1

There were predators hidden well among them, he knew, pushing for war that could never be won. Vlad of the Seekinglands was too old not to notice patterns and it made him actually feel like the old man he was slowly becoming to be. He was already so tired with attending the never-ending war preparations. Deep breaths he took did nothing to restore his energy and it was never a good sign, especially now, that the High Council meeting with the Red Axe King was far from being over.

Vlad was both angry and bored. A deadly combination that sparked very unwise behavior on his part, sometimes. He did everything in his might over his body and mind not to yawn and to appear utterly unaffected by his age and boredom.

"My Lord, I see I'm not going to be of any help here anymore. I'm humbly asking you for your permission to leave this High Council meeting," Vlad hoped that his voice didn't carry much of his disapproval that echoed his inner feelings of the disaster the whole High Council had become in the recent Cycles.

"Oh, come on Vlad… you can't seriously be such a spoilsport. Not in this era!" the Red Axe King bellowed with a deep laugh, "It's all just a bit of a laugh. You, at your ripe age, can't be serious about believing those old fairy Oracle stories," the King finished with a much somber and calculating tone that denied his laughter.

"The Ombre Valley is to be avoided at all costs. The Oracle was clear…" Vlad insisted furiously, angry at the disrespect all of the younger generations carried for the Oracle. He thought that even kings should be aware of the truth it passed throughout the millennia. Especially kings should be aware of its worthiness and guidance. Well, unless the current king was the Red Axe King.

"It has no history of being tainted with a curse," the Red Axe King interrupted drunkenly, "Yes, no people ever venture there, but on the other hand who could blame the villagers for being superstitious of the bad smell…" the King tried to reason coolly, but he finished with a loud snort. "Gods… the stink there is unbelievable, but still, it is no reason to avoid that place altogether."

Everyone at the table, but Vlad, laughed and cheerily hooted. Drunken members of the High Council spilled their Idle Juice all over the war plans.

"My King, I'm asking for permission to leave your inner Wall territories with all my people. I'm not of any help to you now with my unbroken faith and strong beliefs." Vlad became very careful with his words. "I don't want to be an obstacle to any plans you might decide upon from now on," he noted with a strain of hope that the King looked and behaved a bit drunk already so that whatever Vlad wanted might be just granted.

"Gods, Vlad, you and your seriousness... I can't plan any defense based on some ancient lunatic Oracle! That Valley is the only place large enough where we can safely store all the troops and machinery without being closely watched by the enemy spies. To see what is there is to attack the Valley already. We need that element of surprise Vlad! It's the only thing we can really count on… And I see it falling on deaf ears anyway, so yes, you have my permission to leave with your people at once," the Red Axe King slurred slowly and lazily, watching as Vlad stormed through the doors. "You will all come back here soon anyway…"

The smile on the scarred face that belonged to the Red Axe King's face became feral and calculating, his seemingly playful and drunken demeanor was suddenly and eerily gone the moment the doors locked behind the old warrior's silhouette grimly disappearing in the distance.

Vlad's thoughts were laden with worry so much he almost didn't hear the Great Hall Doors cling to each other with a thud as heavy as the accompanying Third Warlord's faked deep laugh. Large and sturdy in his posture Vlad walked quickly only to change his pace into a full run even before he reached the staircase. Time was of the essence and that precious time was the only thing beyond any of his control.

"Boy! Prepare our platform, we are going back now!" Vlad barked at the young servant as soon as he got close enough to their resting house, "Go and find everyone from our lands...and I mean every single one, tell them it's time to go home. The eastern tracks are to be taken."

"Sire?" the boy of the name Genes seemed genuinely frightened by the command. It was evident in his wide eyed surprise that he was rudely awaken from one of the naps he was prone to take whenever he could. Warlords like Vlad and his companions never slept when on a mission. To nap was to survive, to sleep was to die. Genes was no warrior.

"Now, boy!" Vlad yelled right into Genes hesitant face to make him pull his wits together. Not that it ever appeared to work.

"Sire!" Genes stuttered, "It will take at least two cycles to get everyone together at this time!" the youngster told his master before running as fast as if the winds could lift his scrawny body into the air towards the platforms of the eastern tracks.

Vlad was angered and saddened at the same time because the Red Axe King and The High Council had laughed his concerns off. He fully realized once again that it has already been foretold to occur exactly this way at this time. This old warrior tried to reason with himself, that maybe he should have stayed longer to hear more of the planned war schemes and maybe gain more safety for his tribe of the Seekinglanders.

Unfortunately, he knew, nothing could steer the Red Axe King from the course he had chosen to take. Vlad's tribe had to execute the Plan that had been crafted even before this King was born. The Seekinglanders lived and breathed the Oracle's words. Every news he was to bring back home this time was a bad news, but his tribe had to be warned as soon as possible.

Damn the Red Axe King and all his Axe tribes for just keeping the stolen land and mines that used to belong to the Sword Slave-Masters of old. It was nothing but a conceit to think that those lands had been a gift from the Fates all those Great Cycles ago. In truth they were nothing but a curse ever since. The foretold by the Oracle time had come to leave everything behind, especially those lands, as everything would be covered with blood soon...

Suddenly a new worry carried Vlad out of his old-age melancholy. A nagging thought had the power to break his focus. How could a Calling of a small party of half a dozen people together take two cycles or more?

Vlad's gut churned when he recalled that last dismissive leer the Red Axe King had shot at him. That was the moment when he turned to enter the Northern Case Cube House. He was afraid it might be too late already, so he opened the back door silently to disappear into the unlit entrance.

 

Genes was a fair and rather small boy for his age of eighteen Great Cycles of darkness. He ran as if the Sword slave hunters themselves were chasing after him. Clumsy, slow and out of breath. His journey through the ever-present night time became easier when he finally noticed the steel rail three-tracks that were melted firmly into the ground beneath his feet.

Genes followed the three-tracks railway right up to the point where their platform waited by the side tracks. He quickly arranged with the guarding sisters for it to be mounted as soon as possible if they were to follow Vlad's order to go back through the Great Gates by the Narrow Bridge via the eastern tracks.

After taking care of the first part of his task, Genes ran quickly to the Diner by the East to buy Mince-pies for the road. In their own lands, Seekinglanders never ate flesh, so the foreign rich taste intoxicated him more than Idle Juice ever would. He just had to get as many as he could for the way before leaving those weird lands within the Wall barrier.

After that Genes ran to the Station Cantine, hoping all of the Seekinglanders would be there. That hope was crushed by the reality the moment he opened the only beautifully intricate doors in the whole Axe territory. Trying to ignore the ever-present Idle Juice scent, he spotted only one familiar lone figure bent over a thick table filled with empty mugs and gaming marbles.

"Master Hunn, Master Hunn!" Genes couldn't hide both excitement and dread in his voice. It always happened when he was forced to talk with the Wicked One. His voice was still soft, like a drop of blood in the flowing water that is diluted before reaching its recipient. He lacked an adult voice capable of cutting though the noise. Music and loud chatter filled the Cantine more than the people.

Genes' words never breached Hunn's attention. There seemed to be no other way than to yank on the Wicked One's coat. Even during a good cycle, it wasn't such a great idea. Hands and fingers were known to be lost for lesser acts. Genes had no other option. He took his chance and pulled hard. He hoped it was hard enough for Hunn to feel the pressure on his arm. The problem was that the Wicked One had a hefty companion sitting and constantly stirring on his lap.

A massive and silky feathered Northerner Haxe bird was Hunn's most treasured possession. There was never a time they were separate. Well it wasn't quite a bird yet, more of a chick, yet its weight could already conquer Genes' still frail body.

The process of getting Hunn's attention took a lot of effort as he had almost finished a third mug of Idle Juice and Haze just started to cloud his senses anyway.

"Easy boy, easy! You could have startled me. You know that never ends too well. It's never a good start anyway," Hunn sighed and muttered unhappily, "I'm still out of control, and I'm already seventy Cycles of Darkness old," he whispered quietly, more to himself. Like he was unaware he actually said it out loud, "What brings you to me, boy?" Hunn tried to lighten his tone. He even smiled, absently petting his bird.

That smile was so unnatural in its sadness and so out of place that Genes frowned and cocked his head. He was too young to know the taste of it, but already knew the eye-clouding Haze of the Idle Juice that devoured all of the Seekinglanders men to the point of oblivion like a curse.

"Genes, master Hunn, my name is Genes." the boy sighed, annoyed that no one noticed him enough to know his name, couraged by the fact Hunn seemed hazy enough not to react badly to his insolence, "Sir, Vlad commanded the Return."

Genes tensed at the sudden and quite frightening change in Hunn's demeanor that happened in front of his eyes. The Wicked One straightened his posture, his eyes were sharp, suddenly void of the numbing Haze they bore just a few moments earlier.

"Has he now?" Hunn asked in a clipped voice.

"Yes master Hunn. We are to meet now and return home. All of us." Genes started to sound frantic. "Every single one of us."

"Calm down, boy. I know where to find The Two..." Hunn frowned absently, lost in his thoughts. He stood up from his chair, nesting the feathered creature close to his heart. "Ah, but the Duchess, what do we do about the Duchess?" he asked the heavens as he strode outside into the night full of brightly glowing stars.

Hunn turned into one of the unlit back ways. Genes tried to follow his stride, but again had to run to keep the pace.

"We have no other choice," The Wicked One sighed quietly, "It seems, we need to make a Summoning Call now if we are to gather and eave quickly. I know you have never done it before, and that you are still young in age, body, and mind, but it's the only way for everyone to get here as soon as possible. Do you agree?" Hunn bent and stared intently into boy's eyes, suddenly filled with excitement and eagerness.

Genes couldn't believe his own luck when he heard those words aimed at him.

"Master Hunn! I'm old enough by the Lore rules!" he tried to sound affronted, but his excitement made him giggle. Nothing could ever land a Seekinglander boy like him right on the way to maturity more, than this. Performing the making of the Summoning Call was reserved for the adults only. To have such a great first time Inductor was a highest honor. This Cycle was becoming the best Cycle of his entire life.

"You are so young, so you had no chance to learn about the ways of the Calling and we have no time to get you all settled up, hopefully what I tell you now will be enough,” Hunn quietly explained, “Two Summoners are able to make a Clear Call, for every Seekinglander native in the wide area to receive. Though three participants or more would be more effective. Luckily, this brutal castle is no home of ours so any Call, even a weak one, will be heeded closely. We all can feel the danger all around us ever since we have entered this land with Vlad." Hunn coughed and scratched his neck. "The ability to make and receive the Calling is regarded both as a craft and a gift reserved for our tribe only. It's attributed to a fallen God by some, and to the long lost Other Homeland Stronghold by others. We don't really know to be honest. We don't know how it happened that our vocal cords evolved into being able to carry out a specific pitch line that's imperceptible to others. Even we can't hear it, but we are able to receive this vibration and feel it deep within with our secondary inner heart of thymus gland that vibrates at certain intervals." Hunn coughed again taking cover in an unlit entryway. It was important not to draw any unwanted attention at that point. He bowed his head like in a prayer, and carried out the inaudible Calling Song.

Genes' excitement for Hunn to induce the right pitch could not be confined. Without Master Inductor to carry out the vibration, he would never find the right tone by himself. After a moment of hesitation, he followed the Wicked One's lead, with the happiness of a newfound home swirling up in his own chest. If his young inner core could sing in colors, it would have been pink and baby blue, not pure adult male colors yet. It didn't matter right then for he was glad he has finally found it, for the first time in his life.

His happiness froze momentarily when he realized that he was the only one singing. Hunn staggered and fell on his side, still gently enough to protect the Haxe bird in his arms from harm.

"Don't stop the Call now!" the Wicked One hissed through the haze of mind-erasing pain.

Genes tried so hard not to panic. He had to make the Call all on his own for only a few more moments, so he focused internally on checking if it was still right and tried to hold tears at the sight of the tiny pricks of blood marring Hunn's unnaturally relaxed body.

The Haxe bird never roused either, sleeping soundly. That was so eerily wrong, the Northerner birds were known for their ferocity and awareness at all times, even when just chicks, like this one.

The boy's attempts to move the giant weight forward failed. Dark shadows seeped in around getting closer than ever. Genes' fear could not be contained any longer. It devoured all of him.

 

2

 

Sleep refused to arrive for Bertan. Her mind was still speeding and over thinking every single detail of the past, unable to shut down. As the only spy of the Third Line to the Throne back home, she was carrying out the scouting mission of the inner Axe stronghold castle for the last three months.

There was no other way for her to be useful, for her own unbent nature to never take part in any conflict went straight against its rules of blood. That Blood-Spirit was trained and ingrained into every man, woman, and child of her Kingdom. Therefore, as useless as she was to her own kind, she had been sent away at an early age, to the Southern Daughters tribe, to learn something that could be of use someday. Not that they had ever had a use for spies in the past. Though, in the recent Great Cycles it was noted by those in power that the times and their neighbors changed wee too fast for the Royal Line House’ liking.

However, at the time she had chosen to learn espionage, it was still deemed a humiliating and lowly profession. To add a bit of urgency to the matter of her trade choice, it had been rather a choice between becoming a cowering, cowardly spy, or a quick beheading at her mother's hand. So, it wasn't really a choice at all, but a prolonged death sentence, stating, she might live just a bit longer to prove her usefulness.

The merciful Fates had it that her fierce mother had developed a soft heart for her weak daughter. The Fates had it too that Bertan was still quite young and literally smallest of her kind, so she could join and blend into the southern vagabond tribe unnoticed. Her small size was her biggest advantage, so that she even had the chance to learn the newfound trade of her redemption, but it never occurred to Bertan that it was any real choice for her.

The Southern Daughters tribe was made not of fighters or men. They never had to wear any protective armor, never had to strike any killing blow either. The ladies made cunning spies and liars instead. The legendary show-acting glorious artists of illusion shadowed the truth with their subtle beauty.

Bertan had been forced by the invisible Fates to follow and learn the tribe's ways for so many Great Cycles of darkness that she stopped counting. It appeared like the only way to survive and live through. The only truth she discovered while living with the southern tribe was that no yearning to go back home ever strung at her core, and the good day, was the one that bore no reminders of her native origins. And still, she wouldn't go as far as to admit finding happiness at the seemingly peaceful profession, or that she was closer of finding her purpose anywhere outside of her Kingdom.

By the last unbearable heat cycle of darkness an unfamiliar merchant of her kind had approached her to buy some of the services she offered. She was to source the information, supply the targeted drawings, and collect the general gossip mill from the inside of the Axe Inner Block. It's not like she could ever decline that offer while being blood-bound to her kind at birth, but being approached this way raised many red flags and questions in her mind. They have always gone directly for the kill with all of their might, and had never bothered with scouting any sort of information before. This change of strategy was alarming in a way that made her scared for the first time since she had left the Court.

Bertan nosed around the Inner Block for the last two weeks, blending within the Last Diner by the Eastern Tracks with her fiery twin team. By the Fates! One more friendly pat on her butt by the hazed Axe troops that stationed just by the Inner Block gates, and she might snap, cursing the day she let herself be bought for that assignment.

She got out of her sleeping bag on the floor and nervously paced to the window. The floorboards squeaked mercilessly causing the Great Matron to peek into the room.

"Can't sleep, eh? Would you take the next shift in the Cantine on the Inner Block instead of pacing and destroying still good floorboards? Eh?" The aged Matron smiled sincerely. "I know you are always in need of the money dear, this lazy family of yours must put a great strain on you."

She had undoubtedly meant the two partners Bertan arrived with. For their unforgettable beauty, they had to work deeper within the shadows, not to be noticed and remembered by anyone, unlike her. Bertan had no beauty on her side, but that meant she had the gift of blending herself into any circumstances. No man would ever remember her much. No woman would ever look at her twice, that is, unless she wanted them to.

"Yes, M'Lady. I can't seem to sleep when the castle lights are blinking constantly. They are so bright, and I'm still new here," Bertan quickly admitted, expressing just the right amount of embarrassment, careful not to overplay it.

