given citizenship. The beating of women and children became punishable by law. Even animals were granted some protection as sports such as dog fighting and rat clubbing were banned.

Through a rare talent for speaking and diplomacy she soon made peace with all of the Ilyian Kingdom's enemies and called back from the frontlines the many thousands of sons of Ily who had been sent to conquer new territories.

In Ily itself and through guidance from their new leader, those who had more gave what they could to those who had less and poverty ended within just one cycle of seasons. All manner of fighting and violence ended on the streets of Ily as everyone became everyone's sibling and a time of harmony and unity like the Kingdom had never seen before began.

Unfortunately, this beautiful new age of love and understanding came to an abrupt end when doctors finally found a cure for the king's illness and Brock the Young regained his senses. Seeing what his mother had done, the king flew into a rage. He ordered the immediate execution of every magistrate, royal advisor and person of authority who had otherwise facilitated his mother's rule.

The leader of the Republican Guard refused to carry out the order and pledged his life and his loyalty to Fayanna. As a response to this the king stabbed him in the stomach with his sword and flayed him while he was still alive. He then ordered the man's skin to be flown from the courtyard's highest flagpole as a warning to all who even dared think of disobeying their king.

Fayanna was allowed to live but only because her son loved her too much to give her the punishment he thought she deserved. Instead he ordered that she be exiled to the southern lands and locked for the rest of her life in one of the royal family's castles.

It was in this place she would write the final entries of her journal. The very last one read more like a manifesto than anything else. In it she decried that terror and violence once again ruled the Kingdom. What was to blame, according to her, was the nature of men and the only remedy possible was that the power to rule be given over to women.

Men must be taught, she wrote, to cage in their destructive spirit. They need as soon as they can understand it to be taught not to harm. Not to kill, torture or rape. Their masculinity, this most poisonous of traits, needs to be suppressed and men to act in all things more like women. Power itself should only be accessible to the purer sex as only we can truly love with a pure love and bring peace and healing to the world. I send my earnest prayers up to Spirit that all this will come to pass. In the deepest of my heart I know one day it shall. May it be soon! Oh Spirit, may it be soon!

"A fantasy, though."

"Yes," Viktr agreed," a great read but obviously a fabrication. Do you have idea who wrote it?"

Tharasza took a sip of hibiscus tea, leaving a bright red mark from her lipstick on the wooden goblet.

"Sadly, no. But I can tell you how it came to be in my possession."

She put her drink down and stared up at the glass ceiling of Langg's Dream. The sun shone with all its heat as it did during summer days such as this one. No clouds in sight sliding across the light blue sky.

"What I will tell now," she said, "I have never told anyone. For this I have good reasons, as you soon will understand. It is something I would very much like to keep private and if ever you took upon yourself to tell anyone about it, I will simply deny everything and make you out for a liar.

When I was a child, my parents had a slave. Tatiyah was her name. She was one of several female slaves who helped my mother around the house. Every morning Tatiyah cooked and served my breakfast. She prepared my clothes and braided my hair. Cleaned my room every day and took care of me if ever I was sick. All of my childhood, she did these things for me. And during this time I never spoke a word to her. I noticed her existence, of course. But like you notice a plain piece of furniture in a room. You know it's there but you found no reason to pay any attention to it. After all, she was just a slave.

But I would later found out something about her which would shatter everything I thought I knew. It wasn't anything I was ever supposed to find out about and I never would have if my mother hadn't blurred out the truth during one of our arguments.

What she told me was that a slave was my mother. My birth mother. The woman I had called mum my whole life was in fact barren. So, my father had gone out to the slave market and bought the woman he could find who most resembled his wife. Then he lay with her and she became pregnant. That woman was Tatiyah and she would carry all of his children: me and my two older sisters.

With a thousand questions in my mind and full of guilt over how I had treated her, I decided to find Tatiyah again. By that time my father had sold her off to an acquaintance in another city so I bought a horse and made the trip the very next day.

When I finally found her, I felt so much shame I could barely look into her eyes. Here was a woman who had borne me, carried me in her very body and cared for me all of my childhood. And me, cold blooded me, I had paid her less attention than my pet bunnies!"

Tharasza broke down in tears. The sight of her sobbing into her hands felt to Viktr like a punch to the heart. He put a hesitant hand on her shoulder and tried to find comforting words.

"Do not be so hard on yourself, Tharasza. It is how we are taught in our society. No one had told you any different."

"I know, I know... Still, it wasn't right."

She took a couple of deep breaths and dried her tears. From the enclosure of the cats of pestilence, chirping sounds were heard. The curious green eyes and pointy ears of kittens peaked out of the den. At this age, they had not yet developed their characteristic lumps or grown any hair and they looked mistakenly like the naked house cats so popular with upper-class wives.

"I am comforted that you do not think lesser of me because of who I am, Viktr. In the eyes of many being the daughter of a slave makes me a little bit more than an animal."

One female cat alerted by the calls of the kittens hurried to them, urging them back into the den with nibbles on their feet. She gave the two humans a quick suspicious look, one of her eyes covered by a grotesque lump the size of a fist, and followed her littles ones below ground.

"Anyway," Tharasza said drying her last tears, about the book... As I got to know Tatiyah more I began to question many things that I had always taken for granted. Slavery, most of all. Was it really necessary for it to exist? How would my life have turned out if like my birth mover I had been born into it? Could it ever be abolished? And how? One thing I now knew with all my heart: it wasn't right.

I shared my thoughts with Tatiyah and to my relief she agreed with me. You'd be surprised how many slaves actually support slavery. Anyway, Tatiyah told me that she was part of a secret group that fought for abolition and I was welcome to come to one of their meetings. One day I did.

I was shocked to see the banner of the Together Party hanging up on one of the walls there. You know, the purple one with two hands holding each other. There were also all sorts of different flags I had never seen before and as I would later find out the Together Party is despite its name not really a party but a political movement made of many smaller organisations of which only the most extreme advocate the use of violence.

My first instinct was to leave but I didn't want to disappoint Tatiyah so I stayed for the meeting. The people there turned out to be some of the friendliest I have ever met and of the words spoken during the speeches I found myself agreeing with all of them.

For the first time in my life I heard it be spoken of a just and fair society where love reigned and everyone was his neighbour's brother. I thought it sounded so beautiful and, at the time, possible.

Seeing my positive reaction to the message, Tatiyah introduced me to the women's group she was a part of. The Force for the Liberation of all Women, or The Sisterhood as it is also called, is an organisation dedicated to working towards freedom for all women and slave women in particular. Apart from doing charity they also arrange discussion groups every twelfths day. It was there I began to delve into the literature of the Together movement.

It would take days to tell you about all the books I devoured but I can tell you their common message: The revolution is coming. Maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow. But one day, inevitably, it will come. And after the struggle is done a new and never-ending age of peace and equality like humanity has never seen before will begin.

This is a belief held so strongly by the people within the movement that they speak of it as if they had seen this bright new future with their own eyes. Tatiyah was no exception to this and until her dying day she talked about it as if it was right around the corner.

Seeing my strong interest in the literature one of the women of my mother's group gave me The Secret of the White Hibiscus. She told me it was a rare book with only a few exemplars in circulation. 'I think you should have it,' she said, 'for I see how deeply committed you are to the cause'. And at the time, I was. I still am to some parts of it. I believe slavery both can and should be abolished. But as I grew older I came to see that the utopia the movement is fighting for is far too childish to be true and their answers far too simplistic to have any base in reality. After Tatiyah's death I ended all involvement I had with the Together Party and barely thought back on it. That is until the murders began."

She took another sip from her tea. Feeling that it had gone cold, she poured what was left of it in a bush behind the bench and sighed.

"There are many things within the movement people disagree on. Whether or not the use of violence is justified if it can bring on the Togetherness is always one of the hottest topics of conversation; and it was often debated in my mother's group. The majority were against it. But a few thought it to be necessary. The woman who gave me the book was one of them. 'How can we expect to bring down this violent system without any retaliation?' 'They want us to not fight back, they want us to be weak!' 'Is to bring on the dream of Fayanna not worth the few privileged lives of those who oppress us?' She would say things like that."

"Do you think she is involved in the White Hibiscus murders?"

Tharasza looked pensively at the light brown gravel under their feet and then at the tree with white and pink flowers hanging overhead.

"I don't know. But if I know my cousin correctly, it wouldn't surprise me."

### *

It was at the end of last spring that Djeen came out of hiding. He had spent two winters living by himself in various forests and caves, carrying nothing but the clothes on his back and a simple hunting spear. No one had recognized him on the few occasions he had ran into other people out in the wild and he could have stayed hidden for many more winters to come. But the solitude had plagued him, ached like a hole in his heart. Each day he had longed for another human's touch or even someone to talk to.

So, against his better knowing, he one day gave up and walked into the nearest village. As he still did not trust himself around other people he decided to get an occupation which would restrict his interactions with others to a bare minimum. He found just the right one, sheepherder, and was sent in the beginning of the summer up into the mountains with for only company five hundred sheep, a handful of dogs and another young man.

His name was Tomeer but went by the nickname of "Tomo". Being quite manly and handsome, he rapidly caught Djeen's eye. During the long quiet days up in the green hills he often found himself stealing a glimpse of Tomo's athletic body; his bulging muscles and well-shaped ass. Tomo's personality also pleased him. The northern tribesman's cheerful disposition felt like a refreshing remedy to Djeen's always brooding mood.

Djeen hadn't expected him to share his feelings. But as time passed and they spent more and more days together watching the herd, Tomo started to slowly fall for him also. Not that Djeen even noticed initially. The meaning behind simple gestures, an affectionate hand on his arm, Tomo's laugh at jokes which really weren't that funny, flew completely over Djeen's head. It pretty much took Tomo passionately kissing him and caressing his thighs one late night in the tent for him to get the message.

When he did, something in him melted. Like a rampart, built around his heart, which fell to ashes with the other man's touch. Djeen knew in that moment that he could never deny him, although he knew that he should for the sake of them both. He was a man with far too many secrets and a dark, burning force inside of him which he could not always control and which he barely understood himself. But, once again against his better knowing, he had caved in and followed his heart.

Which he now bitterly regretted. As he looked at his lover carrying with him his meagre possessions in a leather tote bag and walking with them southwards to work at a farm which did not exist, Djeen felt a guilt so strong pressing down on his chest that he found it hard to breath. He had known the past would catch up to him. Tried his best not the think about it, but realised deep down that it was simply inevitable. And still he had chosen to bring Tomeer into his life.

What would he say when he found out the horrors Djeen had committed? When he found out who he was? What he was?

Regardless, Djeen was content with his decision to bring him along on their journey. If Rahin was right, if the Redeemed really were coming over the mountain, he needed to keep Tomeer close by and as far as possible from the north. He had to do all he could to protect him from them.

Although sometimes he wondered if it was the undead ones they needed to fear the most or the fire that burned inside of him. That evil force he had unleashed three winters ago in Ily and which he dreaded could resurface at any time.

"It is not evil."

"What?"

Rahin raised her walking staff and nudged some leafs hanging over their heads from a willow tree.

"That burning fire inside of you. You believe it is evil but it is not."

Seeing his annoyed expression, she added:

"And I did it again, didn't I? I'm sorry. I cannot always help when I do that, I assure you."

Djeen looked at the sorcerer, or rather sorceress, and could not help but feel once again a slight confusion at the eccentric character. Dressed in a satin black dress and carrying himself, or rather herself, with a humble elegance befitting a senator's wife better than a servant, she seemed perfectly comfortable and natural as a woman.

And a woman is what she called herself from the day they had met again that late night by the tavern. Also Rahin, a Toyanese girl's name meaning strong rock. Djeen had found it strange, he still did, but in the grand scheme of things he had far more important things to think about than Rahin's gender. There were also these words in the back of his head that Ussa once had spoken to him. What were they again? Something about looking with something else than his eyes?

"What do you call it then if not evil?" He asked.

"No power or abilities are in themselves inherently evil. Only what you choose to do with them."

"Well," Djeen responded and sneered at her words, "that's assuming it's a power which can be controlled."

Rahin looked down pensively at the dirt road on which they were walking. The sound of running water was heard in the distance. A river. And, in the air, the humid smell of mud along its banks.

"True, true." She said and lowered her voice as they were coming closer to Tomeer, who had been walking further away alongside Number One. "But some powers which seem beyond human control can be mastered with the right help. I know we agreed that we would part ways after you helped me find my father's sword but..."

She quieted abruptly and stopped. Looked around with the focus of a mountain panther guarding its newly slain pray.

"But what?"

An arrow came flying through the air before she could respond. Djeen only had the time to see its shiny broadhead spinning towards him before he jumped aside and saw Rahin catching it out of the air with the same effortlessness as if she had been picking an apple from a tree. She turned it around and threw it back wherefrom it had come: the dense green foliage of a tree.

A man's dying scream was heard and they saw him fall hard on the ground. The arrow had pierced right through his heart.

Footfalls to his left, Djeen hurried to pick the knife from his belt and throw it as his attacker. It hit the man right in the throat. No time to take his weapon back, Djeen turned around to the person coming in behind him. A double-headed battle axe came swinging down towards him. He grabbed it by the handle and punched the person behind it, making them stumble and fall down on the grass. With the heavy weapon that was now his, he split the man's skull open. A mixture of blood and brain matter splashed back on Djeen's face and he felt a slight pain on the back of his thigh.

He spun around, hitting away with his axe the blade that had struck him. The woman wielding the sword stared in shock when she saw that the razor-sharp edge of her weapon had not even left a scratch on his skin. It was only a short moment, the blink of an eye of inattention on her part, but he took the chance and swung the axe sideways towards her. The bit hit at her midriff and went through her as easily as if it had been cutting air. The loud crack of her spine being severed echoed up the treetops and she fell. First her legs, forward. Then her upper body, backwards.

In horror she gaped at her young, slim body cut in half and screamed. A blood-chilling shriek Djeen could not bear to hear. So partly out of mercy, partly to shut her up, he picked up her fallen sword and drove its point through one of her eyes and into her brain. She died instantly and quiet fell once again over the forest.

Djeen's heart was beating hard in his chest. His breathing was strained and his muscled still aching from the sudden effort. The first moments after a fight felt like that, like the euphoria after a good fuck, and although he could barely admit it to himself he realised now how much he had missed it.

Rahin was standing beside him over a man's body. In her hands were two long fighting knives she must have been hiding somewhere; perhaps up her sleeves or under her skirt. The thick blades were still dripping with their victim's blood and Rahin was hanging down her head as if in shame. Or prayer?

"Run."

Tomeer. In the heat of the fight Djeen had almost forgotten about him. He looked over to where his beloved's choked voice was coming from and saw a man standing behind him, holding him close like a lover and pressing the sharp end of a knife against his throat. Number One was lying beaten and bloodied on the ground and in the shadows beyond the trees the silhouettes of other marauders moved like ancient forest spirits looking for vengeance on the living.

"You didn't have to make this difficult!" The man shouted. "You know how these things works! You know what we want! So, I suggests you give us your money or your friend here is gonna get it!"

"We are simple travellers going south to find work," Rahin said, untied her coin purse from her belt and threw it on the ground. "We have little to give you but we want no trouble. Take whatever you like and let us go."

To show some goodwill, Rahin threw her knives into a bush and Djeen did the same with the axe and sword in his hands.

"Yeah, yeah. I don't need your life's story, sweetheart. And don't forget those fancy rings on those pretty fingers of yours."

With a sigh she removed from her hands the golden rings decorated with precious stones, took one last look at them as if to say goodbye and threw them next to the purse.

"These were all the valuable things we had. Like I said: we are but simple travellers."

The man nodded and seemed content. He lowered the knife somewhat.

"See? It wasn't that hard. There was no need to make such a bloody mess. And, y' know, at this point I would usually let you guys go. But that girl on the ground over there? T' was my brother's lass, it was. And he's gonna be real pissed when he hears someone cut his woman in two. Least thing I can do is get her justice. Blood for blood, like they say."

The marauder pressed the knife against Tomeer's throat. A small line of blood began to run down his neck and it was in that moment Djeen suddenly felt it.

Many hundred days had passed since last but he had no trouble recognizing it for what it was. He took a deep breath and accepted the energy into him. Let it flow through his veins and his limbs. Felt the fire rekindle.

Djeen leapt into the air and saw how the world seemed to move around him, rather than him through it. How the forest and the river and the blue sky above them all felt as if they were nothing but a stage and him an actor dancing through it after a manuscript written long ago.

He put front his foot and kicked the man in the face as he landed. Heard the satisfying sound of bones cracking and saw how he let go of Tomeer.

"Run! You and Rahin get out of here!"

Tomeer stared at him with his mouth half-open and a look of utter disbelieve. By how he felt it dance on his scalp, Djeen knew his hair had turned into flames. He also knew his eyes must have been a bright red and filled with fire.

"Don't be afraid," he said and put his burning hot finger on Tomeer's neck wound, cauterizing it in an instant. "Now, get out of here! Hurry!"

Tomeer finally ran off. By the look on his face, as much from his lover as from the man who had just tried to slit his throat.

Djeen turned around and jump with both feet on the marauder's head to finish him off. In the distance, he could hear the running steps of the other bandits running for their lives. The sound brought a smile to his face. That they thought they could get away from him!

He took up the chase. Jumping aside and over the trees and roots in his way was like a fun game as he caught up with his soon-to-be victims. He saw one desperately trying to climb up an oak as he was approaching. Shooting fire from his hand, he set both the tree and the woman aflame.

To his left a fool who thought he could take him rushed towards him with his sword up. Djeen caught the blade as it came down and melted it in his hand. He shoved the red-hot metal down the man's throat and kicked him away.

Djeen continued running after the others, shooting them with small balls of fire from his fingers. He hunted down every single one of them. Let out his rage towards those who had dared try to harm the one he loved the most. And he giggled like a child the whole time.

### *

Fits of laughter among the men. One stumped his feet on the wooden floor and hit his fist on the table, making all their tankards of beer jump up and down with each blow.

"You're funny," another said. "I swear so funny, kid!"

"I am not lying!" The boy said again, his face turning red with anger. "I tell you that's what I saw!"

Another round of laughter at the table. Tears ran down the boy's eyes and his lower lip trembled with sadness. One of the men put an affectionate hand on his shoulder.

"Come on, son. It was probably just a nightmare. You must have dozed off and dreamed crazy, that's all."

The little blond boy clenched his fists and marched with angry steps out of the tavern. Slammed the door on his way out so that the walls of the small wooden house shook with the impact.

"Man, what is it with the children nowadays?" One of the men exclaimed. "When we were little we respected our elders. We sure didn't tell them any tall tales about no fire demons out in the woods."

The other men shook their heads at the youth of today and sipped on their beers some more. Behind the counter a woman stood and wiped dishes clean. She smiled, amused that the boy thought anyone would buy his story. The Fire Demon Who Killed A Thousand Warriors In One Battle, out here in the woods next to their little village? Shooting fire from his hands to kill people? That story about the Ilyian fire demon probably wasn't even true anyway. Just some insane legend from the minds of heatstroked southerners.

"Would you like some more water?" She asked the white-haired beggar sitting on the other side of the counter.

He nodded and uttered a barely hearable thank you. She refilled his glass and looked at the poor fellow who came here every night to spend his meagre earnings on a bowl of soup and a piece of bread. Something about how he carried himself gave her the impression that he might have been a bit younger than he looked. A lifetime of hardship, and perhaps service in one of the Republic's many conquering missions, could have worn him out too soon like it did many men in this land. Beneath all his white scruff and the dirty piece of cloth he used to cover whatever had happened to his eyes, she could discern a face that once might even have been handsome.

"A man who shoots fire from his hands, eh? Out in the woods near the river, he said?"

Hearing the man's voice almost startled her. He usually didn't speak much and when he did his words were but a whisper.

"Yeah. But I wouldn't worry much about that, though. You know, kids and their stories..."

"Exactly," one drunkard by the counter weighed in. "Children, with their wild imagination and all, they don't know what's real half the time. Like that girl two villages over. Got the whole town panicking, said she saw some corpses rise alive out of their graves up in Yellow Sun Valley and walk away..."

"Walking corpses?!"

The beggar stood right up from his chair. Almost knocked the bowl of soup over in the process. Everyone in the tavern turned their eyes to him, shocked over the blind man's sudden display.

He calmed himself as quickly as he had stood up. Sat back down and cleared his throat.

"Pardon me. Please do go on."

"And well," the man continued hesitantly, "a group of the village's bravest guys, swords drawn and all, they go up to the cave tombs of, like I said, Yellow Sun Valley and they roll back the stone doors. Turns out the dead, they're still where they supposed to be. The girl made it all up, even if she denies it, prob'ly to get some attention. Or maybe she believes it really 'cause like I said, y'know, kids they don't know what's real half the time."

The beggar picked up the bowl of soup with two hands and chugged down the rest of his super. He got up, suddenly in a hurry, and made his way to the door with a determination and vitality in his step the tavern keeper had never seen before.

"What's happening? Where you going?" She asked.

Lifting his walking stick like a war general raising his sword to command his army forward, he declared:

"To the woods! By the river!"

The woman behind the counter and the drunkard exchanged a glance and shrugged. Just another poor old fool.

## Chapter Four

Tharasza had met many intimidating people in her life. Especially at the Republican Guard Archives, where she had worked briefly after finishing her librarian education. There she had met men of war, fearless fighters who had brought slaughter and death to many lands conquered by the Republic. Men who had slit the throat of children and ravaged by force countless women. And still, no one could chill her blood quite like her cousin.

Vsifara was, like Tharasza, an unusually tall woman. She had strong, muscular shoulders that would have brought envy from a many young men spending their days training in the gymnasium for a perfect physique. Her posture was always flawless and she carried herself with the certainty of someone who simply knows she has it all figured out.

Her face was at first sight a very pretty one. The softness of her skin gave the impression of someone at least ten winters younger and the puffiness of her cheeks only added innocence to her face. But her eyes, when you saw them, told a very different story.

In her gaze one never saw anything like love, affection or even sympathy. Only cold and utter determination. As if all she knew and all she could ever feel for were her own convictions, which she always believed without ever questioning herself. If one would have asked Tharasza to describe the feeling of seeing into her cousin's eyes she would have said that it was like staring into the hard, dead eyes of a statue. If statues could have seen down upon you like they wanted your head on a plate, that is.

