Traveling together now for over two weeks, Dayanik had started to grow more comfortable in behaving as he normally would around Sekant and, to a lesser extent, Lida. He felt less odd, seeking out his one-sided conversations with Ket and Biriki as his faithful companions, less concerned with whether the others thought him strange for doing so. He had even felt as though he had learned much about the others, despite their tendency to shy away from more personal subjects or, in Lida’s case, matters that brought up painful memories. And yet, after these days traveling together had brought him growing confidence, he found him shrinking from the sight in front of him.

  The Amaranth Expanse was named both for the flowers that grew upon the scrub grass areas surrounding small oases scattered throughout the land, but also for its expansive, colorful sand dunes that stretched far beyond the horizon. It was difficult to imagine that crossing such a landscape would be possible, let alone save them time along the journey. It had been charted, however, and stretched latitudinally for miles, causing the Merchant Road to circle around the holy mountains to reach Erenamune so as to not endanger traveling merchants or wandering vagabonds. Intrepid adventurers and devout pilgrims, however, had crossed the Expanse for centuries, in a holy following of Amune’s footsteps, as he trekked across the Expanse in a single evening, without need for water nor food, surviving the bitter cold of the nights and the harsh, burning sands during the twin-sun days.

  The dunes were a beautiful array of reddish hues, ranging from amaranth, bright pink, darkened mauve, and even a burning red. As the suns arced across the sky, the dunes shifted in color from the changing angles of the suns, some brightening to a salmon orange, others darkening to indigos and violets as night approached. The intense heat from the suns rippled and distorted the air above the burning sands, and the party had taken precautionary measures, covering themselves in white half hooded robes, light against the heat but necessary against the burn of the sunshine, and Dayanik no longer stood out in his priestly wardrobe.

  Light above, how does Sekant manage to look cool while wearing functional wear? He wondered to himself. His hair had fallen to his face, clinging to his forehead as he felt himself soaked through with sweat. Sekant appeared unbothered by the heat, neatly adjusting wraps around the sleeves of his robe to make him less likely to snag on things and rip.

  Who in the hells made it this hot today? I’m sweating so much that I might as well take a bath in my clothes. I wish I could wear loose robes like those two, she seems to be enjoying this awful heat, Sekant thought to himself. He adjusted his sleeves with disdain and jealousy, as Lida calmly sipped from her canteen.

  I might actually die today, it’s so hot, Lida thought to herself succinctly, trying with all her might to hide her misery from the other two, who seemed unfazed by the sweltering sunshine.

  As the landscape of Pyk’s scrubby grasslands disappeared behind them, so that all that could be seen was red and magenta desert sand dunes, the trio trudged along. Dayanik quickly mixed together a tincture of a falsewell leaves poultice with water from his canteen, giving the mixture in his hands to Ket, with a small amount left over given to Biriki.

  “What’s that?” Lida asked quizzically.

  “Falsewell. It helps animals retain moisture within their body for far longer, allowing them to keep cool in hot weather, need less water, and keep refreshed for longer stretches of activity. It should hopefully allow Ket and Biriki to cross the desert without needing to use our own water on them.”

  “That’s amazing, Day! How did you know about that?”

  “It was part of herbology lessons,” he said with a proud smile.

  “What’s that, a mixture to need less water?” Sekant chimed in, grabbing the bowl. There was only a small bit of the stuff leftover, green leaves mushed with the water.

  “Don’t! It’s toxic to humans,” Day reacted quickly, reaching back to grab it. He wipe the remaining few leaves out with a cloth into the desert sand, where it felt like it might hiss from the heat emanating from beneath them.

  “Day is onto something, we should focus a plan of how long it will take us to get through this desert and how to ration our provisions,” Lida said. “Pyk allowed us to re-supply, but if we don’t act carefully, we could die out here,” she emphasized by gesturing around her. “Sekant, you said you’ve come through the Expanse before. Do you know the route we’ll be taking?”

  Sekant nodded, “five days and four nights to make it through the safest route. Thankfully, there’s a known oasis along the pathway used by the pilgrims, it should allow us to halve our water rationing efforts, since we’ll get there on the third day.”