"No worries my child. It's normal for the foreigners to need a longer time in adjusting. Maybe it could be profitable for you too" older woman chuckled, "The High Council still has a meeting in the highest block, they always have a coin or a gem to spare," the Matron looked at Bertan expectantly.

"Really M'Lady? Maybe I could persuade my sisters to come with me. They could at least try to help me," Bertan looked pleadingly into the older woman's eyes, searching for the permission she badly needed that night.

"But of course!" Old Matron was obviously pleased with the way she was able to talk this girl into an extra shift. More so, she would even have three maids up in the Inner Block, where in truth, not one really shed a coin unless it was to buy flesh, which she was pretty sure, the younglings would never agree to. Maybe life has just started to be tough on the three sisters. They still had this aura of being fresh, truthful, and pure. Not many maids of the Inner Block could claim that if any at all.

"Here you go, child," the Matron gave Bertan three pass-coins into the Inner Block, "Have a good duty-shift."

"Thank you, Matron," Bertan quickly curtsied, quickly readjusted her clothing and ran towards the shed her partners stayed.

 

"Get up ladies, we are officially going to the Inner Block!" she whispered sharply.

"No way sister, how did that even happen?" the quick and sharp beast of beauty that went by the name Si'Waters asked.

"No time to tell, we are going to the inner Cantine for a shift. Matron was way too gleeful to get us there, so something must be up." Bertan muttered quietly. Everything in the area seemed to be on a watch-duty. It was unnerving enough for her to be on the highest alert for both: the inner and outer warnings. "Something is wrong tonight."

Si'Waters smiled at the change that hanged over their heads. Bertan noticed how the mind-numbing boredom of the inner Axe territories tortured her fiery almost-friend. Secrets and excitement were present here as in any other place, but the all-consuming, and ever present notion of a clouding apathy almost made Si'Waters slip into the madness. She most certainly would have, wasn't it for the presence of her already lost to the darkness twin sister that had already challenged every sane mind.

"Aye sister, I feel it too," Gi'Waters muttered, stopped herself midway, and gave Bertan well-practiced theatrical hug, "I love you sister!" she said loudly and overly cheerful.

"Yes! And the men there are said to shed coin quickly!" Bertan played along the lines of a maid excited for the profitable night it seemed. The night was full of watchful eyes and ears filled with evil intents. Hopefully none was aware of their mission there at that moment, and that was their only real concern. There were certain ways to deal with everything and everyone else.

It was almost too easy to get through the gates into the Inner Block. The guard scanned the coins absently, more intent on the revealing robes the sisters had chosen to wear. It's always safer to have your cleavages ogled than your face if you are on your undercover-duty-shift. The Inner Cantine was three flights of stairs above the gates. The closer they got there, the denser the air seemed, almost unbreathable.

"Whoever and whatever is the target today, it's right there in the Cantine," Bertan whispered quite bemused, "The Old Matron isn't as stupid as we thought. We are the acceptable victims if anything goes wrong tonight."

"This is going to be so much fun sisters." Si'Water could hardly contain her excitement, "I really have to tell you that Berts, had we known how boring the Axeland is, how the dream catching would bring us only wisps of peace. We would have given much more thought to this whole venture before we accepted this job."

"Oh, come on, Si, shut up!" Gi'Waters muttered, "As the youngest pair of twins we had to leave the south anyway, having been paid for that as well is a big bonus obviously. We are really grateful for the chance you offered us Berts," she offered explanations, "I'm sorry for her."

"No worries," Bertan chuckled, "We all have crazy family members."

"I'm not crazy!" Si'Waters hissed

"Not that crazy," Gi'Waters muttered quietly.

"Don't be so certain of that," Bertan said as they neared the intricate Cantine's doors, "Every family has loads of skeletons on their shelves… And I really love those doors," she finished in her high-pitched squeaky maid voice.

 

The moment they entered the Cantine filled with loud music and chatter all of Si'Waters' attention focused intently on a big figure cradling a Northerner Haxe bird. She tied her maid's bonnet low on her forehead to cover her eyes and started to play the game of a common Cantine maid. She communicated with Bertan though her body language that she felt this hunched man was the focus of the troubles that were to arrive soon.

It was Hunn, the Wicked One. He was of the legends that spread like smoke, nothing tangible and yet there. Many stories about him that passed throughout the Axe territories and beyond among the common folk attributed him with a violence and temper hotter than the rivers of fire.

Bertan spotted a shy and scrawny boy when he first entered the Cantine, looking a bit frightened and so out of place only a pure youngling can appear. There was something about that boy that made her feel uneasy. She watched him cautiously approach the Wicked One. Her mind turned off the incoming sounds completely at that point. Without sounds, her senses became sharper and quicker. She was able to notice the subtle details of their conversation and it was suddenly clear to her that the night's unseen focus flow also closely watched that conversation.

Bertan left the Cantine when the ones she watched looked like they were going to leave. Hidden in plain sight outside the Cantine, she pretended to maneuver new kegs filled with the Idle Juice. She saw that they went in the direction of the Eastern Gates and she followed them unnoticed. Bertan caught a sight of Si'Waters following them too, unseen in the ever-darkness devouring this land at all times, hiding among the rooftops up in the air.

"Do you think they will cross the Gates?" Gi'Waters asked unexpectedly. Bertan almost jumped out of her skin, as she did not notice Gi until the very moment the fiery twin spoke to her.

"No. They won't get the chance to reach the second staircase." Bertan tried look unaffected and sound quite composed.

"Do we care? We are only on a scouting mission anyway." Gi'Waters sneered.

"Well, your twin obviously cares up there, so maybe we could help her and let the Fates decide..." At that moment Betan stumbled and fell. An unknown vibration started to swell deep in her chest with the urgent need to go back home. Home… home… what home?

"Gods, what's wrong with you Bert's? At that pace, we will never get to them in time." Gi'Waters was furious at the stumble, by any means unprofessional. While Bertan's thoughts raced as the vibration softened. The Call Home… What Home? Sudden apprehension startled her with the unexpected but ultimate truth. It was an ancient Anaerthers Home Call, forsaken eons ago. She had no idea it was still in use. Why would she be able to receive it while being a blood born Sword suddenly became the question of the utmost importance.

Those fleeting but precious moments of stumble were the ones they had lost in time. Bertan and Gi'Waters approached the two figures carefully. The Wicked One was lifelessly lying on the ground already, and the boy tried to keep himself together. Almost tangible fear waves that he emitted foretold the nearing panic-attack. The other twin was still in the shadows, watching for the intruders.

"I'll take the boy out of here. You both keep an eye on the Wicked One and blend into this Castle as if it is your skin," Bertan whispered quickly while they clung to the opened gates, "The times of Madness are coming here soon. You can feel it as well as I do."

"Yes, we do. The evil can be almost smelled in this putrid air," Gi'Waters answered surprising Bertan with that observation.

"Remember your Fates and keep yourself safe. Find all the secrets here to find."

"We do remember that… Always." Gi'Waters scoffed. "Are you really leaving us now?"

"I think so. I doubt there is much else to learn about this place." Bertan frowned at the overwhelming feeling of the urgency unknown to her before. She nodded at her partner and stumbled yet again as she continued to walk towards the boy.

 

Si'Waters stood high and tall as if glued to the window's ledge. She watched Hunn just as he was hit with two silver darts that reached him from a second-floor window on the opposite side. She had seen those darts fly and hatch into his body and admired how he let nobody take notice of how it had to affect him.

She looked around, sharp in her vision, noting no one took an interest in the occurrences below. Nothing hid in the darkness. No one seemed to be watching anymore. Whatever those darts contained had been made to make the attacker sure of the Wicked One's quick and permanent incapacitation.

Si’Waters watched as partners hid in the shaded entry to discuss something and separate after few moments. She had to admit that inaction was the only right thing to do at the moment. Her twin motioned towards her to stay and observe and turned to go back to the Cantine they worked this duty-shift. Si'Waters relaxed into the wall behind her back to focus on the breathing of the male she always wanted to follow into her Fates ever since she heard the first story about him.

 

 

3

 

The Red Axe King's Castle was one of a kind peculiar structure, for it really wasn't a noble palace at all. The Inner Block was the only entrance into the Great Mines. The ultimate prize claimed by the Axes two eons before.

For the Sword Slave Masters, its previous owners, it was just a mine block on the outskirts of their kingdom. Their own cities were vast, beautiful, and highly populated with cruel and noble people, who would never demean themselves with the work of digging for anything. Not even for the treasures hidden deep beneath the surface. Their slaves had the honor of working instead.

The mines used to be on the outskirts of the known world back then. Forever bathed in darkness, the sky above turning in circles. It was the Axes duty to mine. They used to be the mad slaves of the underworld. Mad at the lack of light. Mad of their slavery. Mad of their strength.

The Fate-sent Storm of Skyfire had heavily licked the ground two thousand Great Cycles before. A great fire engulfed the Great Mine, scorched Inner Block. Even though it was closely guarded on the surface, it could not escape the Fates.

The biggest and fiercest of the Sword warriors and the latest defense machines were all gone in one eye-blink. The vastly developed transportation of the three-tracks rail system withstood the heat, though it melted deeply into the surface crust.

Only the Wall suffered the least, it encircled and imprisoned the vast area containing all of the twenty-seven Sword mines, even though only the Great Mine really mattered. The most important barrier guarding the valuable territories. The tallest structure ever created, made of a single and slightly curved piece of a mirroring glass. There was no way to cross it through the surface after the heat fused the only Gates with the rest of its structure.

No one on the surface within the Outer Wall and miles beyond had survived the Fate-sent fiery storm. Even though the Inner Block itself was made with iron ore and Tarn stones that even the inner mantle core couldn't melt, no living creature could withstand the heat and power of the sky-born fire.

The former Sword Slave Masters had been turned into the dust in a matter of few moments by order of the lucky Fates. The axe prey became The Axe, prey no more, the Swords slaves no more.

Throughout the ages, the Axe Kingdom developed and progressed into a highly populated, rich area. They managed to grow outside of the Wall, with many foreigners eager to settle and to live happily in a land free of taxes and any real nobility.

Vlad knew the real price of that prosperity, hidden in the depths of the Inner Block Vault's that used to be full of the stolen Sword property. If no one kept digging at the Core, then stones and metals accessible on the higher tiers would never be enough to support the costs of war Vlad saw boiling in the Red Axe King's eyes.

For the last two eons, Axes themselves had not been able to delve and mine for the priciest of metals and stones as deep as Seekinglanders had done before. Gold and diamonds were easily accessible, but the real treasures were hidden much closer to the Core.

The tribe of Seekinglanders used to be the lowest of the low, delving hungrily deep into the lowest tiers of the Great Mine. Bred and born underground, next to the Core. Before they emerged into the freedom of the surface, they were called Anaerthers- inner ground dwellers- the name they swore to forget, yet it was impossible to escape the past.

Vlad's forefather's promise to never visit the Core again turned from sweet to sour, a truth hard to bear. Once again, what they thought a freedom, a gift from the Skies they have never seen before, turned into painful poison for their own cores.

The old Seekinglander had been feeling the presence of the nearby hunters for the last few Cycles. Cold calculation in the King's eyes still made him reeling with fearless fury. No land would be safe for Seekinglanders ever again until the coming war finished. It's just that by the words of the Oracle and the signs it foreseen, of the things to come, this war was destined to end their world as a whole. That was his biggest worry.

 

"Greetings, Kyre of Nyan. We need to talk." Vlad murmured to the shadow he felt sneaking by the sidewall of the darkened house he entered a while ago. The shaded man sped up silently to reveal himself as a Seekinglander. It was clearly noticeable in the way he groomed his untamed hair into a braid that reached way beyond his knees. Kyre bore the height, stockiness and light coloring predominant in their tribe. He walked beside Vlad in silence while they kept on descending the unused stone steps.

"I heard one of your boys sent out our platform to the Eastern Gates. It's time, isn't it?" his question was somber with tension.

"I think the time has come. Sword activity is on the rise according to the villagers outside the Wall. The Vault is apparently almost empty, and the War is still being planned..." Vlad stopped and staggered when he heard the Call, totally unprepared. "What the damned?" He felt the familiar vibration deep within his chest that became very weak way too soon.

"The Call is too short, too uncontrolled." Kyre frowned worriedly."It's almost childlike."

"You know what that means," Vlad said grimly. "For all that was foretold, the Hunting has just begun."

"You cannot be sure of that by this one lonely incident only, Vlad," Kyre tried to ease the Older Warrior but sped up even more to follow Vlad who wanted to reach the First Tier below even faster.

"We need to get to the Melting Place before we decide on the other steps to follow." Vlad explained the reason for his exceptional hurry. "There might be no other way to leave the Inner Wall territories."

"What are we going to do about our people left on the surface Inner Block?" Kyre asked immediately, "The tunnels were to be the last way out of here to take."

"We don't have any options left anymore," Vlad had made up his mind, "We pray Kyre. We pray they don't let themselves get caught." He felt there was no time to spare for a longer and unproductive chat anymore. Old Vlad was known as a man of few words in his world because he realized that words never fix things the same way actions do. Especially, when taking into consideration all of the things that had already been foretold by the Oracle.

The stone stairway they took seemed to have no end. Faint orange glow of the Melting Place deep below seemed utterly out of their reach. Both of the men doubled their efforts and broke into a run. Every passing moment, every stumble brought them closer to being too late again.

 

Kyre, the lightning runner was the light on his feet. He could not find any flaw in Vlad's plan, no matter how much he tried. It was perfect to the t, accepted by their elders, thought on carefully from every angle.

The Plan was for the Tribe to delve into the Mines and their First Homeland once more unnoticed by others, to wait out the coming War and the Hunting. The Oracle's words were explicit on the subject of their survival too, so they had been carefully taken into the account during the planning process.

And still, unexplainable shadow of doubt was nagging in Kyre's mind constantly ever since they entered the Inner Wall Axe territories. Something seemed to be off in a way that he could not just ignore. He was debating in his mind during their descent, whether it was the plan itself that irritated his nerve bundles so much or the sudden change of circumstances in the weakness of the Call they had just witnessed, or maybe something yet imperceptible to his senses, unthought-of earlier. He didn't know.

His feet never wavered in their flight into the Melting Place of old, until the final and clear decision eased into his mind. Kyre could not and would not, accompany Vlad any further. Luckily, they were already nearing the first sub-tier platform at that moment.

"Vlad…" he started as his feet touched the metal surface of the platform flooring, "I think I cannot join you in this quest."

"Are you sure Kyre? Our Tribe needs to be warned, the whole Plan needs to be fulfilled, while I may fail on my way, the larger company is an assurance somebody would get home.," Vlad started to stutter looking at Kyre, the only man of his tribe he knew was still alive. "We still don't know how are things down there… we don't know which passages are still in use… if any of them are used at all."

"I know it all too, I was there with the Elders when the Plan was created. But let's face it now, please Vlad, the plan has already started to crumble. The Hunting wasn't supposed to start now at all. Things are shifting into the zone where we are blind and without any of the Oracle's guidance. Something nags at my core, I don't know what it is, but I cannot ignore that feeling," Kyre frowned, disliking how upset the old warrior has become with his decision, "Considering all that has been happening I think you would be safer alone. They won't search for a solitary traveler now. Besides, we will all follow Home, even if it only means to assess everyone's safety."

"Maybe you are right Kyre, as always. It troubles me to leave all of you here. Once we separate, it will be impossible to unite again. You could be completely locked out," Vlad slowly ceased to argue.

"That's the plan Vlad, but you see that plan isn't working perfectly anymore, and it's only the beginning. There must be something we have been missing in all this. The only way to fix our position is to forgo the Plan and follow our Fates." Kyre wanted to end this conversation already. His core urged him insistently and forcefully to go up to the surface immediately.