"Well, well... What brings you down here amongst us mere mortals?"

Vsifara's voice, as icy as her eyes. Tharasza took a deep breath and prepared herself, like you often had to before looking into her cousin's face.

"I have brought some things. Clothes and jars of dried fruit."

They were standing in an abandoned warehouse in one of the poorest parts of the city. All around them were rows of tables where underprivileged women and children could freely pick amongst the many gifts given away by more well-off people. The event was organised about once every eight days and was, as all things managed by The Sisterhood, forbidden to men.

"How very generous of you," Vsifara said sarcastically and ordered with a gesture a woman to take the bag Tharasza was holding up.

The woman obeyed. By the way she hunched over and stared into the ground Tharasza could see that she feared Vsifara like most in The Sisterhood did. And which she should.

"Come with me," Vsifara said and Tharasza followed her.

They went outside and sat down on a bench a little further away. Here they could talk in peace. These streets were nearly empty this early in the morning. Only the occasional slave running errands or poorest of the poor gathering night soil could eventually interrupt their conversation.

"So... What do you want?"

Vsifara was straight to the point as usual. Not that Tharasza had expected anything else.

"Well, I know I haven't been active in the movement for quite some time..."

"I barely noticed."

"Cousin, spare me your sarcasm. I know I more or less abandoned you all when Tatiyah died, that I lost all will to fight for the cause but... I wish for a second chance. I know The Sisterhood goes on fine without me but I want to help in any way I can, if you'll allow me."

Vsifara considered her words. She did that thing with her face when she tried to give an expression of something that was supposed to resemble compassion. But since she was herself not familiar with such a feeling it only made her look manic.

"I guess maybe you could be given an opportunity to redeem yourself. After all, I remember how passionate you were about the cause once. I just want to know one thing: why now? It has been over ten winters since your mother passed. Why come back so long after?"

"To tell you the truth... I was ashamed," Tharasza said and looked away. Hoping that Vsifara would not see through her lie. "After I was done mourning my mother I felt such guilt for abandoning the cause for so long that I longer thought myself worthy of fighting for it. I'm sorry, this must all sound so silly to you."

Tharasza strongly suspected that guilt was indeed not a feeling Vsifara could understand, either emotionally or rationally. Despite what she sometimes would claim.

"Oh, no. I do understand. Then again, the cause is so grand that no one can ever truly be worthy of it. But I do not think that it is why you abandoned us. Do you want to know what I believe were your true motives?"

By the disdain in her voice and the way she stood up so as to be able as to look down on her, Tharasza got a sense of where things were going.

"I think that after Tatiyah died you thought that you no longer had any responsibility to fight for a better future for slaves. Your little... charity endeavour that you had gotten involved with to impress mommy dearest no longer had any appeal to you. So, you went back to your cosy, spoiled upper-class life and forgot all about the plight and suffering of the poor and the slaves and the destitute. You went right back to bask in your rich brat privilege because the truth is, you never truly cared for the cause."

Tharasza realised then that she had made a mistake by thinking that Vsifara would ever tell her anything about what was going on in the movement. In retrospect, it was quite obvious. Still, she felt the need to defend herself against such baseless accusations.

"If that was the case then why come back at all? Why not carry on with my cosy, privileged life, as you call it?"

Vsifara laughed. Vsifara almost never laughed. And when she did, like now, it was hatred and not joy that echoed with her chuckle.

"Oh, cousin! You really take me for a fool, don't you? Do you think a simple slave like me cannot add two and two? I know why you are here. I knew as soon as I saw you."

She walked backwards towards the building and did not let go with her eyes of Tharasza. Stared her down like she wished arrows could shoot along with her words and pierce through her skull.

"I was wrong to ever believe someone like you could care for the oppressed. Like any rich brat, your heart can only ever beat for gold. But I'll be nice and at least tell you what you came here to find out. Tell your sister that no, we are not the ones killing her beloved senators."

A cold chill like an icy wind passed through Tharasza, nearly robbed her of the words on her tongue.

"My... My sister?"

"Yes," Vsifara said with a smile as vicious as it was amused. "You really thought I didn't know, did you?"

### *

"There is no fear. There is no harm. Only peace, only warmth. Pass along, pass along."

Rahin repeated the incantation and threw some more ground root potion on the camp fire. Tall purple flames reached high above her, illuminated the whole clearing and the trees around it. In the corner of her eye she noticed the figure of the man who had returned. But she did not let that distract her. One of the slain spirits still lingered and it was her duty to help it reunite with Spirit.

"Peace awaits. Do not fear. Pass along, pass along."

The man who had been leaning on a tree came and sat on the opposite side of the fire. When the spirit sensed him, it disappeared with terror and a scream only Rahin could hear. Retracted into the darkness where it dwelled.

"You've been gone a while."

"Yes," Djeen said and warmed his hands close to the heat.

"Three days."

He gazed through the flames at her with a look both surprised and sad.

"Three days?"

"Yes. But it is understandable that you did not realise it. It can be difficult to keep track of time when Spirit has you."

He seemed to think something to himself which wrote anger on his face. He kept his gaze straight at the fire, as if somewhere in the rhythm of the flames was an answer trying to hide away from him.

"You must be hungry," Rahin told him. "There is some food left. Help yourself and eat a little."

Djeen followed her advice and chugged down the remnant of the rabbit stew she had made. He didn't bother heating it up again and tossed the empty bowl into the fire when he was done.

"He's gone, isn't he?"

"Who's gone?"

He sneered at her question and lay down on the grass. The sky was on this night, like often in the northern summertime, clear from any clouds and illuminated by thousands of stars shining so brightly in the darkness that someone with enough patience and time to lose could count and catalogue them all without problem.

"Tomo. Who else could I mean?"

"Tomeer? He hasn't left. He's in the tent. Sleeping."

Djeen sat up, crouching like he was about to leap like a desert monkey. Rahin saw him smile for the first time since he had come back but reality quickly downed on him again and the joy disappeared from his face.

"What... What did he say?"

"He had some question. I might have answered some of them."

Distraught, Djeen lay down again and hid his face in his hands. Rahin could hear the repressed tears in his voice when he spoke.

"Oh, Spirit... What did you tell him?"

"Don't worry," she reassured him, "I didn't tell him anything he couldn't have figured out on his own. I said that you have been gifted with certain special Spirit abilities but that you never told him because you were afraid of how he'd react. Nothing else."

He sighed. She wasn't sure if it was out of sadness or relief but it struck something deep inside her. Rahin knew all too well the feeling of having Spirit give you a gift that felt more like a burden and she knew also the helpless feeling of having one's destiny placed in the hands of powers far greater than your own.

"Is he mad at me?"

"No, I don't think so. But he has been worried. You should go talk to him. He'll be glad to see that you're okay."

A hint of a sad smile in the corner of his mouth. Djeen stood up and nodded, more to himself than as a response to her. He went to the tent and stopped in front of the tent flap. Murmured something to himself and went in.

Now alone, Rahin took a moment to meditate. She sensed that the spirit she had previously tried to help had still not returned. As the very man who had killed its body had now come back, she doubted it ever would. It was now up to another sorcerer or Spirit itself to help it cross over.

Instead she turned her attention to Number One. With her help he had healed fairly quickly from his injuries but he was still a bit beaten down mentally. She laid his head in her lap and gently scratched his chin the way he liked it. The beast made a sad grunt and saw into her eyes with his large amber ones.

"I know, I know... But you're a big boy, you'll be okay."

Rahin proceeded to scratch his stomach as she knew this always put him to sleep. And sure enough, he was soon dozing off like a gigantic scaly baby.

It hit her as she looked at him that he was the only one she truly had in this world. Both her parents had passed and she had no siblings. Her extended family and the few former friends she had no longer wished to have much to do with her due to their unease with her unwillingness to pretend that she felt like a man. So, it had come to be that the one true friend in her life was a giant lizard. Although, in that moment, it felt quite alright. Almost cosy.

She woke up at the first rays of morning light. Number One was gone and Tomeer was preparing some coal and wood to restart the fire which had gone extinct.

"They're out gathering breakfast," he explained and smiled at her with those full, rosy lips of his that made something in her stomach twist with a pain that felt oddly like pleasure.

"Did you guys talk?"

"Yeah. We're okay. But I wish he had told me something. I mean, it's not like I've never met someone who gifts of magic before. It makes me feel like he doesn't trust me."

"I think he trusts you, more than you think. He's just a very... inside of himself kind of person. It can be hard to get him to talk about what's going on in his mind. He's not much for words at all."

"Ain't that the truth," he said and chuckled. Shook his head in a way that made his gorgeous blond locks sway in a fashion she found most hypnotic. "So I guess Yurat has always been like that, then?"

"Yes, as long as I've known him."

Djeen had apparently still not revealed his true name to Tomeer and, she suspected, not much else of what was really going on. She wondered if he would even believe it. Walking dead coming over a mountain no one had ever been known to cross sounded more like an old legend that anything grounded in reality. Either way, she was willing to let him be for now in peaceful ignorance. Spirit knew that wouldn't last long.

### *

"... so every day we are found lacking and fail at every turn to emulate the Perfection of The Mighty. Be therefore not proud! Do not be haughty and think you can deny The Mighty of what is rightfully His! But put Him always and His Perfect Will first! Now, who will be next to give sacrifice?"

The Mighty, with the eyes of The Beloved One through whom he spoke, saw over the gathered townspeople. Their faces gave him a sick feeling, with their fear and sorrow. Had they not yet come to see the truth? Why did they always have to test his patience?

"I! I will bring sacrifice!"

An elderly man came out of the crowd. He was walking with difficulty and with a cane but on his face was an expression of pure joy. Tears were streaming down his cheek as he kneeled in front of his God.

"Gaze upon me," The Mighty said. "And speak! What brings you to offer sacrifice?"

"Oh, Holy God!" The man exclaimed and looked with euphoria up at him. "All my life I have walked in your truth. I have praised you each day since I was a little boy and you have blessed me greatly: with many children, an obedient wife and a long life. You, oh Holy God, have blessed me with all this! So how could I deny you of anything you ask of me, when you have given me everything?"

The Mighty studied the man's face. Its scars and wrinkles. The saggy rings under his milky, old eyes. He estimated him to have lived a least ninety winters.

"I have seen and heard all of your praise each day of your life, my beloved servant. And I have known your name since before you came out of your mother's womb. I have seen, Baamahra, that you have loved me with all your soul."

The man lit up when he heard his name, unknowing that The Mighty had just tricked him into thinking it in his mind so that he could read it.

"Tell me, my servant, do you love me more than anyone? More than any imperfect beings of this world?"

"Yes! Yes, my Lord!"

"Then give back to me what I once gave you. Offer your descendants as a sacrifice as well as yourself to me and I shall bless you greatly. You and all those who belong to you shall forever be with me in the Perfect World coming!"

He took the man's hand in his and held it. Moved to tears and trembling with joy the elder accepted the bloodied ceremonial knife The Mighty put in his other hand.

"God," he said between sobs, "I give you everything I am and everything that is mine. With great devotion and adoration and from my own hands!"

Baamahra stood up on shaking knees and marched smiling towards the crowd. A woman picked up her child, a young toddler, in her arms when she saw him approaching.

"No! Father, please no!" She exclaimed and tried to run away.

But a Redeemed was on her before she could and caught her in its arms.

"Do not fear," her father said. "Trust in our Lord! Trust him with all your might! He shall bless us greatly! Do not fear!"

Other members of his family tried to escape but were chased down. Some came willingly to the altar to have their blood spilled for the glory of The Mighty. Those who did smiled like their elderly patriarch even when he slashed the knife across their throats.

The Mighty looked with pleasure over the ceremony and felt moved in his heart to have found today servants willing to fully commit to the highest cause. But a fury burned in him when he saw all of those who had not come forward to give themselves to sacrifice.

"When he has killed the last of those who are his," he said whispering to the leader of the Redeemed Guard, "gather all still living and slaughter them all."

### *

"How do you think she knew?"

"I don't know. But," Tharasza pondered, "I know Tatiyah did not tell her. Spirit only knows what Vsifara would have done to me if she had known my father was a senator and my sister married to one. Holding me hostage or taking my life for the sake of the cause are both things I have no doubt she would have had no guilt to do."

"What are you going to do now?"

"I think I'll send a letter of demand to visit my sister. We might have some things to we need to talk about."

"A letter of demand? To visit your own sister?"

"Yes," Tharasza said with a sad smile. "It can seem a bit strange. But my brother-in-law tends to be somewhat paranoid when it comes to who and how he lets people into his house. Not that he shouldn't be. He is the Highest Senator after all."

True enough. Viktr had himself cared for the Senator after many of the failed attempts on his life, sometimes from people the leader of the senate had considered friends. Most would have been just as careful if not more as to who they trusted had they been in a similar situation.

Cheers and applause which seemed to make the whole stadium shake. Here and there the hysterical screams of young women who no doubt had come today to admire the handsome senator Faddl. The debates were about to start. Viktr and Tharasza shared a smile of confidants and turned their attention down to the arena.

The topic for the day's discussion was what to do about an uprising of workers at an iron ore mine in the north east of the Republic. Since the war and conquering effort had tripled in the last couple of circles of season, the need for metal to build weapons and armour had greatly increased. As a result of this, the work load on the miners had become unbearable and now a violent revolt had begun to take place.

First to debate was a senator from the Justice Party: Tisnju Faddl. He was around thirty winters old and among the youngest in the senate. His beautiful eyes, untamed black locks and general handsomeness made him very popular amongst women and his politics of "love, compassion and generosity" won him the heart of younger women in particular.

When it came to the miners' revolt he followed a similar rhetoric as he usually did. His argument was that an emissary should be sent to the protesters to negotiate an arrangement which who would be beneficial to all parts.

"Let us not forget that the burden on those who supply our great Republic with the material necessary for its glorious expansion has steadily grown heavier in recent times. Let us show these hard-working men, although Ilyians they may not be, that we value their sacrifices and are not unwilling to hear their plea."

He suggested that more workers should be hired at the mines to lighten the workload on those already there. So willing he was to resolve this conflict without violence that he even proposed tax cuts on the miners' pay. Tharasza and Viktr exchange a surprised glance when they heard him say this. A reduction of taxes was not something often promoted by the Justice Party. In fact, it was practically unheard of.

After senator Faddl had made his case it was the turn of senator Giliaz to make his own and opposing arguments. His opinion was that military troops should be sent to quickly and efficiently beat down the rebellion. This was quite expected for two reasons. The first was that his party, The Party of Honour and Tradition, was much more in favour of the use of military force to solve problems. The second was that as the owner of the private troop The Golden Lions, he stood to extend his already great fortune if his own army was given the mission to end the revolt.

There was here an obvious conflict of interests and once there had been laws in place to prevent this sort of things. But the previous Highest Senator, who was the father of the current Senator, had managed to get them abolished so that his personal friend Pio Giliaz could be voted in as senator. Ever since, the Golden Lions had served as an unofficial right-hand army to the Republican Guard.

Most were aware of senator Giliaz's personal reasons for his arguments and perhaps therefore he attempted to pull at their heartstrings to win them over.

"Hear their plea, senator Faddl tells you. And there is a plea which you should listen to but it is not that of the criminals whose side our young and naïve senator has taken. It is instead that of the hard-working farmers whose homes are being burned to the ground. It is that of the children being made fatherless by these barbaric hordes and that of the young maidens being violated by the hundreds!"

A round of applauds and cheers. The appeal to emotion and to rumours which had yet to be confirmed seemed as always to win the masses over.

"Let me tell you," Giliaz continued, "about a rapport I got regarding a young woman, an Ilyian citizen travelling through the region, and her traumatizing encounters with these filthy rebels."

What looked like a large white insect landed on his neck and the senator tried to hit it away. But I would not move.

"She," he said and cleared his throat, "she was..."

A sudden coughing fit stopped him from going on. Viktr put on hand on his medicine bag and peered down from the balcony where he and Tharasza was standing and where he stood every debate in case the senators ever needed his help.

Giliaz tried to regain his composure. Stood up straighter and saw over the public with a calm and authoritative look.

"As I was saying..."

Before he could say any more he fell to the side and began to cramp violently. Viktr rushed down the small staircase that led to the stage and kneeled next to the senator, whose eyes had rolled back into his head and whose mouth was running over with a mixture of blood and foam.

Viktr searched through his bag and tried to hear his own thoughts over the deafening sound of the hysterical screaming crowd. He needed to figure out what was happening and act fast if he would have any chance of saving the senator.

But the cramping stopped before he could do anything. Viktr leaned over the now motionless man and made a quick examination of his vital signs. Finding no breath and no pulse, he turned to the nearest republican guard and informed him:

"He's dead."

In disbelief, Viktr took a closer look at the body and saw that the strange white bug he had seen earlier was still on the senator's neck. Upon closer inspection, he found that the thing was in fact not any type of insect but a small dart of the kind that could be shot from a blowgun.

Wrapping his hand in a piece of cloth as precaution, he took the dart out and studied it some more. He found that there was something odd about the feathers on it and realised that there was an image drawn on each of them. An image of a white hibiscus.

### *

"Oh, Spirit! What is taking her so long?"

"Why are you so impatient all of the sudden, Yurat? Whatever she's doing in there must be worth the time. You surely understand, you're a sorcerer too."

"I'm not a sorcerer!"

"What do you call it then? When a man has gifts of Spirit he's usually called a sorcerer."

"No, I mean I'm not like... these people. Always talking in riddles, withholding information... If there's something I need people to know I tell them right out. You know? I'm an honest guy."

Djeen stopped his walking back and forth and sat next to Tomeer, who put an arm around him and gave him a peck on the cheek.

"Well, whatever you are you're still my manly snuggle bear."

"Why do you keep calling me that?" Djeen asked with an embarrassed snicker.

"Oh, don't pretend you don't like it."

There was the sound of them kissing. The blind man hiding up in a tree had seen and heard many things in his life but there was something about two men showing each other this level of affection that made him uncomfortable in a way that nothing before ever had. So much that he felt almost grateful for the loss of his eyesight. That way at least he didn't have to see it.

Steps approaching. By their soft and careful nature, he figured it must be the girl coming back from meditating in a nearby cave.

"You guys ready to leave? Our friends will be here soon."

"Our friends?" Djeen said. "We don't even know who you're talking about. And you still haven't told us what this 'superior mode of transportation' is that we're supposed to travel southwards with."

"Do not worry. Everything will become clear."

Sighing in exasperation Djeen leaned towards his lover and whispered:

"See? What'd I tell you? Always with the riddles."

So, they waited. The old man didn't know for how long but enough time passed that he felt his limbs become heavy from boredom. Then finally, he heard a sound which he had not heard for many winters but that he would have recognized anywhere: the Daya bird flapping its gigantic wings.

These beasts were a type of eagle related to the man-sized species often trained to carry mail and packages. The main differences being that Daya birds were far larger, about the size of four grown men, and not in any way domesticable. They were known for their dislike of humans and would sometimes attack them for seemingly no reason at all.

Dayas usually did they best to stay away from human sight and he had only seen them a handful of times in his life. He remembered one instance in particular, one harsh winter when famine raged and he and a group of other people had tried in desperation to catch a Daya with the help of a large net they had sewn together. Unsurprisingly, their attempt failed miserably and five men were torn to pieces by the eagle's powerful claws.

To this day he could not forget the sound the bird made as it flew again and he could hear it now, only multiplied. He estimated them to be three and coming from the east.

"Daya! Daya! Rahin, watch out!"

Djeen reached for his knife and Tomeer for his walking stick, as if any of these objects had any chance against such beasts.

"Put your weapons down! It's okay, I called them here."

The sound of the birds landing on the grass behind her. Of them folding their majestic wings. Black and white like magpies', he remembered.

"They will us fly to our destination. If the winds are in our favour we could arrive in just a couple of days."

After putting his knife away, Djeen took a few hesitant steps towards one of them. Then the soft sound of his hand patting the bird's feathers and the silence of Tomeer holding his breath.

"How in the world did you do this, Rahin? Dayas never let humans come close to them."

"It takes time," she explained. "These are very intelligent animals so it takes a while to earn their trusts. But it can be done. And I also had some help from Spirit to communicate with them, so I guess I can't take all the credit."

"This is amazing. Simply amazing," Djeen said with an amused disbelief in his voice. "So how do we do this?"

The woman snapped her fingers and gave some command in a language the blind man had never heard before. Immediately, all three birds lay down on their stomachs.

"Just climb into their backs, hold on to the feathers on the side of their necks and we'll be ready to take off. I'll be mounting the biggest one and the other two will follow my lead."

"So... How high exactly are they going to fly?" Tomeer asked.

"Oh, not that high. We won't have any lack of air, if that's what you're worried about."

"It's not," Djeen said. "He's afraid of heights."

A moment of confused silence. It must have seemed as bizarre to the woman as it did to the man in the tree that a northern mountain man could have such a phobia.

"I am not afraid of heights," Tomeer protested. "I just have reasonable concerns about what could happen if you fell from them."

Laughter from Djeen and what sounded like him smacking the other man's bottom.

"Yeah, that's just a fancy way of saying you're afraid of heights. So, when are we leaving?"

"I was thinking right now," Rahin said. "And Tomeer, don't worry. I have flown on these eagles hundreds of times. You have my word that it's perfectly safe."

Leading by example she climbed unto the largest bird and the men did the same with the other two.

"You guys ready?" She asked.

"Yep!" Djeen answered gladly.

"I guess so," Tomeer said with a lot less enthusiasm.

The woman snapped her fingers and gave a command. All three Dayas unfolded their wings, shrieked and took off towards the sky.

When he no longer could hear the gliding of the eagles in the wind, the man climbed down from the tree. He hit his cane against a hollow stump and listened carefully to the echoes, to how the sounds travelled and hit back towards him, and made a quick sketch in his mind of the surroundings. It would make it easier for him to recognize the place if he ever had to come back here.

But for now he needed to walk back to the nearest town, where the three travellers had left their strange lizard creature at a livery yard. There he would wait patiently for their return.

