Yo," the newcomer says simply.
"Yo," his inferior responds.
"You're awake."
"No thanks to you."
The newcomer chuckles.
Rather than a bellow birthed in the confines of a hairy gut, a sneer that hisses through delicate teeth, his genuine laughter is the result of a man with light shoulders. I find it hard to imagine his years surpassing those of my brother or even mine.
"Oh, that?" The mercenary leader says, finally. "Don't tell me The Big Red Boulder's got himself all riled up over a single missing arm! Remember that trader guy from Shindholm? How he sent those guys after you while you were taking a piss?" He turns to the rest of us like we're in on the joke. "Get this. One guy, all alone with his back turned to the exit. Three dudes rush him down with broken bottles. And this guy, mid-piss, grabs the first one by the leg, swings him into a tree, and breaks his skull. Then uses his body like a club to beat the other guys to death! Whole time, dick in hand, making it rain!"
My lips twitch horribly while listening to the stranger's story. Every line is more horrific than the next. Between his blatant disregard for his comrade's concerns and his utter breakdown of glee, I don't know what to think of the absolute worst of their group.
"Aaah! Anyway, what was it you were saying?" He asks finally.
The Boulder brother's flame is simmering with barely restrained hate. "Same shit I've been saying for a long time, captain."
"Then I guess ya ain't really got shit to say." He slaps his comrade on the cheek for every other word.
His words come cold, like a blanket of snow after a warm summer breeze. There is a finality to his dismissal that leaves his comrade defeated. I imagine his hands balled into fists by his side. That is, his remaining one…
The leader vanishes, reappearing in front of a shivering scholar. "You told me this mission was special. Perilous beyond my wildest fantasy. So far, I ain't seen nothin' scary 'cept yer ugly mug parading around like y—" He pauses, clicking his tongue. "…you're king. "
"Rest assured, sire," hisses the eunuch. "There is plenty peril waiting for this procession on the other side of this forest. Once we meet up with the others—"
"No. I'm not wasting another two months in this paradise. Everybody who isn't here yet is dead. If they ain't, they will be by the time you find us a way out of the forest. Make contact with your queen and tell her we're breaching with or without her little pet. I'm sure she'll agree it's in her best interest that we reach center as soon as possible."
"Preposterous! How dare you speak of Her Radiance with such contempt! When we get back to the—"
"If," the captain corrects.
"Pardon?"
"I've been reading through some of your books since we got here. A man of machination does not believe in the guaranteed. Sound familiar? Worry about making it back to the kingdom before you start making threats. Otherwise, you might end up twisting up your tongue deciding whether to beg for mercy or forgiveness."
Eunuch's flame goes still.
It is the strangest phenomenon witnessed by my cursed eyes since the dawn of my ability. The thought behind his expression is of such stark clarity that I very near see the image occupying the space of the robed man's head. Returning to the home prematurely, having forgotten your journal and to leash the dog, stepping into the study only to see the creature bred and raised for your amusement, standing on its hind legs by the study licking its paws and turning a page.
"Oh, please! You expect me to be startled by a quote from the first page?" He scoffs. "Rest assured, head wolf. I've found the light needed to illuminate our path. Furthermore, I've already made contact with Her Radiance and filled her in on the change of plans."
"But I must say in advance, the next time you go out on your own accord and slaughter competing men of our trades, save us both the effort and make it thorough, would you? You have no idea what it's like decoding the desperate cries of a fellow logicizer. Heartbreaking stuff, really…"
The Worst is startled for half a moment, but it only lasts that much. "Good to know! Well, I'll leave ya to it, then!" He chirps. "Gotta find whichever one your brothers thought snitching is gonna un-leak his brain juice and make the poor wittle thing just drink it all right back up again! Make sure none of my men loses any limbs while I'm gone, will ya? Can't take any more of their bitching."
Another gust swirls under his bare feet, visible to my eye. It explodes, sending a violent wave across the clearing. My sheep and the mercenaries go flying again as my brother holds his ground, my only protection against the weather of one man's self-centered hurricane.
The mercenary leader is gone. The weightless atmosphere he carries, with him.
Jonah turns, placing a hand on my shoulder. "You okay, little bro?"