"Impossible!" Vlad almost yelled, "It's all been passed on for generations. Not one prophecy went unfulfilled. Not one plan went haywire in the Seekinglanders history, Kyre. We are already on the lookout for the three-tracks to appear on the Wall. Once it happens, the whole Tribe comes back here. We cannot leave them unprepared. It's the reason so many of us got inside that damned Walls after all this time in the first place."

"And yet still, this time is different, I feel it, I can almost taste the change in the air. Have my blessings for the journey brother," Kyre said gently noticing the distress he was causing, "If you use the elevator chains now, you will be ahead of all our plans," he noted quite surprised how easily the changes came when one accepts their guidelines.

"Yes, I've been thinking about it too. It seems that the first core-to-surface platform has been untouched," Vlad said after he calmed down. He neared the chains that seemed to fill a tube connecting the surface with the Melting Place miles below. "You could have a use of the upward movement too." His smile too sad and distressed to be honest.

They wasted no more words then. After a brief embrace each found and firmly caught correct chain. Finding the brackets for the feet was a bit more complicated, but manageable.

It was just a blink of an eye right there and they separated. Vlad rushed downwards with a speed of a dropped stone while Kyre rode upwards for the surface matching Vlad's speed. Kyre's heart became lighter and lighter with each and every interval he passed on the way up.

What he did not fully think through as it was still unbeknownst to him, was the fact, that he would finish his ride in what currently was the Red Axe King throne room, and he would not do it quietly.

Kyre found himself in a deep, deep trouble once he reached the end of his ride. He had no way of knowing that the end-stop of his chain-motored journey would be in the Throne room. He had even fewer chances to imagine that the exact point of entry was the throne itself.

Back in the old ages of previous Sword owners, only the Commanders of the Mine were aware of that route. Even then it was rarely used. It was more of a way into the lowest levels of The Great Mine and the most precious treasures it held in its belly, rather than a way out, designed only for the time of urgency and trouble. More comfortable ways were available at the time for the Swords anyway.

What was used as an Axe Throne, had in reality been constructed as a giant trapdoor in the floor surrounded by the silent machinery that controlled the cords. It had the look of a giant immovable chair. The only upgrade made by the Axes was to position few small steps by it and cover the obviously hideous metal surface. Eons passed and the machinery still worked well, but understandably it worked awfully loud, creaked and stuttered.

Kyre froze in shock the moment he opened the door that appeared in front of him when his ride ended. He realized quickly where arrived and that it was not a quiet journey. A subtle noise of many marching, shuffling, heavy feet nearby revealed to him that he was a prey now. Unable to fix the position he had suddenly found himself at, Kyre locked the narrow doors again. He knew straight away that there was no other way than to wait for the troubles to go away in this imprisoning and tight cubicle. So he waited to follow his Fates into the unknown, for the first time, future. The Oracle's words didn't apply to the world anymore

 

4

 

Bertan approached carefully the boy sitting next to the Wicked One who looked like he was dead, though still breathing. There was no way she could save both of them. She put the Idle Juice Keg she carried on the stone ground and kneeled down to face the petrified boy.

"Boy, what are you doing here alone in the middle of the night? You sure haven't lost your way?" she said tentatively, and yet still cheerily like the real maid would have said.

Her core urged her to take his hand and lead him straight for the Eastern Gates. He didn't object in any way, closed off and almost dead from fear in his mind. Like a puppet he followed her lead.

"I must talk with the Great Matron of the Cantine, maybe you need a job, boy?" her voice traveled far, they walked steadily.

Bertan analyzed the fact that he looked like he was part mesmerized and part drunk so she drenched his clothes with the Idle Juice out of the keg she was still carrying and draped his hands around her so he would appear totally hazed to the Axe world. The unseen watchfulness could be felt behind her back, but thankfully, it seemed to be focused on something else then.

When they reached the Gates, Bertan noted with amusement that all the guards seemed so much more aware than they were earlier, though the only thing they seemed to notice about her was, again, her cleavage. Even the boy glued to her side was not much of a concern.

"Good Night Warriors," Bertan greeted them cheerfully in a high-pitched chatter, "We both seem on duty-shifts tonight," she smiled dazedly, "And I have to bring this heavy keg to the Diner. Would you mind help me some? I can't drink any more Juice tonight without being fired by the Matron," she giggled and batted her eyelashes at the willing guards.

"Aye, if it's just a sip then, we can be of help Fair Lady," the guards leered at her, took the keg out of her hand, opened it and each of them took a few swallows.

"Thank you for your help, handsome Warriors. Please be sure to visit me by the Diner when you get off your shift, eh?" her voice trailed not so subtly.

"Aye," they cheered.

She could hear them arguing about their coins for a few more moments behind her as she and the boy slowly left the Inner Block.

They were safe, safe for the moment. At once Bertan went off the main road and turned north. She let herself pause and try to wake the boy from his dazed and unconscious state that took away his mind. It took all of her determination not to beat him into a pulp, but he remained the most unresponsive.

"Come on, you have to wake up!" she pleaded urgently, "Please wake up, or we are going to die here tonight," No effect, Bertan knew he would have to be carried for the time being, but she noted with great relief that he wasn't much of a burden when she'd strapped him to her back and broke into the full run. There was no plan in her head yet, but to run north. She was praying for the long lost Gods to be favorable, so they might just make it unharmed.

The biggest advantage and disadvantage of the Axeland was that it was almost impossible to get in or out unless by air if you were to avoid the heavily guarded elevators and staircases built by and over the Wall. The art of air-travel was the Swords' most guarded secret. The Axes were not able to recreate in any way that long lost secret, but they did not waste the ancient three-track railways that had deeply melted into the ground with the heat of the Skyfire Storm, a technology that they stole with the lands from the Sword Slave Masters of Old. It still worked, fueled by the heat off the Great Mine that the Axes knew how to make use of. The railway had been built to transport the goods and people throughout the territories up to the Wall and it stayed that way under the Axe reign.

Bertan had to reach that railway in time for the next platform to be mounted on the northern tracks. It would be the only way to board it safely and unseen. She couldn't explain the overwhelmingly nagging urgency that raced through her body and mind. She ran as if the Skyfire was chasing her, distrustful to her inner knowledge that she wasn't followed, she ran with the boy strapped to her back as if he was no burden at all.

All through her life, she had thought she had been gifted with strength and speed unsuitable for her tiny, as for a Sword, female body for no apparent reason. Just an accident of the Fates… until she received the ancient Call of the Anaerthers, it changed everything. One single vibration at her core had no right to be received by her the way it was for the Swords were just a different kind.

Her mind frantically reviewed all of the information it possessed about Anaerthers. What surprised her the most, wasn't the fact that she received their Call, but that it happened on the surface. They were supposed to live deeply underground, close to the Core. It was even speculated that they had the ability to talk to the Core itself. But how could any of them survive on the surface, where the pressure was so different to what they're adjusted to? Nothing made sense anymore.

Her mind was slowly detaching from her body as she was running. First, she reveled in a moment of pure thoughtlessness that was closely followed by her mind taking its own course. It felt as if two separate beings were acting inside of her. The last wisp of connection that linked her with the barriers of reality dissolved in one quick moment of clarity. Suddenly it became so obvious for Bertan, that the only thing that kept her from reaching the fullest potential was the belief she had already reached it. After that revelation every doubt was cast aside. It was the time to reassess her true limits and origins. But first, no matter how much she hated that idea, it was time to go back home and talk with her Mother.

 

Bertan chose the northern tracks for their escape, because they were the closest of the three other tracks that had the platforms moving almost continuously towards the Wall and the only ones in line with the prevailing southern winds. It was imperative for them to board a platform riding the northern tracks to avoid highly secured Wall elevators. She could not afford to be noticed, especially not with the Anaerthan boy she carried on her back.

Bertan quickly assessed the situation to create a new plan, it took a bit of precious time that she didn't have. Thanks to the time spent with the Southern Daughters, every plan she has made was to be updated as much as the situation required. It couldn't be even be called planning anymore, like smoke trails can't be touched without changing its whole structure.

It took almost no time for her to realize that the only safe way out was to climb the Tower-Bridges that fueled the three-tracks railway. Those towers were made of the iron-cold resistant structure and looked like funny and playful Giants sitting astride the tracks. The problem was that they were also brightly lit on the outside, too brightly for them to remain unnoticed. Luckily enough, soon she thanked her Fates when she found a narrow crack within their structure that would allow them to climb to the top from the inside rather than through the outer staircase. It was too rugged and uneven to be planned by the Tower's builders. Unfortunately, it was also too slim for her to squeeze into with the kind of luggage she was carrying.

Bertan unstrapped the boy from her back and carefully laid him down on the ground, next to the opening she just found. She slapped his face with deliberation, quite a few times, in hopes of waking him up from the hazed panic he was going through. Much to her dissatisfaction, deep reverberating groan was the only reaction she could induce. Weird and alien thought danced on the fringe of her mind, seemingly, it didn’t belong to her. She followed that thought, only half-aware of her actions, covering his mouth with her hand and deliberately blowing air -with a great force- right into his nose.

The boy momentarily started to struggle. All of his awareness was back in one short moment. All of his fears and anxiety fed strength into his feeble body. Bertan never lost control over his body during his outburst for she didn't dare to release her hand that confined his screams.

"Shh, quiet, boy," she hissed, "We need to be quiet to be able to leave this territory. Do you understand?" she waited for his nod. His struggles slowly weakened. "I need your full cooperation for our escape to succeed. Do you agree?" she continued and noted his nod again. "Or do you want to go back to Inner Block to your friend?" That question got him thinking longer and Bertan was pleased to see that as it meant he was overcoming his fear with logic. Hesitation cleared his eyes. She took her hands off him completely then.

"I don't know," he muttered after a short moment, "What are my other options anyway?"

"I don't know what awaits you here, boy," she frowned disliking her need for honesty with this random boy.

"Genes, my name is Genes," he said exasperated.

"Bertan, my name is Bertan," she smiled at him, "What is your decision Genes?"

"Is there any plan?" he asked hesitantly.

"Usually, there is one." Bertan snorted. "Not necessarily a good one… you get what I'm saying?"

"Basically yes, that you do have a plan."He looked at her suspiciously.

"Yes," she nodded absently already looking around.

"It doesn’t look like I'm having any other, better option anyway." Genes muttered trying not to sound too hopeful.

"No, you don't. It's or only chance at the moment." Bertan quickly entered the narrow opening and started to climb. "Follow me,"

The boy was quick to follow her. Both were light in their moves, graced with uncanny agility and strength. In a blink of an eye, they reached the upper tower deck, getting there just in time, to witness one of the waiting platforms being mounted on the main track.

"Now we jump," Bertan told the bewildered youngling. With no time to spare to wait for his answer, she hooked her arms tightly around his waist and dragged him down before he had any chance to argue.

A heavy thud announced their arrival onto the already slowly moving platform unit that started its ride along the three-tracks. Bertan quickly regained her composure. She took her outer maid clothing off, revealing a black and stiff body suit beneath that clung to her body like a second skin. Then she got out of a barely visible backpack draped around her body, looking rather like a vest. It was the crucial element to the success of their escape. Unbinding the unassuming pack took only a short while.

"Why do we need arrows?" Genes asked. He was watching in fascination as she was uncovering the elements the pack contained.

"Those are not arrows, boy," Bertan scoffed, "Look, learn and follow, if you are able to."

"Genes. My name is Genes," he whispered to the winds in exasperation.

"What?" Bertan asked confused. She was distracted with the task at hand, so she wasn’t even sure he said anything.

"Nevermind," Genes coughed out the answer.

 

Having settled that, Bertan wasted no more time for any talking. Arm length thin tubes were quickly separated and divided into four groups. Each had the plug and a socket on the counter sides that tightly fit together. One long, thin, yet sturdy and unbending pole was swiftly created. After a few moments of watching Bertan and what she was doing, Genes started to assemble the second pile of sticks into a similar, but a slightly shorter pole. By the time he was finished, Bertan had managed to assemble two more items. Only then he noticed that two small globes lying on the floor connected the two longer tubes.

The fabric that formed an illusion of a backpack turned out to be almost infinite amount of a very thin, almost see-though and silky fabric that was quickly clasped to the frame they had created.

"It's a kite!" Genes exclaimed, "I can't believe my eyes! I heard about them only in legends." he watched how fast Bertan worked to bind the ropes to the frame, her hands were so fast they seemed to blur at times. It was almost ready. "The legends of the slave hunters of old," he muttered uneasily at the thought.

"We need to wait for the next fueling tower to put it in the right direction. We have to be quick about it for the speed will make the distance between the two towers seem really short," Bertan ignored the subject of slavery.

"Is it going to support both of us?" Genes asked worriedly, "It looks a little too frail to be of any use for both of us."

"Of course it will support both of us! It's designed for an armored Sword male who is usually much bigger than me. Both of us won't even make half of that weight together," Bertan answered cheerfully, "But as you have no idea what to do, I need to bind you to the main frame first," she said and hooked the rope underneath his arms and legs before securing it tightly to the frame.

"Be sure to do exactly nothing," she yelled loud enough to be heard over the swishing noise the platform and wind produced, "Keep as still as possible and let me work the ropes, even if you want to try to help me, just don't. Do you understand?" she looked deeply into his eyes, "Just do everything I ask you to exactly as I say it. Don't help me in any other way unless I tell you to, or we both perish here today, are we clear?"

"Yes, Ma'am." Genes was too overwhelmed to be scared at this point. What was there to be afraid of once you were tied to something that might or might not fly?

The platform kept on speeding to its full speed. They waited for the next fueling tower to appear in the distance. Bertan kept on checking each link and joint. When the fueling tower passed above them, momentarily she aligned and positioned the kite with Genes tied the longest and least flexible part of the frame.

"Hold onto the frame and get onto my shoulders" she commanded kneeling in front of the boy. Genes obediently took his position, and she stood up. It took all of her strength to elevate the kite higher and higher, but the time was still not on their side. Winds were not on their side either. Bertan got nervous, knowing she should already feel the tension in some of the ropes that should be caused by the kite starting to take its flight, but everything still felt disturbingly lax.

She had to work it up even higher somehow to where winds were stronger and pray. Truthfully, she didn't plan this part of her journey with any additional weight. A few fearful moments of panic later, she felt the weight on her shoulders gradually reduce, but the main tension rope she held was still lax.

With a sudden apprehension, Bertan realized her grave mistake and worked as fast as she could to attach herself to the end of the frame she was holding. She bound the rope she held to the platform. Mustering all of her strength she thought she could possess, focused and prayed for a good fortune, she took the biggest leap of her life.

By the merciful Gods it worked, the last piece of rope became taut too. The kite soared up into the air, pulled by the platform at its top speed. The time to act was of the essence when it was clear that this tension was constant. She had to pull her body up as quick and stable as she could to position herself directly below the boy and link herself both to the frame and to his binds. She broke and cut the piece below her with its remaining rope off the main frame.

They soared even higher for they finally caught southern winds to propel and accelerate their kite even more. But still, it was still not high enough to cross that damn Wall. All she had left was the hope that the few cycles they still had would help them gain speed and height they needed. The good news was that once wind brought you up, it would never let you go down without a fight.

 

"Where are we going?" Genes asked. He couldn’t really accept fact that he was flying. It felt both unnatural and exhilarating, and he could not decide in his bewilderment if it was a good idea to believe that he was still sanely awake.

"North," her answer was short and concise.

"Where north exactly?" his curiosity just got awakened.

"Far, far north from here," Bertan already displayed marks of a great annoyance.

"Why, then?" Genes wasn't about to let go. It was maybe one thing that kept him from staring to get into his panic mode at the thought that they had to get to the ground somehow too.

"We are going to meet the Mother," she answered through her gritted teeth.

"Why are we meeting your mother?" Genes felt incredulous, "We need to reach my tribe with a warning first!"

"No, I need to squeeze some answers out of the Mother, and then and only then you can go to join your tribe," Bertan said stiffly in a don't-you-dare-to-argue-about-it tone of voice.

"Fine," he huffed.

"Sure, it's not like you are having any other choice now," she answered.