# Chapter Five

Viktr sat and watched the sun slowly disappear behind the walls of the city. He had no more appointments for the day and usually he might have gone down to his favourite tavern for a glass and a chat with some friends. But today he didn't feel much like seeing anyone and instead drank peach liquor directly from the bottle and without much enthusiasm as he stared emptily out the window of his cabinet. Old and weary feelings were weighing him down. Thoughts he could share with no one ached in his guts. Or maybe it was just the liquor.

"Master?"

A whispering voice and a shy knock on the door. Viktr suppressed an urge to tell it to fuck off and got up.

"Yes?"

His servant showed his head through the half-open doorway and looked nervously around the room.

"Someone is here to see you. It's your... lady friend."

"My la...? Oh, you mean Tharasza? Let her in."

Tharasza seemed unusually beautiful when he saw her. At first he didn't really know why but as she leaned back against the closed door and smiled at him he realised that she was not wearing any make-up. It gave her face a softer look. Even her lips, which were usually covered in red lipstick, had something more satin and enticing with their natural rosy colour. It occurred to him that nothing would stand in between their naked lips if they were to kiss.

"I'm sorry I didn't put on my face today," she said. "I haven't been feeling so well and hardly slept."

"Oh, don't apologise," Viktr said. "I think everyone in this city is a bit shaken right now. And you are as gorgeous as ever, so don't worry."

He regretted the last sentence as soon as he had said it, thought that he might have offended her or come off as creepy. To quickly distract her from his possible mistake he offered her his chair while he sat on the low divan where he examined his patients.

"But enough about me," Tharasza said. "How are you holding up?"

"I'm okay. A bit tired. I didn't get much sleep either after what happened. In my line of work I see quite a lot of upsetting things but this is the first time I ever have one of my patients murdered in front of my eyes."

The scene had replayed in his mind over and over for most of the night. How the senator had suddenly fallen to the floor. How Viktr had rushed to his side but been utterly helpless to save his life. The panic that had ensued, which had quickly turned to rioting and the violence brought upon the audience by the Republican Guard. Hundreds had died according to the reports and the injured numbered in the thousands. Yet, they had not been able to catch or even identify the murderer.

Tharasza put a hand on his and he felt a rush of warmth and pleasure course through his body. He looked into her big, beautiful eyes. She had shared so much of herself with him. Told him her deepest secrets at her own peril. Things which could strip her of her citizenship and see her sold into slavery if the authorities ever found out about them. Meanwhile he had withhold the answer to questions which plagued her as much as it did him. No longer able to stand the guilt, he decided that now was the moment to tell her the truth.

"I need to show you something."

He got up, opened a drawer and found a heavy book that he put in his lap as he sat back down on the divan.

"Have you ever noticed," he asked her, "how sometimes after you have drawn or written something with charcoal, your fingers leave small prints of their patterns when you touch an object?"

Tharasza nodded, interested. She was sitting on the edge of the chair and peering at the book, eager to learn. As he had got to know her Viktr had found that she was a very bright person. It wasn't surprising as she was a librarian at the largest library in the whole Republic, but she was more than simply intelligent. Brilliant was a much more appropriate word which came to mind and the short time they had been friends Viktr had found himself as attracted to her mind as to her very pleasant appearance.

"When I was in the Academy," he continued, "I noticed this also and that none of the patterns on my fingers were two exactly the same. I wondered if they would also differ from person to person so I started to collect finger patterns from volunteers. In total I have collected over four thousand prints and do you want to know something strange? Not once have I ever found two alike, not even on the same hand."

He handed her the book and she opened it. Smiled with amusement as she flipped through the pages where he had meticulously gathered finger patterns along with information on who they belonged to and what exact finger they were from. It hit Viktr that to Tharasza as to most people it must have seemed like a bizarre interest to have. If he had to be honest with himself, most of what fascinated him had always appeared strange to others. He could still recall the other children laughing at him as he chased around crickets to identify their species and catalogue them in a book he carried with him everywhere.

"Viktr, this is... amazing! It must have taken you forever."

"It did take a while. But you know how it is when you're doing something that really interests you. It's like time ceases to exist."

"It truly does, doesn't it?"

Viktr felt such a surge of warmth and affection towards Tharasza that he had to restrain himself from putting his arms around her. No one he had met before had ever understood him quite like she did.

"As I've been working on this project I have developed multiple techniques to gather print from many different types of surfaces. Lycopodium powder is one of my favourites. Anyway, you probably wonder why I am telling you all this."

He got up again and revealed a key hanging on a piece of string around his neck. With it he opened another drawer. He put on a pair of white cotton gloves and took out two objects: a half-empty bottle of perfume and a small glass vile.

"Look," he said to Tharasza as held the up two items in front of her. "Do you see anything special?"

"Yes, there is a beige finger pattern on each of them."

"Look closer. Take the magnifying glass that's on my desk."

She did as he said and studied the two prints more closely. After looking back and forth between them a couple of times she realised:

"They're the same."

"Exactly," Viktr said and sat back on the divan. Took a deep breath before he exposed the shocking truth to her. "The glass vile comes from the scene of senator Tilik's murder. It used to contain the poison that was poured in his cup of tea. The perfume bottle... I took in secrecy from his house. It belonged to his wife."

Tharasza stood up and walked towards the door. For a moment he thought she would leave but she turned around with an expression of disbelief on her face.

"Viktr... What are you saying?"

"That there is a real possibility senator Tilik was murdered by his own wife. And there's another thing. I have found evidence that all other White Hibiscus murders, expect for Giliaz's, were committed by the wives of the senators."

Tharasza sat back on the chair, put her fingers to her lips. Viktr felt his heart beat hard as he saw her confused expression. Did she believe him?

"But what about the Lonz murders? Didn't the whole family die then?"

"They did. And that was the most shocking thing. I found the wife's prints on a vile of poison in the trash. Then there was this peculiar detail. You remember how I mentioned that white hibiscus flowers had been scattered over the scene? Well, when it comes to the husband and children the flowers were on their bodies but with the wife they were under hers. Because she died not only after her family but also after the flowers had been strewn over them."

Viktr saw how Tharasza tried to fight back tears and he remembered his own sorrow when he had first realised the horrifying truth.

"So... She killed her own family? Her own children? What could possibly push a mother to do such a thing?"

"I wish I knew."

Tharasza put a hand on his knee and he had to hold down a shiver of pleasure from the touch. She looked deep into his eyes, grabbed his hand with hers.

"Viktr, you must not tell this to anyone. Please, tell me you haven't already? Consider what would happen if you were not believed!"

"I haven't told anyone. Only you."

She gave a sigh of relief. Maybe she was like him thinking about the fate of the last doctor to the senators. How he had been pulled apart by for four strong horses for all to see in the middle of the public scare after having made allegations of corruption against a member of the ruling party. Whether or not they were true had been irrelevant. The point was that you didn't talk in such a way about a member of the Ilyian elite.

"Oh, Viktr! What are we going to do?"

Hearing her despair, Viktr felt a sting of guilt in his chest. Why did he have to tell her the truth? Had it really not been better for her to remain ignorant? Either way, it was too late for regrets now.

### *

"Tomo, look! It's beautiful!"

Far below, the cultivated fields spread as far as the eye could see in bright green, yellow and brown. Between them the small wooden houses of the midland farmers and here and there humans and beasts, so small you could barely tell them apart. On the horizon, the blue and sparkly reflection of a lake.

"Yurat's right," Rahin said. "You're really missing something! I promise you, again, there is nothing to be afraid of. Let me show you. Tomo, look at me!"

He peeked hesitantly from the neck feathers where he had been burying his face all day and saw Rahin straddling her eagle backwards. She gave him a cheeky smile and without a word let herself fall to the side and off the bird.

Tomeer let out a scream and even Yurat, who always tried his best to show little emotion, called out her name in shock. The daya she had been sitting on looked down with the same bored interest of a man who had accidentally dropped a coin and flew after her. It grabbed the collar of her dress in its beak and flung her back to where she previously sat.

"See," she told Tomeer when the eagle had flown back up to his level. "Nothing to be afraid of."

"Holy cock!" Yurat exclaimed, laughing. "Let me try!"

"No! No! No, you don't!" Tomeer, who suddenly found the courage to sit upright, waved his finger at Yurat. "You don't! I swear I will never forgive you if..."

"Okay, okay! I'm not going to. Take it easy."

They flew in silence for a while. Tomeer tried to calm himself down and as much as Yurat's typical recklessness made him furious, he found he couldn't stay mad at him for long. He just loved the man too much, damn it all.

Although he would never have admitted it out loud, Rahin's audacious trick had reassured him somewhat. He peered down over the eagle's wings and saw pale yellow fields of wheat. Small patches of woods in-between. Houses, a mill and what from up here looked like a dozen little ants going about their day. It hit him that it was the entire world of many people down there, on what to him appeared almost to be a map drawn crudely by the hands of a child. A familiar feeling came over him, one he often experienced when he walked alone in the green hills of his native mountains: a reminder of how small he was in the grand scheme of things. The world was so vast and beautiful in a way which would persist long after he was gone. For a short moment, it made him forget all about his fear.

That is until he felt himself falling, suddenly pushed off by a force he did not see. Nothing but blue sky above him and emptiness beneath his flailing limbs, he let out a scream of anguish as he understood what had happened. He held on to the hope that the eagle would soon be coming to save him but as the seconds passed he saw no sign of the bird. A bright light, maybe the sun, blinded his eyes and he felt the earth pulling him faster and faster towards her.

Tomeer hit the ground and a thought that this was the end crossed his mind. He found that dying did not hurt as much as he had expected and that the soil underneath him felt soft, almost like... feathers?

Black and white they lay beneath him and until he saw the back of Yurat they were to him the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. When he realised his man had come to rescue him he hugged him, held him tight like he really was about to die and all they had was this moment. Far below, the landscape seemed as unreal and distant as ever.

"You're okay?" Yurat asked.

"I'm alive!" He answered, dumfounded that it was true.

"That's the spirit!"

Steering the eagle by pulling on its neck feathers like Rahin had showed them, Yurat flew it back upwards to where Tomeer's daya was trying to fight off another bird. Tomeer had never seen anything like it before. It was a type of eagle with brown and green feathers and was a bit larger than a daya. With its powerful claws, it grabbed the smaller bird's neck and broke it like a twig, then let it go and let the daya spin lifelessly down towards the ground.

Having killed its first target, the eagle turned its attention to the two men and the daya they were sitting on. When the animal turned its head, Tomeer could see that half its face was gone, eaten away to the pearly white bone by some illness or injury. The stench of rotting flesh hit him at the same time as he saw this.

"Oh, fuck no! Yurat! Yur', turn around!"

Yurat didn't respond and flew the daya upwards and over the eagle that was quickly coming their way. It took the bait and followed them.

"Yurat, what the fuck are you doing?! You're going to get us killed!"

The daya was increasing in speed, flying almost vertically so that Tomeer's legs were dangling in the void as he clung to its plumage with all his strength. The larger eagle was now so close that he attempted to bite his feet but Tomeer was fast and all the giant bird got was a beakful of tail feathers.

"Tomeer, don't worry," Yurat said calmly. "Everything is going to be okay. I just need you to hold on."

Without further explanation, he pulled the knife from his belt and jumped backwards. Somersaulted in the air and landed with one arm around the brown and green eagle's neck. With his other hand, he began to stab repeatedly at its skull. The bird seemed quite unbothered by it, as if it could feel no pain.

At an instant when the metal was firmly plunged into its flesh, the eagles suddenly turned over and started to fly upside down. Yurat lost his grip of its neck and hanged on by the handle of his weapon. The blade slipped slowly out of the bloodless wound and he fell.

Tomeer tried to make the daya fly back down after him by pulling on its neck feathers like reins, just as Rahin had showed him. But the eagle was already on them and slammed the smaller bird, pushing Tomeer right off.

Once again, the cloudless blue sky above him and the emptiness beneath. This time he did not fight the pull of the earth on his body, felt it go through him and accepted it. He knew that he would have no chance to rescue Yurat now and with tears in his eyes he welcomed death rather than having to live without him.

Although it seemed life was not quite done with him and he felt a familiar softness against his back when he landed again on the black and white feathers of a daya. He turned his head and recognized Rahin by her long black dress and short dark hair.

"Where have you be... Yurat! You have to go after him! He fell!"

"No time. He'll be okay."

"No, he won't!" He shouted, exasperated by the strange calmness in her voice. "He fell! Listen to me!"

She did not. Instead she pulled her bow and an arrow from the quiver on her back and aimed at the eagle, which had just finished killing the second daya. The beast saw them and folded its wings along its body, shooting down towards them at a speed they could not possibly escape.

Still eerily calm, Rahin drew back the bowstring and let go. The arrow with its head glowing as blue fire hit its target when it was right about to collide with them. And just like that, the eagle was gone. Vanished into a cloud of fine blue powder.

"What the...? How did you do that?" Tomeer asked and coughed on some the blue stuff he accidentally inhaled. He found it tasted a lot like ashes.

Rahin, caught up in her own coughing fit and wiping her face and eyes of the mysterious powder, did not answer and steered the daya down towards the ground.

They landed in a small clearing surrounded by tall birch trees. A deer hopped away as they arrived and the singing birds all around them gave the place a peaceful feeling that did not match the distress Tomeer felt.

"He's over there," Rahin said and pointed to a spot in the tall grass.

"Can you... I can't... He's..."

Tomeer fell to his knees as if the full force of his sorrow had knocked his feet from under him. Tears flooded his eyes and he punched the hard, dry soil with his fist. His body shook from his sobbing and he cursed Rahin in silence. If only she had saved Yurat instead of him. But she hadn't and now his gorgeous, brave man was gone. Forever leaving this world cold and empty in the eyes of Tomeer.

Sudden motion in the grass. Tomeer at first did not pay it much attention as he assumed some rabbit or other small animal was making the green stems move. Then a man stood up, blocking the sun.

Tomeer looked up and thought he was dreaming when he saw Yurat gazing at him with a tender smile on his lips.

"Well that was fun," he said. "Let's never do it again."

### *

"Will it be more lamb, father?" The little boy asked.

"Yes, pass me more of that delicious stew!" The father said and accepted the empty bowl his son gave him. "And how is my dear family today?"

"Wonderful!" The children replied in unison.

"A truly blessed day!" The mother said and poured herself another glass of fresh spring water.

The ceramic jug proved too heavy for her frail decomposing hand and both fell of her arm and onto the dinner table. Had The Mighty still had a breath he would have sighed. Even in death they still had to exasperate him so.

He put the unfilled jug back up, opened the woman's stiff fingers from around the handle and examined the limb. The flesh was falling apart too much for him to be able to sew it back on her arm. He would have to deflesh both hand and arm and put them back together using some wire as well as metal inserts to give flexibility.

Outside the house he saw the corpse of the small dog and made it hop around wagging its tail. He found the pink evening sky too empty for his taste and made some birds fly across it for his amusement. It was another beautiful sunset in The Mighty's near-perfect Kingdom.

The Mighty took a quick stroll around the village. Peered with delight into the houses where he had made all the families gather for super. Things where so much more orderly and pure now that all living beings this side of the Wind Mountains had been infused with his spirit. Only a little more time and this blessing would come upon all under the sun.

It would take a bit longer than he had planned. All because of that fire mage and the boy in the dress who were standing in his way. But he knew that the Truth and Right Path would inevitably triumph. The Redeemed he had sent and the eagle carrying his spirit might have failed to stop them but his next project would annihilate them both.

Just as they deserved. The Mighty could feel a rightful rage rise inside of him as he thought about these two. How that redheaded faggot lay down with men without any shame. How that disgusting Toyanese sorcerer refused what was natural and put on the resemblance of a woman. Both spit in the face of what was designed and true and for that he would take great pleasure in slaughtering them.

### *

The last ambers of the campfire illuminated Djeen's hands in the darkness. In the red glow they looked to him almost as if they were covered in blood. They were, in a sense.

He wondered if Tomeer was asleep in the tent or if he was awake thinking about all they had told him tonight. Probably the later, he figured. This evening he had finally told everything to Tomeer. Not just about his gifts, but the coming army of Redeemed, his homeland beyond the mountains and even the atrocious things he had done on that fateful day the last time he was in Ily. Tomeer knew also now the real reason they were travelling south and that there never had been a well-paid farming job waiting for them.

"Can't sleep either?"

Rahin sat down next to him. Folded her long, slim legs beneath her. For a reason he couldn't quite figure out he find the concern in her voice annoying. He said nothing, sat in silence for a while until he remembered something he had meant to ask her.

"You know I wouldn't die. When I fell, you knew I would be okay."

"'Kill me if you can. See if you can figure out something I haven't.' When you told me this I knew that you had tried and failed to end your life."

Djeen felt shame when he realised that she had understood what he had done. But then he remembered that if he had tried to commit suicide so many times and in so many different ways, it was because he knew he deserved to die.

"I killed people who were my friends, Rahin. People who had stood by me and treated me with nothing but kindness. I took their lives."

She looked off in the distance, into nothing. Heavy clouds blocked all light from the moon and the stars tonight and one could not see anything beyond the small space the ambers cast their rapidly dying glow over.

"I am sure that if you could have controlled what happened you would not have hurt them. You are a good man, Djeen. Even if you can't see it yourself."

He repressed a snore and tossed some logs on top of the ambers. Her words were nonsense to him but she was trying to be nice so he decided to cut her some slack.

"When will the dayas you called on be here?" He asked, more to change the subject than because he really cared.

"Tomorrow around midday. Then we have about one day left before we reach our destination."

"And after I've showed you where the sword is, we part?"

Djeen rekindled the campfire with his finger and cast her a side-way glance. She seemed deep in thoughts and tired as the new flames illuminated her profile.

"I can't tell you what to do, Djeen. But as I have already explained to you, the sword is as useless as any other sword against the coming horror in anybody's hands but yours."

He found he didn't believe her more than any other time she had told him this. After all, he wasn't special. He was just a guy. Although, when he thought about it, maybe he wasn't. Most guys can't fall out of the sky and not die.

"Fine, I'll help you fight The Mighty and his army. But that sword..." He leaned closer to her and stared into her eyes to make sure she got the message. "I'm not touching it. Nothing you say or do will ever make me touch that evil thing again. Nothing."

## Chapter Six

The indoor garden which also served as a waiting room was a place Tharasza had seen only a handful of times. Three exactly, in the less than three winters her sister had been married to the Highest Senator. In was also the amount of times she had spoken to Elizz since the wedding.

When she thought about it now while looking pensively at the water running in the white marble fountains, Tharasza realised how much she had missed her. The two women had never been close. Tharasza, just like their middle-sister Otea, had shunned as an adult the shallow upper-class life of The Golden Village. Elizz, on the other hand, had always loved its luxury, incessant gossip and cult of personalities. Ever since her youth she had been a well-known figure in the social elite of Ily and had accepted with great pleasure all the fame her sisters did not want. So much so that it was widely believed that she was the only daughter of senator Diuz.

Tharasza wondered what her brother-in-law was up to right this moment. She guessed probably banging some poor slave girl who didn't have a say in the matter or maybe stuffing his face or getting drunk. It wouldn't have surprised her either if he had been doing all three things at the same time. While she understood the, to Elizz, very important reasons why she had married the pig, Tharasza could never wrap her head around how she put up with all this crap.

"The Senator's wife will receive you now."

Two female republican guards escorted Tharasza through the carefully decorated halls where statues and painted portraits of Elizz and the Senator looked down soberly over them. Seemed to judge them from their place higher up, which was probably the point.

A couple of statues in particular caught Tharasza's eyes. They were new, as their shiny freshly polished marble showed, and had been placed in front of a large oak door behind which she knew the bedroom of the Senator's former wife was. It was in there she had slit her own throat with a razor and thrown herself off the balcony and onto the street below. In the suicide note she had left behind she explained that she had chosen to end her life rather than live with the disgrace of having the Senator divorce her, which he had told her he would to marry the much more attractive Elizz, widow of Nov Julkis.

The official story was quite different. Although anyone who had seen her body lying on the golden pavement could testify than her death was most definitely not an accident, the Guard's rapport said that she had simply fallen of the balcony. If anyone would be to openly question it, and it seemed no one had yet been foolish enough to do so, the Senator would make sure to have them silenced permanently. The only reason Tharasza knew about the note was that Elizz had told her about it. And now the secret seemed well-guarded, almost forgotten behind shiny white statues of the Senator and his new wife.

Elizz lit up when she saw her younger sister and took Tharasza in her arms the same protective way she did when they were little. Even though Tharasza was more than two heads taller than her, she found it as comforting as when she was a small girl sitting on her big sister's lap. No matter their differences, and Spirit knew they were many, she never doubted that Elizz had always loved and cared deeply for her.

"Thara! So good to see you. It has been far too long since we last spoke. Come, tell me how you've been."

They sat down on a divan in a corner of the room, near the window. The fabric was a dark blue and was embroiled with fine details of gold and silver thread. On the small glass table in front of them was a pot of tea and two cups for drinking. By the smell Tharasza recognised that it was her favourite kind of tea: ginger flavoured hibiscus.

Tharasza spoke briefly about her life and how things were going at her job in the library. She listened to Elizz talk about her own life, which would become somewhat hectic in a couple of days when she would start to plan the Senator's Grand Meeting which happened at the end of every summer. Listened Tharasza did as well as she could with the two finely shaped male slaves fanning them with palm leafs. The one next to Elizz especially kept catching her eyes with his larger than average member barely hidden beneath the loincloth which was all he was wearing.

"Sister," she said finally, "I wanted to come here today because there is something I wanted to talk to you about."

Elizz first looked a bit hurt that her baby sister had not come simply to see her. Then she seemed suddenly excited about something.

"I think I know what this is about. Let me guess: it's that handsome doctor I've seen you with. Isn't it?"

"Viktr? Oh, no. Viktr and I are just friends."

Handsome wouldn't have been the word she had used either. Viktr was many things, such as sweet, smart and kind. But he was quite scrawny and sort of odd. Not really her type.

"Oh, really? I thought that maybe you were finally... Never mind, what was it you wanted to speak to me about?"

"Tatiyah."

