Chapter 1: Broken Glass Ocean

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       When in Morgaze, do as the mages do. However, Pierait was no longer in Morgaze and he was hardly blending in.  Surrounded by his eccentric friends, it had been easy enough to get around without attracting too much attention but the further southwest he traveled, the more obvious it was that he was a bit unique.  Soulless were born on the Stoneweld continent like any other, but they all had a tendency to congregate in Morgaze, where the shaman Shallay could give them Purpose.  Pierait knew his companions would not go after him; their war with Myceum was their priority as this journey was his.  Nonetheless, he remembered once that his mother had told him that when you separate from others, it is simple courtesy to divert your path from theirs.  Never let them change their minds, she said.

       Pierait knew that they headed to Mythec so he had left the forest from the northwest along the outer edge of the mountain pass they’d be going through and traveled into the desert to avoid it.  So many times he came close to being swallowed in the shifting sands; some as large as lakes and the deadly sands looked as solid as stone but could swallow you like pudding.   Pierait had left great holes in the desert as he used the Void to devour the sands that tried to do the same to him.  He was unsure on his feet and his breaths came quick as every yard he traveled felt like he had traveled twenty.  The way he slipped and recalculated his balance and used his hands nearly as much as his feet, it was a wonder he was getting anywhere at all.  Ability to walk on sand was not in his repertoire.

       Once he was just northeast of Myceum and south of the Respite, the stares were getting too pronounced and he had run into some traveling merchants, so he traded the pale blue mage’s robes he wore for desert garb.  It was pale and sandy-colored like the desert and he could cover his face with the loose cloth hanging from the headpiece when the winds kicked up the hot sands.  He could hide that shock of pale blue hair and use the shadows to make his yellow, reflective eyes less noticeable.  He also remembered to purchase a good stock of food, but weapons were not necessary.  He never got the hang of hunting and the Void was never insufficient towards stopping threats. Whatever else was ahead, he knew drawing attention was never a good idea, so that was the priority.

       From the maps the merchants had given him, he knew he was nearing the crossing at Walk of Respite and he needed to be well clear of the desert and the Walk itself, so he dipped southwest (although Myceum was southwest, we would be passing it to the north to head towards the Barren Lands) and kept his eye out for the landmarks, though few and far between.  The Mycean Royal Army patrolled that area and they were stopping and detaining travelers.  The merchants had warned him of that.  The whole continent of Stoneweld whispered about the machinations of Myceum and their attacks on the Vieres continent; they were waiting for retaliation to occur. 

       Pierait had heard along the way whispers of places that had been attacked, like Hoshril in the north which was a desert town in the Western Cyryl Desert (possibly Verity’s village but a few had been hit as sympathizers against Myceum) and the Ersenais Kingdom (where Rienna was from), moving to gather together forces from survivors of other places that were attacked.  The oddity most people didn’t know about was that the group that was leading the fight against Myceum was being led by one of the men who had been attacking those places to begin with.  Not of his own volition, but they wouldn’t be happy to know.  He did not envy Melchior if that discovery came to pass.         Best to avoid it altogether.

       It had taken Pierait nearly a week to make it from the Uzhuak Forest to just past the Walk and if his progress was any indication, it would be another week before he would even make it to the Wailing River, the river that marked the start of the territory unhappily called the Barren Lands.

       Pierait did not have an imagination by any means but after seeing so much sand, it started to look like a strange ocean of shattered glass.  It wasn’t his imagination though; sand was little more than battered bits of glass after all and he had seen it part like water in an attempt to end his journey many times already.  He was ready to be rid of so much white misery and by the time he had shuffled to the City of Maharyjab, it was apparent his Purpose would need a break. 

       Maharyjab was a magnificent labyrinth of clay molded into arches, balconies, and stairs both straight and winding.  It looked as if the city had been molded from the same colossal ball of red clay.  So much of the architecture seemed frivolous to most outsiders, but Pierait was an observer and he had seen that the odd extensions from the walls could be used for hanging clothes or growing pots loaded with fruit-bearing vine plants and the holes above top windows would sometimes drop buckets so that someone on street level could fill it with well water to be raised by pulley.  It was a practical city mistaken for an eccentric one, a beautiful machine.

       Pierait did not stick out here, having the clothes of a desert traveler, but it was apparent that the city residents had a keen knowledge of who belonged here and who did not.  He did not attempt to deceive them about that.  His bags were so light that they were little more than deflated flaps of extra cloth and after exchanging a few questions with an elderly woman throwing him lecherous smiles, he knew all he needed to know about what to do here before moving on. 

       Restocking his dwindling supplies could wait—it was rest and a simple meal that decidedly came first.  The woman had directed him to an inn called the Sea of Sand and the tavern area was mostly empty this time of day but for a few diners, the barmaid and a stern faced man that was clearly the one in charge.  Pierait approached him.

       “Do you have a vacancy, sir?” Pierait had asked.  His voice had taken the past week to mature and it was even deeper than Melchior’s now though more velvet than gravel.

       The stern faced man’s face grew even more austere.  Pierait made to walk away but the man slapped a hand on Pierait’s shoulder.

       “Pay is upfront. 5 Myca to stay.  Meals separate,” the man stated abruptly.  A desert currency, to be sure, but no place turned down raw precious stones either.

       Pierait preferred directness so he was unperturbed.

       “I have pearls. I will give you one for every Myca you ask,” Pierait stated, which was ludicrously generous.  A single pearl was worth 100 Myca easy.  His friend Rienna had given him a satchel full of pearls long before they split, each pearl huge, snow white and perfectly round.  It wasn’t unusual for the rest of their companions to break off on supply runs and Rienna’s never-ending supply of pearls was the only currency they needed.