"I know, but I don't have to like it," Genes was almost at the ready to throw a tantrum, was it not for the fact he was apparently flying, for the first time in his life, tied to a structure he knew nothing about, with a fully overgrown woman he was a bit afraid of.

"Obviously," she commented rolling her eyes in the darkness, so he wouldn’t notice anyway, and silence blessed them from then on, marred only by the loud and ungraceful way Genes ate his mince-pies.

 

5

The Inner Block of the Axe castle had a pretty utilitarian style and wasn'tconstructed with any grandeur aesthetics in mind. Without unnecessary adornments, it was void of beauty, free of perilous shades. Made of Iron Ore and Tarn Stone to last through a hellfire. It was built for the one purpose only, to protect the mines below, and to provide the only one way in and out for its previous Sword owners.

That single fact was a source of bottomless loathing in the heart and mind of the Red Axe King as he heavily entered the throne room after the High Council had finally ceased its proceedings following Vlad's grand exit.

A large ceiling-less space served as a reminder of the way the Swords had traveled here, all those Great Cycles ago. They had been descending silently from the night sky in the apparatuses the illiterate and nameless slaves had no chance of understanding all the less recreating.

Back then, when the ground was still scorching red, the thousands of the Axe ancestors would have starved to death, was it not for the Anaerthers rebel. Not many people remembered the uneasy truth that Anaerthers were not the slaves like the Axes had been. They hadn't been forced to dwell deep beneath the ground, for that was their First Homeland. The unexplainable mutiny led for some of Anaerthers to become Seekinglanders and leave to the lands beyond the Wall. Bound to no land, bound to no Leader and bound to no destiny, or so they thought Their bodies kept a different composition back then, their tools were more advanced, and they had no troubles getting through the Wall to establish the first exchange points for food and preciousness.

The Axes owed them everything. The Red Axe King loathed that fact too, that Axes owed the Seekinglanders their existence.

"Da?" a soft voice brought the King back to the reality around him.

"Lar, my precious gem," everything in his mind was suddenly forgotten, "You shouldn't have been waiting for me this long." He dropped to his knees to embrace and lift his little girl off the floor.

"I know, I just couldn't sleep," a young and light child confessed sleepily in his arms. "I can't sleep, it's so dark there."

"Where is it dark my little gem? You have lights in your rooms, it can't be that dark" The Red Axe King tried to reassure her and bring some peace into her obviously troubled mind.

"It's dark in my sleep, it's so dark da. I don't want any Great War, it will bring only more darkness everywhere. I'm so sacred, da." she murmured tirelessly.

"Lar. My only daughter, please don't be afraid, I will protect you with all of my might, all of my soldiers. Everyone's job here is to protect you, for I am the mightiest man there is, and I'm your father, Lar," he tried to ease her fears, remembering his own childhood nightmares, how they used to eat at him at each sleep-time. Funny now, how it all stopped exactly at the time he thought for the first time of the coming war early in his teens. With his first plans and preparations came the ease of mind. "Is there any thought that makes you calm Lar? Is there anything that brings happiness to your mind and eases the fear?" he asked recalling his own solution all those Great Cycles ago.

He cradled her absently. A barely audible swishing, grinding and clinging sound gained in its power to become loud enough to attract his attention. He looked around to see where that sound could originate.

"Da, is something wrong?" Lar noticed her father's absentmindedness when she was speaking earlier.

It was as if he had not even heard her talking. The King still would not answer her inquiring question when he realized that the only place the sound could come from was underneath the stone floor. He had been sure that all of the Great Mine exits into the throne room had been sealed off ages ago. It was a common knowledge after all.

He clutched his daughter closer and drew out his weapon unthinkingly. The Red Axe king let his senses guide him out of the Throne Room to protect his little gem. He motioned the guards in silence to seal off the throne room, and they were quick to pick up on the urgency in his expression.

"Nothing is wrong, my preciousness. It's just so late we all need to get our nap-time." He lied smoothly when he finally reached her small room and put her to bed with a kiss, few snuggles, and a short story of happiness.

The Red Axe king left his precious daughter's room as s different man, a fearless leader and a vicious killer to anyone and anything that endangered his only family. Quick and quiet in his steps, he joined his guards waiting for him readily outside the Throne chamber.

"There has been an intrusion." he declared to the surprised men.

 

When Lar was finally alone, she gave some thought to the question her da asked her before. What was the thing that brought her into the full light? She couldn’t think of even one thing, and surely she could not go to sleep now. Not when she knew some troubles were brewing just outside her locked door. For her nothing could be more dangerous than visions she saw in tortured dreams, and nothing could bring her more pain than some sort of a wicked madness she had already witnessed there.

Lar changed her robes quickly and took her own emergency pack that had every item meticulously collected by her da. It was her biggest treasure. Everything there had its use, and her da persisted that she knew it all when she was even younger. The time that had gone by so quickly from the moment she saw that pack for the first time. It seemed so distant to someone who just celebrated her eighth birthday. That small pack full of valuable treasures accompanied her even in the dark dreams to explore her room and her castle. She liked to think of the whole Inner Block as her own.

Not many people were still aware that passages she uncovered still existed. Most of those were small enough for her frame only, some just slightly bigger. She read up all she could find on the Great Mines that used to be here, but no map of any kind from the previous owners was available.

Everything that Axes knew of their dwelling was what they learned themselves, yet no explorer could ever compete with the inquisitiveness and the persistence of this curious and young girl. It took her just over a year to discover nine hidden passages out of the castle, fifteen hidden rooms, five invisible ways into the Throne Room, and three other into the High Council room. There were even two passages out of her own room.

Lar thought that no one would even consider her findings a threat since she was the only person small enough to be able to travel this way. Despite her young age, she did not let herself slip that all of the latest plans and conversations around the Inner Block were recorded in her memory.

The moment her Da, the King, left her room hoping she would go to sleep, it seemed vital in her mind to follow immediately the passage into the Throne Room where something had obviously spooked him. The narrow stone tunnel that connected her room with the Throne Room was the one she truly disliked. Halfway was the awful place where breathing was becoming so hard as if the air was literally sucked out of there. Lar took her time, knowing she would arrive before her father would, but she still needed that extra time to hide to remain unseen.

 

The Red Axe King signaled the guards to enter and search the Throne chamber. He could see his men being overly careful. None of them questioned his orders, though none of them could have imagined what could generate that kind of caution either. Once the room was locked the only way in or out was through the air and an absence of a ceiling, the King thought, noticing the sound had disappeared.

Everything was perfectly normal, quiet, and still. There was no sign of intruders of any kind or anything unnatural. That gave him a pause.

"Search cautiously every part of this room, every nook, and corner. Break everything in pieces. I want bare walls and bare floor here. And even then, check every part of it with hammers," he ordered, "While you do it, be sure the gates are locked, and no one gets in or out,"

The Red Axe King just realized there was a big hole in all of his war plans. Suddenly, nothing mattered more than the fact that they had become so lax and confident in their ownership of this land that they forgot the danger always comes from within first. The sky, so readily visible at all times, seemed to become an enemy now too. It had to be fixed soon, just after all of his troops finish flooding the Ombre Valley.

He stood still like a statue amid the noise and utter destruction that took place at his feet for what seemed like forever. Everything was broken into pieces, every tile, plaster and adornment were torn apart to shreds. The Throne still stood untouched, his men were afraid to destroy the symbol of their rule of this place. The Red Axe King knew, it had to be him who takes the first piece off it, so it was him who took an ax and a hammer to attack his own legacy. Yet it still stood still, not a dent in sight, not the slightest damage. The throne had withstood their continuous onslaught. His fury was no match to the ancient structure made to withstand the everlasting rivers of fire, protecting the treasures unbeknownst to those who seemed to possess it at that moment.

"Call the Duchess. Now!" The King bellowed over the fading echo of the hammering cacophony when it was certain that nothing of their might could make the Throne structure bulge.

Two of the guards hurried through the wreckage to the gates. Eerie silence that followed seemed to make ears hurt. Everyone froze in their actions knowing they failed to satisfy their king who had no choice but to call the one woman that made them pee their pants just a little. When she focused her sight on someone, it was impossible to know how and when that person could be deceased then.

The King's heart was heavy with worry over the safety of his only daughter. Was not it for the ever-going dispute with her mother, his biggest mistake, over the rights to raise and influence his angel, he would find no bad sides of being a single father. Still, he could not bring himself to kill that woman who claimed to love him all those Great Cycles ago, only to ensnare him into her graces. The Duchess obeyed and followed only one entity, the Oracle and it had apparently been one line in a two millennia old texts that caused her to arrive at his Castle to work her charms on him.

Ever since he had learned of her true origins and lies, he was prepared to fight right into his deathbed over Lar. Her only heritage should be of the Axe kind. Her great ancestors had been illiterate and kept simple by the Sword oppressors. The only reason for that cruelty was to have meek, fearful, cheap, and unproblematic labor workers. Only with the help of the godsend Skyfire Storm, they had become the proud owners of this rich land instead. The Fates had been favorable ever since. That was the only heritage he wanted Lar to know of.

The truth of the Duchess' kind put a deep shadow over Lar's future loyalties that should belong to the Axes only. Had he the guts to kill the woman at her weakest point back then, none of this would bother his mind. The only thing he wanted to focus on was the war course for he felt the threatening Swords breath just outside the Wall. It felt closer and closer with every passing cycle. Wakeful nightmares told him that they would never forget the past. The Swords waited to reclaim stolen by the axes land and the riches. The slave rebellion never left Sword minds. He knew that the time of war approached mercilessly. Even the air within the Wall grew heavier every cycle with fear and worry. It was almost time.

 

6

Two children were playing with gaming marbles in the middle of a grand room that had no windows. The only colors present were the different shades of brown and gray. They sang quietly.

"The young and the wicked take the river to the core,

flush in the whirlpools to escape the gore.

For there are many ways to join with the past

but only a few will grant a passage to last."

"But I don’t want to be the wicked, Coope," a young girl complained, "I'm young, but not wicked," she moaned.

"Nobody wants that Pam. Nobody wants to be wicked," a slightly older boy whispered, "But maybe we are called wicked just 'cos we don’t want to go back to the undergrounds."

"Why would anyone want to go back there, Coope?" the girl frowned, "The ancestors had a reason to run away from there and never look back."

"I know, Pam. Mom said the Duchess was telling that to the Elders," Coop said, "That’s why we aren't going with the rest of the tribe."

"We're also going without mommy. What will happen to her, Coope?" her lips started to tremble, and unwanted tears of fear gathered in her little eyes.

"She will move the mountains to find us, she said. You heard it too," the boy tried to cheer up his little sister.

"Yes. But what if she can't?" the tears flowed freely down her cheeks.

"You think our mom can't move mountains for us?" he smiled at her, "You seriously don’t believe our mom is the greatest Seekinglander in the history of our tribe?"

"I don’t know Coope. It's not like she has any position," Pam sniffed through her tears.

"Pam, is this why you are so afraid? 'Cos our mom doesn’t look like she is powerful?" he frowned at his sister.

Pam nodded.

"Real power is invisible Pam. It has to be, so the enemy doesn’t know who holds it," he said softly.

"Who is our enemy, Coop?" the girl forgot to cry in her curiosity, though the pathways tears left on her face were still shining in the candle light.

"Right now our biggest enemy is our own tribe, Pam. That’s why we have to remember not to tell anyone what we say here. And please Pam," he pleaded for the tenth time that cycle, "Don’t cry when we have to go. We can't endanger mom and the rest. Do you understand?" he asked

Pam nodded. She was getting hungry, so suddenly, the food was the only thing on her mind. Her worries were forgotten just in time for the dinner.

 

Palome was the main and only Seekinglander surface dwelling. Though it has to be admitted, that 'surface dwelling' might be a bit of overstatement here. Palome had no surface built homes, only trenches, and caverns carved into the stone surface of the area. An inattentive traveler might just pass it through and never notice a single thing. That was exactly what the Palome creators had been aiming for.

 

Southern winds started to have more power just as a lone figure hurried and disappeared in one of the Palome's home entrances placed in the ground.

"Mom, it's time!" a young man said in a loud whisper, "It's time."

"You're back," a female embraced the newcomer. "I've missed you so much, Brine," she said and wouldn’t let go of him.

"I'm back, mom. We are all back," he said meaningfully as he tried to free himself from her tight embrace, "The three tracks started to appear up in the north. The Oracle's words are being fulfilled, and the Swords are nearing. My commander is probably giving his report to the elders at the moment."

"They will have no other choice but to order the Great Trek now," mother said worriedly, "And it doesn’t feel right. The closer it gets, the more off it seems."

"I know, mom, I have the same feeling," he said, "That’s why we have to stick to the plan now. Our plan."

"Will you be able to…" she choked out.

"He won't be alone for Gods' sakes, Cressy!" A stiff and old lady interrupted their conversation.

"High Vaala, I wasn’t expecting you now," the mother stuttered and bowed.

"Stop with the formalities Cressy," the old lady sniffed with a great displeasure, "I don’t understand why you are so fearful. The children will be in good hands."

"You call this old fool 'good hands'! Spare me. We both know he is the only one crazy enough to listen to your plan," the mother whispered with anger so powerful it could ignite a paper, was it somewhere near her.

"He is old and wise, Cressy. Just because he is a bit odd in his ways, doesn’t mean he isn't trustworthy," High Vaala's whisper held a tone of a warning directed at the much younger female that had the gall to point out the weakness of the only 'alternative plan' they could come up with.

"He eats sand and dust, and he swims in water! How can you trust him to feed and not drown our kids during their journey?"

"Get a grip, Cressy!" the older woman scolded, the younger.

"You know that I want to go with them," Cressy confronted the elder once again.

"And you know that you can't," the old lady said pointing her finger at the female bold enough to argue with her, "Once any of the adults is unaccounted for, the search will be started and everyone will realize that most of the children are gone. This won't ever be accepted. You know it, Cressy. You know as well, what happens when our tribe doesn’t accept something or someone."

"I know," Cressy's face distorted in pain, "Are you sure it's a good plan?" she ceased to argue.

"No. It's not possible to know everything. The Duchess of Old had been so sure that we shouldn't go on with the original Plan, it moved my core. She said so many times that we should never go back there that I had to work on something else. This is the only thing I could come up with, considering the very limited resources I had," she sighed, "We have to protect the children, even if it means letting them forget of their origins."

"We don’t have time for that argument now," Brine interrupted the conversation between the two women that was getting louder and louder, "The boats are waiting. My unit will protect the children, I promise, mom," he hugged Cressy, "It's you I'm worried about."

"My oldest, I love you, but you forget who trained you into who you are now," she said.

"You, mom," he smiled in answer.

"Yes. So, don’t worry about me then," she hugged him tightly to whisper into his ear, "I will find a way to join you."

He nodded in answer and left her embrace to collect his little brother and sister.

Cressy froze in a mute goodbye as she watched him carry out Pam and Coope out of their home, "I hate to see them leave," she said to High Vaala.

"I know what you feel. There is not a moment that I don’t regret sending out Genes, my great grandson," High Vaala seemed smaller, "I sent him straight to the roots of the coming war."

"High Vaala, Genes is accompanied by the greatest warriors of our times. Surely nothing bad can happen when he is around Vlad."

"The Fates like to play tricks with us, and that evil Red Axe as a King will kill us all when he gets a chance…" High Vaala said worriedly.

"I know, Auntie, so you decided to help the Fates with the tricks part. You arranged for our youth to be guided by that lunatic giant to the place that belongs to or other enemies. The place we know only from myths."

"Just as we know about the Other Homeland Stronghold, Cressy. We know it only from myths too. It has never been seen by any of us, and we are aware of it only as a place our ancestors were exiled from."

"Why are we doing it, then? Why are we going back Why?" Cressy frowned.

" The Oracle," High Vaala said without any further explanation.

"Gods damn that damn thing!" Cressy shrieked, "We can't put our lives in the care of the prophets just like that!"

"It's our way. We don’t have to like it, but it's our way," the older woman said the thing she no longer believed in, and it was easy to notice, for the ones who knew what to listen for.