Elizz's expression changed when she heard the name. The smile disappeared from her face and she swallowed nervously.

"Everybody," she said. "Get out."

The slaves took their palm leaves and walked out without a word. The two soldiers standing guard by the door on the other hand did not move.

"You too."

"But Wife Senator," one of the men said, "we have very strict orders to nev..."

"I said: out! Need I remind you of who I am? I am the wife of the most powerful man in this Republic and if you continue to defy me I will have both of your heads on pikes before sundown. Is that clear?"

Tharasza felt sympathy for the guards. If they disobeyed her sister she would have their heads but if they ignored a direct order from the Senator he probably would too. Caught in an impossible situation their apparently decided that they feared Elizz more than her husband and left.

"Tharasza, what is this about?" Elizz asked when they were finally alone. "Why are you bringing this up now?"

"So, you knew? That she was our real mother?"

"Of course, I knew. I was around both when she carried you and Otea. It wasn't hard to connect the dots. Especially with mother forgetting to put on that fake pregnancy pillow every time she had a drink too many."

Memories of her mother passed through Tharasza's mind. Her sad eyes peering over a half-empty glass of wine. Her drunken laughter at nothing in particular. The echo of her wobbly steps through the halls of their childhood home. Quickly, Tharasza hid them away far in the back of her mind where they could not bother her.

"Did you ever see her again? I mean Tatiyah, after Father sold her?"

"No. Although about two summers before Nov died I did try to find her. I know it's silly but I felt I needed to know she was okay. But by then she had... she was already passed."

Elizz saw into her sister's eyes with what appeared to be condolence and a bit of shame.

"I know. She died about ten winters ago, from pneumonia. I was by her side when it happened." Seeing her sister's surprise, she continued: "Elizz, I went to find her after Mother told me the truth during one of her drunken rants. Like you, I just wanted to make sure she was doing alright. Me and Tatiyah became quite close."

Was it the way the sun fell on them or where there really tears in Elizz's eyes? She had never been one to show much emotion and perhaps it was why she turned her gaze away.

"Did she ever ask about us? About me and Otea?"

"All the time. She was always very interested to hear about how things were going for you two. I would have told you but I didn't know then if you knew."

"It's okay. I think Otea doesn't know to this day. As for me I would have preferred not to know. I guess that's why I waited so long to go see Tatiyah. I didn't want to be reminded of the truth and what it could mean if anyone ever found out."

Tharasza was reminded of a reoccurring nightmare she had been having. In it Viktr had betrayed her secret, leading to her being stripped of her citizenship and sold into slavery. In certain dreams she was forced to work down in a dark mine where no light ever shined. In others, she was sold to a brothel owner and forced to sleep with strange men all day long. Both scenarios could very well become her and her sisters' new reality if it came out that they had been birthed by a slave.

Then there was also Vsifara, who would have no scruples revealing the truth if she believed it could help her cause. Tharasza could almost see it now: Vsifara with that cold, hyena-like smile of hers when she heard that the wife of the Highest Senator had been revealed to be nothing but born to be a slave and had been taken away, paraded in chains through The Golden Village.

Tharasza felt sick to her stomach when she thought about it. Could almost feel the sickening taste of bile in her mouth as she saw the scene play out in her mind. Whatever happened she had not make sure their secret was safe. So she took a deep breath, sent a silent prayer to Spirit and began telling her sister, the most powerful woman in all the Republic, everything she knew about Vsifara and the secret of the White Hibiscus.

### *

"Yurat! Djeen, whatever you name is. Give it back!"

"No," he answered decisively and held the leather bag from Tomeer's reach. "Because you're not going."

"Yes, I am!"

"No, you aren't. Rahin, help me talk some sense into him."

The sorceress, exhausted by another sleepless night hunted by both spirits and visions, did not feel like getting involved in their quarrel but more than anything wanted them to shut up.

"Djeen's right. I don't think you've thought this through."

"No, it's all I've thought about for days!" Tomeer gave up on trying to get back his bag from Djeen and sat down next to her on the dew wet grass. "If these things are really coming down the mountain then my family, my parents, my daughter... They won't be able to escape. I have to go warn them!"

She could hear the panic in his voice and if it wasn't for the headache that felt like it was splitting her skull she would have had the strength to feel sympathy for his despair. She put a comforting hand on his arm and tried to find the words to reason with him.

"Tomeer, I don't know when the visions will come to pass. It could be tomorrow or ten winters from now. Either way, no one would have a chance fighting the undead off or running anywhere safe as long as we don't have the sword we need."

"But what about the eagle? The one you killed? You knew how."

"I know how to cast a spell on a weapon to kill these things but we don't have nearly the amount of magic and weaponry we need to fight a whole army. We're going to need a lot of help and that sword before we can do anything. Besides, you've never been this far south. Would you even know how to find your way back home?"

By the way he sighed she figured he didn't.

An idea came to her like a whisper from a spirit. She searched through her shoulder bag and took out a small wooden stick finely decorated with Toyanese patterns in green and blue.

"We're going to try something," she told Tomeer and took his hand in hers. "We're going ask for guidance. Close your eyes."

Rahin looked over at Djeen and waved at him to come to sit down with them. He rolled his eyes at what she imagined he thought to be "more sorcerer nonsense" but didn't protest. She felt a sensation of calm going through Tomeer when his lover sat down next to him and she knew then that Spirit would guide them right.

"Now what we are going to do is letting go of thinking."

"How is that gonna help?"

"Djeen, don't interrupt. Close your eyes and trust me."

He did as she told him, although she could sense the restlessness that was always blazing inside of him getting more intense. Like angry waves breaking down on the shore a windy day.

"Good. To hear clearly what we need to know we must first quiet our mind. The chatter of our thoughts can be like a veil which keeps us from seeing the answers waiting for us, right in front of us. So do not think, just listen."

She began to lightly shake the hollow stick. The stone pebbles inside moved around, made a sound that reminded of rain falling on the ground.

"You will fail at first. It is inevitable. But do not dwell on it. When you catch yourself in a thought, grab that thought and release it. Release it and watch it fly away from you like a dove. Then go back to just being and breathing."

Rahin closed her own eyes and focused on the sound coming from the Toyanese prayer stick. Apart from it nothing was heard but she knew a couple of swallows were flying above them and that a rabbit was hiding behind a bush to her left. She could feel their presence and their state of being like she did Tomeer and Djeen.

She spoke no more words as she played, only let time passed until she felt Tomeer coming down to a state of calm and clarity. When she knew that the answers had come to him and that he could see the wisest path in his mind, she put the stick down and opened her eyes.

The two men were sitting cross-legged on the grass. They were holding each other's hand and breathing in the same rhythm. Djeen had not reach quite the deep state of meditation he needed to but she had not expected otherwise. It would take more time than that to teach him how, assuming he would ever let her. Either way, it was her duty to make sure he was prepared when the day came.

Tomeer was the first to rise. He stretched his arms like he had just awaken from a good night's sleep and smiled at Rahin.

"Let's go get that sword," he said.

According to Djeen they could be by the lake by midday if they left now. So, they quickly packed their things, chewed down the rest of their breakfast consisting of cold beans and squirrel meat and went.

The landscape in the region surrounding Ily was mostly wide plains with small villages here and there and very little forest where one could hide. This made Rahin a bit nervous as she feared they would run into someone who recognised Djeen. He had recently dyed his hair black again but his face was one of the most recognisable around here since pamphlets with his drawn sketch portrait had been widely distributed and put up on everything from trees to horse drawn carriages. On the other hand, few people would be foolish enough to try and take on The Fire Demon Who Killed A Thousand Warriors In One Battle. But Ily being the Republic of inequality it was, she knew some would still be desperate enough for the cash reward on his head that they might try.

Djeen had mentioned he wanted to take a small detour to "check something" and she didn't think about it much until she saw what he had meant. From the top of a small hill they had just climbed, they could see on the horizon the tall wooden ramparts and the tower in their midst. On top of that highest building was the flagpole where there had once been a troop flag proudly flowing in the wind. Now the pole looked like a toothpick a bored giant had stuck on the top of the tower before walking away to more interesting adventures.

"Djeen, I don't think this is a good idea," she told him.

"Don't worry, it's abandoned."

"How do you know?"

"Just trust me."

Rahin couldn't tell if he was being sarcastic of simply asking her to return the favour when he repeated those words she had so often spoken to him. She figured he did deserve to have her trust as much as he had put his own in her and she decided to go along with it.

The first sign that the garrison was in fact abandoned was that the gates were opened and unguarded. There was also the grass, as high and unkept as the one on the surrounding planes. Wooden cabins that once housed soldiers had been picked apart, probably by people from nearby villages who needed the wood for their own building projects. The only thing that seemed intact was the tower in the middle of the camp.

Djeen stood in front of its door for a moment and seemed immersed in his own thoughts. Rahin knew it was customary for the leader of a troop to inhabit the apartment in the bottom of the centre tower. Considering that Djeen had loved the last leader of the Red Wolves enough to kill a thousand warriors when his name had been slandered, she imagined that many memories were brought back to Djeen in this place.

She became aware of a presence. Four presences to be more exact, not counting her and her two companions. A spirit, two living humans and a dog. Rahin tried to locate them more precisely but she was weakened by fatigue and it would take her some time.

But before she could something large, a little smaller than a horse, leaped out of the tall grass and pinned Djeen to the ground. She took her two battle knifes out of her sleeves and rushed with Tomeer to his side.

To their surprise they found Djeen laughing. A dog of the muscular kind that Ilyian soldiers often rode into battle was licking his face. He pretend-wrestled it a bit and playfully rubbed its head with his knuckles.

"Rose! I can't believe it's you! Where have you been, girl? Yes, you such a good girl yes you are!"

Tomeer and Rahin shared a confused glance when a voice was heard from above.

"So, we have company."

Up on the parapet walk of the rampart was a young woman. By her dark skin and accent Rahin knew that she was Toyanese just like herself.

"We seek no trouble," she therefore said in her mother tongue. "We are simple travellers searching for a place to rest our heads tonight. We will leave now and bother you no more."

The woman climbed down a ladder, walked over to them and studied Rahin up and down with a sceptical look on her face. Rahin now recognised her as one of the former soldiers of the Red Wolves troop. She also noticed the sharp throwing axe hanging from her belt.

"I have no beef with you, sister," the woman said in Toyanese. "But him," she added in Ilyian and pointed to Djeen, "I'm going to kill him."

"I'd rather you didn't try," he said brushing the dirt of his trousers. "If you do I'm afraid you won't be here to see the sunset tonight."

"I didn't say I was going to do it today." She went up to him and looked him straight in the eyes. An amused but angry smile on her face. "I know what you're capable of and after having seen that flaming tantrum you threw in Ily three winters back, I wouldn't try to take you on. But see, everything dies. We just got to figure out how you do."

"We?"

"Yeah, we."

An androgynous figure with dark curly hair jumped out of the tower's bottom floor window and landed right behind Djeen.

"Vayl!" He exclaimed when he turned around. "You're here too?"

"Yeah, I'm still alive. Can't say the same thing about Laur and Izid, though. Thanks to you."

Djeen looked down. Shame written on his face. He patted the head of the big white dog who wouldn't let go of his sight and gazed up at him with a love and adoration you only ever saw in her species.

"I understand why you hate me. But I came back because there is something very important I need to do and..."

"The Redeemed are coming. We know."

Vayl took a notebook out of their vest pocket while Djeen stared at them in disbelief.

"You left this in your cabin," Vayl said and handed it to him. "T' was quite the story you wrote in there. We might have believed it was only fiction if we hadn't seen that fire demon shit you pulled off back in Ily."

"And Ussa's visions," Liva added.

"Ussa's here?"

"No, she..." Liva looked down and poked at something in the grass with the tip of her shoe. "It was, you know, age. Her time had come."

"Oh."

Rahin wasn't sure but she thought she saw a tear in Djeen's eyes. If there was, he wiped it away quickly. A man who gives his enemies the pleasure of seeing his pain will only encourage their steel to fall on his neck. So went a proverb she had learned in the tribe lands of the north.

"You said visions?" She asked.

"Yes," Vayl said, "Spirit showed her what was to come and what we should do. She said we needed to stay here and wait. That Djeen would come back one day and that he was the only one who had the power to defeat The Mighty and his Redeemed. She repeated it every day until the day she died. That he would come back and that we needed to go with him."

"And now you're here," Liva said and put her arm around Djeen in a way that felt more hostile than friendly. "So how about we have a bit to eat and you can tell us your masterplan on how to kill those fucking things? What d' you say, fire boy?"

Djeen nodded and Vayl went into the tower to warm up some soup. Rahin looked around the depilated camp and became aware that the spirit she had felt before was watching her. On the roof of one of the cabins was where she located it and when the spirit knew she had found it, showed itself to her.

She was a woman who appeared as old as time itself. Her robe was a poor woman's dress and was worn out from use. Her hair was pearly white and unkept and she smiled with a motherly warmth as she dangled her legs over the edge of the roof. Without words, she let Rahin know that she had waited long for this day to come and now that she knew it had, she could finally in peace reunite with Spirit.

The spirit put her hands together and bowed in a gesture of gratitude. She then began to fade away like the waters of a river slowly blends into the sea. The young sorceress blinked a handful of times before the old woman was gone, at last embraced again by the life force through which everything was.

### *

The sound of thunder was approaching. It roared just a bit higher than the cries of the rioters down in the city. Every night since the death of senator Giliaz they had been out there running amok and causing mayhem. At first they had been protesting the killing of civilians by the Guard during the disarray following the murder at the stadium. As thing had started to calm down they had suddenly become worse again when the news came out that the Senator had ordered the Golden Lions dismantled.

Senator Giliaz had in his will and numerous times before his passing stated that he wished his oldest son to take over after him. But as Elizz had pointed out to her husband, this son was a devoted member of the opposition and had powerful contacts within the Justice Party. Having a political enemy in control of the second largest army in the Republic was a liability he could not tolerate. She had convinced him that he needed to permanently end the Golden Lions if he wanted to maintain his standing and safety as Highest Senator.

The news had not been taken well, either by the people or the senate. As for the leadership of the Golden Lions, they simply refused to obey the order and had gone on as if it had never happened. Now the Senator was threatening to send the Guard on them but considering the number of Lions in this city victory would not be a given. To make matters worse, several senators and troop leaders had sided with the Lions and were prepared to lend their manpower to fight what they called "the first step towards dictatorship and tyranny". All over Ily there was talk of an imminent battle within the walls of the city and even of the Republic itself descending into civil war. In other words: everything was going according to plan.

Still, Elizz could find no sleep tonight. Not primarily because of the thunder or the sultry air but because she worried about Thara. She had always been too smart for her own good that one and she had figured out way more than Elizz had ever imagined she would. There was very little chance she would learn the whole truth but Elizz knew that she didn't have in her hands the power to protect her if she did. And that knowledge teared in her heart and guts with a pain she could barely stand.

Restless, Elizz went and sat by her desk. She took the list she had made of things she needed to take care of in preparation for the Senator's Grand Meeting. Several hundred invitations had to be sent, delicacies ordered from all over the Republic and the entertainment consisting of music and dancing slave girls had to be organized. Considering all she had to do it should have kept her focused but the words on the page made no sense to her, as if their meaning refused to let themselves be known and kept running away from her.

Elizz sighed and got up to open the window, thinking that maybe letting some fresh air into the room would refresh her mind also. A wind blew before she could, ruffling the curtains and carrying with it a familiar smell.

"You're here, aren't you?"

"I am always here."

The voice, high-pitched and childlike, sent a chill down her spine. No matter how often she heard it she never could get used to it.

"You are up late," the voice said.

"Yes, I have trouble sleeping."

No answer. Elizz attempted to see around if she could find the woman but all she could see was her desk in the glow of the candle burning atop of it. Other than that was only darkness.

"You are worried about your sister," the voice said finally.

Elizz felt sick. She dared not think about where things were going. And if she could live with it. But the voice reassured her.

"Do not worry about Tharasza. She is of no threat to us. Just make sure she doesn't continue snooping around in our affairs. Most importantly, that she keeps quiet about what she knows."

"Yes!" Elizz exclaimed with more desperation that she had intended to let show. "I will. I'll make sure of it."

"Good."

Slow steps on the marble floor. The sound of the hem of her elegant dress being dragged along. She was circling Elizz, staying always right at the edge where light met darkness and showing of herself only a blurry silhouette.

"You know why we do the things we do, Elizz. Our motives are for the greater good and I wish to harm no one you care about unless my hands would be forced to. Keep an eye on your sister and she will be okay. As for me, I will take care of some loose ends to prevent your secret from leaking out."

Her words were a relief to Elizz and brought also some guilt. So often she got caught in her own emotions that she lost track of what they were fighting for. Their dream was after all the dream of all humankind and, in a sense, they were doing this for Tharasza and Otea also.

"Thank you. Is there anything you need me to do?"

"Not for now. Keep following the plan we have discussed. When it has come to fruition we shall go on from there."

The glass doors of the balcony flung open as if by themselves and the woman passed Elizz in an inhuman speed. Her flowing black hair and the red of her dress was the only things she had the time to see before the figure was crouching on the rail of the balcony. Looking back from behind her matted hair she smiled at Elizz with blackened teeth, let herself fall off and disappeared into the night.

## Chapter Seven

"Yeah, well that's a stupid name."

"Oh come on," Liva protested. "How is it any stupider than Rose? That's like he least intimidating name you could have possibly given her."

"She can bite a grown man's face off! You don't need an intimidating name when you can do that."

Vayl rolled their eyes at Liva and Djeen's quarrel. Three days they had been here and during that time these two had been arguing about everything between heaven and earth. What to call the dog, whom Liva had renamed Crusher, was only the latest of their disagreement.

The beast herself was happily unaware of the conflict and was running up and down the beach. Rahin and Tomeer where rowing back from searching after the sword at the bottom of the lake and Rose, or Crusher, was welcoming them back with the frenzied enthusiasm typical of her species.

After having dragged the boat back on land, Rahin informed them that the elusive weapon had still not been found.

"Oh, for fuck's sake!" Vayl exclaimed, losing their patience. "Djeen, I know I've asked this a hundred times but are you absolutely sure this is the right lake?"

"Yeah, I am. I clearly remember standing right over there between that tree and that rock and throwing the sword. It landed in the middle of the water. I also remember that dirt path, those cypresses and the abandoned cabin on the east shore. This is the lake!"

"Maybe we need to search closer to the beach," Liva proposed and started stripping down for another swim. "Could be that the current has moved it along."

"Could be," Vayl agreed. "But I think we should continue tomorrow. Look at the sky."

Above them the heavens has quickly turned grey and heavy dark clouds were appearing on the horizon. A storm was coming and they wouldn't want to be anywhere near the water if lightning struck.

They all agreed to call it a day and walked back to camp. The rain started pouring down as they entered their tents. Evening came shortly thereafter and with it the first strikes of lightning. Thunder shattered the silence and the earth trembled like a woman coming. Vayl wondered if the sky got a kick like they did from making their lover lose herself in ecstasy.

"What you're smiling about?" Liva asked curious and teasing.

"Nothing," they answered with a playful smirk. "Go to sleep, we have a long day tomorrow."

So go to sleep they both did, while the lightning danced like fire behind their eyelids and the rhythm of the thunder accompanied it like music.

Vayl drifted off into dreams of walking alone in the desert and looking for something. But exactly what they did not know. The dry, hard soil with no life and no vegetation stretched as long as the eye could see. Overwhelmed by a feeling that it had no end and that they would be walking until time stopped, Vayl had tears running down their cheeks. Tears which immediately evaporated in the scorching heat.

The ground turned to sand and began to move. Vayl fell on their back and were dragged along as it rushed faster and faster. The blue sky above descended and lay over Vayl like a wet blanket.

Only darkness around when Vayl opened their eyes and the feeling of being suffocated by something damp and heavy.

"Hurry!" They heard Liva say and saw her worried face when she pulled the collapsed tent from over them.

A torrent of mud had flushed away the tents from under the tarpaulin and the pouring rain had made them break under its weight. They were now by the edge of the lake, where a thunderbolt suddenly hit the water. Hundreds of dead fish floated up to the surface as the light, vibrating and white, travelled over the surface.

A deafening explosion behind them. Flames in the corner of their eyes. A tree was on fire; thick black smoke rising from its shattered trunk.

Liva took Vayl's hands in hers and they ran, alongside the shore and up a small slope where they both had to climb with hands and feet in the slippery mud.

Cries from crows were heard somewhere above and birds fell down from the sky, their lifeless wings spiralling helplessly before they hit the ground. Vayl had since early childhood heard stories about a coming end of the world. What if the legends were true? Something about this storm sure did not feel right.

The others had run up ahead and Rahin opened the door to the abandoned cabin for them. Inside was pitch black except for the faint light coming through a small frosted window. An odour of dry wood and dust welcomed them, felt like a warm hug after having ran in the rain.

To see more clearly Djeen let fire appear around his hand and held it up like a torch while they inspected the room more closely. A short table and a broken chair, both covered in a thick layer of dust, were the only furniture and the floor was a simple dirt one. In a corner they noticed something strange and lumpy. It started to move.

They all took a step back, thinking that some wild animal had taken shelter here. Three pairs of eyes, round and wide, stared back at them from the darkness. A sound that reminded of a scared dog's squeal was heard and Djeen took a couple of curious but careful steps forward.

What was revealed was not some dangerous beast but the pale and dirty faces of three young children huddled under a grey blanket.

"How do you do that?" One of them asked and pointed at Djeen's flame covered fist.

"Oh, that?" That's... a magic glove."

The children blinked a couple of times, held each other tighter. Rahin came forward and went down on one knee to their level.

"It's okay," she said. "We aren't going to hurt you. But what are you doing out here? Where are your parents?"

"We have no parents," the child who had spoken earlier said while the other two kept staring in fear. "And we have no home. We came here to take cover from the rain."

So they were orphans, left to fend for themselves like so many across the Republic. Feelings of sympathy and sorrow ached in Vayl's chest as they recalled their own childhood as a street kid in Ily.

"You guys hungry?" Vayl felt compelled to ask. "We have some nuts and dried fruit if you'd like."