       The man was skeptical but Pierait dropped the pearls into the man’s enormous, rough hand and watched the man inspect them.  The man’s eyes widened then he narrowed them again.

       “One is worth twenty times what I ask,” the man stated, both warily and honestly and Pierait knew then that the man could be trusted.

       “Then it should cover meals and your silence,” Pierait explained, and the man nodded his understanding and snapped his burly fingers loudly.  The little barmaid hurried over instantly, a brimming pitcher of ale at the ready.

 

       The meal had been insignificant, hearty and filling but certainly nothing worth remembering.  Once Pierait had had his fill, the young barmaid had reappeared and shyly offered to show Pierait his room.  Pierait nodded and followed her wordlessly.

       The hallways they walked down were cool and airy, wide passages dotted with potted ferns and draping, diaphanous curtains that reminded him of his friend Ashe’s silks.  Pierait thought of his former companions more with each passing day.  It wasn’t normal but he knew there must be a reason for it even if he couldn’t grasp it.  As he got lost in his thoughts, he almost ran into the barmaid and she squealed a little, expecting him to knock her over.  After traveling the ever-shifting sands, he was much spryer on land and was able to stop abruptly.  She laid a hand on his chest apologetically and nudged him; he took the cue and stepped back from the door he was blocking.  She dropped the key a couple of times trying to fit it in the keyhole and laughed nervously at the first, opting to bite her lip the second time.

       Pierait watched with a sort of fascination, knowing the girl was nervous, but not entirely sure why.  He wasn’t acting differently but she kept avoiding looking directly at his face.  He was a stranger, he was handsome, he was a lot of things that couldn’t be helped, but he was not a mind reader; once it became obvious that her fumbling wasn’t a threat to him, he put it out of his mind.

       She shuffled back from the doorframe once she loosed the door from its lock and held out the key to him, a great weighty brass thing that was warm from the nervous girl’s grip.  He entered the room to look around rather than taking the key; the girl was anxious to go and shuffled around to stand in front of him.  She grabbed his wrist and placed the key into his hand. Pierait watched in shock as the girl’s eyes fluttered and rolled back while a soft whimper escaped her lips and she pulled her hand away as if seared by a hot poker.  She crumpled to her knees and her mouth was slack.  She didn’t faint but her gaze was distant and blank.

       Pierait knelt in front of the girl and waved his hand in front of her face.  He reached for her hand and her eyes filled with fright and she scrambled away on hands and knees, her breaths quick and frantic as she gulped for air.  He saw a pitcher of water on the bedside table, cool and fresh, and he poured her a glass and made her drink it.

       “Sit on the bed and put your head between your knees before you pass out,” Pierait commanded and she shakily obeyed.  He kept his distance and sat on the couch opposite that side of the bed.  He waited until she calmed.

       “You will explain what happened now,” Pierait stated bluntly, making it clear it wasn’t a question.  Pierait was never good at comforting and he was far too perturbed by what had occurred to be anything but succinct.

       The girl still shook and tears hung in her eyes without falling, but she clasped her hands and straightened her back, looking directly in his eyes now.  As shaken as she was, she certainly wasn’t a coward.

       “I’ve never… touched one of the Soulless before and I was right to avoid it,” the girl admitted miserably.  Her eyes widened frantically and she waved her hands apologetically. “I’ve nothing against the Soulless, mind you—my own best friend’s sister is one of your kind, but she was sent off to Morgaze before her 14th birthday and kept to herself, she did!”

       The barmaid was wringing her hands miserably and Pierait was growing impatient.  This barmaid was an earthy looking girl, pale for a desert dweller, but still no stranger to the sun.  She had the odd brown hue of hair that told him she had been a blonde child and as her hair had darkened, the sun had added copper to the darker bits.  It had an odd rippling effect whenever she moved even slightly.  Her deep green eyes seemed sad even when she smiled and he knew there was more to it but she wasn’t in any great hurry to enlighten him.  He could see that pushing would not do him any good.

       “I’m unique, you know, old powers, older than elemental.  In my blood, not a gift. When I touch someone, I can… see into their mind.  But you know, Soulless are humans but not quite, crafted as a human of course but ultimately simpler, even though most of us don’t really understand it.  Something more and not a thing really planned by the old gods even, and I knew it was a bad idea to do it, but Urys insisted.  I’m rambling, aren’t I?” the girl fumbled, the tears she held spilling free.  She pulled off the thick headband restraining her hair to wipe at them and Pierait watched her hair ripple in the strip of sunlight she sat in.

       “Urys is the innkeeper, then,” Pierait said, if only because he knew no one else here.

       The girl nodded miserably and started to braid her hair with nervous energy, avoiding his gaze again.  Her fingers struggled with the task but did not give up at it.

       “We don’t mean any harm, sir; Urys just doesn’t want any trouble, so he always sends me to lead our customers and hand them the key,” the girl explained, her voice rising in its renewing anxiety.

       “Your name,” Pierait said, steepling his fingers over the bottom of his face and watching the dust dance in that solid strip of sunlight.  It was a demand but he said it softly.  She was nervous enough as it was.

       “L-Lyria, sir,” she offered shakily, but she clamped her jaw stubbornly and tilted her chin up in an effort to be bold.

       “You’re not originally from here,” Pierait said, in that unnerving way he had of speaking without room for doubt.

       “I’ve never known life outside of this city, sir, but they say I’m from one of the northern tribes of Vieres,” Lyria said, surprised that he could tell but not dodging around it.  It was common knowledge that the Northern tribes had been gradually wiped out and some not even so long ago.  Most of the tribes were tattooed and there were places where some were superstitious and believed those survivors were cursed.  Her kind was markedly different from the tattooed tribes, so much so that many had never heard of them.  Pierait realized he had not offered his name yet, though.

       “Pierait.”