"It's the way of our past, and you well know it," Cressy cut right through the old crap she heard all her life.

"It's the only way, to be in the past, just because it says foresees our extinction if we do otherwise."

"I don’t buy it," Cressy said through gritted teeth.

"Nobody asks you to." High Vaala said stiffly, "Just get prepared, we are leaving in two cycles," she snapped, "The only thing you have to buy now is some time, so the children have a chance to get to safety."

Cressy watched the old female leave her home. She stood completely still, taking in the emptiness her house now represented. A mother left alone by the Fates had only one true goal in her life. She would do as she promised. She would do everything to unite with her children. But first, she needed to pack and pray for the Fates to help her, for she didn’t intend to breach that damn Wall in the first place.

 

Brine ran with the two children in his arms. They were nervous, but quiet, just as they promised. When it felt safe enough, he stopped and put them on the ground.

"Pam, Coope, I need you to do something that you might not like," he whispered.

"What?" Coope asked.

"I need you to wear a kind of covering bands on your mouths. It's so you don’t scream when you get scared, or if you hurt yourself when you kick a stone," he explained patiently.

"Brine, we don’t do that anymore," Coope scoffed his older brother.

"I know Coope, it’s just a precaution, just in case."

"For how long?" Coope asked.

"Till we get to the river and board the boats."

"We will do it then," Pam whispered.

"Sure Brine," Coope agreed because he didn’t want to be the weak one.

Brine tied bands of fabric that covered their mouths and noses. The real purpose of it was to protect their lungs from the poisonous air they were going to meet soon enough.

Half a cycle into their journey, they met the other small groups of children accompanied by their young guides. No word was spoken, and the river was still many cycles away. They didn’t have to hurry, knowing that their Tribe would be heading in the almost opposite direction.

 

When they reached the river, not a very big one, just a bit of water flowing inside a crack in the ground, a lone man of a great size awaited their arrival. The children got so used to the covering bands that they forgot to take them off even then.

Brine silently greeted that waiting man. He noticed small boats lying on the shore. They would be launched into the water only after the children were safely sitting in them. Twenty-eight boats, each carried six children and one young adult that steered it. The big man had no boat of his own, he held the rope that linked the boats so that not one of them could go astray and led them into the deep waters. He would be swimming next to the vessels. He was the weird one, the only water worshipping Seekinglander of Old, and surface rivers and underground waters held no secrets for him.

He knew the surface river they took had no real beginning and no real end on the surface. Water just came up to the place where any crack in the ground started, and it went down in the place where it ended. The place where it went once it disappeared beneath the surface, was his own secret, he never intended to share. The giant just hoped that children wouldn't make much noise on the way, for he hated it more than the fire.

 

CHAPTER SEVEN

Crossing the reflective Wall proved to be tricky. Bertan and Genes had no chance of reaching the height required for a safe pass. She noticed that when they were still approaching it. They would have to touch the apex of that Wall and it wouldn't be just a mere brush either, she thought, when she rammed straight into the hard mirror surface. At the same moment Genes and the kite above her had a safe passage. That could mean only one thing. Genes would never be able to control the situation.

The front of the kite already pointed down to the ground, and Bertan did her best to quickly climb to at least stand on the Wall with her feet for a moment. She had no time to do that because the frame with Genes attached to it slid over and went down like a stone from the huge structure, dragging her down. Without much time and space to maneuver, Bertan was helpless to prevent their crash-landing into the sandy dunes that came up to the wall on the other side.

Truth-be-told she had hoped, for more of an airborne shortcut to at least get past that wasteland of sand, wind, and hopelessness. It was a place of sorrow with its past darker than the night, which never passed into the glorious, suns-lighted day. It seemed that all of her plans were changed by the Fates the moment she felt the Anaerther's Call.

"Are you alive?" Bertan asked worriedly the unmoving and silent crumpled heap of a body still attached to the kite.

"I think so. Did we fell all the way down?" a muffled voice asked with a tinge of groan and embarrassment.

"Apparently, we did! I haven't really thought it through, as far as the calculations went. I thought the winds would bring us higher, but our combined weight held us down too much." She smiled at him cutting all of his bindings with a large knife. "I'm actually glad we only missed by a tiny bit. Otherwise, we would go down on the wrong side of the Wall and be in much bigger trouble than now. We were blessed with a very soft crash-landing instead." She visibly perked up. "Nothing is broken!"

"I guess I should be thankful for getting through the Wall in one piece." He tried very much not to sound too brusque as he stretched up. If he were to be honest with himself, he would have to admit he was comforted to have his feet on the ground and be outside the Axe territory. "Why did you take me with you… and who are you, really?" Genes asked somberly.

"All in the right time boy, all in time. Right now, we have to get going, and we have to get going really fast. Those sands hold too much sorrow for us not to remain unaffected." She already left him behind so he had to run to keep up with her pace

"Why? What is this place? I don't feel anything." He looked around to notice the big emptiness over huge dunes. "It looks pretty normal to me."

"Just how much do you know about the history?" she asked after a long, lingering and silent pause.

"Not much, I don't like to dwell on the past, now is more important, the future is important. The past is just dust on my shoes," he reflected youthfully.

"Surprisingly, you are right. We are walking in the dust and ashes of uncountable beings here." She scoffed at him. "It's typical for the youth not to think about the past and never take it for a lesson learned well," she paused, waiting for him to argue, but he said nothing. "Before the fire from the sky changed the world into what it is now, the Swords had the reigns over the lands inside and outside the Wall. The Northern Gates erected to adjoin the Wall melted into the ground in the heat that could not be foreseen. That was the only way into the inner Wall territories, to trade slaves in. The Swords themselves had liked just to fly over. Whoever didn't make it through the examinations was killed on the spot. There are stories that at times mountains of the dead bodies reached almost to the half-height of the Wall. All those dunes we walk through are the ashes of those who would not get in, and could not stay alive to tell."

"How do you know all this? How could your tribe learn so much of the times and monsters if no one lived to tell?" Genes asked, trying to hurry up even more minding what lay beneath his feet.

"I know a lot of things Genes, I have to and I wish I knew everything someday. I was sent to the southern tribes by my mother, who wanted me to learn as much as I can. I haven't seen her since then. I learned all I could on top of my schooling before that," Bertan paused, visibly debating on whether or not she should tell him all the truth.

"What was your school before that?" He asked, half afraid of her answer, half genuinely curious. He could not help but notice the heavy hesitation on her part, she seemed to pick up her pace even more before confessing.

"I'm a daughter of a Sword mother, and I was raised as a Sword," she muttered and sped away even faster.

"But it's impossible!" Genes yelled at the distant figure after realizing she wasn't jesting, "They are slave hunting giant monsters, and you look just fine and normal."

That stopped Bertan in her tracks. When she turned to face him, her eyes burned with fury.

"I know! That's why I was sent away before I got into my first live-or-die training. It was obvious I would never kill a slave opponent, so I had to go, I'd be killed otherwise," she yelled just as loud as he did.

"So you are not like them." his eyes brightened up at the thought, "It's good, isn't it?"

"It's marvelous! Really! I hate every one of them now just as I hated myself for being so weak. And now I have to go to talk with my mother because nothing adds up anymore. To go back means to go back into their ways too!" She walked away quickly while muttering under her nose, "Can we just go now? Why am I even telling you all this?"

"Um… wouldn't that mean we would have to go to the Swords territory so that you could have a chat with your mother?" Genes asked looking at disappearing in the darkness Bertan, a very bad thought sparked in his mind.

"Of course, it would," she scoffed at him, motioning for him to hurry up.

"When?" He would not relent. He liked the freedom Fates had granted him at birth.

"Soon. Just don't be afraid, I swear to protect you," she said lightly, too lightly, he knew deep inside. That promise carried the weight of her whole world.

"But you are not like them, how can you protect me from them then?" Genes asked, aware that the chances of keeping his freedom were getting slimmer with each step he took. "Wait! Is this a new way for them to hunt for slaves? Are you a Sword, slave hunter?"

"Can we just walk?" Bertan rolled her eyes at this accusation.

"Where?" he demanded, uneasy that his choices were limited to two options only, stay or walk and only one option granted him a hope of survival.

"North," she gritted through her teeth. When she heard him grasping his breath to ask one more question she quickly added, "Can we walk in silence? The ashes will get to your lungs otherwise."

 

That enough to shut him up for at least some time. They walked in silence ever since until she realized he was weakening and slowly crashing. They stopped so that he could rest for a while. Her thoughts were heavy with worry and the never leaving her core feeling of urgency made her consider the unthinkable. She hoped she could delay that option in time for she feared she was bringing the boy right into his doom. All she was doing since the Calling and meeting him went against all of her well-trained instincts… and still, it felt like the only right thing to do.

" All righty. We need to cover a few points before we even try to get in close…" she started to talk once they walked again.

"Get in where?" Genes asked wearily, so tired his mind worked slower, and his questions took longer to pop up.

"We'll get to that in a moment… So you do not talk. At all. You do not answer any questions, just look at the people, but never, ever talk to them. You sound so foreign you would be dead before we reach the city…" she recited quickly.

"What city?" the boy asked, slowing down even more.

"In a moment. Could you please repeat what have I just said?" Bertan scoffed at him impatiently, "You have so much to learn to at least aspire to stay alive, my protection notwithstanding."

"Basically, I'm deaf, not too bright, and mute," he sighed, suddenly feeling the sadness and weariness seeping right into his bones.

"Yes, basically you are right. The most important thing is: you don't talk to the Mother under any excuse, under any circumstances. Do not let her get you in any kind of chit chat. Do not eat or drink whatever she might offer, and by the Gods, do not let her touch you," she explained.

"Are you having issues with your mother?" Genes asked, surprised at the level of caution she wanted him to apply to that person.

"Of course! Who does not have issues with the Mother?" she raised her hands to the sky in exasperation, "It's the Mother of my life and death," she added gently, "She holds the rights to me. I don't want her to get her hands on you too."

"How do I do that?" he asked, trying to wrap his mind around this complicated family issue. He didn't know who his own parents were.

"Do what?" she seemed at a loss to answer his question.

"Avoid your mother, am I to fight her off with my fists?" he asked patiently.

"Don't tempt me," Bertan giggled, "No. I hope that you won't even meet her, it's a private talk I'm planning on to take place. In any case, with any people around, just stand a step or two behind me. I will answer any question that is directed to you."

"Are you not curious?" he asked with a huge grin lighting up his tired face.

"Curious? Of what?" she looked at him wearing a frown of confusion.

"What do I think of your proposition?" his smile got even wider for he suspected her answer.

"No… not really. Once we leave this valley, we are entering the Royal City of Naam, the Swords oldest stronghold. One wrong gesture or word and both of us die right on the spot," Bertan answered truthfully. It was clear that she decided that shielding his mind would be of no help in the future, if they intend to stay alive.

"Are you crazy? I'm not going to enter the Swords territory now!" His smile was long gone when he yelled furiously, one last drop of energy seeping out of him then.

"You already entered it Genes, where do you think have we been traveling through since we had landed outside the wall? The Swords had reached the northern parts of the Wall over thirty Great Cycles ago," she yelled back.

"That's impossible, nobody on the inside and outside the Wall is aware of that," he argued unwilling and unable to walk any further.

"Of course, they are, why do you think, they are hiding it?" she snorted amused with his ignorance once again.

"Why would the Red Axe hide the truth?"

"If everyone knew the war was imminent at some point, they would leave. No warriors would be born and trained. The Axe population had more than tripled in the last hundred Great Cycles. The peace pacts reached the Unseen Corners, the prosperity lured in many people that call themselves Axes now and call this their land. You will see for yourself, the only way for Axes to win is with their numbers, anything else would fail. The numbers are the only thing that has been keeping the Swords at bay after the initial shock after the Skyfire Storm had passed," she concluded softly.

"How do you know all that? How can you be so sure?"

"That is what I do, I learn things, I steal facts, truths, and plans. It's what the Daughters of the South do."

"You don't really look southern," Genes was surprised with her explanation.

"I don't?" she was perplexed, she thought she had blended in well enough. "How's so?"

"Your skin-tinge goes into a different shade than the southerners usually have, just a shade or two off. You can't be a purebred," he narrowed his eyes to see her more clearly through the wave of sleepiness slowly taking over his body.

"You are right, I'm not," Bertan admitted. "Apparently, the Mother took a foreigner for a mate. Or something. I suspect he must have been a Southerner, for my looks now."

"It's a logical explanation. Why do you seem to be ashamed of that now?"

"You will see for yourself soon. But for now, we have one thing to do and I'm afraid you will hate every part of it," she sighed heavily.

It was becoming clear that Genes would not be able to walk any farther. It was a place as good for a camp as any other, in this never-ending wasteland. She took a seat right on the ground to be eagerly followed by the tired boy.

"What is it now?" Genes yawned.

"Have you ever seen a Sword male?" she asked cautiously, not looking into his direction.

"Nobody sees a Sword male and lives to tell, you know that well Berts… Just tell me what it is."

"You need to shave," she admitted, still avoiding looking into his eyes.

"I have nothing to shave, haven't you noticed? Seekinglanders grow their hair so long since they have none other," he chuckled sleepily, "Haven't you noticed that? Everyone has."

"I'm not talking about your face Genes. I'm talking about your head. No Sword would let their hair grow more than a nail would, no one would risk that liability in a fight." She had no heart to tell him yet, that he would never be taken for a Sword male or child, even mistakenly. His role in her world would have to be even more demeaning.

"I want to go back to Inner Block now," he frowned, fighting the last sane thoughts leaving him. "I do get to keep my hair there, like everyone else."

"I hope you do remember why you left that place, your friend with a bird would not help you in any way." Suddenly his memories flooded his mind, with the sounds and pictures of that fateful moment.

"Do you think he still lives?" he asked softly, "That any of them still does?"

"I don't know, I know lots of things, but that I don't, and I'm sorry for not knowing," her voice was filled with an unexplainable sorrow.

"You can't know everything," he reassured her.

"It's my job to know everything, Genes, it's my job." She tried to reassure herself too, through the constant repetitions. "Gods, but you are right, that just will not work, and nobody will even think of you as a Sword child," Bertan sighed wearily, hating the truth with all of her being, "You need to become my slave then."

"Is that supposed to be better? How? Why are all your ideas so grim?" his voice trailed. He almost fell asleep right then, snuggled tightly into the sheet salvaged from the kite, that was surprisingly soft, warm, and aromatic. Invited into sleepy awareness, he barely registered her answer.

"Because you will look so much out of place that I hope they just won't kill you from the distance before I get the chance to talk," she said tightly, waiting for him to drift off for good to wrap him tightly in the fabric.

She took his sleeping body into her arms and marched swiftly in the direction of the Sword three-tracks built on this side of the Wall. Time was of the utmost importance and the platform would spare them whole Cycles, if not more of walking, she tried to assure herself into what felt like walking right into her own death row.

 

CHAPTER EIGHT

"Why did you do that for Grand Duchess? Wouldn't it be easier and less dramatic to just talk to us first?" dark haired Aru the Swordsman asked. He was the first one to regain his senses right there at the Duchess' feet. "It's a nightmare to come back from the other place, your darts sucked us in." His fellows were still lying on the floor. A tortured groan attested to the truth of his words.

Hunn was still totally out of it, the Duchess noted with a grimace, he had taken the dart aimed for his young companion, who had been fidgeting so much then that she had missed. She had been very disappointed with herself at that point. It was the first time ever that she missed her mark. It irked her, even more, to realize that the boy had been gone ever since. It wasn't the way she had planned for the events to play out. The fact that the boys decided to make a Calling truly played on her nerves, she should have foreseen that, but it was yet another thing that slipped her mind. Vlad had been warned of trouble, and that was a very bad thing. She wanted to avoid it happening at all costs, but it was out of her reach now too.