"I am," I tell him. "But you, Jonah! I was worried about that man's existence when he appeared, but you're the only one who withstood his ability. I was unable to catch a glimpse of his equipment since you were in front of me, but I suspect he has an item similar to the Eunuch's robe. If you're able to resist its effects, then you can defeat him in battle!"
The old man snorts derisively. "I wouldn't put my money on that one, kid."
I would not so much as grant him the benefit of my attention.
Jonah chuckles. "Usually, I'd agree with you, Solly, but he's right. Like the big guy said, he's usually off doing his own thing, but when he's around, things get done clean and quick. But whenever he is around, things get done clean and quick. That guy kills just about anybody who gets in his way. Man or woman. Slaver or slave. One time, I saw him cut the head off a red-haired little girl in front of her grandmother. Couldn't sleep for weeks." A sick feeling swirls in my stomach. "I see. Then we will strike when he is absent. Light and shadow, like the old days."
Jonah is quick to answer, though he speaks a bit distractedly. "Yeah… light and dark. Like the old days."
The eunuch's shrill command interrupts my train of thought. "Jonah! Take your brother hostage at once. The two of you will venture into the forest five minutes after sundown!"
The flames of the procession shrink as I am dragged into the forest. Like that night, the darkness is concentrated under the forest canopy, trapped under the stones and wrapped in millennium-aged vines that reach down and touch the grass. This air is unlike the sparse currents one would expect in such a thriving paradise. Yet it envelops all the same, stirring a quiet apprehension in the depths of one's stomach.
Pulled beyond the clearing, I am reminded of the desert's eerie stillness when the winds abandoned the march in search of better frolics. But not its warmth. No, this is different. An uncanny cold sinks into the bones and calls forth goosebumps across the skin—the chill of a desolation incomparable to that of the sun-soaked sands.
"Is this necessary?" I ask when my pride can sink no further.
"You gonna throw another tantrum if I put you down?"
Jonah has the collar of my robe twisted around his left hand, slung over his shoulder like luggage.
"It was not a tantrum! There is a reason the dark-hearted do not receive bestowment. Rather than protecting their fellow man, they turn it against them for momentary pleasure. Therefore, I refuse to go against divine will and help the enemy using my gift."
"Oh, so now it's a gift…"
"The wording of what it is matters not! Put me down, or face the wrath of The Son of The Heavens!"
Jonah laughs and tightens his hold.
"Heavens," I call. "Strike him!" But they do not…
Hmm… that one never seemed to work when we were children, either.
"Fine," I eventually relent with a sigh. "I suppose you are not too mistaken in your reasoning. The sooner we return to the camp, the sooner you and I can get back to guarding the sheep. But what I don't understand is this. Out of everyone you could have chosen to make us three, why would you go and choose him?"
The withered old flame slung over his right shoulder explodes with rage. "You think I was happy when this bastard grabbed me? Between handsy brother junior and crazy brother senior, I'm better off taking my chances with the damn Eunuch! At least then, I know I won't be fucked!"
I could almost weep in frustration. "Why do you keep saying that?"
"'Cause I've seen your type before," he answers. "It's always the ones you suspect the least. If anyone pegged the Eunuch back home for what he does, the slimy bitch wouldn't still be alive to keep doing it." Jonah glances over his shoulder. "You know about what he does?"
"Know about it?" the old man seethes. "I damn near became a victim of it! Lucky me. From a young age, I knew how to clench."
"Clench?"
"See? That's how come you're so loose. Streets like mine, the only way to survive is to follow a two-step protocol. You clench once, then keep on clenching. The old clench and clench, they call it."
"Jonah, what is he talking about?" "Uh…" he answers distractedly. "You don't want to know. Might help me, though."
"You mean what with all him fuckin' ya?"
"Something like that." Jonah drops me on the ground and sets the old man down gently. "Oof. Sorry. Meant to do that the other way around."
He helps me to my feet and brushes the dirt off my robes. "See anything, Solly?"
"No," I say, brushing it off properly this time. "You still haven't told me what we're looking for."
"Like I'd know any better. He said something about a land before the flame. Any idea what that could mean, Mr. Genuis Priest?"