       “Sir?”

       “Not ‘sir’, Lyria; my name is Pierait,” he said, this time smiling with wry amusement.

       “Oh, Pierait then,” she said, trying out the name.  It was an odd name, sounding like “irate” with a p before it, although not literally because doing so would give you “pirate”, which it didn’t really sound like at all.

       “Why did you flinch? What did you see?” Pierait asked, getting back to what he wanted to know.

       Lyria shivered at the memory and rubbed at her arms, even though it was hardly cold enough for that.

       “Sir…  Pierait, sorry…  I could feel the Void.  It’s not something a human can really comprehend, any more than you can comprehend the full range of human emotion.  When I touched you, I felt like I was falling so fast that I had to shed my body to withstand it, for lack of a better description.  Like I said, I’m not a usual human myself—magic doesn’t affect me, my soul cannot be separated from my being, my blood protects me from things that a lot of humans are vulnerable to.  I don’t have a ruling element, much like Soulless, because the old gods simply held Creation and Death and the elementals were born of separating their powers.  The oldest souls like mine are mostly gone—old witch-hunts all but wiped us out.  Only the souls born of the elements return to the Founts, after all. Much like the Soulless, again, because my kind was different from the majority.  The elementals tried to wipe out the old gods too, but the old gods didn’t give up all of their secrets, and my kind still have ours as well.”

       Pierait was fascinated once Lyria had focused on her story.  Morgaze barely had information on this at all, and what was there had been in a book of tales; Pierait knew that many of the tales were merely fiction or aggrandized stories peppered with so much exaggeration. This kind she spoke of were called Diviners; children with the subtle powers of prediction, protection, persuasion and a host of other things they had to hide.  Like her, many had coppery brown hair and green eyes; their enemies homed in on those features and some very unfortunate ones that resembled them were often thrown in with them to be slaughtered.  They were also considered natural witches and Morgaze, a city of elemental magics, had vilified them as abominations.  Pierait did not know why the Soulless were accepted before the Diviners, but then the books had been adamant that Diviners were no longer a threat.  He could not fathom how they ever were as he looked at Lyria struggling to regain her courage.

       “The mages of Morgaze claimed to be the only true magicians of pure blood.  What are the Diviners then?” Pierait asked, trying to subdue his curiosity.

       Lyria’s eyes widened a bit.

       “Diviners… I haven’t heard that term in a long time,” Lyria mused, then shook her head to focus on the question. “Elemental magic is imbued on new souls, and the magicians of Morgaze think it is tied to blood but in truth it is mostly due to their proximity to the elemental founts found in magic cities and then in small part to the magic lingering in the blood of the parents.  No, they are not of the pure blood by any means…”

       “The Diviners are true children of the old gods and the first ones, as my mother told it.  Before the old gods slept, they had fornicated with some of the northerners that visited them, taking advantage of their purity.  Diviners do not usually bear Soulless or elemental children for that reason.  The old gods are not to be underestimated.  If they had not chosen sleep, they would have razed this world to destroy their wayward children, the elementals. They are said to sleep to dream of ways to preserve this world, but if they have to wake before the Dream, we are all doomed.”

       Pierait had been so engaged in her words that he now sat on the edge of the couch, leaning forward with his hands folded below his chin.  When Lyria turned her gaze to meet his eyes again, she flinched at the intensity of that interest.  She seemed to realize that she was sitting on the bed that would belong to him and shot to her feet to make her excuses to leave.  In truth, she was more horrified that she had told him so much.  Her mother had warned her against that.

       “If you know what you need to know, I should take my leave now.  Urys doesn’t hire much help and there’s a lot to be done in a day,” Lyria explained a little too quickly and dipped in an abrupt curtsy.  Pierait raised a hand and frowned.

       “What will you tell him?” Pierait asked, biting the corner of his lip.

       “Urys? I’m not proud of it, Pierait, but I’m not bad at glossing over the truth.  I’ll tell him there’s no need to worry, that you’re just passing through.”

       Pierait nodded and she spun out of the room, doing her best to slow the door enough to not slam it in her haste. There was more to be done tomorrow; tonight was for rest.

 

       Pierait had slept well; a little too well, since he had fallen asleep well before the evening sun and was waking with first light.  His throat was dry and he reached for the pitcher at his bedside, surprised as it hit his throat ice-cold and then almost choked as it froze his teeth.  Had Lyria come back often to refill it?  He frowned deeply.  Possibility.  What was wrong with him that his thoughts were becoming so against his nature?  It wasn’t the first time he noticed this.

       Still sore from solid sleep, Pierait stretched his body out along the bed.  He hadn’t used the thin blankets and had only removed his boots, shirt and hat before sleep quickly claimed him upon lying down. The one dagger he used to slice fruit or bread still hung at his belt, a shallow impression of it on his belly.

       He heard the door creak and he sat up abruptly.  As Lyria’s head poked around the door, he relaxed visibly.

       “Ah, sorry, Pierait; I was just checking on your curtains.  I leave them be for the night breezes to come in, but the morning sun on the rooms of this side can get a little harsh,” she explained in the hushed voice of someone who knows you aren’t quite awake yet.  “Are you staying another night?”

       Pierait shook his head.  “I have a long way to go; I’ll be leaving once I visit the market for more supplies this afternoon.”

       Lyria looked disappointed and again he was confused.  She confused him a lot, but she didn’t ask questions like others did.  His former companions had mostly left him be but they asked a good deal of questions and he didn’t often have the answers they sought.  She was avoiding his gaze again and blushing.  He scratched at his bare chest and it occurred to him that most young girls just weren’t used to addressing shirtless men on their beds.  He made haste to dress and get up off the bed.

       “Are you escorting me out?” Pierait asked, his focus shifting to what he needed as he started packing up.