  “T-two days? We have to make our water packs last that long?” Dayanik fumbled over himself. He shook his canteen, carrying roughly four liters of water, though judging by the sloshing of the water inside, he had already taken a quarter of the first liter in the few miles from the outskirts of Pyk to now.

  Sekant nodded again, “you’ll need to be prepared to ration. Most people need what we have in our canteens in a day, let alone two days. Thankfully,” he jutted his thumb at himself self-importantly with a gloating smile, “you have me to navigate us to the oasis.” Sekant had become more and more comfortable, and more “detestably arrogant” according to Lida, since their journey had begun.

  “We’ll plan for as close to two liters per day as we can manage, hopefully even less…in case someone gets us lost,” Lida murmured.

  “Hey!” Sekant shouted in protest, though he was interrupted as he took a drink from his own canteen.

  Dayanik felt miserable in the heat, and the idea of having to consciously ration his water felt too arduous a task, considering how he could focus on nothing but sweat soaking through his potona. Thankfully, the Brotherhood provides all traveling priests and acolytes a light linen potona and a heavy woolen one, so as to best allow them to a small modicum of comfort on their journeys.

  “The Light of Amune shall inhabit the faithful, his Light shall slake thine thirst, thine hunger, thine desires, and thine impure desires,” Sekant spoke in a facetious tone.

  Dayanik reddened his cheeks further, “that is apocryphal, and, worse, it’s distasteful!”

  “Well, well, I’ll make sure to take note that being distasteful is worse than heretical words, my holy sir,” Sekant bowed even more facetiously from his horse.

  I’m starting to see why you frustrate Lida, Dayanik thought to himself. He wasn’t an overly zealous ideologue when it came to his faith, however, one of the most basic tenets of those who worshipped Amune as the modern savior of mankind prior to his ascension to godhood was a respect for his teachings. To speak nothing of the crassness of mentioning Amune as a means to curb worldly desires, it was simply wrong to allow Sekant to falsely preach words never spoken by Amune, Dayanik thought to himself. But he didn’t say so out loud, lest he be judged stuffy or uptight. Puerile attempts to elicit a response from him were nothing out of the ordinary: some of the less fervent acolytes, those who joined simply out of a lack of options such as Binfey, commonly would play games at Dayanik’s expense for his rigid adhesion to some of the restrictions placed upon Amune’s faithful. Despite his experience with this type of jest, however, Dayanik lacked the social awareness to take Sekant’s joke lightheartedly, instead remaining silent, letting the flushed cheeks change from an angered red to a shameful red, stewing in embarrassment over his overreaction. He took a quick gulp from his canteen reflexively, then gasped at his habit, further frustrated.

  Without speaking further, Sekant pushed forward, kicking slightly at the sides of his mount, pulling ahead of Lida and Dayanik. He lazily waved a hand above his head, speaking or looking back, signaling for them to keep up or be left behind.

  When they finally settled in upon the setting of the second sun, the trio were soaked head to toe in sweat, the rapidly cooling air providing a chill on the wind that made them question whether or not they were truly in the same scorching landscape as during the day. Considering the amount of sweating throughout the day, it was no surprise to see that their starch-white clothes, washed during the overnight stay in Pyk, had been caked in the dust kicked up by the horses. Thankfully the desert floor paths were compact enough that the horses’ hooves weren’t prone to sinking in deep, loose sand, but the ground was still dusty as they kicked up with each step. And we just washed them, Dayanik lamented to himself. But it was hard not to appreciate the beauty of the changed scenery. The sands appeared to glitter in the light of the moons in the sky, reflecting the bright night sky to provide a wonderful natural luminescent aura that made it much easier to see. As the sky darkened further with the second sun fully beyond the horizon, however, Dayanik noticed the sky seemed to almost brighten. He looked around him and saw dozens of blue dots in the sky, though they weren’t so far as stars; they even seemed to be coming closer, causing Dayanik to gasp slightly with a wave of fear and shock.