She knew that nothing could be hidden away perfectly enough to remain hidden forever. There were forces in her world that guided unsuspecting ones, over and over again, to discover uneasy truths. For some reason, lies were always out in the open while eternal truths' only fate was to be snatched and buried deep before others could make use of it. Every deception, on the other hand, was being followed ruthlessly by its expiration date set to zero its existence. The Oracle herself made it impossible to obscure any truth throughout the ages and the only purpose of the Elders and Vlad's 'plan' was to unearth the things that were better off buried deep down below their feet.

"I had my reasons boys. It could not be done differently without having to argue with Vlad over the Oracles at some point," the Duchess said stiffly, wishing her dry voice could regain some of its power.

"Right… where is he?" Aru asked after he looked around to notice there were only three of them lying on the floor.

"He went on with his plan I suppose," she admitted begrudgingly. It was yet another huge failure of her to let him go, just because he had been warned by the Calling.

"He just left us all here?" Aru asked incredulously, "To die?"

"In brief… yes. He would not act differently under any circumstances. Time is of the essence in his plans… But all in all no one wants you dead, yet," she mused absently. Her hazel eyes glazed dreamily for a moment, a habit she had not been aware of. "He believes in your training and abilities, I believe in it so too…"

A loud knock on the door immediately brought her back to the reality she had to face, her tasks and plans. She opened the doors furious that someone had the gall to disturb her peace.

"What now? Do you not know what time it is now?" the Duchess unleashed her rage at the two guards standing at the doors.

"It is of no meaning now, Duchess. The Red Axe King hails you now," the darker guard's rigid voice carried the authority she hadn't encountered in ages. She forgot how dangerous it could be to have someone utterly unafraid in her presence. One more failure was noted in her mind.

The Duchess proudly let herself be guided to wherever the King wanted to meet her. One more failure, she thought, and she might not live to leave this place. She was being gnawed on furiously by the thoughts of change that occurred within her recently. It's not just the recent failures but the holes big as mountains in her assessments and plans. She had to admit her mind worked slower, unable to focus on what happened around her for some reason, and she wasn't ready to admit that her age was finally catching up with her mind.

Bewildered, she stopped mid-thought only then aware where they were going, just then noticing the echoes of their steps, slow breathing of the guards and the silence when they finally stopped by the Throne Room main gates. All of her attention tended to turn inwards from time to time, without her control, without her consent, as if she was being possessed by her own ego and nothing concerning her body and the outside circumstances was important enough.

"The King awaits you." Words void of any emotion brought her up to reality yet again.

The Gates opened to reveal the utter destruction of the ancient room. She walked lightly through the debris examining what had been done there, just moments before, judging by the dust still shifting in the air. The Duchess focused her attention on the lone, seemingly lost King sitting on his bare throne. It took no time for her mind to know what would be asked of her. And yet, she stood poised and still as a prey that plays dead, not far from him, watched him and waited.

"I know you know what I want," the Red Axe King stared intently straight into her eyes.

"I know you know the price for it," the Duchess said unaffected by his hostility.

"I will not give you my daughter," he roared.

"Why are you always forgetting she is of my blood too?" she would not let her temper-fire up again.

"Because now, I know exactly who you are, and why you came to me," the King seethed in hate.

"We both know it's not the only reason that you refuse to let me see Lar, my King," she almost spat out the last words she addressed him with.

"As I said before, I know that you know what I want from you," he said calmly taking control of his own anger.

"It's becoming boring to have the same conversation over and over again. Why did you call me today into this wretched chamber then? To argue in the dust of your demolishment?" she gestured around the Throne Chamber, clearly dishonest in her amazement.

"It's not that… there might be a major security breach," the King calmly gritted out through his teeth.

"Here? In the throne chamber?" she was really surprised this time, and that was pretty worrisome.

"Yes, I heard the noise from below the floor earlier. The machinery noise that has never been heard here since…" his voice faltered as he tried to find the way to word his suspicions.

"Since the Axes claimed this Block and all land as theirs," the Duchess finished the sentence absent-mindedly. Her gaze was fixated on the throne, "You have not been extracting from that part of the Mine ever since. All of your production focuses on the western and southern mines."

She wasn't aware that she crossed the distance between them to examine the metal structure. Her eyes glazed in the sheer pleasure of touching it and seeing its beauty unobstructed. "It's a beautiful piece of machinery, such shame you had it covered all those years," her mouth uttered the words without her conscious consent, "Haven't you known that?" she asked, looking straight into him with the eyes he knew should not belong to her at all.

"Known what? That it's a machine or that it looked ugly to you?" his voice was tight and hand traveled to his weapon, ready to strike, "How could it still work today, when no one remembers its purpose?"

He watched her struggling to absorb that question as her eyes shot into a full attention.

"No!" she whispered. Cold truth ravaged her body suddenly, "That damn fool!" The Duchess broke into the run to go back to her room, right after she managed to say, "I will tell you as I have told you countless times before. Bring Lar to my rooms. I won't say a thing before I have her in my arms again. My king."

"You will never put your unholy hands on my daughter again, I swear by it!" Red Axe King roared into the sky.

"Well then, you have sealed your own destiny," she whispered on her way out.

It was hard to believe that every male she had encountered in her life was such a total disaster.

 

After the Duchess had left her spacious chamber, Aru could not help but wonder, what were her plans and how much it would cost them to stay alive. When she came back riding on the wings of fury, he hoped this place wouldn't become his tomb. Electric undercurrents that were following her left all the males breathless and numb.

"Is Hunn awake yet?" she demanded as she entered her rooms once more.

"No," Aru drawled lazily enough to force her to calm down.

"Work on it then, he has to wake up now. Beat him back into life if you have to!" she got closer and closer to losing her temper, yet again. The electricity undercurrents thickened even more.

"We could spare some time if we had an antidote for the poison, my Duchess," his lazy and logical answers made her hover even closer to the edge of madness.

"What favors could bring shooting darts covered in anything that has an antidote? It makes no sense boy!" She scolded him, bemused with his ignorance.

"Well, maybe, but it would help to avoid the situations like now," he reasoned ever so patiently.

"I don't have to like the situation we are in right now either. I can't have any of you in here right now that somebody has decided to ride down into the mines unprepared," the Duchess said unwillingly for the panic to take over her reason.

"It's probably Vlad, we have separated earlier," the Two, who was still lying on the floor, took both of them by surprise with his sudden awareness.

"I know, the Fool. Fool!" she screeched madly, "There is a time for everything, and what he has done may endanger everyone now."

"Who do you mean by everyone exactly if I may ask Duchess?" The Two asked a little bit confused at that point. He got the full control over his body just a few moments earlier. He had never read or even talked about the Oracle, joining this quest only because he was one of the few Seekinglanders who did not panic at the slightest detail going awry. Life is life, he thought, and in life, crap always falls down. There had to be someone reasonable among the true believers.

"Seekinglanders of course, who else?" the Duchess said taken aback, "Why would anyone care for any other tribe? After all, Seekinglanders are the only ones deemed worthy to survive the coming war. The Oracle herself said so all this time ago."

"What about the Axes?" the Two supplied frowned, visibly unhappy with her answer.

"Why would I worry about them? They are not of our kind," she scoffed at the idea as if she was chasing a stubborn fly away with enough force to kill the poor creature if it was too slow.

"But they are living, breathing people, we share bloodlines with them," the Two would not let this go easily. Of mixed origin, he adored his Axe mother beyond any reason and he would kill the first person who would imply into his face that she was of a lesser kind. There would be no differences nor divisions for him, not when people as a whole were regarded.

"That might save some of their bloodlines that might have mingled with ours, but will not save their kind. It was foretold by the Oracle… has it ever been wrong?" she wished, it was wrong at least in one place, though. The moment of a final sin revealing neared relentlessly. The more she tried to make it go away in time, the stronger force the Fates thrown at her.

"They had to be wrong at least once to disappear like that over the ages," Aru snorted at the impossible fate that met the Oracle. The sudden disappearance had been the most potent tool for the ones opposing any actions considering the prophecies. How could anyone take seriously words by an Oracle that let herself be gone throughout the ages to never be heard ever again?

"The Fates rule in their own ways. We are not to question them," the Duchess claimed stiffly.

"We are not to let the innocents die either," the Two frowned stubbornly in his views.

"Look at me, Two," the Duchess demanded sharply, "Look deep into my eyes. No Axe is innocent. The blood on their hands isn't going to disappear just like that. Not now, not ever. They have been damned to their bones and the only future the Fates bring for them is utter extinction. Not one of them deserves to survive."

"None of us deserves that too, for we share bloodlines with them," he argued relentlessly unwilling to remind her of his own mixed blood just yet.

"Let's just hope the Fates still embrace us… Wake up that man!" she exclaimed furiously at Hunn, to quickly compose herself into a somber silence. She frowned for a while, then just as quickly she picked up a parchment to scribble fast with a black lead-liner.

 

Delicate and soft knock on the doors brought short relief from the insults flying viciously at the futile attempts of trying to wake Hunn up. The Duchess opened the doors cautiously to find two still and statuesque figures waiting behind them. She frowned but made no move as fiery twins took no time to introduce themselves, barging in not so subtly instead. The two conscious men tensed up at their arrival.

"And you are?" the Duchess asked cautiously bringing her hand to her chest where a small invisible blade had its placeholder.

"We are truly impressed with your dart-work," the dark twin drawled and smirked unabashed. She looked right into the older women's eyes. She nodded at unconscious Hunn. "The men around you seem to be losing their minds, don't they?" she laughed with a mischievous spark in her eyes.

"That they do," the Duchess relaxed enough to look at her visitors, "The Daughters of South if I am not mistaken. What could possibly bring you into the heart of the Axe stronghold?" she asked sharply.

"The usual business of sorts," the dark twin was all too happy to sweep that business' details under the rug she was standing on.

"Are you visiting me considering your business?"

"Not really, no… We just got off our previous assignment, and we only just heard the King bellowing… We thought you might need our services, the Duchess of Old," one of the fiery visitors said evenly.

"We do need a discreet way into the Throne Room," the Duchess whispered into Si'Waters ear, "Just the way into as we don't intend to leave it anytime soon," she paused, "And we do need our friend to regain his senses as soon as possible."

"None of your problems seem to be really problematic… to us. We are the Southern Daughters, Si' and Gi'Waters" the smile on her face reassured everyone around that they just knew what needed to be done and how to be successful at it.

Si'Waters' mind easily mapped all of the plans to follow through. She smirked yet again as she walked up lightly on her feet to where Hunn laid down. She kneeled down and blew some air softly albeit persistently into his nose. At first, nothing changed, then lights seemed to dim, leaving only a murmur of glow shading ghosts of past-times when his chest heaved the precious air in.

"What is the payment you would want to demand?" the Duchess was quick to calculate her resources too.

"Information." it was Gi'Waters time to speak now as her twin lost herself in the blue eyes of the male she just brought back to life, "The real power has always been the information. You do know it as well as we do."

"We can discuss that matter on our way then," the Duchess said preparing for the imminent departure.

 

Not at first and not at last. An unexplainable numbness brought a rare state in Hunn's mind, just as he tried to reclaim any control over his body. It felt as though he had none. He recalled, tiny pricks biting into his body. He was far from panic, glad it's a poison that seemed to seep his life away. Calm and ready to leave this world he couldn't help but notice that death was being kind to him. Maybe he had already passed the great gates of life?

Thoughts came and went away in waves as if there was a tidal process to his dying. Of course, a few regrets visited him, a reminder of a few past mistakes, of the chances he let slip out. In retrospect, there was nothing he would have changed. None of his decisions had been made lightly, so not that much to regret. Just how much longer in that place until he ceases to exist, he wondered, when distinct sensations surfaced. The ones he had no conscious memory of. A moist breeze on his skin, sounds of fresh flowing water, uncontained happiness. He felt slightly uneasy at the thought that this nothingness of his uncontrolled thoughts might, in fact, be his ultimate destination. This kind of ending could take forever, he decided and drifting off could be a good idea.

Instead, a peculiar heaviness started to bear down, as if a rock was driving through him into the ground. Then he knew he was very far from dying. He might as well start planning some sort of revenge while he was still paralyzed. Some would not take lightly murdering the Duchess, though, so he had to tone it down a little. He would bet his life he had just thought to have lost, those were her darts that rendered him so useless and helpless. Weight that was seemingly crushing him had gained in strength robbing him of breath. He knew first hand it was going to get much, much worse for it's not just one dart that had nicked him. Then, a fresh breath brought him back to life in an instant.

"You!" Hunn roared the moment he opened his eyes fully intending to grab the owner of the saving breath by her throat and throttle her right into non-being. Luck had it that while his mind awoke in one moment, his senses and his body still did not.

"Would you please stop trying to kill your savior?" the Duchess yelled testily at him. "It took you long enough and without her help, I might have decided to finish you off altogether to shorten the waiting time we've wasted to wake you up."

"If the time is so precious here, maybe you shouldn't have nicked my bird and me with those freaky darts of yours. I knew the moment I started to pass out it was another of your grand schemes that never seem to work out," he roared while struggling to regain control of his legs." And I seem to have lost the boy I was with." Hunn frowned with worry. That single thought brought him back from the edge of raging explosion.

"He should be safe enough," a fiery owner of the saving breath remarked.

"Where is he?" he demanded forcefully, feeling that his temper was rising again.

"I'm not sure where I know with whom." Si'Waters answered, clearly annoyed with his persistence, "Can't you just take my word for it?" she huffed.

"Amuse me then, with whom is our young companion?" Hunn narrowed his eyes to look at her. There was something about her that called to his memory and his currently disobedient senses.

"You don't know her…" she started a lengthy explanation she had hoped to avoid altogether.

"Her? Another female? By Gods. What is it about?" At that moment, he wanted to break something that preferably wasn't her neck. "Bloody females and their grand schemes," he muttered.

"One more word and you might fall out of my graces yet again, warrior," the Duchess said in time to stop one of Hunn's famous tirades before it really started, "We have things to do and places to be, so please do get up finally and let's go."

"I will get up when my legs feel like it," Hunn admitted in full anger, aware of his current disabilities.

"The Two! Aru! Can you just carry him around for the time being?" the Duchess demanded with a tone that bore no permission for any protest.

"I will not let anyone carry me around like a f… like a baby!" he caught his tongue. Just in time to prevent, even more humiliating tongue-lashing wrath the Duchess was ready to spew at any moment. Once she starts, there would be no finish line in sight unless someone would shed blood. Any other time he might be up for a good challenge, but cursed with immobile legs and hazy mind, he didn't want to risk his pride.

"Get used to it!" she spat out and charged out of the door, to be followed by the copies-of-one females. Hunn had no other choice than to let his comrades lift and carry him to get behind those doors too. Truth be told he ceased to argue out of sheer curiosity rather than surrender. The fiery Southerners had to be watched closely, his core quickly prompted, to calm his pride weeping of its impotence to move on his own and act accordingly.

 

CHAPTER NINE

The Throne room was emptied and locked down again. When it happened, breathing suddenly became much easier for hidden Kyre. He was thankful that Duchess had refrained from opening the throne machinery with the Red Axe King present by her side.

Kyre felt so out of place there, terrified to touch the doors that separated him from the illusion of freedom they might hold behind. Focused on his own breathing, he failed to notice they slowly opened without any of his help.

"You are of her kind, aren't you?" A little girl crouched next to him and regarded him curiously. She scared his soul out of his core. Kyre couldn't recall a time any trained seeker could surprise him like that little girl just did. Her familiar eyes were hungry for knowledge and they sparkled dangerously, not unlike the eyes of the powerful and dominating woman who had just left the room.

"Yes." He knew there was no reason to lie at that point. "As you are, apparently."

"They do seem to argue about me a lot lately," she admitted with a grimace, not sad enough to be able to hide the curiosity in her voice, "But who are you? What is your name? How did you got yourself in here?" she inquired quite persistently.

"I'm ah…" he frowned, "My name is Kyre and I'm a Seekinglander."

"I knew that much," she squinted her eyes, "I mean beside the name. But names are changing sometimes. They have a habit of not sticking to the thing they describe. Sometimes," she paused, "What are you doing here?"