       “If that’s no trouble…” Lyria confirmed politely.

       “Not at all,” he agreed, standing as he adjusted the pack on his shoulders. “After you, Lyria.”

 

       They reached the tavern area where Urys was wiping up the counter and Lyria hurried over to the exit way as Urys walked over to meet them.  Urys did not drop the rag he carried, but gripped it unconsciously as they approached him.  He watched Pierait, seeing that the young man seemed to be struggling with words.

       Pierait had made the decision last night to do so and reached into the small satchel at his belt and grabbed up a handful of pearls.

       “I’m taking Lyria with me.  Just a loan and only for a handful of weeks, so she is worth this handful of pearls, to find a temporary replacement or two, if you prefer,” Pierait stated and Lyria’s jaw dropped for a moment before she gathered her composure.  Urys was not able to recover so quickly.

       “I…uh, of course, but only if it’s okay with her.  I won’t have her bought into slavery either,” Urys fumbled about finding his words again.  Pierait surmised that their relationship was more than merely employer-employee because the worry that flitted over Urys’s features seemed distinctly paternal.

       Lyria’s worried eyes locked onto Pierait’s as she studied him.  Those empty eyes that gave away nothing, but she must have found something to make up her mind.

       “I’ll go,” Lyria softly decided, and those two words seemed to echo distantly, tattooing themselves on Pierait’s brain, like some of the things his mother had said to him in years past.  Pierait was not sentimental, but he knew when words should be remembered.

 

       They covered many blocks towards the market in silence; Pierait because silence was comfortable, Lyria because she was still in shock.  She was nervous but excited to be leaving the only city she ever knew to travel to somewhere unknown with a handsome Soulless man.  The realization of ‘unknown’ nearly stopped her in her tracks.

       “Pierait, I don’t even know where we are going,” Lyria admitted.

       Pierait, who had been walking ahead of her, slowed his stride enough to walk beside her how, not answering right away.

       “It wasn’t for Urys to know, but you have every right,” Pierait said, his voice kinder than she had heard it before.  “Although, you may not wish to go because it is not for the faint of heart.”

       Lyria swallowed past a sudden lump in her throat and waited patiently for him to continue.

       “I’m going into the Barren Lands.  You won’t be able to follow me past the Wall since the things there are ravenous for souls, but I want you to help me in the city of Sorrow and wait for me to return.  It’s not just because of your power.  I’ve been… changing lately and I might need to be watched.  My void can’t kill you, so… okay, it is about your power, but it’s too confusing to sort out.  Confusion is confusing.”

       Lyria’s face went paler after he had said “Barren Lands” and he was sure she was going to refuse, but she had tightened her rosebud lips and nodded.  She wanted to laugh nervously, but she was confused too.

       “Pierait…” she started with some concern in her voice.  “No one ever comes back from the Wall…”

       Pierait did not answer at first, but he faced Lyria and melted her with a brilliant smile.

       “No one has ever had a Purpose there, either,” Pierait said. 

 

       Pierait had purchased Lyria a pack to carry, albeit a smaller one with straps that held it on her securely but had a release if it had to be removed quickly.  He did not know how Lyria would react to the Void he used to bail himself out of the hungry desert pitfalls, but a hard fist that had started to grow in his chest had eased greatly just deciding to take her along and he intended to see her safely across.  He could not tell what she was thinking; she seemed to be well versed at hiding her emotions.  There was a tightness to her movements but when she looked over at him and gave a reassuring smile, he at least knew she intended to be brave to the best of her ability.  He nodded wordlessly to show his approval and they continued on in silence.

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Chapter 2: Breath of Fresh Air

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       Rienna hadn’t been resting very well since the elder magician had his close call with death.  Only the apprentices and her friends knew that they had only bought another handful of days’ time to finish preparations.  When the elder could no longer hold onto the barrier or his life, they would have to be ready or all was for naught.  It weighed heavily on all of them but, like Rienna, they tried to push gently and keep up morale.

       As Rienna stood up on the wall, a place she had taken to watching the growing army prepare, she concentrated on her breathing now and found it was matching the rhythm of clashing swords in the practice yard below, just as Redric (her father’s friend but her dear mentor) had taught her so many years ago.  She had felt wistful for those days when her only worries had been proving herself to be just as good as the boys and devising ways to annoy Belias.  Belias was a hard thought to clear once it planted in her head, but just this simple act of breathing was proving to be a big help.

       Krose had been mostly avoiding her since they had talked that day and it had bothered her how convinced he was that her and Ashe had something between them. Just knowing that something hung there that she wasn’t quite ready to grasp made her avoid Ashe. He would smile that agonizingly knowing smile and keep his distance, just wave and go about his business.  Some days she still wanted to slap away that smile, but she remembered the way his lips had felt over hers and she would have a hard time shaking that thought.  She didn’t like that at all.  It was way too dangerous to get lost in anything for even a second.

       Rienna had always been disgusted by women who got lost in romantic fantasy.  Although she wasn’t entirely convinced that this was about romance at all.  There was something between them, all right, but as it stood, it only seemed like what was between them was clothes at best and barring that, only skin and he seemed to wanted to crawl under it.  Okay, that was better, but it was hardly a thing she wanted to think too much on either.  When she had first given in to the impulse, she had ended up in a bit of a tangle with Krose and her brain had not been sated as she thought but even more keen on desires. She had been glad that only Dinsch and Krose had been around those few days after to keep her head from getting too muddied.