Liva and Vayl offered the children the snacks they carried in their vest pockets. The tiny cotton bags that contained the food were soaked through with rain water but the kids accepted them with the same gratitude as if they had been given precious gold.

"Thank you," they all said in shy voices before they counted the precious goods and split them equally between themselves.

"You're the people searching for something in the lake," one of the kids said. It was still the same one doing most of the talking and by her height Vayl concluded that she was most likely the oldest of the group.

The adults in the room shared a surprised look. None of them had noticed any children around during the time they had been here.

"Yes," Djeen said. "We are looking for a necklace a friend of ours accidentally dropped in the water. Nothing very precious but it was a gift from her father so it means a lot to her."

"Ah," the child said and took a pause to chew loudly on the piece of dried fig in her mouth. "We thought maybe you were looking for a sword."

"A sword!" Djeen exclaimed. "What kind of a sword?"

"Oh, a fancy one. Very decorated and all. A man found it this winter when he was fishing. It was hanging on his hook when he pulled it out of the water."

"Do you know what he did with it?"

"Yeah, he kept it. He likes beautiful weapons because he's a great warrior. We can take you to him, if you give us some more of that grub."

### *

There was lightning at the horizon and in the distance the faint sound of thunder could be heard. By the way the wind was blowing Vsifara figured the bad weather would not be coming this way, which she found disappointing. She would have love for lightning to strike upon this house and burn the whole fucking thing to the ground.

It was the middle of the night and she knew she should be sleeping but the burning hatred inside of her kept her awake. How she would have loved to rip those chains of the wall, walk upstairs and beat the man who claimed to own her with them. To hit his face with the heavy metal links until it was nothing but blood and pulp. Then she would strangle that bitch wife of his with the same chains and watch with great pleasure as the light slowly died from her eyes. She would punish them both for having treated her like property since the day she was born and she would bury their corpses in this very basement where they had kept her since bringing her back from her attempted escape.

But she could do none of these things. Vsifara had neither the power nor the opportunity to punish her enemies without consequences. Unlike her more well-off cousin in The Golden Village.

She let out an angry, bitter chuckle. That look on Tharasza's face when Vsifara had let her know that she knew who her sister was. It still cracked her up whenever she thought about it.

Vsifara might have never known if it wasn't for the day Elizz had come here to the house of Tatiyah's owners, who were also Vsifara's, to try and find her. By then Tatiyah had been long gone and Elizz never revealed why she was looking for her but it was obvious. There was such a striking resemblance between her and Tatiyah that it would have seemed almost absurd if they hadn't been somehow related. She resembled Tharasza also, not only in physical appearance but in the upper-class, stuck-up way she carried herself. Any idiot would have been able to put two and two together.

At the time Vsifara had not known who Elizz was in the elite of Ily or that she was married to the senator Nov Julkis. But when she later married the Highest Senator himself her name and face became one of the most recognisable in the city. Represented on news posters, statues and even coins; you could simply not miss it.

It had come as quite a shock when Vsifara realised that her cousin, her own flesh and blood, was now the most powerful woman in the Republic. All this while she herself was treated as less than human, as property to be used in whatever way pleased her masters.

Life sure wasn't fair. But the revolution would make it so. She was convinced of it, knew that she would live to see it. Even make it happen herself if she had to. No matter if she had to make the streets flow over with blood and make the piles of corpses rise up to the sky.

Her body shook like she was sick with a fever. Her palms bled when the nails in her closed fists bore into her flesh. This rage, this hatred, burned in her like a fire. It was the only thing she could still feel, the only thing that kept her going. Vsifara knew she would never let it die but she had to control it. Aim it like an arrow to destroy her enemies.

"I'll bind my time," she mumbled to herself. "It will come. I know it will come."

A noise on the other side of the room caught her attention. She picked a pebble from the earth floor and threw it in the direction from which the sound had come. The tiny rock hit the stone wall and she heard movement. Then suddenly it flew back at her, hitting her right above the eye.

"That only works on rats," a feminine voice said. "Which I am not."

Vsifara looked at the heavy wooden door of her cell and the ground level window above her head. Both were closed.

"How did you get in here? And who are you?"

"Me?" The woman said. "I am but none. A simple slave like you. As to how I came in here is not of importance, but rather why."

"Oh, it's of great importance to me if it means you can get me the fuck out of here. But let me hear your reason why. I'm curious."

Chuckles in the darkness and the sound of the woman dragging herself closer. Vsifara thought she could see long hair and thin limbs in the gloom.

"Oh, Vsifara, Vsifara... Always so fearless, always so cocky. Only a slave, but always that head held up high. Well, you see... I have come to set you free."

"Why would you do that for me?" She asked as the woman came closer still. In the pale moonlight Vsifara could see that the hair hanging over her face was black like a crow's and that her dress was a bright red. "And how do you know my name?"

"I have observed you for a long time, Vsi. I have seen your struggle and the way you have been oppressed. That is why I have come to feel for you and why I came on this night to take away your pain."

"Well, then if you know me so well, strange benefactor, why don't you come here and show me your face."

With a crouched hop like a frog the woman did just that. Vsifara threw herself back against the stone wall when she then cast back her hair and looked up at her.

"What the fuck happened to your face?" She gasped.

"Oh, that?" The woman said and pointed at her deformed features. "It's a long story. Far too long to recount it all now. We are in a hurry and should be going."

She put her slim fingers on the manacles around Vsifara's ankles and the mere touch made the metal fall to dust.

"How the fuck..."

"Later," the woman interrupted her. "Now we must go."

The door unlocked and opened as if by itself and they walked out with quiet steps and down the hallway that led to the backdoor of the house. Before soon they reached the edge of town without having run past anyone except some drunks and beggars, most of them asleep on the cold pavement.

Under some tall oak trees in the forest, they sat down so that Vsifara could catch her breath. She took the moment to think about where she should go next. North, she knew, was the wisest direction. There were vast forests in the middle-lands of the Republic where one could disappear as long as one felt like it. But her desire for vengeance made her unwilling to abandon the cause and pulled her towards Ily. There also you could disappear for a long time, under the condition that you knew the right people. Which she did.

"I owe you my warmest thank you," she said. "I also believe I haven't yet asked you your name."

Vsifara looked up from brushing off the dirt from her naked feet and saw that the woman was no longer there.

"Eh, where'd you go?" She asked and searched the surrounding woods with her eyes. No answer. The singing of crickets and the hot of a night owl were the only sounds that echoed back to her ears.

Something she could not see pulled her suddenly backwards. It wrapped itself around her neck. Vsifara grabbed at it and it felt greasy and slippery. She managed to pull some of it away and saw in her hand a fistful of long, dark hair.

"Now, now," the woman whispered in her ear. "It will be over soon. Just relax."

The words made the rage flame inside of Vsifara. She had longed all her life to be her own person, to savour the sweet taste of freedom. Now that it was within her reach she would not give up. It would not end tonight. Not like this.

She hit back with her elbows and struck the woman in her chest and face. Bones cracked but her opponent did not flinch.

"Oh, Vsifara! Why so much anger? All your suffering will be over soon."

"Fuck... you!" She spat out with the last of her air.

In the blink of an eye she was high above the ground. The dark hair was still suffocating her but was now also holding her up over the tree tops. It had grown in an instant longer than it should have in a lifetime. What sort of sorcery was this?

On the ground, the woman stood still. Her frails arms hanging by the side of her small frame, she looked deceivingly harmless.

"You know, Vsi, I find you very rude. Here I am trying to help you and you hurt and insult me... Oh, well! I don't do this for the thanks."

The thick, black hair wrapped itself even tighter around Vsifara's neck and the world began to go darker and blurrier.

Vsifara had never in her life been moved to tears by the beauty of anything. But as she saw the moon and the stars shine down upon her, tears were running down her cheeks. Or perhaps it was the knowledge that she would die as she had lived, trapped and unfree, that made despair overflow from her eyes.

### *

"Well, fuck."

"Yeah. How long you think she's been out here?"

"Not too long. There ain't even a smell coming from her. The crows sure already eating at her eyes, though."

Eke poked at her leg with his walking stick and the dead woman hanging from the tree swayed lightly. She had been a slave during her life, he could tell. Not only because of her worn out poor woman's clothes but also because her owner's initials were carved on the back of her right hand. This wasn't something done to most slaves. Only the rebellious ones who tried to escape. By the freshness of the scars Eke figured her failed attempt at freedom had occurred recently before she had decided to end it all.

"We better get back to camp," he told his companion. "The boss gonna get pissy if we're late with his breakfast again."

So they left her there, hanging by a rope in that tree. Left her to be eaten by the crows at day and by the wolves at night.

Back at camp, Samt was as Eke had expected clearly irritated. A young and prideful man, he took the slightest things as a personal offence.

"What took you so long?" He demanded to know. "Do you expect your chief to lead today's raids on an empty stomach?"

"Sorry, boss. We just had some trouble catching exactly the kind of fish you wanted."

All the fish in that damn lake tasted the same and they both knew it. Still, Samt insisted on eating only Rainbow Swimmers, named thus due to their scales shimmering in different colours when the sun shone upon them.

"I don't care how you do it, Eke. But I do expect you to show up on time with my food. Do you think I maintain this magnificent physique by starving myself?"

He flexed his muscles at the last sentence to show his point. Then he dismissed them with an annoyed hand gesture.

One of the women came to take the fish and cook Samt's breakfast. Like every morning it consisted of seven boiled eggs, three fried rainbow swimmers, three slices of ham, five slices of dark rye bread, two apples, a bowl of fresh strawberries and a tall glass of goat milk.

It would have been enough to feed a whole family but like the boss said: he needed to keep his physique. After all it was it which had made him such a successful bandit. Not only because it gave him a phenomenal strength but also because it was so impressive the mere sight of it was often enough for potential victims to drop any weapon they might have and surrender. And for women to drop their undergarments. Another still had to take himself wenches by force.

Having finished his meal Samt took his customary nap, after which they would leave to carry out the day's robberies and raids. But on this particular day Samt was awaken shortly after going to sleep. Guards called out, warning that a group of people was approaching camp.

Eke wondered who could be so foolish as to willingly come to the home of Samt The Glorious and from up the tree where he was sitting he saw that they were five adults and three children. The kids' clothes were dirty and torn and their heads shaven to avoid lice. Most likely they were orphans.

"We are looking for a man named Samt," one of the adults said.

He was a man with piercing blue eyes and black hair. Although short, he had quite a handsome face.

"I am him," Samt declared. "What brings you here?"

"We believe you have something that belongs to us. A sword that you found in a nearby lake. We lost it during a fishing trip and we would like it back."

Samt pulled the sword in question from the scabbard on his belt and held it up.

"This one?" He asked.

"Yes, that's the one."

Samt turned the weapon in his hand, examined it as he feigned thinking about the man's request.

"No," he said finally and put the sword back in its sheath.

"Wait, why not?"

"Because I like it," Samt answered and began to walk away.

"We have some money and jewellery we'd be willing to trade for the blade," a tall Toyanese woman shouted pleading after him.

"Not interested. Now please go away. I have important matters to attend to."

The short, black haired man became visibly irritated at Samt's nonchalant attitude. His pale white face turned a light shade of red and he stomped down his foot in rage.

"I don't think you understand," he said in a thunderous voice that made Samt stop in his tracks. "The sword is ours and we are not leaving before we get out property back!"

Samt turned around. His dark eyes fixed the stranger as the muscles in his upper body tensed with anger.

"Are you challenging me, little man?"

"I guess I am," the stranger said and threw up his arms.

A smirk appeared on Samt's plump lips.

"Then how about this: fight me. A duel to the death. The choice of weapon is yours. If you can defeat me then the sword is yours."

"Okay," the man said without hesitation. "When you want to do this?"

Samt shook his head. Like his men he was surprised anyone would try and take on Samt The Glorious, renown warrior and undefeated fighter.

"Since you are so eager, how about right now?" He turned to a young lad and ordered: "Go prepare the fighting square. A little man's blood will be spilled today."

Eke was filled with excitement as he climbed down the tree. It had been a slow and dull morning and now he would finally get to see some of that sweet, sweet violence. Although he doubted the duel would be something special. There was no way the small guy could put much of a fight against Samt.

The difference between the two men became even more obvious when they stripped down to their loincloths in the fighting square. The short man was fit, his muscles hard and well-defined in his shaved upper body. Still they seemed almost atrophied in comparison to Samt's massive ones. As for the height difference, it made it look almost like Samt was fighting a child and not a grown man.

Eke noticed that there was a bluish tint to the stranger's black hair. This was a sign that it wasn't his natural hair colour but that he had dyed it with Sortee leaf extract. A hint a reddish stubble was visible when the light fell on his face from certain angles so Eke concluded that he was most likely a redhead, which made sense with his pale skin which had turned a sunburnt red on his shoulders and nose.

"What is your choice of weapon?" Samt asked.

"Sword, of course," the man responded with a taunting smile.

One of the people who was with him, a northern tribesman sporting a thick blond beard, handed him one. They had a brief exchange of words that Eke didn't get much of but he thought he heard the blond guy call the redhead Djeen. Something about that name sounded familiar but he didn't think much of it.

The sword Samt picked was his favourite and the very one the strangers claimed was their property. There was a surprising expression of regret and dread on Djeen's face when he saw the weapon in Samt's hand. Although, it was brief and Eke thought he might just have misinterpreted the whole thing.

"I will ask this only once", Samt said staring Djeen deep in the eyes, "are you sure you want to fight me?"

"Yup," he replied without missing a beat. "Are you sure you want to fight me?"

A round of laughter sounded across the camp. That a small man like him would talk this way to the mountain of muscles that was Samt seemed bizarre, even comical.

"Well, then...", said Samt. "Come at me!"

Djeen charged and struck a blow Samt easily blocked. He tried again, this time aiming for his opponent's left hip. That one Samt stopped also before attempting to slash at Djeen's head. Djeen hit Samt's blade away with ease and charged him again.

So they sparred with each other for a while, both men trying and assessing the other's skill. As it turned out, Djeen was stronger and quicker on his feet than one could have guessed by looking at him. No one seemed more surprised over this than Samt and in his eyes Eke saw something he had never seen before: respect.

"You make a worthier foe than I thought," Samt said as the two fighters circled each other. "Although truly worthy you can never be, little man. For I have no equal. I am Samt The Glorious, undefeated warrior of these plains and on this day I will take your life."

"Yeah, yeah," Djeen responded impatiently. "So, are you gonna talk or are you gon' fight?"

This time Samt attacked first and the sparring game was on again. The sound of blade against blade, of metal striking metal echoed through the camp and grew, increasing like the beating of a war drum as the battle drew nearer. Samt realized he had greatly underestimated his enemy. His smile disappeared and was replaced with an expression of annoyance.

As for Djeen, he seemed to be enjoying himself. The smirk on his face grew as Samt became more and more tired, his breathing short and his face turning red from exhaustion.

"Do you need to take a break, oh glorious one?" Djeen asked mockingly. "You sure look like you could use one."

Samt struck with his sword as an answer. Djeen hit his opponents blade away and slashed back just as quickly, leaving a deep cut across Samt's cheek.

Taking a few steps back and touching his wound, Samt stared in disbelief at the blood on his fingers. No one had ever put up such a fight against him and no one had ever before managed to draw blood from him. It was in that moment probably hitting Samt as it did Eke that this man was not only a very worthy opponent but one who had it in him to take his life.

Djeen attacked before Samt had any chance to recover from his shock. Samt brought up his sword at the last moment and the two men were almost on each other. Their blades scraping against the other, making sparks fly between them. Had they been the same height, their faces would have nearly touched. Almost as close as for a kiss.

This is when Samt, probably from fear and the knowledge that he wasn't unbeatable after all, did something most unworthy of a warrior with his reputation: he kneed his enemy in the genitals.

Djeen let out a scream that was as much of pain as of fury and pushed Samt away by kicking him in the guts. Faster than it seemed possible for any man to move he cut him across the chest, then across the face before raising his sword high above his head and striking down sideways and through Samt's neck.

"You don't do that!" He yelled at Samt's head rolling across the grass and rubbed his aching crotch. "You don't fucking do that!"

Eke, like all members of his band, stared in disbelief at the scene in front of them. Their esteemed leader had been defeated, his impressive body lying on the ground, slain by a man only half his size.

A boy went up and took Samt's severed head in his small hands. He brushed back the long black hair with his fingers and closed his fallen leader's eyes. After having put the head next to the body he picked up the sword, the one the strangers had come to get back, and presented it to Djeen; kneeling and bowing his head as he did so.

Djeen took a look at the weapon and for a short instant Eke thought he saw that expression of dread again. Taking a step back, Djeen put his hand on one of the Toyanese women's shoulder.

"Rahin... your father's sword."

She took it in her hands with the respect and carefulness one would a precious gem. As she did so, Djeen noticed that all other members of the band and not just the boy were on their knees.

"What's that about?" He wondered out loud.

"It is in the Marauder's Code," the other Toyanese woman explained, "that if someone defeats the leader of a band in a duel then that person becomes the new leader."

"The Marauders have a code?" Djeen said surprised. "And all bands around here follow it?"

"Pretty much, yeah."

Djeen gazed over the men, women and children who now were his, flung his sword over his shoulder and smiled.

"Well, that's... interesting."

# Chapter Eight

Having been a doctor for a long time, Viktr was not easily disgusted. Blood, vomit and shit were all part of his daily life and did not faze him anymore. But the sight of the many senators bent over and hurling into the appropriately named "puke pots" made him feel queasy. In part it was out of sympathy for the poor slaves who were forced to hold up said pots and often got showered with vomit as a thank you. Mostly, though, it was the very indignity of it all that repulsed him. These were the honourable men and women who made up the senate? Who had the Republic's fate in their hands and with it the fate of its millions of inhabitants?

"It seems you are dehydrated," he told the senator he had just examined. "Probably from too much regurgitation. I would humbly suggest drinking some water and cutting down on the eating."

The senator laughed, his chin fat jiggling in a way that annoyed Viktr and made him want to slap it.

"Now, don't be silly, doctor! The evening has only just begun and see: here comes dessert."

Skimpily dressed slaves with curvy hips and naked, bouncy breasts came into the dining room carrying bowls containing the last meal that would be served on this summer's Senator's Grand Meeting: fresh apricots in whipped cream sprinkled with roasted almond slices.

The senator Viktr had been helping dismissed him with a haughty gesture of the hand and turned his attentions to the attractive slave serving his food. Or, more precisely, to her ample bosoms.

Viktr returned to the corner of the room where he had spent most of the day and he turned to his new apprentice, a young man by the name of Bakam.

"You think you could watch over everything for a while? I just need to go outside a bit and get some fresh air."

A servant came up and gave them each a bowl of dessert. As was customary, the final meal of the Meeting was given to all present and not only the senators. Even servants and slaves were given a portion. This tradition, named the Remembrance of Service, had been established after a Highest Senator a long time ago had been saved by a slave from choking on his dessert during the Senator's Grand Meeting. As a sign of gratitude, the Senator had ordered that from then on, all present would partake of the dessert during the Meeting. Viktr thought to himself that maybe giving the poor slave her freedom would have been a far greater gift. Although sharing a meal with slaves was unusually generous by Ilyian standards.

"Sure," Bakam answered. "No problem."

Content, Viktr took the stairs down to the main entrance of the house. He sat on a stone bench outside and took a moment to enjoy respite from the stench of vomit and fried food.

From the heat, he could not escape. It was even hotter outside as it had been inside. The summer had been unusually warm lately, which also explained the violent thunderstorms that had ravaged the Ilyian region. By the look of the sky this late afternoon, another storm was on its way.

"Mind if I join you?"

The sound of Tharasza's voice brought immediate comfort to his soul. She stood blocking the sun when he opened his eyes and the way the light shone around her made her look like the apparition of some otherworldly being too beautiful for this world.

"Yes, of course. Glad to see you here."

"Likewise," she said and sat down next to him. "Did I tell you Elizz convinced her husband to give me a permanent pass? Now I can walk in and out of here as I please."

She took the small piece of hard paper that was the pass out of the front breast pocket of her dress and showed it to him with pride, making sure to tap her finger over the signature of the Highest Senator himself.

It hit Viktr that he had never seen her in that particular dress before. Blue like the sky, it made him think of spring and summer and how glossy her hair was when the sun shone upon it.

"I came to visit her but I remembered right as I passed the gate that the Grand Meeting is today. I was about to turn back when I saw you. Is that why you're here? For the Meeting?"

"Yes, you know how it is with big banquets like these. All that food and alcohol. People get sick and they need someone to take care of them", Viktr said and tried to hide his distaste for it all but it slipped through in the tone of his voice.

"Must be awkward right now with all the conflicts going on in the city. You think they'll be able to reach an agreement?"

"I don't know. But yes, the tension is palpable. Could have almost cut it with my scalpel."

He looked down at his dessert. The cream had started to melt in the heat and unwilling to let it go to waste he offered the bowl to Tharasza.

"Oh, Spirit goodness! Yes, thank you. I love apricots!"

The simple joy in her voice brought a smile to his lips. There was something so pure, so undefiled and innocent about it that he for an instant could forget his weary mood.

"Don't you want any?"

"No, thanks. I'm not very hungry after having seen all that..." He was about to say puking but not wanting to spoil her appetite added: "tension."

If he was going to be honest with himself it wasn't just the vomiting that had killed his hunger. Witnessing what had gone on up there in the Senator's dining room, he had grown in his certainty that things weren't going to get any better in the Republic.

The people were still rioting. At this point he was fairly sure they themselves did not know against what anymore and were instead letting out a rage which had been boiling under the surface for a long time.

The conflict between the Golden Lions and the current regime was steadily nearing its logical climax. Five days earlier an altercation between a sub-troop of golden lions and a sub-troop of bronze bears, who were loyal to the regime, had resulted in bloodshed. A dozen soldiers had lost their lives and on both sides there was talk of retaliation.

Viktr had hoped some sort of agreement or at least a temporary truce would have been reached during the Meeting. But all these hopes had been crushed and he knew nothing short of a miracle could stop the incoming war. He felt like a man staring down an abyss which would soon swallow them all and knowing he could do nothing to stop it made his stomach ache and his head spin.