  “Gem lanterns,” Sekant said as he reclined against his knapsack, stretched out along his blanket. Dayanik had thought him sleeping, stretched with his hands behind his head and his eyes closed beneath the messy white mop of messy hair. “They’re harmless.”

  “There’s so many of them!” Lida said in awe as she looked up to notice the flying creatures. They were eel-like in their shape and length, wiggling through the air, though they had four wings that could be seen faintly beating rapidly in the darkness around the glow of their body.

  “Are they…nocturnal insects?” Dayanik asked inquisitively. He remembered hearing mention of them in his science lessons, but he had little interest in biology, especially when it came to anything that reminded him of insects.

  Sekant shook his head, “they’re always somewhat active. It’s just that they only glow blue during the day. I mean, would you even notice them in the daytime sky with that color? But no, they turn translucent during the day. They fly higher in the sky too. They absorb the radiation from the suns and then glow with the absorbed radiation at night.”

  “How do you know so much about them if you’ve only been here once?” Dayanik asked.

  “How many times do you think I need to be taught something to remember it, brat?” Sekant snorted, though mostly in jest, Dayanik could sense. “You’re not the only one with a formal education. My father…he…valued education, my upbringing, in general.”

  Lida and Dayanik didn’t speak, not wishing to break the spell of hearing Sekant opening up.

  Seeing that he was being silently exhorted to continue, continued: “my father had unrealistic expectations for me, growing up. But education was a part of that. Lessons daily, day after day, starting when I could barely stand.”

  “Do you know if you met his expectations?” Dayanik asked quietly.

  Sekant smiled, his eyes looking far off and unfocused. “No. But…that’s okay. I didn’t want to meet them anyways.”

  Dayanik wanted to ask more; he wished to ask Sekant if he thought his father would be proud of him even if he didn’t meet set expectations. He wanted to know if he was proud of himself. He wanted to know if it was normal to never feel proud of yourself. But he held his tongue, not wishing to prod too far into Sekant’s mind. Instead, he brushed Ket’s mane and settled onto his own blanket.

  “Now,” Sekant started back up, “if you see one of those,” he pointed to the sky, though closer to the horizon now than where the gem lanterns were, “it’s best to avoid them.” Far off, a faint vermillion glow hovered, clearly close to the ground. Lida and Dayanik said nothing, his warning quieting them, so Sekant continued: “cinderwings. Not necessarily aggressive, but they’re pretty big, and swarms of them could easily take a man.”

  “Pretty big?” Lida asked.

  Sekant gestured with his hands about a foot’s width.

  Dayanik gulped, “h-how do you know if it’s going to be a swarm of them?”

  Sekant placed his hands back behind his head through his hair, closing his eyes again. “No clue. Just avoid them anyways and you won’t have to find out. They’re carrion feeders, for the most part, but I’ve heard of some pilgrims and even bandit crews getting taken out. And if you can see the glow, so can other cinderwings.” With that ominous warning, Sekant rolled himself over and slept.

  “He’s probably exaggerating, Day,” Lida reassured Dayanik, though her tone carried with it her own thinly veiled fear.

  Dayanik laughed, nodding nervously while he smiled. Biriki poked free from the knapsack as Dayanik laid his head down against it, crawled over Dayanik’s chest, causing him to gasp an oomph with surprise, then crawled up Ket’s leg to perch on the steed’s back, the two animals keeping each other warm, though the falsewell gave them a more stable body temperature resistant to the cold nights than the travelers. Dayanik’s smile turned genuine as he eyed the two huddling together, reminiscing of a cozy bed. Ironic, he thought to himself, that he would miss warmth when only a few hours ago he wished for the cold air of the night. “I’m glad you two have each other, at least,” and he rolled onto his back, his own hands running through the dark locks of his own growing mane.

  Lida smiled at him in the faint glow, watching her friend’s breathing begin to slow into a rhythmic beat as exhaustion overcame any discomfort from the cold. I’m glad we have you here, Day, she thought, and followed suit, rolling over.

  The next day, they set off just as the first sun broke the horizon.