       Rienna’s thoughts now went to Verity, the new ‘other female.’  She wasn’t weak but her powers were limited and she was no warrior.  She seemed to get something about Rienna that the men couldn’t seem to wrap their heads around—she didn’t always want to explain what was bugging her and Verity never asked.  In some ways, she was like Pierait, an unknown in all of the mess created by machines and elemental magic, a reminder that there were more layers to all of this than just what they were up against with this army.  Verity brought up a lot of old tales—that the old gods hadn’t just blessed humans with gifts, that they actually mated with humans and there were even a few of those children still hiding about and they had once been called Diviners.  Rienna had wished that Pierait were still with them—he had been a wealth of information untapped and Rienna just didn’t know the right questions then.  Not that Pierait was fond of questions, but he seemed more comfortable with questions concerning what he actually knew.  He was probably the only person she met more confused about how to answer ‘how are you feeling?’ than she was—he was the only Soulless she knew, but apparently that was common among them.

       Last night, Rienna had been haunted by their last meeting with Night.  He had looked like a dried husk of the man they had first met.  It also hurt her heart that they could not save him or Freesia; for Ashe, saving them at the horror of Harmonea’s massacre had been a great source of pride and insofar she hadn’t been able to bring herself to ask Ashe if it bothered him as much.  It was a double-edged question though; even if it hadn’t been sitting ill with him, a mention of it might do just that.  Neither her nor her companions were keen on talking about how they were handling all of this but they all found their own awkward ways to try to reach out to one another anyway. 

       Still, her dream kept haunting her today; she had seen time rewind, to a moment where the Cirque had needed to detour maybe and Night and Freesia never went, never met Ashe, and Night had pulled that ring off of his neck and deftly put it on Freesia’s as he smiled mischievously and she sputtered trying to find a reason to say no.  He wore her down with smooth reasoning and once she was thoroughly softened, they would share their first kiss—the kind that stole sound and time and held them like thralls in a free fall. 

       Rienna knew that kind of kiss because she had experienced it with three people, if she were to be perfectly honest.  She wanted to say it might have been the best with the man who left her a widow the day he took her to bride, but if she gave up the hierarchy in her head, the truth was none were less shattering than the others.  The innocence of a first kiss with Melchior, a few times honey-smothered by her love for Belias, and her recent one with Ashe.  Things they all had in common was that her stomach had been ricocheting bullets (to hell with butterflies), her toes had gone numb, and she had wanted them but never expected it to actually happen.  Rienna knew that woman warrior wasn’t really a turn-on for most guys so she was always taken aback when it was.    She was okay with that—she knew what she had been getting into.

       It was what she would compare Night and Freesia’s first kiss to, but she wasn’t quite sure if that even cut it.  Freesia had been used so badly that it had locked something shut inside of her.  She couldn’t even imagine what it would have taken for her to offer that kind of trust in the form of what others would see as ‘just a kiss’.  If anyone was able to break through though, Night would have been the one to finally do it. 

       Rienna realized, in thinking about all of this, she was doing the exact opposite of focusing on what needed to be done.  Romantic fantasy, but not her own; one that was squeezing her heart like a vice and useless to her cause.  She also realized that all of that recollection of kisses had left her toes numb and the mystery of why was solved—her bare toes were nearly curled under her foot on the stone of the battlements.  Was she really curling her toes so tightly?  It was no wonder she had trouble keeping her balance. 

       Her hair, whipping lightly at her neck and cheeks, was longer than she remembered, but then the last time she even really paid any attention to it was when Sea Star had held up that severed braid and Rienna had told her she wouldn’t need it any more.  With one hand, she gripped the wall and the other grabbed a fistful of her chestnut hair absent-mindedly tickling her cheek with it as she frowned and tried to focus on something else.

       “Someone’s thinking happy thoughts, at least,” Rienna heard and jumped at the sound, as if she were caught misbehaving.  She turned to see Ashe leaning against the wall with that sinfully radiant smile playing at his mouth.  Anger bubbled under her skin towards him for now making it impossible to actually think clearly.

       “Not entirely, or I wouldn’t be ready to push you over the edge,” Rienna snapped, but it was idle in her voice and she didn’t quite feel like backing up the force of that threat.

       “Anyways, it’s completely useless and I’m getting frustrated that I can’t focus on what’s ahead.  I know there’s little we can actually do while the army mobilizes; Melchior keeps kicking me off of command duties and telling me to focus on reserving my strength.  When I am idle though, it just makes it harder to focus and what I do think about isn’t helping anything!” she explained, her jaw clenched as she paced, more speaking aloud to herself than to Ashe since her vision was as unfocused as she claimed to be.  She bit back the urge to ask him if he thought about them.  She didn’t trust herself not to admit she was also forming sappy scenarios.  Ugh, she just wanted a sword right now.

       Ashe shrugged, his smile unchanging. “Yeah, I guess this is Melchior’s gig and his form of salvation for his crimes, so we’re all kind of restless. Wanna have our own little adventure?” Ashe said, his eyes twinkling as he rubbed his palms in anticipation.

       Rienna had thought this was just an innuendo-laced proposition, although rubbing his hands together like that was pretty pervy, even for him. She narrowed her eyes at Ashe trying to discern the meaning. His eyes weren’t dancing with lust though; they were glowing with the actual promise of adventure.  Rienna propped herself against the wall noncommittally and tilted her head with curiosity.

       “What did you have in mind?” Rienna asked, taking the bait.

       “I knew you might be up for it!” Ashe gushed out, scooting along the wall until he was closer to her. He leaned in and his breath at her ear had sent luscious shivers along her spine but lust was furthest from her mind once he began stoking the fires of a true adventure with his whispered plans.