"It's really hard to describe at the moment," Kyre tried to avoid being questioned so closely by a child that apparently had mind wider than her age suggested.

"Try," she demanded not unlike her father or mother would have done.

"I was to assist in some journey but I felt my core to go back here," he explained without giving too many details.

"The Fates called you back here?" the girl asked.

"Maybe you could say it like that. Maybe," he paused, "Have you ever met her? The Duchess?" he asked at a loss of how to proceed. He had never handled children well, afraid that his coarse nature might chaff away their innocence. For some reason, that seemed to be no problem with the girl, who still looked at him. Her sharp eyes were obviously trained for secrets.

"Not that I can remember," she said, biting her lips, "She is scary, and I haven't found a way in yet."

The girl opened the elevator widely so that Kyre could comfortably extract himself from the tiny cubicle.

"Do you know a lot of ways around here?" he asked cautiously, slowly entering the ruined beyond recognition room that would never hold the Axe throne again.

"Of course, there is nothing else to do but to find ways around and stay unseen at the same time," she beamed, "I like to know things, but everyone thinks I'm too little to share anything with me." She was too young and too pure to be able to hide the real extent of her hunger for knowledge and immense curiosity that burned within her core, he noticed. "I just have to know, I need to know everything."

"Do you know any way out of this room?" He looked around helplessly, not really knowing what to look for. Everything was turned into dust. The only unbroken feature, the throne aside, was the huge gates that, he knew, were the last route to take. The route dead bodies usually take.

"Of course, but you won't be able to fit in, you are way too big." Lar giggled and quickly measured him with her quirky eyes. "I never knew people grew to this size."

"Yeah." He frowned, disliking the way his odds of getting out of this trap declined.

"Are you going to meet her?" she asked quickly to direct his interest somewhere else and find some information for herself.

"That's my intention… hopefully, I will." Kyre was becoming tense to his bones.

"Tell her not to worry about me. I will find her." She confessed flustered in her honesty. "Sometimes I have dreams about it."

Kyre was the first person, she felt safe enough around to spill her deepest secrets to. There is a certain, subtle substance some people emanate that pulls at others' cores, demanding trust and loyalty for the life they would willingly sacrifice while protecting the light. He had that quality, an air of a trusting command she would follow would he wish for it.

It wasn't a good cycle for Kyre, he decided. Nothing went as it was planned, and to be honest, he was the one to alter those plans. Unspoken fears gnawed at his core. He became more and more restless at the thought of his tribe unwarned of the turbulent times and unaware of the truths hidden in the Inner Block. The keys to their origins, they swore to forget long ago.

The truth beckoned at his core. It was the last chance to salvage the remains of their past that were literally crumbling down at his feet. He waddled through the mountains of crisp dust and chipped stone, to at least try and to find his way out of there.

All around him, subtle signs were scattered, of those who ruled this world before the great fire from the sky disrupted everything. This wrecked room spoke volumes of the times before his true First Anaerther Homeland, hidden deep within his core's heart, had gotten lost for them. The thing was that it just called them back tirelessly, filling every Seekinglander core with emptiness and sorrow, not even Idle Juice could tame. None of them really planned to go back home but the Fates crafted the only way for his tribe to survive and it was to dig deep into their old dwelling. He was sure the Duchess held the keys to everything that went missing in the Oracle's paths.

 

Unexpectedly, three grunting bodies fell down from the ceiling-less space above his head, followed by three graceful figures sliding down the barely visible wires Kyre just then noticed. Too surprised to say anything he watched the three men. Amid all this happening, he almost missed the silent conversation Lar and suddenly present by her side Duchess seemed to have. None of them said a word nor took a breath as if afraid to disturb the Fates. Two females just stared at each other infinitely.

"Mother," Lar said stiffly, breaking her focus and stillness that reigned over the whole chamber until then.

"Lar." The Duchess was at a loss for words, for the first time since she could remember and that was obviously a long stretch of time. She was satisfied with a mere presence of her daughter in the same space.

"I will not follow you today," the girl simply said. Amazingly, the Duchess could only nod to accept. "I had been followed by dreams Mother. The Fates are not on our side anymore," Lar said just before she began to retreat. She apparently decided to go back to her room, looking tired and overwhelmed with emotion.

The girl climbed up to the vent shaft she used to get inside the Throne Room when something on the floor got her attention. She paused and stared at it for a long time. Afterward, when he reached her bed, her dreams did not frighten her as usually for she dreamt of nothing but wet darkness passing her by.

"I feel it too Lar, though I hope to salvage what is possible here," the Duchess whispered while she watched her daughter silently and gracefully retreating. Once Lar disappeared, the Duchess quickly neared the throne machinery to open the hidden compartment Kyre knew all too well.

"I will not follow you either," he said intently avoiding looking at her disturbed face.

"I have assumed as much when I saw you standing here. Is it only Vlad, who got deep into the Mine?" she asked massaging her forehead.

"Yes. He went straight down into the Melting place."

"The fool, the fool, the fool," she kept on muttering, "The Oracle told of the six and a half cores going back into the Anaerther Stronghold to restore it. He knew it, and yet he decided to go there alone. Nothing will go as planned now… not that it ever has," she seethed in fury.

"And a half? What is a half of core?" Gi'Waters asked with a great dose of curiosity.

"I thought it would mean Lar and her small size, after all, she is like a half grown person," Duchess explained patiently. "We assembled the team of six adults: Vlad, me, Kyre, Hunn, The Two, Aru and Lar."

"We could still get her to follow us," Aru contemplated the Plan based on the Oracle's words, "There might still be ways to make it work."

"It's of no use now that he decided to go alone, knowing…" she sighed wearily.

"He wouldn't go wasn't it for the broken Calling." Kyre hoped to solve the unknown mystery.

"And that is purely my fault," she gritted through her teeth at the remainder of her failure.

"What are we to do now?" Kyre asked, hoping for a clear answer, "I'm not following you. I feel my core tugging me to stay on the surface."

"And it's not like I can follow you, Duchess, either." It was Hunn's turn to voice his objection, "I'm still useless, and I don't know when I will be back to normal. It would be unwise for me to endanger your quest this way."

"It's settled then." It took a mere eye-blink for the Duchess to decide. "Aru and the Two follow me while you two," she pointed her finger at Kyre and Hunn, "Stay here and guard Lar from whatever goes down on the surface from now on." She motioned at her chosen teammates to join her in the throne machinery cubicle, "Just avoid the King taking any notice of that fact. He will do anything to separate Lar from her Anaerther heritage," She closed the doors, and the whole throne structure disappeared beneath the floor, leaving only flat trapdoor behind.

"We should get going," Gi'Waters said after examining the throne leftovers. "This noise could attract the King here once again."

"Probably," Kyre recalled the earlier occurrence with a shudder of fear, "Will you be able to climb up back?" he directed his words at Hunn, who was still immobile below his waist.

"I can climb up that rope. I just can't walk yet," Hunn answered half proud, and half ashamed to admit any inability of his body.

"No problem then. We should get going immediately." Gi'Waters became increasingly nervous to stay in the room any longer. Any chit-chat and meet-and-greet could be done once safely outside the Inner Block walls, she thought reasonably. Logic and reason were the things she excelled at. Sometimes all too unwillingly.

 

CHAPTER TEN

Once the platform reached its destination halfway through the dunes, Bertan started regretting of her decision to bring Genes along for the ride. After all none of this was his fault more than hers. Yet, he would be the one to pay dearly her debts. Funny how the Fates roll out their plans sometimes, she thought, watching the towers of the Royal City of Naam to appear and grow in size as they were getting closer and closer. Seemingly endless lights fused with the fiery orange veins marring neighboring mountain slopes and foothills.

She had forgotten the mind-numbing exquisite beauty of the intricate towers that shot high in the sky that challenged nearby mountaintops in the race for the stars. A free-flowing lava rivers dotted with colorful gems, flooded with man-made structures. A single and weak tear found its way into her mouth, a bitter-salty reminder of the pain to come. Her sins couldn't be wiped out by a mere change of trade of her usefulness. Her debts still had to be paid in full. City of Naam gleamed from afar, and its lights were reflected in Genes' youthful eyes. As they neared, more details of the ever-pulsing lights were revealed. An incomprehensible pull called upon the visitors' mesmerized hearts.

"It's so beautiful," he breathed slowly, stricken with the impossible kind of beauty.

"It's deadly," Bertan muttered, berating herself for neglecting the fact that Genes was still a boy. He was easily distracted and impressionable boy, who seemed to spend all of his life in the valley plains. He knew nothing of the world, with the exception of venturing into the Inner Block that was nothing more than a big industrial slab of stone, never meant for housing or living. And here, she was bringing him into the source of all that was dark and all that was evil in their world, disguised as a city of a never dying light.

"Bertan of The Third Line. You and your subservient are required to come with us," a stiff voice called for her attention.

She was so distracted with overwhelming emotions of homecoming that she didn't even notice the guarding shadows once the platform came to a full stop, blocking their way out. She composed herself quickly, into a straight, taut line and put on a stone expression. Never faltering in her step, Bertan joined the guards. Thankfully, Genes silently copied her act.

She should have guessed earlier that they would be intercepted, before they would have any chance to get off the tracks and venture into The Royal City. The guards led them into the visitors sensing home, designed for discomfort and clarity, in its clear-cut stone edges seemingly void of vibrancy and life. The sensing home was small and solid in statue, un-glowing on the outside but filled with the light on the inside.

Genes had to be utterly disoriented with the way he felt there, she suspected. It was intoxicating in its welcome, and he never wanted to leave its warmth, and the heavenly aroma. Quick and decisive footsteps roused him from this spell. His head bowed even lower. A makeshift hood, made from the salvaged Kite sheet, covered him almost entirely to his knees.

 

"What is the important news that you bring personally, Daughter of the South? Nothing could be that important, as you well know," a tall figured man dressed for journey, quickly asked. He didn’t bother with any formalities. He left out many words hanging in the air, like an unsaid blasphemy.

"The High Council had just finished their proceedings. Seekinglands representatives are on the run for some reason, though no official and visible power hunts them. The Axes plan to settle all of their forces in the Ombre Valley," Bertan reported the main points of her latest investigations.

"Excellent news!" the man seemed so exceptionally pleased that he clasped his hands together. He was readying himself to go back into the streets of the Royal City once again, to deliver the good news further into the chain of command. "I think we might be ready soon, too," he murmured more to himself than to her. After a moment of pondering on the news, he looked at her and frowned. "Why are you here Bertan? There are safer ways for you to deliver this kind of message."

"I know, but I need to speak with the High Mother of the Third Line," Bertan answered slowly. Her words were heavy with the weight that drove into her as she uttered them. Her Fate was sealed right then, by those words of her free will.

"Nothing has changed since your last conversation, and I'm sure, you are aware of that." The man was one of the few, who had witnessed first-hand the disastrous aftermath that the last meeting between Bertan and the Mother had brought upon the whole Second Line House. The bloodbath that followed Bertan's blood training resistance wiped out nearly all the House slaves, and that put everyone, even him, in a very uncomfortable situation for the next Cycles. He had always thought that someone, so concerned with the lowlifes, would have more sense to keep more of them alive. That one swift strike of a sword had been her right, and her duty. This girl should feel lucky that her Mother had a soft spot for her, and revoked the only suitable punishment.

"Yes. I'm clearly aware of that fact, and I still require this meeting to take place within the Royal City walls," Bertan admitted, stern and uninviting in her tone and posture. She wanted nothing more than this conversation to end. It was her adapting a Sword way and consider many words to be nothing more than obstacles to any future plans lying near ahead.

"But of course," he flustered. He was probably mindful to hide his most useful slaves. Just in case. "May I be of service guiding you, Bertan of the Third Line?" his tone and style became suddenly all too formal and intense for her comfort.

"I know how to find my way, High Priest Lyk," Bertan smoothly adapted present formality. Having been raised in the Third Line Home, required fluency in rigid protocol in order to survive, and preferably keep your head on your shoulders.

"Of course, I'll call upon your Line guards to accompany you." The High Priest had quickly bowed and hurried away, stressed by the way today's events turned out. Informing the High Mother of her last daughter's request was of the utmost importance.

The four guards had appeared silently, Bertan noticed they were the same that had intercepted them once their platform arrived.

"Guide us to the Red Rooms of the Third Line," she commanded quickly, feeling tired already. She would not know what the next cycle brings, but at least she could meet it clean, and wearing her favorite, comfortable, and fresh robes. Bertan felt a need to lie to herself a little bit longer, for she knew exactly, what was expected of her, when she comes back to her Line's House.

The only reason she accepted the Southern Point position back then, under the excuse of being trained into her 'other' ancestors ways, was the need to run away from the bloody in-house training. Freedom never bore any meaning in the Swords territory, whether you were a slave or a master. Somebody would always own your body, thoughts, and will.

 

They were escorted in silence. The sole focus of Genes' mind was on the floor that was inviting him with its slight glow of a faint light, embedded with crystals in a colorful glass. He was too tired and overwhelmed to look around, to maybe try to hear things around, and too slow to try to connect with Bertan.

She started to scare him a bit then, if he were be honest with himself. Not that he even tried at that moment, as honesty would mean the acceptance of the very unacceptable. One moment, she ceased to be a thief of facts only to become a Royal Lady, graceful and tense in her statue. She spoke with such an air of command, as if the world revolved around her, for the sole purpose of being owned by her graces.

Genes came to a late, and a startling conclusion that, after all, this was her home. Bertan of the Third Sword's Line, or at least something along those lines, and he agreed to be her slave. Lost in his thoughts, he paid no attention to their route, following her like a faithful shadow, almost running into her when they reached their destination. He would trust her with his life though, for what other option was there for him?

"Are you thirsty?" were the first words Bertan said when heavy doors closed behind them, leaving only the uncomfortable silence than hung in the air like unwanted truth waiting to be revealed. Genes just stood there silently for a long while, clearly struggling to grasp everything that surrounded him. She came to him, got his makeshift hood off, and untied the kite's sheet of fabric to uncloak his body that was worryingly unresponsive.

"Are you thirsty Genes?"Bertan asked again, taking his face in her hands. His only answer was a quick nod. He stood there helplessly, not knowing what to do with himself, what to say, where to sit, as the red room appeared to be nothing but a large, luxurious but empty space.

"Just who exactly you are, Bertan?" he asked dazedly. She had no answer for him so she took his hand to lead him. Without any argument, he let her be his guide around this foreign place that spelled his death in each darkened, and yet painfully beautiful corner.

"Let's just drink for now or maybe you would want to get cleaned first?" Bertan said easily leading him to a curtain-covered wall, that proved to be no wall at all, but a richly decored niche.

"Water please," he croaked tightly, having just realized how thirsty and dry he really was.

"All right. That can be a bit difficult Genes. We don't drink water here. I hope you will like our juice though. It's not the Idle Juice obviously," she answered the unspoken question in his eyes handing him a huge chalice. "Drink up, it works miracles, believe me. We call it a Tharo Juice."

She immediately snorted with laughter, noticing the way grim-faced Genes carefully examined the chalice, and the juice itself. Finally, after he had his first sip, his face lightened up a bit and he just downed whole liquid at once.

"Gods, you just can't pretend, can you?" she couldn’t stop laughing. All the tension left her at once with the light mood that her laughter provided. The future ever so dark bore no meaning. For a few moments innocent inner peace reigned in her core.

"No, we don't lie," Genes answered sternly, unwelcoming any further conversation on the topic of her lies, truths, and omissions.

"I know, but let's face it… you all seem quite a serious, uptight lot," she said lightly, after drinking her own portion of the juice, waiting for its miracle works.

"Who?" he asked, totally baffled.

"You… Seekinglanders," she explained exasperated, "It's not like there is anyone else in this room, but you and me.'

"No, we are not uptight!" he scoffed at the impossible, for him, reasoning. "We know how to have fun."