  “Ugh, we’ve barely even made it through half the day, but the water’s already almost gone!” Lida lamented to herself. “How! I’ve been so careful.”

  “It’s easy to lose yourself when you’re exhausted. We’ll just have to pick up the pace,” Sekant grumbled from the front of their line.

  “Why can’t we beat like those gem lantern creatures and rest or soak up energy during the day, then travel at night?!” she asked. She stuffed her canteen into her pack angrily, secretly hoping there would be some sort of magic that would refill it while it stayed out of the direct sunlight.

  Sekant held up two fingers, “bandits and matrons; both seem to like to be active at night.”

  “B-bandits?! Here, in the middle of nowhere?” Dayanik asked frightfully.

  “Did you really think there would be traveling pilgrims bringing holy relics to the holy city and there wouldn’t be people trying to rob them?”

  “Ye-well, yes, but…I mean…well, why wouldn’t they just choose somewhere more convenient than the middle of the desert?”

  Sekant shrugged his shoulders, “the Amaranth Expanse was home to local tribespeople long before Amune crossed it. People have lived here for as long as could be known. It’s just that some of those people are cave-dwelling nomads and some of those people are marauding bandits.”

  Dayanik paused to give it thought, though it made sense when he pondered it for the moment. History lessons in the Brotherhood were usually limited to Amune’s journey through life until godhood, battling the Darkness and establishing his following. He hadn’t given much thought previously to what came before, aside from rudimentary lessons about the gods and religions that scattered throughout the continents of Eil. “Great,” he muttered to himself despondently, “not only must we live in a constant state of privation for the next few days, but we could be attacked at any moment.”

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  “Didn’t you hear me?” Sekant said, surprising Dayanik with sharp hearing. “I said they only attack at night. You won’t be attacked at any moment during the day.”

  “At night?” Lida confirmed.

  Sekant held a thumbs-up in response as he stuffed a tea-spiced biscuit into his mouth.

  “When we’re asleep…” Lida continued.

  Sekant coughed, choking. “W-well…look it’s not a perfect plan. But I’m a light sleeper!”

  Silence ensued for a few moments, but then Dayanik laughed, breaking the tension.

  “You’ve given me an endless well of confidence,” Lida said sarcastically, rolling her eyes for no one in particular to see.

  “Good,” Sekant said, wiping his mouth, “then maybe you can drink from that well once your water runs out.”

  She was left speechless, but before she could think of anything to say, he threw back a waterskin behind him without looking, her reflexes narrowly allowing her to catch it before it fell to the ground. Without saying anything, she held it to her mouth, though she eyed him suspiciously.

  “I’m not thirsty,” he said waving off the helpful gesture, “but I want that back.”

  As they continued, the three drifted further apart from one another. Sekant’s experience with harsh conditions clearly provided him with the type of stamina and strength needed to persevere through this trek. Lida pushed with every ounce of strength she had through the pain and the exhaustion, though it took every ounce of her toughness to even keep Sekant within her vision as she slowly fatigued. Dayanik suffered the harshest of them all, barely even managing to keep Lida within his line of sight, especially as his vision began to blur. He had only a half liter of water to drink, and he was determined to a fault to not touch it until they rested, as they would still need to travel for half a day before they reached the oasis after camping tonight. He tried to reach a hand out as Lida transformed into a blurry shadow, with things growing dark all around him in the bright shine of the desert sand. In a moment, he felt his skin, slick and cold with sweat despite the sweltering sunshine, enveloped by warmth. It felt as if he was back in bed reading, wrapped up in his cot at the barracks in Erenamune.

  “Why hello there,” a kind, but aged voice said to Dayanik, though it echoed within his mind in a manner that shook him alert. He shot up immediately, his body no longer aching and sore from trudging through the floor of the Expanse.

  Dayanik searched for the voice frantically, as it sounded so familiarly distinct. As he swiveled his head side to side to find the speaker, it dawned on him: he had no idea where he was. But he was no longer in the Amaranth Expanse, that was for certain. Where he stood instead was a small room, stark white walls so bright in color they nearly forced him to squint, an ethereal floor of swirling royal blue and fiery reds mixed together, clashing in an off-putting way. Hunched over in the corner, however, a figure huddled over, drawing his eyes.