"Objectively, it makes no sense. But biblically, it could mean a million."
He sighs. "Then let's just keep moving until something catches your eye. Anything like that is bound to if it's all it's chalked up to be."
Indeed.
The branches of a canopy huddle close under the sky, leaves shivering to the unpleasant rhythm of man's first intrusion. Six steps per the second against the weight of an atmosphere cultivated over centuries forgotten, further into the depths where the darkness awaits.
It grows deeper. Darker. Deeper. Footsteps' melody smothered in the age of the soil.
A lonely child can't help but shiver at the temperature of these depths. Rigid is the muscle as of an old man's corpse. Seeing is the blind as they venture forth. Their movements synchronize in the rhythm of a trio's march—men of steel in the flesh on a mortal plight.
One shares a joke, and only two understand—something about a sinner and a priest who walk into a bar. They find a drunkard in the corner, sipping ale from a keg. Two understand, and the ignorant third thinks to himself that this joke is not funny.
One day, he will come to laugh the loudest of all. But now, there is nary a silence between him and his brother—something about the dangers they triumphed in a world without light. Memories of a time and a place they are yet to return to—something about laughter in the forest of a moonlit night.
"Served him right! Solly sent him back to his momma with a bruise for every curse!" Jonah exclaims with a nostalgic whistle. "Listen, man. Don't be fooled by his blind and saintly appearance; deep down, this guy has a worse temper than anybody."
"You mean, this little victim? I'll believe it when I see it!"
"No, I'm telling ya, gramps! Him and his grandmother? Can't tell them a thing if they don't wanna hear it."
The old man snorts. "But you sure can piss in their mouths if they don't wanna taste it."
The breeze drifting through the forest goes dead still. Jonah's flame simmers in preparation for a climax of violent emotion. This old fool! I told him not to speak of what happens in the clearing while my brother is out with the eunuch. I've been plunged exactly into the situation I was trying to avoid!
"Huh?"
"Jonah, I—"
He raises his hand, a sharp motion that stills me more than fear ever could.
My grandfather's signature gesture lives on in the hand of his dearest disciple.
And to the senior, he commands, "Start talking."
The squalling old man takes a deep, tired breath, his voice dragging through gravel and phlegm.
"What, you think your little show on the first day was gonna stop 'em? When you and sir dickless go out for your daily stroll, it's just us and them inside this quaint little paradise. Nothing to keep 'em distracted, nothing to vent their urges on—so they see us as the next best thing. We're cattle to those boys, us prisoners. Owed to the teeth of any wild beast.
"The Men of Fer only bother when it's almost too late. So a certain dreamer's taken it upon himself to be the fence that keeps them out. I understand you two have some history from the place you were born, yeah? Well, they ain't liked a damn thing about this one since the beginning. Holier than thou, walking around here handing out forgiveness like we're good enough to deserve it."
He laughs, a harsh, sputtering thing that rattles his chest.
"Can you believe he's been trying to hold services at the crack of dawn? I just about laughed up my spleen when he invited the loud one to sing along. "They don't find it funny, though. Can't see the humor in a naive little savior trying to redeem a band of rapists and murderers. Made a game out of it, they have—seeing how far they can push before he breaks character. Kicking him. Spitting on him. Slapping him. And you ask me, that's the least of it.
"By the second week, those bastards started serving the rations short—on purpose—knowing this righteous son of a bitch would be the one to go without. Calls it fasting or some shit, like we're dumb enough to believe it. Funny, that, considering nobody except him is dumb enough to think that we do. As if anybody in this world needs an excuse to turn a blind eye.
"But I can't complain. The rest of us have been living like kings because of his great and noble sacrifice."
He laughs himself into a coughing fit and spits up a sickly liquid contaminated with the divine breath—evidence of heaven's grace or terminal illness. "But you know, I've been meaning to ask, you kid. This grandmother they keep talking about—is it her fault you turned out so soft? Sometimes I look at this shitty world, then I look back at your fucked up baby face, and I can't help but wonder if you're not really from here like the rest of us."
He chuckles low, shaking his head. "As if really you really are some child of The Heavens like the voices tell ya. Well, that was before I saw you get pissed on. I'd rather die than be saved by some piss drinker."