 

       Rienna wasn’t sure what had possessed her to go along with Ashe; it was only the two of them, but he had confessed that the others had gone off to find other things to do as well when Melchior had pulled his ‘too many cooks in the kitchen’ tirades and there was no one else left to ask.  Dinsch and Krose, as comically awkward as they could be, were nearly inseparable from years of adventuring and they always balanced each other’s flaws so perfectly that they were nearly unstoppable together.  They had been inspired by Finn and Verity’s departure over the south wall and that was all it took to send them off on their own.  Verity and Finn, having not been a part of the group dynamic the others had built just yet at least had that in common. Ashe assured Rienna that Finn seemed the perfect gentleman as he honorably spoke of protecting Verity on their trip to a Reishefolk city to the south; both business and pleasure, he assured Ashe staunchly.

       Knowing that Ashe was the one to know this, she wasn’t quite sure how to take it.  At one point, the group was in her command, but with all that had happened, they seemed to defer to Melchior and then Ashe just as much.  Rienna was glad that Melchior had taken a break from his whoring to put himself into his work but she wasn’t happy that she had been so unfocused that Ashe had seemed the better choice to keep informed.  She didn’t like the feeling of inadequacy it caused, but supposed she was also grateful the group was independent enough to not rely on her for everything either. They never had an official leader to begin with, but with her having been so focused on revenge in the beginning, she hadn’t made room for anyone to discuss options.

 

       Now, this ‘adventure’ Rienna had agreed to just seemed ludicrously dangerous, but then that was what got her blood pumping too.  She wondered if looking for a hidden old magic was going to be such a good idea up against a mechanized army, but it seemed that it was better to have than to have not.  Their growing army was not entirely without mechanized technology but they would hardly be up to par with Myceum on that front—playing rock-paper-scissors and choosing rock when you know your enemy is too is suicide unless you have the bigger rock.                They sure as hell didn’t.

       They had waited until nightfall to slip out of Mythec through the north gate; well, not exactly through, since that may have tipped off Melchior so Ashe had been ready for that by finding passages under Mythec to leave by. This was hardly easier since the passage was all but forgotten and the way out was wet and slippery with moss and the rock would sometimes crumble away.  Rienna had cursed herself that twice she had lost her footing and had to grab onto Ashe but then had to enjoy it stoically when she had to keep him on his feet a few times as well.  Okay, not exactly stoically but as they went further along, she had managed to keep her hysterical giggling low enough to avoid them echoing loudly in the massive chamber they were sneaking through.  Ashe would shove her off balance a little to where she would have to grab onto him and his controlled laughter made it harder for her to contain her own.  The stone down there was dark but rough for the most part and they hadn’t needed light; there was a type of blue-green algae in the cracks of stone that lit the whole of the cavern that same eerie hue.

       Once they had spent an hour or so stumbling about to the exit they had ended up coming out of a concealed cave bordering the Eastern Cyryl and Rienna was agape at what she saw here.  What they had seen of the desert so far was a rolling but smooth rippled surface but here, there were colossal craters dotting the place, perfectly globular in places and Rienna had been grabbing Ashe’s arm without noticing.  It wasn’t hard to think of why Pierait would have wrapped around Mythec—he might not have been able to see it without Melchior anyway, but she also guessed he didn’t want to draw more attention passing through anywhere populated either.  At least, this gave her some comfort that their friend could take care of himself.

       “Do you think Pierait did this?” Rienna asked, and noticed Ashe was in a state of awe as well and just nodded.  He shook the daze from his head and smiled lopsidedly.

       “Yeah, this has him written all over it.  At least we can be sure the desert’s no match for our boy in blue,” Ashe retorted with a fondness edging the humor in his words, voicing her own thoughts.

       Rienna looked off towards the west and sent a plea to the old gods to guard their friend on his journey before she turned her focus back on hers.

       What had intrigued her about where they were headed now was that somewhere in this seemingly blank expanse (now pitted with Pierait’s solution to quick-sands) was an enormous swirling pit of sand that they wanted to be pulled into.  She was anxious and hesitant to do so if they could even find this oddity but apparently once they were pulled in, they would be in a pocket so massive that they would seem to be in a whole other world with a strange sandy sky.  Ashe wouldn’t tell her everything at once, but then what would be the fun of that?

       Once they came to the end of Pierait’s handiwork, Ashe grabbed Rienna’s wrist gently as a signal to stop and she watched him remove his light pack and pull out a lengthy and strong rope, tying it first to his waist and then to hers.  He was being almost annoyingly gentle in his attempts to not touch her but the few brushes of his hands that got by tingled all the more in her head when they happened.  Once he was done, she realized she was curling her damn toes again, but this time, her soft boots hid them.  He grinned as he stepped back to view his handiwork.  The knots he had made were not simple by any means.  He explained that he tied them up to keep them from tripping on the slack but they were also made to allow the rope to lengthen without tugging on the other person’s waist, giving the other person time to anchor their weight and then tighten the rope.  If one of them went into the sands, he told her to hold her breath, grab the rope, and stay calm.  He also reminded her that if all else fails, she could use Sea Star’s air bubble and he could use Zephyra’s winds to bail them out, although he did remind Rienna that it might be difficult for him to draw Nettle and summon Zephyra with blood in that situation, so act as if that weren’t an option.  Zephyra had warned of paralysis but not how long it would grip him.  He wasn’t sure how his own mastery of wind would work either. He supposed he should count himself lucky that the elemental had bothered to warn him of that at all.

 

       Rienna had opted for careful shuffling steps, like you do when you walk in the pitch black somewhere you have never been before and it didn’t take long for Ashe to notice it was a clever idea.  The kicked sand would land differently on the liquid-like sands, making ripples like on a lake or moving the spots about like a blobby sort of pudding.  They laughed at each other while they did the strange shuffle walk but it worked and by the time they noticed a sideways shuffle of sand like a slow river, they went quiet as their eyes realized that some distance away, the sand was moving in the opposite direction and their eyes came upon a center that the sands were draining into, like a sort of hourglass on no scale most people could even imagine.