A small comfort amidst his despair was the love he felt going through him when Tharasza rested her head against his shoulder. They had grown ever closer since the day they had met and felt an ease around each other which was rare between a man and a woman. An ease and also something else, at least on Viktr's part. Sometimes he thought he could see it in her too, in how she smiled at him and in that special sparkle in her eyes.

He needed to tell her how he felt. The words burned in his chest, travelled upwards and danced excitedly on the tip of his tongue.

"Tharasza..." he began.

And screamed in horror when he turned his head and saw her white, rolled back eyes staring back at him.

Viktr laid her down in the grass and checked her pulse. Nothing. He noticed the bowl which had fallen unto the ground and from its spilled content he smelled a vague but familiar odour. Spicy with a hint of lemon. He knew exactly what poison it was.

"If you are right then you can't save her," a voice in him said. "It's over. She was gone before you knew."

Whispering in his ear like a demon's voice, he knew it to be right. Still he could not believe it, refused to do so. Just a moment ago she had been smiling at him, her eyes twinkling with life as she talked about how much she loved apricots.

Viktr dismissed the demon voice and ran back into the house. In his medicine bag there had to be something, anything, that could save her.

Many questions swarmed in his mind. That bowl had been intended for him so someone must have been trying to poison him. But who? Why? And why, for Spirit's sake, had he not noticed the strange smell coming from the dessert before now?

He ignored them and ran faster up the stairs. Stopped abruptly when he saw a woman's arm on the floor and sticking through the entrance of the dining hall. A feeling of dread fell over him when he noticed for the first time that the house was silent. No voices or laughter could be heard. Only the low trickle of the wine fountain.

Viktr stepped over the female slave who had collapsed in the doorway. Her white eyes stared up at him, seemed almost to beg him to turn around and run far away from this place.

He fell to his knees in shock when he saw the scene in front of him. All over the room, bodies lay. Some had fallen unto the floor, others on top of the long dinner table. But all were dead. Senators as well as slaves and servants and the young Bakam. Even the Highest Senator's wife, who had fallen in an awkward position: her backed arched like a dancer's over her husband's massive stomach.

Viktr felt something wet under him and looking down he realised that he was kneeling in the spilled content of a puke pot. The slave who had dropped it was lying next to him. His childish face was pale like a ghost and his rolled back eyes as white as a snow storm. His features, the high cheekbones and the thick lips, reminded Viktr of Tharasza.

Beautiful Tharasza with her smile and her joy and that brilliant mind of hers. She was gone and he could never bring her back. He had been helpless to save her from the death that had been intended for him and that knowledge cut in his heart like a knife.

### *

Djeen was a remarkable man. Unique, even. Tomeer had seen him in the last six days challenge thirteen band leaders and beat every single one of them. With a sword, an axe or nothing but his bare hands, he could kill anyone faster than it took them to hit the ground. He was a man to fear, a warrior who knew no defeat.

But alone with Tomeer, when the two of them were shielded from others' eyes, he became like another man. Timid and soft, he submitted to his man's will as a slave to his master.

Djeen pulled Tomeer closer to him. He didn't hold him hard because he knew he often underestimated his own strength but the way he held him was with the same desperation as a shipwrecked man holding on for his life to a floating piece of wood.

They lay holding each other close in the small tent where they had just finished fucking, their limbs intertwined like the strands of a rope. Tomeer could feel Djeen's heart beat hard in his chest and he saw in his face a look of worry.

"You're okay?"

"Rahin says we can't beat the Redeemed if I don't wield the sword."

Tomeer had seen how much he feared that weapon. His love, his Djeen whom almost nothing could scare, became petrified by the very thought of touching it.

He caressed Djeen's arm, drew his finger over the red and brown tattoo of a little bird. Something in its eyes, a certain careless insolence, reminded him of Djeen. Funny that he had never noticed that detail before.

"Maybe she's wrong. She has that spell that works for killing those things. It might be enough."

"Yeah, maybe," Djeen said. Although Tomeer could hear that he didn't really believe it. "Can you promise me something?"

"Anything."

Djeen kissed his neck and lay his head on Tomeer's chest, his ear to his beating heart.

"If you ever see me with that sword in my hand, run. Get away from me as far as you can and don't look back."

### *

"Daneela, I simply must know: how in the world did you do it?"

"Well, the first thing I figured is that I needed to look harmless, like someone one wouldn't suspect. So, I took some old women's clothes that used to belong to my dear grand-mother and I made a grey wig from hair I had brushed off one of our cats. Then on that day I made up my face to make myself look much older. Lo and behold, I was a little old lady! Even my own children didn't recognize me when they saw me leave the house."

"Oh, Daneela, you are so creative. I wish I had your imagination. But what happened at the stadium, how did you pull that off?"

"The thing with looking like an elderly person is that no one will raise an eyebrow if they see you use a walking stick. I decided to take advantage of that and constructed a blowpipe with the appearance of a cane. It had a special handle that could be lifted off when necessary. On that day I took my seat, I had bought one on the very first row facing the stage, and I waited for the right moment. When it came I opened the handle but kept it in my hand, holding it between two fingers. With the same hand, I lifted the mouthpiece to my lips and shot the dart away. I coughed to make it seem like it was the reason I had brought up my hand. Quickly, before anyone noticed, I put the handle back on the top of the cane. When senator Giliaz fell to the floor, I acted as shocked as everybody else."

The women around her nodded their heads. They were impressed.

All around the room, the mood was festive. Women stood in groups and chatted away with wine glasses in their hands. The smiles on their faces and their cheerful chuckles showed their great satisfaction. It had been a long time coming and very soon their grand plan would come to fruition.

Daneela noticed Vana Turqa, widow of the late senator Turqa, standing by herself in a corner of the room. She had a grin on her face but it was the kind one puts up when trying to feign a happiness which simply isn't there.

Having excused herself, Daneela went up to her.

"Everything okay?" She asked.

"Yes, everything is fine."

"I couldn't help but notice that you seem distracted."

Vana looked away with a mixture of sorrow and shame. With her thumb, she wiped away a tear in the corner of her eye.

"I just... I can't believe he's gone. I know we had to do what we did and I regret nothing. But I didn't think it would feel this way, so... empty. And my children... they're devastated."

Daneela reassured her with the same words she told herself when she saw her own children cry over the death of their father, senator Baytak.

"Remember, what we did we did for them too. It is for a brighter future for all people in the Republic that we had to take the power away from men. Our children will surely benefit from it too, if not today then eventually."

"I know, I know. It's just so hard for me to see them like that. The little one, she still goes searching for him in his chamber. She doesn't understand yet."

Most women in the room had children who had to lose a father. Still these mothers rejoiced, knowing that today's sorrow was small compared to the joy a peaceful new world, under the motherly guidance of the female sex, would bring. Daneela began to think that maybe Vana was just very eager to feel sorry for herself.

"I don't need to worry that you'll go the same way as Frea Lonz, do I?"

"What? No, of course not. I'll be alright, I promise. I need some time to process everything that has happened, that's all."

The death of Frea Lonz still haunted them all. Distraught by the idea of having to put her children through the death of their father, she had taken their lives too and then her own to not have to live without them. It had been a tragedy which had struck the Sisterhood of the White Hibiscus with great pain. But in the end, they could find comfort in the knowledge that Frea still had chosen to fulfil her mission and help bring on something so much more important than the few lives that were her own and her family's.

"I'm sorry," Daneela said. "I know you would never do that. Let's talk about something else."

"Yes, let's. What is happening with Elizz, by the way? I heard she survived."

"She did. They were convinced she was dead when they found her but then she woke up vomiting blood. She had only eaten a small portion of the dessert. 'Because a woman of my standing must watch her figure', is what she told them. It will take a number of days but she will recover."

"And then..."

"Then there will be a lot of work to do."

### *

"Can I ask you something?" Tomeer asked, blushing slightly.

"Sure," Rahin answered. "What do you want to know?"

"Is it true that if you ever do it then your powers go away?"

"Do what?"

"You know... it."

"Oh," she said with an embarrassed chuckle. "No, it's not true. But wouldn't you know that? I mean, aren't you and Djeen..."

"Oh, yes. I thought maybe it was different for women."

"Why would it be different for women?"

"I don't know. A lot of things are different with females."

He laughed, at what she didn't know, and he took another sip from his liquor bottle. They sat for a moment in silence, in this quietness that bothered her in a way she hadn't been able to put her finger on. It hit her now that it was the absence of crickets and their incessant chirping. There were no such insects so far up north so here was true silence, the kind that reminded her of death.

It was late night. Rahin could feel her eyelids getting heavy and beside her Tomeer had begun to dose off. The temptation to go to sleep was strong but there was something she needed to do first. She waited until Tomeer had fallen asleep and then walked to a nearby oak tree. After folding up and tying her long skirt around her thighs, she climbed up to a thick branch high up and sat for a while.

Rahin waited for the man sitting in front of her to say something but as he didn't she decided to speak first.

"Why are you following us?"

The man, a blind fellow in torn beggars' clothes, chewed on one of his dirty thumbnails as if he was searching in his mind for the right answer.

"That redheaded boy who was with you before," he said finally, "where is he?"

"So, you were following us also before we flew south? I thought I sensed you then too." A thought came to her and she added: "But how can you know the colour of his hair? Aren't you blind?"

"Perhaps I overheard you talking about his hair in a conversation."

"Or maybe you saw him at a time before you lost your eyesight. Do you know him?"

"Maybe."

Rahin studied the man's face more closely. His white, unkept hair and stubble probably made him appear older than he really was. His face did not have many wrinkles but had a greyish tone that made him look sickly. Still, he had a proud way of carrying himself. He was unlike any beggar Rahin had ever seen before.

"You still haven't answered my first question," she said.

"Neither you mine."

"Fair enough. He stayed in the south. Only me and my friend down by the campfire flew here to get back my dragon."

"Flew, yes, on those big birds. Never knew anyone before who could tame a daya. You must be a very powerful sorceress. You guys found that magical sword?"

"I have given you the answer you wanted. Return the favour and I might give you more."

The man smacked his lips, rubbed his chin as he considered the offer.

"Okay," he said. "I was following you because I have a message for Djeen."

"What kind of message?"

"Can't tell you. It's for his ears only. You think you can take me to him?"

"Can, yes. But how do I know if you can be trusted?"

"What is there to fear from a poor old man?" He said laughing. "If I were to try anything you could stab me with those fighting knives you hide in your sleeves."

Rahin felt shock at his words. How could he know? Most people, even close friends she had travelled with, did not know about her hidden weapons until she had to pull them out.

"Yes, I am blind," the man said and lifted the bandage over his eyes to prove it. "But my ears hear everything, even such things others miss with their eyes. So, will you take me to him?"

"Okay," she said after thinking about it. "But don't try anything funny."

She climbed down the tree and he followed her to the camp. Assuming he must be hungry she handed him some bread and cold stew.

"Here, eat. By the way, I believe I forgot to ask you your name."

"My name, yes," he said and chewed excitedly on the bread roll in his hand. "I had one once but it got lost. Never found it again. Now people call me Old Crazy."

When she heard his answer Rahin got a terrible feeling that maybe she hadn't quite thought this through.

### *

It was that time of day close enough to sunrise but far enough from midday that the temperature was just right. Some of the freshness of the night lingered on while the new day's heat warmed the people's heart.

Djeen looked around the camp, at the women preparing breakfast and the men and women getting ready for the day's raids. Here and there were children running around and playing. The shyest ones stayed with their mothers. He noticed one in particular, a toddler hiding underneath his mother's long skirt. From time to time the little boy would peek out and watch the older kids from the safety of his hiding place. At one point, he saw Djeen, smiled and did the traditional Ilyian honour salute of beating his chest with his left fist.

Djeen laughed with a warmth he had not felt in a long time. It struck him that these were his people. Never in his life had he longed for authority over others. But here he was, the leader of almost thirty criminal bands and their well-being was his responsibility. It did not feel heavy or trapping but he did feel a certain anxiousness over not being worthy of the trust put in him.

Lately he had thought a lot about how he could prepare his people for the coming war. First, he needed to find a way to unite all the bands that were his. This would not be an easy task as many of them had been rivals for generations and sometimes even sworn enemies. And how to train all his warriors for an evil he could not tell them about? For surely, if he told them of the walking corpses from the snowy land beyond the Wind Mountains, they would believe him to have gone mad.

Djeen was interrupted in his string of thoughts by a familiar sound. He looked up and saw in the distance the two daya carrying Tomeer and Rahin back from their trip to the north. In each of their claws they held the corner of a large linen sheet in which was Number One. His thick, scaly head peeking out. His eyes sparkling like those of a giant, greenish-brown puppy.

As they landed Djeen saw that a man was sitting behind Rahin. The clothes on him were torn and dirty and over his eyes were equally dirty bandages. Djeen sensed that there was something familiar about him but couldn't put his finger on what it was.

He welcomed back his friend and his lover with a hug each. The one for Tomeer extra long and close. How he had missed him. What a rough fucking he was going to let him give him tonight.

He then introduced himself to the stranger.

"Greetings. I am the leader of this band. My people call me..."

"I know who you are, Djeen," the man interrupted him. "But do you remember me?"

Djeen took a step back, shocked to hear the man speak his name. He took a closer look at his face and at once recognized him.

"Ha... Hamin?"

The old fellow smiled and all doubts disappeared from Djeen. His hair had gone white and his face wrinkled somewhat but it was him, the former temple leader.

"Hamin!" Djeen exclaimed, took him in his arms and lifted him up. "I can't believe it's you! How did you...? When...? You must tell me everything!"

"It's a long story but I will tell you it all. It is good to see you again, son."

Djeen teared up when he heard this man, who was the only one who had ever been like a father to him, call him son. He held him tighter, spun around a couple of times and put him back on the ground. Then he called on one of the women and ordered her to serve their guest some breakfast.

"Also prepare him a bath and bring him some new clothes, the finest ones we have. Give him everything he needs and everything he asks for. This man is a king, treat him like one!"

Djeen was not one to jump for joy. His mood was restrained, often brooding, and to see him smile was rare. That is why Tomeer felt such a warmth in his heart when he saw on his face that grin which just wouldn't disappear. Sometimes when he thought no one was watching Djeen would even have a skip in his step, reminding Tomeer of the playful little lambs he had cared for as a herder. Djeen was, in other words, happier than he had ever seen him.

And when Hamin returned from his breakfast and bath, Tomeer felt like he had never seen the man before. In his new and clean clothes, he looked much more dignified than before and after having received a proper haircut and shave he appeared twenty winters younger.

"That looks more like the Hamin I remember," Djeen said. "Now, tell me: how in the world did you cross the Wind Mountains?"

Hamin leaned his walking staff against a chair and sat down at the table where Rahin, Djeen and Tomeer also sat. Over them was a large tent of thick white linen which let in enough light and air to make the place a comfortable one on a heavy summer day like this.

"Well, actually I didn't. How I came to this land was in another fashion entirely. But I'll tell you more about it later. Let me first tell you my story from the beginning, that is after we were separated.

The Mighty had taken you away. I did not know where or why. My eyesight had been taken, you already know how so I will spare you the details.

Having lost my standing in the temple I was given a new assignment, which I didn't mind at all. Beloved One is something I had never wanted to be and quite honestly, I felt relieved to be spared of the gruesome tasks that come with the job.

What did bother me was the new way the other temple workers treated me. You know, Djeen, how those considered weak in faith are treated in our homeland. It turns out that my previously high standing in the temple did not protect me from that. On the contrary, having fallen from such a high place made me even more loathsome in their eyes. To them I was an ungrateful fool who had spit in the face of The Mighty by throwing away the precious gift he had given me.

To show me how very little they thought of me I was given the least popular chores. One of them was of course the cleaning and emptying of the latrines. Let me tell you, that is never a fun job but especially if you just lost your eyes and are still getting used to living in the dark. Had it not been for Ilma's help I would have fallen head first into the hole on more than one occasion.

You remember her, Djeen, don't you? She was that lady whose hands had been cut off for stealing. Of all the people in the temple she was the only one to ever show me any kindness. This truly baffled me. I mean, I was the person who had cut off her hands! But she never showed any resentment towards me and never treated me badly.

One day I asked her why. I can still recall her exact words:

'Bitterness and anger are a heavy burden to carry within oneself, Hamin. It is like hot lead in your chest and it burns you and weights you down with every step until you let it go. We are all trying to survive in this cold and loveless land. I feel no hate towards anyone for doing whatever they have to keep on living.'

Of all the people I have met in my life, none had a purer heart than Ilma. It didn't take long before I found myself in love with her. To my surprise and delight, the feeling was mutual. Ilma became my first and to this day only love.

Luckily for us, no one ever suspected what was going on between us. It is a funny thing how people believe that a man loses the capacity for desire when he loses his sight. It's why the others felt that it was alright to leave us together unattended. If they knew the things we did then, they would have killed us both.

The happiest time of my life was when I was with her. But it would not last long. Five winters after The Mighty took my eyes a famine like our land had never seen before struck. In previous times it had not been much of an issue for us. As temple workers, we are given the finest foods and our sustenance is guaranteed before anyone else's. This particular famine, though, was something different. So grave was the lack of food that even we were starving. Several of the temple workers died. Amongst them..."

Hamin quieted. His features became distorted with sorrow; his lower lip trembled. Had he still had eyes, tears would have likely been falling down his cheeks.

"Amongst them my dear Ilma," he continued after having regained his composure. "She passed away near the end of winter, shortly before spring blossomed. Due to our low standing we were always some of the last to be given any food. Most days that meant we got none. So after that terrible night when she died in my arms, I was certain it wouldn't be long before I joined her in death.

I refused to meet my end in that damned place, that happiness killing prison where I had suffered all my life. So, one morning I put on my coat and left the temple, never to return again. I went to a glade out in the forest. This was where I had buried Ilma. She had loved going there on the occasions we were allowed to leave the temple and it was one of the few places where we got to experience some peace of mind. It was also quite beautiful and she often expressed that she wished I could see how breath-taking it was.

I lay down on top of her grave, told her one last time how much I loved her and I waited for death. The day passed and then came night-time. I was sure the cold it brought along would kill me. But what happened next was so unexpected, so strange that I to this day have not been able to explain it.

When the night was at its darkest and a thick layer of snow had covered my body, I started to feel myself fading. Relieved, I thought my end had come. So, I existed for a while in this weird and wonderful place between life and death.

A wind began to blow. I'm still not sure if it was real or imaginary, if it came from this realm or the next. Still, it came to me and carried with it every sound. From the littlest trembling leaf on the branch of a tree to the snow whirling softly across the field, I could hear everything. It was as if the landscape around me was being drawn in bright colours that my inner eye could see. I lay there all through the night and watched it come to life.

Morning came and, despite the biting cold, I had survived. Not only that but I felt strangely energized and decided to go for a walk. I went into the woods and as I strolled among the trees I realised that if I focused my mind I could trace the scenery around me almost as well as in that strange dream or vision or whatever it was that had come to me during the night.

Ilma had not wanted me to give up, I knew. As for the others at the temple, they had not come looking for me. If they have noticed yet that I was gone they might have felt too weak from hunger to go out and search. Possibly they even felt relieved over having one mouth less to feed.

I decided to take the opportunity and get away from it all. I walked back to my dear Ilma's grave, said my last goodbye and disappeared back into the forest.

Where would I go? What would I do? I didn't know. I was certain of one thing, though: I would never again be a slave to that tyrant, that demon, who called himself "The Mighty". Even if it cost me my life, my dignity was something he would never take from me again.

I decided to travel south, to the Wind Mountains. They had to end somewhere, I figured, and beyond them there had to be something different, a world other than the one I knew. Of course, I had heard that legend of the young man who had gone to find the edge of the mountain range and died of old age before he could. But I thought maybe it was just a story someone, possibly The Mighty, had made up to try and dissuade people from trying to find a way out of that oppressive land. Luckily for me, I would not have to find the end of the mountains to get beyond them.

I had been travelling for Spirit knows how long, using my newly found ability and my sense of smell to find berries and edible roots to sustain myself, when one day I heard footsteps approaching in the forest. Immediately, I climbed up in a pine tree to hide. The people I had heard passed below me. By the sound of their steps I figured out that there were eight of them. I could also hear that two of them were pulling a large wooden cart on top of which were many tools clanking as the wheels went up and down on the bumpy trail.

Curious, I followed them. Hiding behind boulders and trees, I kept listening attentively after the sound of someone stopping or turning around. But none did and I stalked them successfully to their destination without being detected.

They arrived at a cave at the base of the mountains and there were other people there, between fifty and sixty from what I could hear. Those I had followed took their tools from the cart and joined the others in their work. From deep inside the cave echoed the noise of pickaxes taking apart the stone blow by blow. It went on all day and then all night and for all three days I spied on this strange group of people.

I say strange not only because none of them ever took a break to sleep or eat. No, there were many peculiar things about these folks. For one, they never spoke. Occasionally one of them would let out a whiny sort of grunt but other than that no sound ever came out of their mouths. How in the world they cooperated without ever saying a word to each other, I have not the slightest clue.

Then there was that damn odour. As a field of corpses left out to rot after a battle. That's what it smelled like. I knew it came from the people themselves because at one point one of them passed closed to where I was, hiding in a bush, and the smell became so intense I almost fainted!

On another occasion, I heard something fall of a guy. It sounded like his arm to me but I couldn't believe it so I inspected more closely after he had gone by. To my shock and horror, I discovered that it was in fact his arm and that it was rotting. The bone was even exposed in certain places where I touched it.

Fearing that these people had some terrible illness that made the flesh rot of their bodies, I hurried to a river close-by and washed myself thoroughly as well as my clothes. I knew that if they indeed had a disease I shouldn't go back unless I wanted to risk getting infected. But my curiosity got the better of me. I had to know what they were up to.

So, I returned, hid in a tree and kept listening. After working for three whole days and nights, they took their tools and their carts and went away.

It was night-time when I entered the cave and it must have been pitch-black in there. Being blind, it made not much of a difference to me and my newly learned ability even gave me an advantage when it came to mapping out the cave. Although at the time I had not quite yet mastered my gift and I was so focused on how the echoes travelled upwards the walls and ceiling that I paid no attention to how they moved downwards and I fell through a hole in the ground.