  “I take it you’ve adjusted?” the kindly voice echoed again, though becoming oriented to his surroundings made the voice appear to come from the man in the corner, rather than be spoken directly into his mind.

  “Where…where a-am I?”

  “A fine question, but one I’m not quite prepared to answer,” he responded with enthusiasm, as if the mystery of where they were was a trivial matter to brush aside.

  Dayanik took a step closer to the figure, reaching a hand out, before he noticed the swirling colors beneath his feet moving and shifting as he stepped, not unlike the shifting desert floor from before. “Am I…dead?”

  The man turned to face him now. His face was resolute and strong, but he clearly was advanced in his years. He laughed, reveling in Dayanik’s momentary fear like a child seeing a prank succeed in scaring a parent, “Lights, no, young Dayanik. Or do you prefer Day?”

  “E-either, sir.”

  “There’s no need to be formal with me, young man. Technically speaking, you are a higher rank than myself in the Brotherhood.” He gestured at himself and Dayanik realized he wore the gray robes of an acolyte, a trainee in the church. They were of a looser fit, the tunic kept neatly tucked in at the waist with a cord that appeared to simply be a large white rope. The man’s head was covered by a stylized dark purple cloth wrapped tightly over and over, and across his chest, hanging from his right shoulder to his left waist were two large cords of wooden orbs, each orb a different color. Dayanik recognized that they were the common cords worn by more agnostic priests in the church as a representation of the thirteen gods prior to Amune’s ascension. As he looked closely, he noticed inscriptions in ancient tongue with each god’s name.

  “Who are you?” Dayanik asked. His voice trembled, as he realized that if this was not simply a hallucination that the man was clearly important.

  “Me? I’m merely a humble follower and caretaker.”

  “A caretaker?” Dayanik looked around his surroundings a bit more closely. He noticed that the man had come from a small row of potted plants, sprouted at various heights and with a pale of water and a large ladle beside the various seedlings and sprouts. “You’re a…gardener?”

  The kind face, familiar but unknown, smiled and the man shrugged, rattling the beads across his torso. “I have many things that I tend to,” he gestured over beside Dayanik.

  Dayanik nearly leaped in surprise; he hadn’t noticed, but upon a bare and plain wooden cot that he had walked past without even paying attention to lay a man. The man’s chest was bare, his eyes were closed, his breathing was rhythmic. He was clearly asleep, but it was not readily apparent whether or not the man was ill or injured, considering his relatively serene appearance. He had a youthful face, but his balding head showed signs of stress in life.

  “Wh-who is he?”

  “One of those I tend to in the time that I have.”

  Dayanik felt the elder man’s voice so familiar that a thought crossed his mind, “are you…are you Amune?”

  A full-throated laugh followed, the man nearly doubling over. “Ha! I mean not to laugh at your expense young man, I simply find the idea of myself being a deity as beyond my own scope of reasoning. Though,” gesturing around him at the surrounding room “I would understand if this all feels a bit beyond a person’s scope.” He returned his hands to his side, coming closer to the man in the bed and examining the still body.

  Dayanik was still so confused. Perhaps this all truly was simply some hallucination. He remembered clearly the thirst that had started to overtake his body in the Expanse, it was almost as if he could still feel the thirst, more muted in the back of his mind, however.

  “I suppose there’s no use in trying to be mysterious to you, Dayanik. My name is Lyral. Some called me a sage in my time, however,” he shook his hand at the notion, “you may simply call me Lyral.”

  Dayanik’s eyes widened. “Sagacious Lyral? One of the Storytellers, the first followers of Amune?!”

  Lyral’s shoulders sagged dejectedly. “Did they truly come up with such an unoriginal name for me in your time? A sage…named Lyral…calling me Sagacious Lyral is trite.”

  “Y-you…y-you’re a holy man!”

  “As are you, Dayanik. All devotees of a god may call themselves a holy man.”