       Rienna stopped to watch the sands, unsure of what to do next.  This was Ashe’s party and she didn’t want to crash it.  It seemed minutes slipped by in silence and neither made any move so Rienna looked to where Ashe had been standing.  He was gone.

       Before she had time to panic, her rope had been slipping from its knot and with a tug she went sprawling into the whirlpool.  She should have guessed that there was that one major flaw in the rope plan; Ashe’s body weight was quite a bit more than hers.  She held her breath and her hands had fluttered up to the amulet, ready to summon up that damned bubble if air did not become available soon.  Air seems a lot scarcer when you’re trying not to panic as well.

 

       Rienna was gasping as soon as she realized the sands had become air again.  She could feel the sands sticking to her moist skin and dared not open her eyes.  She could feel Ashe’s familiar arms around her and she had to hold her breath again as she felt water crashing underneath her.  She came up gasping, and opened her eyes to start splashing Ashe with the violence she wanted to hit him with her fists.  He laughed and backed away instinctively, although it was a lost cause trying to stay dry when you’re as dripping wet as the other.  He undid the rope at his waist and then his eyes went to hers and lidded with open amusement as they settled on her breasts.  She had forgotten how that light material was nearly transparent when wet and the cold water had given him a nice view of perky nipples to boot, only pronouncing it all the more.  Her hands flew up to cover herself and she tried to narrow her eyes reproachfully.

       Ashe kept his amused, lust-darkened eyes on hers and began to wind the rope over his arm, a smirk pulling at his lips.  As the rope wound up, she saw that he wasn’t finished even when it had been pulled taut and as he wound it again, he lifted her out of the water to find her footing.  She fumbled ineffectually at the knot, trying to free herself.  He wound her closer still as she stubbornly covered her near-nudity with one arm until she stumbled closer, nearly standing nose to nose with him.

       He held her gaze and the rope, placing a finger under her chin and craning his neck so that his cheek lightly touched hers and he could speak softly towards her ear.

       “My kind of fishing,” Ashe purred thickly.  His hands snaked around her waist and it was agonizing for Rienna to hold herself upright.  He undid the rope from her quickly and stepped back a few steps, looking around thoroughly amused. “Take a look around; this place is incredible.”

       Rienna’s pooling lusts emptied from her like a cold shower and she bent to find a soft but solid bit of fruit to lob at his head.  He ducked as it flew true for his head but he hadn’t counted on her charging behind it and knocking him to the sandy ground.

       She towered over him, still covering herself and he discovered that the stormy gray lust in her eyes before was no match for the near black of her sudden anger.  He should have known not to toy with her.

       “You could have told me you had jumped in! I barely had time to hold my breath!” Rienna growled out thickly, the husky residue of desire having congealed it to something more menacing.

       Ashe got to his feet slowly, expecting she might just kick his feet out from under him if she was intent to hover over him, but she allowed it, although she watched him like a falcon watches lunch.  The look on his face made it obvious that he knew that wasn’t really why she was this angry; he had gone a bit far with overwhelming her, teasing her, and he telegraphed an apology with his eyes again.  He was really good at that.

       “I barely had time to hold my breath and then I finally catch it and you’re throwing me in—” and that was as far as she got before Rienna started to look around in awe.  Again, her breath was stolen away, but this time it was her own doing. To say this place was incredible was a huge understatement.  It was damn near impossible and it made her dizzy.

       Aside from the stream she had not been so fond of, there were these lush fruit bearing palms and vines here. The ‘sky’ around them was sparkling like the sands and they shifted with the illusion of passing clouds on an oddly textured atmosphere.  To her right, the lush expanse dipped down into a valley of rock and flora she had never seen before and she could see no end.  To her left, in the distance she could see a huge palace of sand.  Without realizing she was doing so, she started to walk towards it but Ashe had grabbed a handful of her now-damp dress to stop her. He was still on the ground and it was that or the ankle and she would have kicked his ass for tripping her.  She shot him an unhappy look but he shook his head and stood up, draping a soft absorbent blanket around her (an odd thing to bring in his pack, but useful), rubbing her arms instinctively before dropping his hands away and looking at the castle.

       “That’s all illusion, Rienna, and certain death.  There are plants that way that have a sort of power of illusion and they are even more monstrous that the carnivorous plants that Melchior had told us about.  These are even hungrier, since not much comes here willingly.  We’re heading towards the valley.”

       Rienna nodded, but did not look away just yet.  Try as she might, she just couldn’t see a glitch in the illusion. She gave up and followed after Ashe, who was once again setting off without her.  She began to wonder why he needed her at all, since insofar her only real use had been keeping him from hitting his ass on some slippery rocks. She sighed as softly as she could, berating herself for very nearly thinking too much about his ass.

       Instead of getting stuck in her unreliable head, Rienna took to focusing on the beauty of this surreal world around her.  Despite the fact that it was surely still evening in their world, this place was lit up like a slightly overcast day, a mute white light that was bright but not overly so.  As they descended down the steps in the rock, Rienna’s eyes studied the beautiful wonders—lavender butterflies so diaphanous they appeared to be ghosts, beetles that could shift their colors like jungle lizards, plants that curled away from her touch like a shy lover.  Rienna would gasp or laugh lightly and sometimes she would catch Ashe watching her for a moment with a kind of satisfaction she didn’t quite understand.  Belias would sometimes wear that enigmatic look when he studied people and he would never tell her what it meant.  She pretended she didn’t notice and let it secretly warm her inside.