Or rather I was more like a downhill tunnel. I slid down and landed in a space below, breaking both my arm and my walking stick. Panicked, I tried to climb back but the lower part of the hole was too far up the wall for me to reach. The fact that the walls were damp and slippery didn't help either.

After calming down, I took a part of my broken cane and tore some fabric from my temple garb to make a splint for my injured arm. Then I started to walk northward, thinking that maybe there would be an exit that way. But what met me was a wall of the same cold, wet stone as everywhere else in the cave.

I took the other half of the broken stick, hit the walls and floor with it and listened attentively to how the echoes came back to me. Northward, they were very short but southwards they reverberated over and over until only a sound like a whisper could be heard. I decided to walk that way. If there was any exit to find, it would be there. Of course, then I wasn't even sure there was a way out and I feared that I may be trapped down there forever.

During my walk, which ended up lasting the rest of the night, I had plenty of time to think. I was still baffled by what I had witnessed, those mysterious people who did not speak and who reeked of death, their bodies falling to pieces as they went along.

Something that had happened long ago, when I was still a child, came back to me. Reports had come to the temple of a man in a nearby town who spoke blasphemous things. He claimed that he had been inside The Mighty's Highest Temple and seen him raise up the dead. A small army of them he had brought back to life to serve him at his Temple but the decay of death he had not been able to reverse and the living dead were still rotting away like any other corpses. Except when he kept them in a pool of bright purple water which had preserving qualities.

The Beloved One at the time had of course become furious when he had heard this. He went into that town to kill the man but found that an enraged mob had beaten him to it. All that was left of that apostate fellow were bones and a few strips of flesh. Satisfied, The Beloved One commended the people of that city for their zeal to eradicate from their midst those who spoke falsely of The Mighty and after that no one ever spoke of that incident again.

I wondered as I tried to find my way out of that tunnel if maybe that man had spoken the truth and those rotting people I had encountered were in fact walking corpses somehow animated by the power of The Mighty. The thought made me sick to my stomach but knowing the depth of his evil, it would not have surprised me.

Eventually, I found an exit. Stumbled out of it in the early morning. I knew it was that time of day because I could feel the fresh dawn air mixed with the warm sun light against my skin. There was also that beautiful sound I had not heard for a long, long time: the singing of a blackbird. I knew I had come out on the other side of the mountain and to a land where there was so much food that the people let live the little birds with their succulent white meat.

So, the north of what I later learned is the Ilyian Republic is where I have been living since, travelling from town to town as a beggar. I learned the language by eavesdropping on the people around me and now I have a good enough comprehension of it that I understood with no trouble when I heard talking of who I knew could be no other than you, Djeen, and your gift with fire. I went to find you and I did, although I kept hiding.

When I heard you and Rahin speak of this sword you needed to fight The Mighty I felt what I had not for a long time: hope. If anyone in the world has the spirit and the strength to defeat his evil, then it is you, Djeen.

After you flew south on the daya birds, I stayed in hiding close to where you had left your dragon. I waited and followed your friends when they came back to get it. Rahin found me and here I am.

Now, son, what have you been up to? How did you find yourself in this land? Tell me everything."

# Chapter Nine

"Are you sure? This can't be right."

"I am absolutely certain," the Highest Senator's secretary answered. "The signature is his and so is the seal."

Bazk took the document from the elderly clerk's hand and read through it for himself. He understood the words on the paper but his thoughts were elsewhere, trying to comprehend this bizarre situation.

It was well-known that the Highest Senator designated his own successor and that this person did not have to be a senator. Still, no one could have predicted that he would make so odd a choice.

"So... his wife, Elizz, is to be the new Highest Senator?" Saying it out loud did not make it feel any less wrong.

"Yes."

"But we've never had a woman in that position before."

"There are no laws that say the leader of the Republic has to be a man."

Bazk was starting to feel annoyed with that shrivelled, effeminate bureaucrat who clearly did not see the gravity of the situation.

"Does she know?"

"I imagine her husband would have told her about it. Or he could also have kept it from her for her own safety."

The secrecy around who was to take over the Senator post was always great. The identity of the person was never revealed until it was time for them to take office and the document disclosing who they were was kept in a hidden location known only to the Highest Senator himself and to his private secretary. This way, attempts on the life of the person by people who coveted their future power could be avoided.

"Well, I guess there's only one way to know. I'll go speak to her. You're dismissed."

The clerk had a contemptuous smile on his face when Bazk left his office. Technically, private secretary to the Senator was a higher standing position than leader of the Republican Guard. Bazk knew this and felt embarrassed by his blunder.

He forgot about it quickly. What he felt more preoccupied by was the situation that had arisen. There was a reason female soldiers were given simple and less dangerous assignments, like patrolling the streets of The Golden Village. Apart from the fact that the bodies of those who could carry children were so much more valuable to society, there was also the issue of competence. It was obvious to all, or at least it was to Bazk, that the inferiority of the female was not only in physical strength but also in mental stability and intellectual capacity.

Although, Elizz was unusually restrained and calm for a woman and Bazk told himself that maybe she would be able to at least not make a complete mess of what would be given to her.

Elizz was chugging down the sour and foul-smelling brew that Viktr had given her and she encouraged herself by remembering that the ordeal would be over sooner the faster she took the medicine. Once finished she gave him back the bowl and said:

"I can see that you are troubled, doctor. Just give it to me straight: what is your prognosis?"

"When it comes to your health, I am quite positive. I believe you are stable enough now that I can say with confidence that you will be alright. You will continue to experience stiffness and pain for quite some time but it will pass. I will give your nurse the recipe for this medicinal drink and I recommend you take it twice a day. And try to get some mild exercise. Nothing exhausting. Short walks in the garden will do you good."

"Anything else?"

"No, that is it." He hesitated. Elizz noticed that he was avoiding looking her in the eyes. "But there is something I have to tell you. We thought it better to wait until we knew for sure you would recover. You see, on the day of the Meeting..."

Viktr was interrupted by the guard at the door announcing the arrival of Bazk, the leader of the Republican Guard.

"We can talk more later, Viktr. I think I need to speak to him. Wait in the garden for a while and come back when he has left."

Viktr bowed obediently and left. That disconcerting expression of worry was still on his face as he walked out the room. At the same time Bazk came in and Elizz had to hold back a smile when she saw that special envelope he was holding under his arm.

"Wife Senator," he said bowing, "I come carrying news."

He took the envelope, pulled out a document from it and gave it to her as he added:

"It seems your husband believed you to be the worthiest of being his successor."

Eliza pretended to read what was handed to her as if she had never seen it before. But she had. In fact, she had written it. Copying his handwriting, signature and borrowing his signet in secret, she had forged this document with the help of the Senator's own secretary. For his assistance and silence, she had given the man a not insignificant sum of money as well as one of her slaves that she knew he lusted after.

"I... I can't believe it. I heard him mention it once but I thought he was joking."

Elizz gazed around the room with a feigned expression of anguish. To herself she thought how good it would feel to finally get out of that stuffy bedroom and get some fresh air in the garden.

"Bazk, I don't know if... I will I bear this responsibility? I have no experience in governing."

"Do not worry. There are protocols put in place to ease the process of installing a new Highest Senator. I and several others, amongst them the Senator's secretary, have the duty to help you in your new work however we can. I know this must be a frightening situation but you are truly wise and your husband made a good choice when making you is successor."

She knew those weren't his true feelings but as she herself was playing a false game, it did not offend her.

"How blessed I am to have your assistance, Bazk. I don't know what I'd do without it. But where am I to start? What needs to be done for the Republic?"

"Well, you could start thinking about what you would like to say in the Senator's first address to the people. There is also the task of appointing new members to the senate. Do not feel hurried, though. You are still recovering from an attempt on your life. The people will understand."

Elizz gave him a warm smile, thanked him and then dismissed him. She heard him exchange some words with Viktr as they met outside of her room. What Bazk first said, she could not make out. Neither did she understand Viktr's response, although she could hear a tone of protest in his voice. But she did hear what Bazk said when he spoke again:

"She has important things to do for the Republic so do not bother her with this right now, least I shove my fist down your throat."

The threat of the brutish soldier towards the mild-mannered doctor would have amused her if it wasn't for the fact that his words gave her the feeling that something was terribly wrong. When Viktr came back into her bedroom, she asked:

"Doctor, what was it you wanted to tell me earlier?"

"Oh," he said anxiously, "nothing important. We can speak of it some other time. Now you should rest, Wife Senator. The time is late."

A look of deep shame showed across his face when he left and Elizz knew then for sure that he was keeping something from her.

### *

"Here's the guest of honour! You know, they're searching for you back there."

"I'll be right up," Djeen answered Vayl when he saw them come down the slope. "I was just looking at this lake. I don't think I've seen such a large one before."

Vayl sat next to him on the pebble covered shore of what the locals had nicknamed "The Giant's Bathtub" due to its unusual size. Behind them the distant sounds of festivities could be heard. Djeen's latest conquered band were throwing a party for their new leader.

"Imagine," Djeen said, "this is nothing compared to the ocean. You've ever seen it?"

"Yeah, once. When we travelled far west with Arzi on a special mission." Seeing the expression of melancholy on Djeen's face they immediately regretted bringing up his late lover and added: "But we didn't see much of the sea. Most of the time we were looking for this bandit who had a big prize on his head."

"Still, you saw it. That's something. How was it?"

"It was like looking over a lake that was so wide that you couldn't see the end of it. Not to the east, not to the west and not on the horizon. From the sea, there's this fresh bris that carries a salty and tangy smell. And how the sun shines on it! It's beautiful, especially at sunset."

Djeen tried picturing it in his mind like he had done many times before. He didn't know why but there was something in the stories he heard about the ocean that made him feel like he had to see it for himself. He would one day. At this time, he had more urgent matters to attend to.

"You guys saw any whales?"

"Whales? Nah, we stayed on the shore. You have to get pretty far out in the water to see any. We did hear many stories about them. I don't know how truthful it all was but they said that they're as big as a ship and can swallow a hundred men in one bite."

He wondered if you could tame a whale. Maybe Rahin could, like she did the dayas. He smiled as he imagined them riding on a gigantic fish swimming among the waves.

"Anyway," Vayl said, "they're waiting for you up there. I'm gonna go, it's almost time for desert. Grapes with soft cheese and honey, if I remember right."

They left him and he returned to watching the clear water of the lake with its green weed floating on the surface here and there. He thought, like he often did nowadays, about how much he didn't want to go back to the festivities and how utterly bored he had become with his whole mission of conquering as many marauder bands as possible. Of course, he had no thought of giving it up but he wished that even one worthy opponent would rise against him and end this unbearable boredom. He didn't dare admit it even to himself, but sometimes he would long for the day the war against The Mighty would start so that he finally had a challenge before him.

"Djeen!" Vayl was running back down the slope and pulling something out of their shirt pocket. "I forgot that I intended to give you this." They put the object in Djeen's hand and continued. "I took it with me when we first started our journey. I was going to give it to you right away but we have been up to so much it completely slipped out of my memory. It was Ussa who wanted you to have it when you came back. She said you'd know what it means."

Vayl ran back up to the party and Djeen took a closer look at the pendant they had given him. Made of pure iron, it was about the size of half a fist and was in the shape of a bow and arrow.

### *

Bazk gazed over the main public square of Ily. He dared not guess how many people were gathered here but it was enough that he doubted they could be contained if they decided to riot. Even with reinforcement from the Bronze Bears troop, there were thousands of citizens per soldier. Clutching the pommel of his sword, he hoped Elizz would not say anything that would send the people into a rage.

For that woman was insane, he was certain of it now. In retrospect, it was obvious. She had after all been married to that nutcase Nov Julkis. But when she had given Bazk the list of those who were to make up the new senate, there was no more doubt about her complete lack of sanity. Sure, the government had previously been heavily male dominated and perhaps that wasn't quite fair. To fill the senate with only women was on the other hand utterly irrational. At least the previous government had cared enough about women to have them represented. The new one would not have even on male senator. Bazk's worst fears about the power being given to Elizz were coming true before his eyes and he could do nothing to stop it.

"Silence!" He shouted and a man on a small stage far into the crowd repeated after him for those further back.

The people grew slowly quiet and all eyes turned towards Bazk. He felt sweat under his arms and on his lower back. Not because of the weather as it was well into autumn and a cold rain had fallen over the city just this morning. No, he was nervous. If it was because of everyone staring at him or because he feared the words that would soon come out of the new Senator, he wasn't quite sure. He took a deep breath and continued.

"All of you have heard by now of the tragedy that struck our city when in one evening we lost all of our beloved senators. It has been a great loss for all of us and rest assured that we in the Republican Guard will do everything in our power to bring those responsible to justice and punish them in the hardest way allowed by the law."

A first wave of cheers came towards him. Then a second, after the man carrying his words forward had finished speaking.

"But we must not despair. We must not only look backwards, but also gaze to the future. That is why we are here today: to welcome a new Highest Senator and hear her first speech to the Republic. As news posters have proclaimed all throughout the city, the person to take over this most important post is none other than the widow of the former Senator. Welcome and bow before her!"

All at once, the people fell on their knees. On many faces Bazk could see expressions of boredom and on one side he saw a soldier beat down a man who was refusing to kneel. Most still did as they were told and Bazk felt as he walked to the back of the stage a certain relief that, while the government was falling to pieces, at least the populace remained somewhat under control.

Elizz came onto the stage from a staircase on the side. The public square was so quiet that the creaking sound of her steps on the wooden floor echoed between the white marble buildings. She stopped in the centre of the stage and four guards positioned themselves around her: two on each side, one a few steps behind and another right below her in front of the stage.

"People of Ily", she began and put both her hands over her heart. "As you can see, I have brought no notes with me up here and that is because I want to speak to you from my heart. Truth be told, I never asked to be handed such power. So, it is of outmost importance for me that I show myself worthy of the task which has been given me. To show myself worthy, not to any institutions, political parties or wealthy senators but to you: the people!"

There were a few cheers. Many in the audience looked confounded up at her and at each other. Bazk kept an alert eye for any suspicious behaviour in the crowd and at the same time tried to figure out what in the world Elizz was up to.

"For if there is something I saw during all the time I moved in the highest circles of Ily, it is that the elites did not know you. They said that they represented you but knew nothing of your lives, your struggles and toiling..."

"And what the fuck do you know about our toiling?"

A soldier on the side-line had seen who in the audience had shouted the words and he was walking towards him but Elizz stopped him.

"Leave him be! He was just asking a question." Turning to the young man in question, she continued: "You are not wrong in wondering how someone like me could know anything about the struggles you face. It is true that my understanding of it can't be anything but limited. But I am prepared to listen to you. For if Spirit has given in my hand this office, it is not so that my words would resound and not so that my voice would echo, but yours!"

More cheers were heard. Also confused laughter and cynical whisperings at this rich woman who thought they would fall for her pretty speech.

"I understand that you are sceptical. After all, what I am saying is unlike anything you have heard before. So I say: wait and see, my actions will fit my words. As a first order to increase the people's power, I hereby institute that, beside the senate, shall be in the government elected representatives from every region of the Republic, every part of the city of Ily and from every class of people, from wealthy merchants to simple peasants."

Bazk had to gather all his restraint to not walk of the stage. He closed his fist in his pocket and focused on the crowd who was going wild with applauds and whistles. Pearls of sweat formed at his temples and he found it hard to breath as he witnessed the whole fabric of society falling to pieces in the hands of this woman.

"I promise to you all that those forgotten in the past shall no longer be so. Your voices will be heard, your opinions will be valued and your dreams will come true! For today I make an oath to you and to Spirit above that I will live now not for my sake but for yours. If you let me, if you find me worthy, I will take on this yoke with the greatest honour and carry you into a new age, like a mother scorpion carries her children on her back. And like the hen that hides her young beneath her wings, so shall I protect you. But I will not do so unless it is your will. So, people of Ily, will you give me the chance to be your new Senator and a loving mother to our nation?"

The ecstatic shouts coming from the people was all the answer one needed to know that the people had taken her to their hearts. On many faces were streaming tears of joy. One of those crying was an elderly woman who appeared to have lived through at least eighty winters. She was standing in front of the stage and gazing up at Elizz with eyes filled with hope. Elizz noticed her and went up to her, kneeled at the edge of the platform and took the woman's hand in hers. She said some words Bazk could not make out and dried the old woman's tears with the sleeve of her dress.

Bazk had to look away. He felt moved by what he saw, although he knew it was madness, and he didn't know what to think anymore. All the rules were being broken and everything was upside down.

"We love you, Mother Scorpion!" Someone cried out. "Praise be to you!"

Another, copying the new moniker, started a chant and soon all the people were shouting it.

"Mother Scorpion! Mother Scorpion! Mother Scorpion!"

Their thousands of voices echoed over the city which had never known such hope.

### *

"Ah, Eke! Have a seat. I understand you wished to speak to me before the meeting."

Djeen gestured to him to seat down at the table and he poured him a glass of warm beer. Rose was sleeping soundly by his feet and he felt a certain satisfaction when Eke cast a nervous look at her. She was an intimidating beast, especially with the gems encrusted spiked collar he had bought her. Most who saw her feared the menacing looking bitch and he couldn't be any prouder. And to think, when he had first found her she had been so small that he had carried her on the inside of his shirt.

"Yes, it's about that new set of rules you have given us."

He was referring to the written code Djeen had compiled and sent to all bands under his authority. The reception so far had been mixed. Many had praised it but just as many had complained about it. By the way Eke, whom Djeen had made vice-chief of Samt's former band, was shifting nervously in his seat, Djeen figured he was another one dissatisfied with the new way.

"The thing is," Eke said, "that you've forbidden us from taking women by force during raids..."

"You mean rape."

"Uh, yes. And that's okay with me. I mean, I'm an old guy and my appetite for such things isn't what it used to be. But a lot of the young guys are having a hard time. They've become frustrated and they act out in all sorts of ways. Getting into fights, groping women at the camp and then that leads to more fights 'cause it was some other guy's girl he touched..."

"Eke." Djeen put up his hand and interrupted him. "What are you getting to?"

"Well, that maybe they wouldn't have to follow that rule... so much."

Djeen sat back in his chair, rubbed his chin and said:

"You have a daughter, right? A pretty thing too. Let me ask you this: if she ever was to be attacked by marauders, would you prefer it was a band who obeyed by the rules I've set up or one that didn't?"

Eke seemed taken aback and offended by the personal question. Thinking that he probably had gone too far by bringing up his child, Djeen quickly added:

"I guess my point is: the rule stays and it stays because some things are just wrong."

"But boss," Eke said smiling nervously, "we're bandits. Isn't doing wrong things kind of what we do?"

"Good point," Djeen said and stroked Rose, who had awakened and put her head in his lap. "We are criminal, yes. But we aren't monsters. There are lines we shouldn't cross. Even the standard Marauder's Code puts limitations of our behaviour. It's why it has always been forbidden to force oneself on males or girls not passed puberty. Now I've just added grown women to that list."

The greying bandit seemed disappointed by his answer. He scratched at a stain on the table and looked up with sad eyes at him.

"So... What do I tell the guys? I promised them I'd talk to you about this."

"Tell them the rule stays and that if they feel so frustrated then I recommend that they get acquainted with this thing called their right hand and keep doing so until they don't feel frustrated anymore. If they keep acting out, take some money from the budget and take them to a whorehouse or something. Any more question?"

"No, boss. Thank you for your time, boss."

Eke left the tent in a bit of a moping mood. Rahin came in shortly thereafter.

"It looks like everyone is here," she said. "Everything okay?"

"Yes, I'm just, you know... thinking through what I'm gonna say."

"You're going to do fine, don't worry. Worst case scenario, you can throw up some flames. They'll definitely do want to want then." She laughed at this horrified expression, adding: "Djeen, I'm joking! No, seriously, you're going to do great. Just remember to breath and to calm the storm of your mind."

He nodded and ordered a servant to let everyone in. Thirty-three men and one woman came in. These were the people Djeen had chosen as vice-chiefs of his bands to take care of things for him while he was away. Today he had gathered them to share his plans for their future.

"Welcome. I have called you all here today... Yash, why are you not sitting down?"

One of the vice-chiefs was standing in a corner of the meeting tent even though there was still a seat left at the table.

"I ain't sitting next to him," he said pointing to a man sitting beside the empty chair. "He's sneaky, without honour. Damn faggot."

"The fuck you called me?" The man responded and stood up in a fury. "You better shut your mouth or..."

"Sit down, both of you!" Djeen ordered and tried to remain calm. The last thing he needed was to catch on fire in front of all these people. "And here's one fine example of why I have gathered you all here. It hasn't escaped my attention that there is much rivalry and hatred between all the bands I have conquered. I can't have that. I need unity amongst my people. So, today we will go through all the conflicts that exists between you and we will solve them. I don't expect you to all be pals by the end of this meeting, but I will expect you to be able to cooperate if ever the need shows itself. Now, who wants to start?"

That simple questions sparked the beginning of two days of disputes and bickering. Accusations of all sorts flew around, from allegations of marital infidelity to theft and even of accidental killing of another man's cat. More than once, things turned physical. Djeen had to break up numerous fights and at one point organise one to settle a matter between two of his vice-chiefs.

By the end of the second day, all conflicts had found at least some sort of resolution and Djeen called off the meeting for the day. On the third one they would discuss something else entirely, although he did not disclose to them what.

Tired after a long day of negotiating and hungry from having had only one bowl of soup since breakfast, Djeen sat down by the fire in the centre of camp. A woman served him a portion of flame-grilled chicken and he began to eat. He had only taken a few bites when he was interrupted by a young lad who came running.

"Boss! Boss! Come quick!" He shouted with his squeaky pubescent voice which made Djeen even more irritated than he already was.

"Not now, I'm eating."

"But you got to see this. Look!"

The boy pointed to the sky and Djeen noticed that the people around him were already staring up, whispering to each other and clutching their weapons or children. He turned around and saw something dark, like the shadow of a giant, across all the northern sky.

"What is that odour?" A woman wondered, pinching her nose.

Djeen smelled it too and he could hear in the distance the calls of crows. He unsheathed his sword and called Rahin.