  “B-b-but, sir –” Dayanik started.

  “Don’t call me sir! It’s aging, and I hate the idea of being put into the ground…again.”

  Dayanik said nothing, confused.

  “Thankfully, the heavens have granted me the ability to be useful for eternity. Amune granted desires to his first followers upon his ascension into the heavens. I wished to always be a useful man, no matter my age. I do wish the bastard would have made me younger, however,” he grumbled jokingly.

  “But then…b-but then why are you here?”

  “I just told you, Dayanik, I wished to be useful. I tend to things that Amune cannot, whenever he is called away or is in need of my personal assistance.”

  Dayanik nodded as he tried to process the information. “So then…why am I here? You said this was the heavens, does that mean I’ve passed on?”

  The man shook his head, still smiling as he placed a hand over the bare chest of the sleeping man, a white light softly emanating from his hand. “You placed your tattoos on your hands, correct?”

  The mention of them brought back the pain of the needle and the white light shooting under his skin, Dayanik grabbed at them, nodding.

  “Good, that means you like to care for things as well,” Lyral nodded, the light fading from his hand. “Try to see if you can pour your light into this man.”

  “Who is he?”

  Lyral shook his head, “just someone who needs healing at the moment. I tend to many throughout my days here.”

  Dayanik shifted over, examining the man more closely. He had faint wisps of hair just beginning to sprout from his chin. His cheeks were round and pock-marked, and his body spoke to a healthy appetite. He wore a daffodil yellow set of leg wraps, tied at the ankles, and his feet were bare. Dayanik held his hand out, extending his fingers to maximize surface area, and closed his eyes, thinking the words. He had memorized the words and remembered the rule for using one’s own Light to heal others. Healing did not leech one’s own health, but it did open one’s mind and soul to feel the pain the other felt. And the pain that Dayanik felt as the light emitted from his tattoo threw him back. He fell straight back, nearly flung a few meters, as he felt the pain from the man. Throbbing, pulsing, and sharp, in that mere moment he felt as if a hot knife had been plunged into his hand a hundred times over. It was…unbearable to even consider, let alone to ever experience.

  “What in the Hells was that?” Dayanik gasped, looking at his hand to make sure no physical damage had been done to him.

  “Pain, child,” Lyrel said, his voice no longer carrying kindness or joy. “To feel pain, the pain of one’s self and of others, takes a strength that few carry. They told you that you would be open and exposed to the pain of those you heal, correct?”

  Dayanik nodded.

  “And yet you still chose to focus the light through your hands…interesting.”

  “Is that how it always feels? I’ve healed before, small wounds.”

  “Yes, this man’s wounds are…unique. But to dedicate one’s self to healing and risking anguish and pain…those take a unique person to maintain that level of dedication.”

  Dayanik thought back. He had seen the same tattoos on others, such as Ferri Syth in Pyk, but many of the acolytes with whom he had studied had preferred the tattoos to be placed on their arms or their chests, depending on their desired focus of divine power. “I don’t…really understand what you’re trying to say.”

  Lyrel’s smile returned, kind and reassuring. “What I’m saying is that, though you may not know it now, you do have a purpose, brought on by your own desire to do good. Someday, though I do not know when, you will be made aware of that purpose.” He then clapped his hands together and briskly walked away, as the stark white walls seemed to push off into infinity as he moved toward them. The white began to grow, enveloping the ground and the ceiling, wrapping around and blurring Dayanik’s whole line of sight.

  Dayanik opened his eyes, the sunshine gone and the stars above backlighting Lida as she dripped cool water from a dipped towel into the corner of his mouth.

  “Day!” she exclaimed, dropping the towel onto the blanket beneath him and pulling him close to embrace.

  Dayanik, his skin feeling taut as if he’d sweated excessively, struggled to give any response, too weak to embrace her back. “What…happened?” he struggled to speak.

  “Heat exhaustion, the exposed sunlight and dehydration knocked you out cold. He managed,” she looked over at Sekant, who lay in his customary pose with his hands behind his head, one foot across his knee as he relaxed with eyes closed, “he managed to carry you all this way.”