       There were strange trees that grew sideways along the drop of cliffs, seeming to need no soil but gripping and drinking from the reddish wet rock face they clung to.  As they descended, Rienna did not feel so overwhelmed by the sheer size of this place, but even walled off in this valley, it was still an enormous canyon of rock and life, an isolated ecosystem but no less intricate than any in the world above, if that was truly where she was geographically at all. They might have ‘fallen’ here, but it seemed more like another dimension altogether. She could feel this place thrumming with magic, not like theirs but resonating with her all the same.  An odd sensation and foreign to her since she never felt magic before, but instinctively she knew it for what it was.  She had felt it on her skin, felt it through elemental aided abilities, but never from somewhere deep like this.

       “Ashe, is this place really below the desert?” Rienna asked, unsure of exactly where she was anymore.  She had expected for there to be some great stream of sand piling like an hourglass, but without any way to go back up, this place would just fill up eventually.

       “Yes and no,” Ashe answered, thinking of how to explain it.  “The whirlpool itself is a kind of illusion; it’s more like how it shows itself as a gateway.  In relation to our world, we are technically below the desert.  But this actual place—and the books call it Calderon—it is not really a place on our world but more like a pocket crafted by old gods from earth to… practice creating different forms of life.  You may see versions of these plants in our world, but you will not see these exact ones because… well, they were, in a sense, incomplete or failed experiments… for the old gods’ purposes anyway.  Like most things, you’re not going to be able to put together their reasoning behind it.”

       Rienna took this all in and observed as she listened.  “Where did you learn about this?” she pushed, needing to know more.

       “You mentioned him earlier, but it was Pierait that got me thinking about it when he was telling us about things he read in Morgaze.  The books that mages kept for themselves.  In all of the chaos of the elder fading away, I had taken a few books and one, simply called Calderon, had caught my attention.  At first, it seemed like a work of fiction, but there were all these diagrams and pictures detailing the place like an explorers’ journal and at the end… well, I won’t give away everything just yet, but it’s why I wanted to come here.  You have a role I can’t play or I might have been foolish enough to come alone.  I might have waited until we faced Myceum, if we come out of that in one piece, but ennui and restlessness jump-started the party a little early.  I know for a fact that if that book is telling the truth, we might just be getting a weapon there’s no way in hell Myceum has their hands on.”

       ‘A role he can’t play’ he said.  It was both a relief that he hadn’t just brought her along to seduce her and also a disappointment.  She wondered if he could have brought anyone but others had wisely turned him down…

       “A weapon?  You told me it was old magic,” Rienna said, wondering if this was a good idea.  Rienna was a planner and didn’t like all these secrets.

       Ashe shook his head trying to think of the right words.  “Not technically a weapon, per se, no more than a book is a weapon, but it is more like a… definite advantage,” Ashe corrected.

       Rienna was tiring of the cryptic explanations here and realized that was about as much as she was getting out of him for the time being.  It took her a moment to realize they had gone down as far as the canyon went and they stood in the maw of a massive yawning cave draped with purple and silver strands of hanging moss.  Ashe stood there and Rienna realized his face was stern and he was focusing on her now.  She frowned back in response.

       “You have to go in alone.  The ones inside… well, they won’t reveal themselves to men,” Ashe explained, his face scrunching in apology. Ah, so that was why she was chosen.  “I meant to tell you more before getting here but it came up quicker than I thought.”

       “To men.  I take it you’re not using that in the broader sense, like mankind, but you mean males in general,” Rienna supplied, nervous and a little angry that she was finding her use but not getting any closer to really knowing her role here.  Her eyes chided Ashe for this game, but she knew that he was playful and stubborn and she was only ever going to get enough from him to suit his plans.

       Ashe nodded brusquely and added an apologetic shrug.

       “There’s nothing I can really tell you from here, but you will soon see what I mean.  I wouldn’t let you go blindly in if I thought it was dangerous.  I just want you to have the full effect of this moment to yourself, Rienna, so try not to glare at me like you’re mentally punching a hole through my head.”

       Rienna laughed at the painfully twisted look on his face and softened her features enough to calm her frazzled nerves.  She realized that she was dried off now and pulled her shoulders back, handing Ashe the blanket and turning her back to him to face the cave.  She threw him a nervous smile over her shoulder.

       “Wish me luck!” she tossed back unsurely. However, she intended to have the last word and she deliberately swayed her hips as she walked, in a way she had learned that men could not resist looking.  She might not be versed in feminine wiles, but she picked up a thing or two.

       “You won’t need it,” Ashe assured her, his voice ruminating in the distance, in a way that let her know it was working. “It seems dark but after you, well, walk in a way…  ah, you’ll see.”

       It took a great deal of discipline not to laugh at the fumbling of his words.  For once in her life, a woman’s victory was one she did not mind having.

 

       Ashe had been right; once she walked into the dark twenty or so steps she noticed a dim light that grew brighter as she walked.  This cave did not seem unused as their exit from Mythec had been; it even appeared oddly kept like a home, glowing mushrooms acting as sconces along the cavern walls.  It wasn’t as huge as it had appeared to be from the outside; the ceiling was hardly higher than the ones you find in most homes and it only seemed to be 50 feet across at the widest points.  Rienna had come to forks in the tunnels and she had been unsure at first, but then she would realize that the lights were only ever lit in one of the possible routes and she had the feeling that they were leading her.

       Rienna had been walking for quite a while and became unsure as she walked down a path that narrowed to about 15 feet across and appeared to stop at a dead end.  She was getting the sinking feeling that she might be lost but continued along to the dead end anyway.  She stopped in front of the solid rock and sighed heavily as she confirmed the only path was the one she came down.  She lifted her hand to touch the wall before turning back and her hand passed through it instead, making her snatch her hand back fearfully.  She knelt and tried this ‘wall’ and her hands passed through everywhere she tried.  She stood and took a deep breath and closed her eyes.  Using her feet and hands she took a few unsure steps forward and opened her eyes reluctantly at first, but they shot open to the limit of their range once she realized what she was looking at it in this enormous chamber.

       Winged unicorns.