"I'm here," she said coming out of a tent. "What's..."

She stopped when she saw the sky. A wind began to blow in the same instant and made her short braids dance on top of her head. Without looking down, she pulled her fighting knives out of her sleeves and prepared for a fight.

"Djeen, you're going to have to take the sword."

"I don't need the sword!" He protested.

"You can't take on this without it. You may be much stronger and faster than any other man but you can't fight these many."

"Rahin, come on. It's just a bunch of birds." He stood up on a tree stump and turned to the people around him. "We're going to the cave! Children and women go first, men and the fighting women thereafter! Vice-chiefs stand with me and we go last! Now, hurry!"

Tomeer and Hamin were coming back from a walk in the woods when they heard him speak and saw in the north the colossal flock of crows steadily approaching. From the ground to the sky, all the horizon was one black shadow of wings and feathers.

"Seems we got some bird trouble again," Djeen explained and forgetting himself for a moment grabbed affectionately Tomeer's face. "I'm taking the people to the cave down by the southern hill. Go in advance. I'm staying behind to guard the back."

Tearing himself from his love felt like torture to Tomeer but he knew he was no good at fighting and would only be in the way. He turned to Hamin to go. The man shook his head.

"I'm staying. I'll fight by your side," he told Djeen. Knowing he would protest, he said: "And that's final. I may be blind but I can see the world clearer with my gift than most of your warriors can with both their eyes."

Djeen said nothing and gave Tomeer a passionate hug before he watched him run to the small crowd walking southwards. Beside Djeen was Rahin. The cursed sword was hanging in a scabbard by her belt, like it always was. She put a decisive hand on the crown shaped pommel.

"It's right here whenever you need it. I'll be by your side the whole time. When you come to your senses, just tell me and I'll hand you the sword."

"I won't need it", he said stubbornly and they began to walk.

Eke ran up to him and Djeen noticed he was shaking. Other vice-chiefs gathered around him with questions about what was going on.

"I've never seen anything like it," Eke said. "It's like all the crows in all the Republic have gathered in one place. What are we going to do?"

"I don't know, Eke. We're going to the cave. We'll be safe there."

"Or cornered," Yani remarked.

Djeen looked inquiringly at his one female vice-chief and she explained that since they had nothing to cover the entrance to the cave and not enough time to build one, there was no reason the birds couldn't follow them in. She had a point and he knew it. Still, he said nothing and ordered those in front to accelerate the pace.

When they arrived, Djeen gazed in the direction of the camp in time to see the last of it being swallowed by the ever-advancing flock of crows. He tried seeing beyond it but couldn't. In the horizon was nothing but darkness and so many more birds had come flying in the sky that the light of the sun was blocked like it was night-time. On the flanks also, the flock had grown and if it grew any more it would certainly suffocate them from all sides.

It was discovered that the cave was too small to contain everyone so he ordered that only the children and the non-fighting women would hide there. He put his warriors directly in front of the entrance and the vice-chiefs ahead of them.

"Why don't we make up a fire? Make some to torches?" Yani proposed. "Animals are afraid of flames."

"These ones won't be," Djeen said.

"Why not? You know something we don't?"

Yani and the other vice-chiefs looked at him with suspicion. He knew many strange rumours were going around about him. That he was using dark magic to be unbeatable or that Rahin had caste some obscure Toyanese spell to have spirits assist him in his fights. Yet another claimed he was himself a spirit and that if he could not be defeated it was because he was already dead. He was surprised no one had come close to the actual truth, which he realised he could no longer run from.

"Fine," he said and sighed. "These birds you see up there, they're dead. Well, kinda. Their bodies are dead and their spirits also but a powerful sorcerer is animating them and using them like weapons. As for me, my name is not Yakut. I have lied to you, my name is Djeen and I am wanted all over the Republic for the murder of over a thousand soldiers. I'm The Fire Demon Who Killed A Thousand Warriors In One Battle."

To show that he was telling the truth, he made his hair turn to flames and threw up some fire from his fists. Some stepped back with an expression of fear in their eyes. Others looked fascinated at what he was doing. Murmurs as well as approving roars were heard, much to his surprise.

"Now you know the truth. You must have many questions and they will be answered in time. But for the moment we have an urgent threat to deal with."

"If you really are that famous demon then you don't need our help," one of his warriors remarked. "A man who can fight a thousand men at once surely can take on a flock of birds."

Djeen did not know what to answer. He cast a glance at Rahin, who without waiting began to speak.

"It's more complicated than that. Djeen has an amazing gift, a strength and speed far superior to any other living man. But for his whole potential to come out he needs something to enhance it, a certain object."

She was looking at him when she spoke, as if her words were meant only for him. Her intense dark eyes told him what he already knew to be true and it made him feel nauseous. He stepped away and stared down the valley and up at the sky. A smaller group of crows were flying towards them and would be here any moment.

Djeen closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Sometimes when he had connected with Spirit, as Rahin called it, he had been able to find a place of complete peace and serenity within himself. He wished he could feel this way always but for the most part his mind was a constant stream of thoughts and feelings he had little control over.

A knowledge suddenly came to him: if he could reach this state of calmness before he took the sword in his hand then this feeling would guide him when he did, in the same way rage had controlled him when he had taken up the sword with anger.

He looked back, at his people. The sobs of a child could be heard and although he could not see it behind his fighters, he could imagine it hiding in its mother's arms and seeking comfort in her bosom. He saw into the face of those who were willing to battle beside him and he knew many of them would die unless he did what he had to.

The cawing of a crow brought his attention upwards, just in time for him to see a dozen birds diving towards him. Quickly, he turned to his friend and held out his hand.

"Rahin, the sword!"

A bright red light blinded her and a scorching wave of heat made her fall to the ground. She got up and saw a blurry flame jumping up to the sky and destroying a portion of the black shadow that covered it. Over the ringing in her ears she could hear the astonished gasps of the crowd behind her.

Rahin smiled as she continued to watch the scene. Her vision soon got back to normal and she could from time to time see the shape of a man wielding a sword amid the gigantic flame that kept leaping over and over up the heavens.

Although he could see the beaks of the ravens opening and closing, Djeen heard no sound. A deep silence mirroring the complete calmness of his thoughts was all around him. With the lightness of a poet moving his plume, he swung his sword in all directions. Up, down, left, right; every motion happened as if of its own.

His body moved like it weighed nothing and time was a slow stream that could not hold him down. All the fears that had previously crippled him had withered away. He knew now that they all along had been nothing but ghosts in his mind.

He pointed his finger and flames shot out from its tip. Hundreds of crows fell to ashes. He did it again and it was as if he was drawing blue sky in all the dark. The light of the sun found its way down once more to illuminate the plain. He kept striking with his sword and throwing fire until there was nothing left to burn away.

Fine ashes fell like snow over the landscape when he stopped. It was a fine mist that covered everything and painted it grey. There was something so peaceful about this scene that he found it beautiful even if it was the remnants of many thousand dead birds that swirled all around him.

Djeen extinguished the fire engulfing his body. This time, with the calm in his soul, he had complete control over it. He ran back to the cave to make sure all his people were alright.

"Djeen!"

Tomeer rushed to meet him. Djeen felt such relief when he saw him that he could no longer find the urge to care about what others would think. He took him in his arms, held him tight and kissed him.

Rahin took her turn hugging Djeen when Tomeer let go of him.

"I knew you would do it," she murmured in his ear. "I knew you would do the right thing."

She stepped back and looked curiously at the bow and arrow-shaped pendant hanging from his neck. He held it between his fingers and blew the ashes off of it.

"A gift from an old friend," he explained and smiled.

Gazing at the people gathered around the entry of the cave, he noticed most of them were covering their mouths and noses with their hands or hiding them in their shirts.

"I have a feeling," he said and coughed out some ash, "that this war is going to require some masks."

### *

Elizz pushed down the handle of the door to make sure it was locked. None of the servants would ever barge in within knocking, but one could never be too sure. She walked up to her bed and took a wooden box from underneath it. Drawing her fingertip over the painted pattern of white hibiscus flowers on the lid, she reminisced the day when she had first come to be in possession of this small container.

It was about three winters before Nov's death. After having been eaten away by guilt for a long time, Elizz had decided to go see Tatiyah. Not so long thereafter she had found the people who her father had sold her birth mother to. Tears welled up in her eyes when Elizz remembered how devastated she had been when she had learned Tatiyah had passed away.

The mistress of the house, seeing her sorrow, had then informed her that she still had some of Tatiyah's belongings in her attic and that Elizz could have them as a keepsake if she wished to. Later that same day, Elizz had been back at home and alone in her chamber opened the box for the first time.

The contents were mostly small items Tatiyah had collected: a heart-shaped rock, buttons in different shapes and colours, a handful of sea shells and a bracelet made with Toyanese lava rocks. But what really caught Elizz's eyes was a little book with the title The Secret of the White Hibiscus.

She had opened it carefully, cautious not to accidentally rip the poor-quality paper, and had begun to read. What she had found between those pages had fascinated her so that she had not put the book down until she had come to the end of it.

By that time, night had come and Nov had been back from his day at the senate. After hiding the box in a secure place, she had gone down to greet him. During dinner that night she had tried to follow in his rambling about this new law that had been passed to his dismay, but she hadn't been able to stop thinking about what she had read. Growing up, she had been tutored by some of the finest teachers in Ily. So, why had she never heard of this story before? Was it true? And what did it mean if it was?

About two nights later, strange things had begun to happen, often when she had been alone at night. A high-pitched woman's voice would be calling her name but when she would go in the direction it came from, no one would be there. A could wind would sometimes brush against her out of nowhere, sending chills down her spine, and she would see fast disappearing shadows in the corner of her eyes.

Elizz had tried telling herself that it was nothing, that her unhappiness was simply getting to her sanity. Not until she woke up one night with that damned wraith sitting on her chest did she truly believe what she had been experiencing.

She had tried to scream at the sight of the woman's disfigured face but her lips had been sealed by some invisible force and she had been unable to move.

"Elizzzzz," the woman had said lisping on her name. "Fear not, I am a friend. I see you have found my book and that it has moved you. So, I have come to guide you so that you might create the world I have dreamed of."

Elizz shuddered as she remembered and slammed the box shut. Since that first encounter the demon had claimed to be Fayanna returned from the realm of the dead to bring at last love and peace to the world. Like the fool she was, Elizz had believed her. She had taken the amazing powers the woman had displayed as evidence of her connection to the eternal Spirit and she had followed her every order. Today she knew better, even if she still didn't know what that thing really was. Not that it mattered now.

A knock on the door demanded Elizz's attention.

"Yes?"

"The last of the guests have arrived and are waiting for you with the others in the downstairs dining room."

"Tell them I'll be right down. Oh, and tell the other servants that you are all free to go for the day."

Elizz reopened the box as the girl servant's steps echoed away. She hesitated for a moment before she picked up the book again, hid it in a pocket of her underskirt and walked downstairs to meet her guests.

Daneela looked over the buffet filled with many succulent delicacies but she could find no appetite. It wasn't negative emotions which made her feel this way, on the contrary: she was so excited to present the plan she and the others in the Committee for the Abolition of Slavery hade made up that she could not even think about eating.

There was a lot of work ahead of them and they knew minds had to be changed as much as the law. This was why their plan spanned over fifty cycles of seasons. First, they had to implement laws for the better treatment of slaves so that people would start to see them as worthy of at least the minimum of consideration. Secondly, they would make it illegal to hold someone in slavery for longer than thirty winters. This part would require some propaganda, maybe a campaign of news posters featuring stories about emancipated slaves who had gone on to become successful and valuable members of society. Of course, these stories would have to be from other nations as freeing slaves was an entirely foreign concept to the Ilyian people.

The maximum amount of time one was allowed to keep someone enslaved would be gradually reduced over time until finally a law would be passed forbidding forced unpaid labour, effectively banning slavery. By then, values would have been changed so much that it would be seen as a welcomed step towards progress and would be supported by almost everyone.

At the far end of the dining table, Elizz sat absorbed in thoughts. From time to time she would chew absent-mindedly on a slice of honeydew melon. Daneela grabbed at random some food from the buffet and went to sit next to her.

"Everything alright?" She asked.

Elizz jolted, startled by her friend's words. She smiled uncomfortably and gazed along the table.

"Yes, all is fine. I see everyone is seated down. Let us begin."

Standing up, she hit lightly the side of her wine glass with a dessert spoon to catch the attention of the other women. All grabbed their own glasses of pink sparkly wine and raised them up for good luck.

"Sisters," Elizz said. "For the Republic and for the world!"

Every woman present drank up. That is except for Latana, who simply put her drink back on the table.

"Latana," Elizz asked, "why aren't you celebrating with us?"

"Oh," Latana responded embarrassed, "I can't drink any intoxicating beverages right now. I wasn't going to say anything yet but... I'm pregnant!"

Daneela tried to turn towards her and congratulate her but found that she could not. She tried to say something but it was as if her mouth had been sewn shut. Only her eyes could move and when she looked at the women around her she realised by the frightened expressions in their stares that the same thing had happened to them.

Elizz walked up to Latana, who was understandably confused about the sudden silence of her friends.

"Well, I guess I should congratulate you," Elizz said. And jammed a steak knife under her chin.

Daneela tried to scream but not a sound came out. Blood poured out of Latana's mouth. Her eyes rolled back into her head and Elizz pushed the dying woman onto the floor before returning to her seat as if nothing had happened.

She sat there for a while, staring blankly in front of her. Daneela kept trying to make even the slightest movement but it was hopeless. Panic started to take hold of her.

"It saddens me," Elizz finally began to speak. "We would have brought great changes to this Republic, I know it. In fact, I believe we would have been the greatest government the world has ever known. Still, when I looked at it now, at all we have done and could do, I see nothing but ashes."

Elizz walked to a corner of the room and brought forth a large amphora. She began to walk around the table and pour its content onto her guests. Daneela's feeling of dread did not decrease when she realised it smelled and felt like lamp oil.

"After giving my first speech to the people, I felt so hopeful. I don't think I had ever felt so alive before. I loved the people and the people loved me. All was well in the world. But when I came home, I met at the door our dear doctor Viktr."

She poured some oil onto the floor and sat down on her knees in the middle of the puddle. Turning her head up, she let tears run down her cheeks.

"He'd survived, that fool. I was aware of that already but I only knew that it was because he hadn't eaten his dessert at the Meeting. That day he informed me that he had given it to someone, a person who had loved peaches since she was a little girl."

Elizz smiled bitterly. She took up the amphora and emptied the rest of the oil on herself. It made her wavy brown hair stick onto her face and made her skin shine.

"Why is it that the things you love always end up destroying you in the end? Not that it matters anymore. Nothing has since the day I learned what happened to you, my darling sister. Everything is nothing to me now."

Daneela saw how Elizz took a fire striker and a piece of flint from a pocket of her dress. Anew she tried to move, to scream for help, but she could not. Tears made her vision blurry and she could not see Elizz as she went on with her speech.

"I imagine you must despair, my friends, and think we did it all in vain. Probably it is so. But we did it all wrong anyway. When female supremacy comes, and it will come, it will be this way: by taking dominion not of any senates or governments but of the minds and hearts of the people. Hear: there will come a day when they will fear not the wrath of the king or the blades of his warriors but to think and speak in a manner which dissatisfies those who speak of the greater good. And when we have in our hands the thoughts and wants of the people to direct as we will, then shall we rule."

Elizz raised up the fire striker and the flint stone and gazed upwards, her face red and swollen with tears.

"Tharasza, forgive me!"

She struck the two objects together and with once she caught on fire. Not a scream came from her but she sat strangely calm with her hands in her lap as the flames consumed her.

Daneela tried one last time to move, although she knew it was futile. She watched helplessly as the fire was spread by the oil on the floor to the table, as the flames grew steadily higher until it was all she could see.

When the next day the Guard went through the burned down villa, all that was left of her were teeth and ashes.

### *

The Mighty observed from up in a tree the still smouldering ruins of what used to be the Highest Senator's villa. He was watching through the eyes of the Redeemed he had used to communicate with Elizz all this time and he felt the anger boiling inside of him. His whole plan for taking control of the Republic's capital had turned to nothing and this right after he had lost a battle against Djeen.

Bone dust fell from his hands as he clutched his fists. Even controlling millions of birds, he could not defeat that boy. His connection with Spirit was simply too strong.

The Mighty got up from his throne and walked down to the pool where he kept many of his Redeemed. The mist rose as it always did and he wondered for the first time if it was hot or cold as he had not been able to feel either for a long time.

"There as to be a way to learn his power, to appropriate it for myself for the instalment of Perfection," he thought out loud. "And I need to find his weakness, he must have one, and get rid of him for good."

He sat back in his throne and kept watching through the eyes of the dead girl. With disgust, he remembered where he had first found her. Her face had been beautiful at the time and like so many who have been given the gift of a pleasant physique, it had made her haughty. As he had observed her through the eyes of the dead pigeon he used to explore the city, he had seen right away that she was one in great need of being redeemed.

For truly, she had been a fallen woman. Standing in a corner of a dark street in a bad part of the city, her gaze searching lustfully for the next man willing to pay a few coins for her company. The other women around her had at least the decency to hate what they were doing. But not her. One could tell by looking at her that she was amongst the few who did this filthy work not because someone who owned her was forcing her to, but because she loved it.

The aroused expressions of the men who saw her was intoxicating to her, made her feel powerful. The Mighty knew that he had to destroy her. Empty her and fill her with his spirit so that she could be what she was supposed to be, instead of the repulsive thing she was then.

In the evening, he had come back. This time through an eagle. He had found her in the same place as before and she had been speaking to a potential costumer, a chimney sweep with black sot all over, and this was where he had attacked her.

The Mighty felt exhilarated when he recalled the screams of the wrongful people running in fear as he had swooped down towards her. They were almost as sweet to him as the shrieks coming out of her when he had used the eagle's sharp claws to turn her face to shreds before killing her.

He pondered what to do with her now that his plan had failed. No matter who would take over the Republic, The Mighty would have to come up with an entirely new scheme to grab the power from within.

Or maybe he wouldn't have to. Could this be a sign he needed to rethink it all and come up with something completely new, a different takeover which would finally rid the world of all wrong and bring on his grand age of Perfection?

### *

The first snow of autumn had fallen during the night and was lying over everything like a fine layer of powdered sugar. Gunn figured it would quickly melt now that the sun was up and she collected some from the leaves of a tree to cook breakfast. Her companion hare Buzzy hopped around her legs as she did so. A few days back she had seen the beginning of a white winter fur growing on him so she had known that it would soon be snowing.

From the patch of forest north of their cabin was heard the whistling of her twin sister Gann as she communicated with the birds of the woods. Over the tree tops loomed the distant sight of the Wind Mountains' eternal snow.

"Our feathered friends showed me a great patch where plenty of berries grow. I picked some to eat with bread and cream. Such a delight!"

"Oh, what kind are they?" Gunn asked.

Gann was about to respond when they were both suddenly hit with a message from Spirit. It told them they needed to travel south, that a mission of the outmost importance was waiting for them. The fate of many was hanging in the balance and there was no time to spare.

The sisters looked in each other's eyes and nodded in agreement. Without words, they knew both had heard since Spirit never spoke to one without also speaking to the other.

Gunn and Gann ate their breakfast without hurry, packed their bags and left later that day.

Meanwhile, in the most southern part of the Republic, Hijin was sunken in deep meditation. He lived out there with no other company than the vultures that from time to time circled in anticipation over his head. For sustenance, he needed only the energy of the sun and the water he through magic sucked out of the air.

It was a lonesome existence but he liked it and had no plans on leaving the arid desert that was his home. That is, until Spirit spoke to him that his help was needed elsewhere to fight a great evil. At which point Hijin opened his eyes, picked up his walking cane and began his journey northwards.

### *

Djeen had to stop mid-sentence and cough in the bend of his arm. It had been four days since he had battled the crows and he was still barking out grey phlegm. Good thing he could not die otherwise he would have drowned on the ashes in his lungs. He was actually quite certain that for the whole day following the fight he had not breathed at all.

"Where was I? Oh, yes... We have gathered here today to celebrate the founding of The Red Assembly. The greatest marauder organisation the world has ever seen and ever will see. We have great things in front of us. Fantastic riches for our clans and families, I promise you that. But as you have witnessed, we also have terrible enemies that we will have to face. I know some of you might be afraid but despair not: they will fight us, they will try to destroy us but victory will be ours!"

He lifted his cup and chugged down the lukewarm beer. The people all around the feast table did the same, then began to voraciously help themselves to the many meats and fried foods prepared for the occasion.

Djeen sat back in his chair. Vayl was sitting to his left and pouring them another drink.

"That was quite a speech," they said as they refilled his cup. "You have a gift for oration, it seems. You really believe great things await us?"

"There's really only one way to know, I guess. We'll have to keep on and see."

He looked at the empty chair to his right and saw that it was still empty. Where had Rahin gone to?

### *

She could hear the faint sound of music and laughter coming from the camp site but Rahin had no hurry to get to the party. Lowering her body deeper into the creek, she sighed with pleasure at the way the cold water revitalized her being.

Things were good. At least as good as they could be before you were about to fight an unfathomable evil. Djeen had finally accepted his destiny as the wielder of the sword. New visions had been coming to her, ones of victory and liberation. For the first time in a long time, she had faith that all would be well in the world.

For now, she decided to let go of all anticipation and all worry about the future and to just enjoy the moment. All that existed in this instant was her body, this creek and the relative silence of the forest.

Spirit allowed her this much-needed respite. But not for long.

A message came to her that the time had come to read the last of her father's visions. Or rather the first to ever come to him but the only one she had yet to learn.

Rahin rose reluctantly out of the creek, put her red and yellow dress on her still wet body and walked back to camp. It surprised her how dark it was outside and she realised that she had been gone for quite a while. After reading the vision she needed to get to that party before they started to worry about her whereabouts.

Number One was playing catch with a group of children outside her tent. Before entering she nodded and smiled at them and they did the same back at her.

Sitting down on her sleeping blanket, she pulled her father's notebook out of her shoulder bag, opened it at the first page and began to read.

When she was done she put it back with shaking hands, rushed to the solitude of the forest... and wept.