  “Heavy as hells, mind you,” Sekant added without opening his eyes. “But thankfully, it was mostly your packs that were heavy and unwieldy, and I let your horse do the heavy lifting. Once the horse took the supplies, you were as light as a feather.”

  Lida clicked her tongue, turning sharply away from Sekant. “Are you okay?”

  “I…think so…it’s just…hard to remember…what happened.”

  “She’s the real hero, she’s been tending to you and drip-hydrating you for three hours straight.”

  Lida curled into herself, as if she were embarrassed or blushing. “It was nothing, really.”

  Dayanik took her hand as he slowly returned to normal cognizance. “Thank you, Lida.”

  She smiled in response, gripping his hand tightly.

  Dayanik sat himself upright, struggling to push himself to sit up with both hands, still so weak from the exhaustion. “How…how long have I been out of it?”

  “It’s still our second night; you’ve been out since the early afternoon. Day, you,” Lida gripped his hand even tighter, “you mumbled a lot while you were out. Are you sure you’re okay?”

  He nodded, “I think so. I saw…some things. But it’s hard to explain. And harder to believe.”

  She didn’t say anything, forcing a small smile. “I’m just glad you’re okay, and we should be able to reach the oasis by tomorrow at mid-day, since Sekant was able to carry you and keep pace.”

  Sekant grunted an affirming grunt. The night sky was just as hypnotically beautiful tonight as the first, with the distant gem lanterns glowing as soft blue orbs distantly in the sky. The terrain around them had changed slightly, with a crevice in a small solid rock formation providing them shelter for the evening, with a northern and southern gap into it. Though it was enclosed, giving the feeling that they were within a building, the open night sky still stretched high above them, the stars clearly revealing their desert surroundings remained. The rock formation weathered the worst of the windy gusts of the deep desert, however, and the air was more pleasant tonight than the night before. Dayanik heard some echoing chittering coming from the southern end of the entrance, where he caught a glimpse of the Ket and the other horses, huddled together in a smaller side recess of the formation opening.

  “Th-that’s good. I’m glad to hear I didn’t hold you two back too much. I’m…I’m sorry for my weakness.”

  “Oh, no, Day, it’s okay!”

  “No…I…it was irresponsible of me to think that I could keep up. Sekant’s a trained warrior and has traveled through the desert before. And you…well you’re you,” he said with an air of admiration and self-admonition.

  “You’ve apologized already,” Sekant interjected. “It happened, you apologized sincerely, we’re ready to move to the next day.”

  “But-”

  “If either of us wanted an apology, we would have said so,” Sekant cut him off abruptly. “Let’s just…let’s just move on to the next, shall we?”

  Dayanik smiled, he would’ve had a bigger smile if he didn’t feel so drained of energy. Despite being unconscious the majority of the day, he felt exhausted, fully ready to sleep through the remainder of the night.

  “Tomorrow, we’re going to need you to at least last –” Sekant started and cut off. He shot up, standing immediately, his eyes fixated on the northern entrance to the rock formation’s northern opening into the crevice. His voice lowered as he unsheathed his sword, the silver blade glinting in the starlight, “if you can fight, get up carefully,” he hissed barely above a whisper. Lida had already sprung into action from her crouched position, grabbing her large skinning knife from the belt at her waist.

  Dayanik’s body was far slower to react, though Sekant’s prescient actions allowed him enough time to stand before he could see what had caused him to react. He reached slowly to grab a walking staff from his pack, placed fortuitously next to him. He stood himself up to match Sekant standing in a defensive posture as Lida knelt amongst the shadows of the packs.

  “Took you folks long enough to notice,” a thick voice echoed throughout the chamber-like crevice. It was a deep voice, slick and relaxed, betraying no sense of any emotions other than a calm demeanor. A figure followed the voice, entering through the northern entrance into the rock formation. The area in which they had rested was roughly fifty feet in length and twenty-five feet at its widest point, though the natural smooth walling of the area varied in width. Despite the area of the resting spot, the high walls, nearly fifteen feet in height, created such a reverberating echo that the man only needed to speak in his calm voice to easily reach them, situated neatly in the middle of the clearing. As the man stepped through the chamber, the starlight above revealed some of his appearance. He was over six feet tall and built in the same sinewy, muscular manner as Sekant. He wore a heavily worn tunic, though it was unclear if it was plain or patterned, nor if it was any specific color. The man had long, dark hair, reaching well below his shoulders. He had a scraggly mess of facial hair, unkempt, and he carried a long, cutlass-style sword casually at his side. Behind him, two figures, even larger than the first man, slowly followed behind. Both men had shaved heads. It was hard to tell for certain with the limited visibility, but Dayanik figured they had to at least be brothers, if not twins. The rustling of rocks behind the three heralded four more men entering silently from the southern entrance. Dayanik pointed the walking staff at those four, but Sekant stood motionless, watching the first man who had spoken.

  “You’re not the one I was looking for. Look a little bit like him though. I had gotten excited for a moment,” Sekant spoke, sounding genuinely disappointed.

  “You know, it seems I often have that effect on people. Nobody ever seems happy to see me,” the man replied cooly. He spoke with an almost eloquent manner; Dayanik figured he needed to be formally educated with how he spoke. “Then again, most people die after they meet me for the first time, so,” he shrugged nonchalantly, “who can blame them.”

  “Bandits?” Dayanik asked, actively focusing on not allowing his voice to waver as he held his staff high.

  The man clicked his tongue in annoyance, “the word ‘bandits’ carries with it the notion of me being someone doing something wrong. When in reality,” the man advanced forward a few paces, Sekant remaining stock-still, “you are what I would call ‘intruders’ passing unwelcomed through my home.”

  “I’ve had warmer welcomes in winter temples in Tas Utul. Hate how you’ve decorated the place, by the way,” Sekant snorted.

  “That’s the key, lad, you’re not welcome.”

  “You claim this desert?” Dayanik asked nervously. “B-but this is a holy place. It’s no city or town.”

  The man looked past Sekant, eyeing Dayanik and dismissing his scrawny appearance. “I’ve no time to explain myself to you. I’m an impatient man and the Matrons are especially active at this time, so I’d like to end this quickly and be on my way. That being said,” he twirled the cutlass in his hand, the handguard glinting a silvery metal in the moonlight, “I also understand what it’s like to be a gracious host. I will simply take the tribute you have to offer and…kindly request that you leave.” He suddenly stopped absently spinning the blade as he walked forward, instead quickly swinging out to his side. There, in the faintest moonlight, Dayanik looked back and saw the blade stopped merely centimeters from Lida’s throat. She had tried to use the darkness to sneak into a position behind the man, but he caught her without even looking in her direction. “Tsk. After such sneaky behavior, that tribute will now include her.”

  Sekant didn’t move a muscle or speak, letting the silent tension grow.

  Dayanik looked back and forth, his eyes darting to the four men in front of him, to Sekant, to the mysterious man speaking. “Sekant, what do we do?”

  The man cocked his head slightly. “Interesting,” he raised the blade slowly from Lida’s neck, the blade having rested on her skin and slightly slicing it, a few small beads of blood forming on the side of her neck. He pointed the blade directly at Sekant and simply smiled, the only emotion he had shown to this point, though the smile sent chills down Dayanik’s spine even in such dim moonlight. Clouds began to draw across the sky; the thin, rainless cloud of the desert that brought false hope rather than needed moisture. The light grew even dimmer.

  “Dayanik,” Sekant said calmly, still not moving or reacting to the blade pointed at him. “Can you handle yourself against them?”

  “I…yes. I think so, yes,” Dayanik answered nervously, his staff now pointed higher as the four who came from the southern entrance formed a semi-circle around him.

  “Good, he’s the only problem then. I’m going to leave them to you,” he said firmly. He moved in a flash quicker than Dayanik could even see, especially in the dimming moonlight. As his eyes tried to adjust, all Dayanik could hear was the clanging sounds of steel upon steel.