"Not really, you don't. Let's be honest, you are all about the Oracle, analyzing every sound it ever made." Bertan thought deeply about the observations, she had made during her brief interactions with his tribe. "Drinking hazing juice doesn't mean having fun. It's like, you don't know how to take the world less seriously."

"You just don't get it Bertan. I'm not sure you ever could. You don't know, how it is to feel the end of your life creeping in constantly. You don't know, the joy that can be packed into one last word, and the intensity in knowing you are not meant to last," he said slowly, looking at her through his dazed eyes.

"That's what I'm saying. You are too serious… too intense to have fun…" she couldn't finish her thought. She felt that she got too deep into her own feelings. It wasn't a place she wanted to dwell too long.

Genes couldn't focus on her words as well, for a strange warmth has engulfed his whole body at once. "Are you sure it's not a hazing juice?" He almost slurred, in his relaxed state. The sofa, that appeared to be on his right side, suddenly looked the most inviting, so he heeded its invitation with a groan of pleasure.

"Yes, I'm sure. It will be over soon. It's rich in the things a tired body needs, and it will give you some strength. It gives so much more to the Swords." Bertan walked to another curtain, which hid, even more beautiful niche.

"We need to drink now as much as possible. It's not allowed to take it outside the city's premises." Bertan did not mention that it was forbidden to give it to the slaves too. Technically, he still wasn't one, so the loophole still existed. All the repercussions that her actions could bring, were pushed to the corners of her mind, not to be worried about at that moment. Fates be gentle, or just let them perish in peace, she thought.

"Ah, the legendary, magic potion. I've heard so much about it," he sighed, deeply within the blissful state that the juice brought into his body. His mind refused to work, so he closed his eyes for a while.

"It's not magic," she scoffed at him quickly, but added hesitantly, "It's just a nutritious juice made of few plants that grow in the caverns deep underground. It keeps the life flowing inside you more freely."

"So, does it work on everyone?" Genes asked curiously, though as in slow motion, not bothering to open his eyes anymore.

"Basically, yes," she hid the truth once again, and she had the feeling, it would not be the last thing to hide from him either.

"On me too?" A soft tug at his core tried to tell him, there were things she was not sharing with him, again. He decided to let it go, unwilling to break the beauty of a strange bond that seemed to link them together in the unimaginable ways. He could almost feel, as if his core was tuning up for her, and it tingled every time she tried to mislead him. He let it go, for what other option did he have.

"Of course it works on everyone. Why would it not? Are you that afraid of living a few years longer?" she asked carefully. The serious tone of that question was covered with a lack of eye contact, and a light tone of her voice.

"If it's by magic, or bloodshed then yes, I'm afraid," he said wearily. The fog clogging his mind seemed to start lifting.

"I told you, it's no magic. Everyone in the city can make the juice out of the plants. It's just that most of the people here are lazy royals that tend to have people to wipe their butts, so of course, nobody really makes the juice the juice. Everyone just gets it." Uneasy truths had to be told at some point, she knew. At one point, he would have to learn every dirty Sword secret. Just not yet, she decided, he should not learn to hate her so quickly.

"People here don't do what here?" Genes' eyes opened with a bewildered and shocked expression. Bertan could see that his mind reached its maximum speed at once.

"You heard it once, and I'm not going to say it again. It's a Royals rule. You don't do anything unless it's fighting, and killing for the glory of the Sword Kingdom. Slaves are for everything else." She tried her hardest, not to make it sound like a great joke, for it was the sheer truth, one of many, she loathed.

"Did you just bring me here as your slave to wipe your butt? Oh… does that mean you are the actual royal here. How old exactly are you? ..." His questions seemed to flow like a river, since his body and mind were completely renewed at that point. He felt like he would feel after two Cycles of uninterrupted sleep.

"That is a conversation we can have after we tidy up ourselves," Bertan answered, uncovering yet more curtains that held bathing niches and clothing areas.

Their time was cut short by the sudden announcement that Mother was already waiting for her. They would have to speed up quite a bit. Still, she wasn't going to face her closest adversary dirty, and underdressed.

 

After Genes refreshed himself in the most luxurious bathrooms he had only heard of before. Seekinglanders never approved of any luxury, so sometimes even a nearby water-river would have do. There was a certain addiction, the luxury brought into some weak minds. He could already feel it washing over his own body and mind, making him crave more of it, of more time like this. He was struggling for quite a while with figuring out how to bind the certain parts of a suit that was waiting for him on the floor, and would have to ask for help at some point, he admitted begrudgingly. Even his imagination failed to work out the supposed position of the garments on his body. He didn’t hear when Bertan neared, until he actually felt her breath on his neck.

"You don’t need everything to fit perfectly, nobody will notice you anyway. I also prepared a few things for you to carry around." She handed him a backpack. It was not unlike the one she had been wearing back there, in the Axes territories, and quite a collection of instruments, that looked like tiny and narrow swords that had glass-like blades visible only at a certain angle.

"Is this what you have for slaves and kids around here?" he asked clearly dumbfounded, touching each object with awe and great interest.

"No, the slaves are never given any instruments of annihilation. Nobody trusts them that much," Bertan laughed, empty on the inside with the thought, "That's why, for you, the only safe thing is the least visible one," she explained quickly helping him with the lines and folds of every part of his new wardrobe.

When Genes learned the basics of his survival, she gave more attention to her own preparations.

 

CHAPTER ELEVEN

"Why are you carrying that bird everywhere with you?" Lar asked Hunn. She loved the feel of the chick's incredibly soft feathers. It wasn't that hard to locate her new team of Guardians once she finally decided to do so. She was quite proud of herself to learn that she scared them with her stealthy arrival earlier. Lar was even more happy when she was able to guide them into a hiding place more comfortable than the shed they had been at when she found them.

"It's a Northerner Haxe bird, newly hatched actually," Hunn proudly boasted "There is only one nest of their kind well beyond southern ends of the known worlds."

"How come you have one then?" she asked, admiring the chick's iridescent soft coloring.

"A trade… of sorts," he hesitated.

"What trade?" She picked up on that hesitation immediately. Only the juiciest parts make people uncomfortable

"One saved life in the past for a life to be saved in the future." He explained, unwilling to share the details.

"How is that bird supposed to save anyone's life?" Lar asked for her curiosity remained unquenched with the half-truths she was receiving.

"Not by itself, of course. It will take decades for it to become an adult." He patted the bird with a grin. "But it can fly already and call her parents that would be of help when the times get too tight."

"How?" she looked at the chick with a newfound respect.

"Do you know how fast, the creatures that are at least twenty times larger than this chick, could be?" he caressed and hugged his chick, safely tucked in the blanket by his side.

"No, I don't think I would know." Lar admitted unwilling to let go of the soft bird too.

"They are the most powerful creatures that are left from the times before the night started its endless reign. They hold no enemies in the air and nothing can compete with their speed."

"Ah. How nice. What can they possibly eat when they are so big?" Uncomfortable silence fell long enough for Lar to pick up the special interest in the subject. "Hunn? What do they eat?" she looked at him expectantly.

"Um… The chicks eat about anything." He said finally after a moment, unwilling to say more.

"And the adult ones? What do they usually eat?" she prompted once again.

"Come on Hunn, she is an Axe." Kyre happily joined the conversation sporting a huge grin on his face. He couldn't believe, there was anything that could embarrass Hunn so much. The feeding habits of the Northern Haxe bird were a jackpot hit there.

"She is a part Seekinglander too, and being an Axe doesn't mean the bloodshed runs through her veins." Hunn answered testily and he left the room. Kyre chuckled in amazement for Hunn had never left any fight before.

"Is it that bad?" Lar asked the only warrior present in the room both of the men hid in.

"It depends how you look at it." Kyre answered, looking at her, measuring her up for the signs of any weakness.

"Why should there be any difference. Truth is truth. Isn't it?" Lar frowned. That was one of the times adults, in their words and actions, made literally no sense.

"It's not the truth that is an issue here, Lar. It's a feeling point of view, of sorts, towards it." Kyre explained.

"So what is the most basic truth here?" Lar asked after a while, focusing all her mind power to make this adult understand her.

"The birds feed mostly on human flesh." Kyre admitted, only to discover, he didn't like the way Lar gasped. "They don't kill people. The birds just find their corpses."

"How would they find so many corpses?" She wondered aloud, knowing not many people lived directly on the surface anymore.

"Their human carers see to that." He sighed heavily.

"Do they kill people?" Lar asked carefully.

"Probably not, we haven't heard of that happening, but in truth, who knows." He said wearily.

"Why would that make Hunn so uncomfortable and what does it have to do with me being an Axe?"

That question made Kyre pause for a moment. It was already visible on his face that he was trying to come up with the way to spill out some of the rumored Axe sins, without breaking her still young spirit. It was a common knowledge, after all, that it's always better to be sicken and aware than blissfully ignorant when your life and future depends on knowledge rather than pure luck.

"Have you noticed any animals around?" he asked.

"No, never." Lar answered truthfully, though she had never looked out to see any either.

"Have you ever heard of Axes farming any animals?"

"No."

"Then where do you think the flesh comes in your meats," he paused. A dreadful moment of truth, almost audibly, clicked within her youthful mind.

"I don't know." Lar said quietly.

"You do know now," when he noticed how heart-stricken her face became, he understood firsthand, the reason why Hunn had just left the room,.

"You can't be serious about that!" She whispered in a quiet scream, but the tears on her cheeks were a testimony of acceptance that bore right into her mind. "Who would ever think to eat human flesh? And for Gods, why?"

"It is a matter of Axe history and let's be happy it's only the dead that give their share now." He said stiffly to prevent any further discussion.

"Was it ever different?" the curiosity won with the nausea that troubled her stomach ever since the truth of Axe culinary secrets took its place in her mind, reminding her of the last time she had the intoxicating flesh dish she liked so much.

"That question you have to ask your father to learn the truth instead of legends." The look on his face said that he was wishing for nothing else than this conversation to be over.

"That Kyre I will do," were the last words she said, before she left the room. She started to run to get away from that place as fast as possible. "Sometime. .. Maybe..." she added silently.

At first she felt no pull as to where would her feet guide her. All stone-cold halls and corridors of the Inner Block looked the same when she paid no attention. She did not pay any, of course, focusing all of her might not to throw up right there on the floor. She hoped to get quickly to her own rooms, but after a long while, she realized she reached the guest part of the castle that the Duchess was occupying. The nausea subsided at once when the Fates’ chance awoken a thief dangerously close to her core. Treasures had to be found. Many secrets waited for her to be uncovered. Earlier questions and their abominable answers could wait a little bit longer.

Lar entered her mother's room sure that nobody had followed her steps. She looked around curiously. The more time she spent there, snooping around, the stronger the invisible bond with her mother became. With an exceptional care she touched each and every object that belonged to the Duchess, could almost see behind her eyes, the way they were used. After she spent a whole cycle in that room, she knew it was time to go, or her da would come looking for her. He wouldn’t be happy finding her there. She took one last glance getting ready to leave. Still, something pulled her back, to keep on looking. Something still waited and wanted to be uncovered. Lar frowned and sat on a huge bed, not knowing where to start. The moment her eyes closed, in an instant she fell into a sleep-spell.

Lar opened her eyes to discover she was back again in the Throne Room, all by herself. It was completely bare, right to its metal components, and looked incomplete. Most of the stone walls supporting the absent ceiling were gone. She saw the base construction of the Great Mine, before it was covered with stones that created the living spaces of the Inner Block. Two, unknown to her, voices were getting closer, strangely unaccompanied by their owners. Lar was thrown right in the middle of a conversation set in whispers.

"It's almost time to link all the elements together," the light and squeaky voice quickly attacked her senses.

"The Wall is still not ready for that," low and slow answer was almost a pleasure, like a music of sorts.

"We have to risk it now. Later there will be no chance for that. Changes are approaching faster than we calculated."

"We cannot do that. Linking it now could endanger the stability of the whole underground structure."

"If we keep on waiting there will be no chance of using it. You have to come up with the idea to stabilize the walls now."

"We could bury it deeper."

"The Elders will not like it."

"They will have to reconsider their position."

"I'm thinking of foregoing their approval."

"You will land in a pod for that."

"I might, but if we take no action now, there will be no chance later on."

"I agree."

"I'm taking a full responsibility for that order then. Cover everything with dust and link everything together."

"I accept your order."

Both of the whispers gave way to the silence.

Lar looked around, unable to see anything of help. Finally, she just looked down and saw the pattern that had attracted her attention earlier.

She woke up with a start to find herself still sitting on her mother's bed. Unable to process her dream she followed her inner voice to roll up the carpet that covered the floor. There it was. The secret that begged to be uncovered. It was the same pattern graced the Throne Room's floor, but now she knew it wasn't just a pattern. It was a map of what lay beneath the Axeland.

She went motionless for a moment, froze in her pose, frown deeply etched on her young face. There was no thrill in that secret, no happiness about it. She quickly analyzed what she could recall from her dream. Those ‘Pods’ worried her, it had to be something bad. The voice uttered this word with revenance and fear. The vibration that one word brought to her core made her want to forget everything. Her dream-spell brought back the kind of past that was better off forgotten.

Lar run from her mother’ chamber as fast as she could, but it didn’t take away the feeling that word had brought to her core. Pods. She ran in the hopes that it would make the spirit voices die instead of following her, not knowing that ancestry to the core she carried deep within her body was just getting awake.

 

Trying to forget what she had just uncovered, Lar suddenly realized that she still had some questions, and the only person that could answer them was her father, just as Kyre mentioned earlier. She found her Da hunched over the plans in his new 'meeting room', as she called it. It was a small room that overlooked the lands outside the Inner Block. The Red Axe King moved his royal business there, all of his meetings took place there

"Da?" she called once she entered the room.

"Yes?" the Red Axe King didn't raise his head from the plans he was reviewing.

"How close is the war?" Lar asked, though it wasn’t the thing of a great interest to her anymore.

"I don’t know it yet. I hope it doesn’t get here at all," her father answered absently.

"But it will," she sighed.

"Yes, someday it will arrive at our doorstep," he agreed.

"At the Wall," she corrected him.

"Yes," the King laughed unexpectedly. He wasn’t used to being corrected in any way, "At the Wall. For now, it's our only protection," he added somberly.

"What if it fails?" she disliked the hopelessness in his voice. There was no way to win this war, she realized, but they would fight anyway.

"I'm working on a plan to protect us when that happens," the King motioned to the plans that were laid out on the big table next to him.

"Can I see it?" Lar walked up to him and climbed on his lap to see everything better.

"You can, but you won't understand it, you are too young " he laughed again. There was no point to argue with Lar once there was a thing she wanted.

"Try me, Da," she giggled in anticipation.

"Let's see…" the King frowned at his plan and pointed to its center, "Many, many miles below the surface there is a place called The Melting Place."

"What does it do?"

"We are not sure anymore. We haven't been using that part of the Mine since our independence," he explained.

"Our what?" she frowned.

"Freedom, from the ones who wanted to be our masters," her Da patiently explained.

"Were they really bad?" she asked.

"Yes, of course, they were bad. Good people don’t need slaves. Anyway, we have been trying to go back into the certain parts of the Great Mine to rediscover our past."

"What is there?" she touched the place on the plan that he pointed earlier.

"Mostly nothing that we understand, but the Melting Place used to have a great source of fire that now resides much closer to the surface, it’s still but we think we should be able to make use of it."

"What would we do with that fire? It’s still deeply below us, you said," she scanned the plans with her keen eyes. It was the only chance for her to learn what her father knew about the places beneath the Inner Block.

"Yes it is, but our great inventors found a way to spread it around on the surface."

"You want to protect us with fire?" Lar squeaked with excitement looking at the plans in front of her with a newfound respect.

"In a way, yes," the King sighed.

"Will it work?"

"I work to make it work," her father answered with a deep sigh.

"What if it doesn't work then?"

"It will work Lar, you will see this great wall of fire, even from your room."

"Won't they find a way to get through?"

"They don’t know about it, so they will have no chance to prepare."

"Surprise?" she giggled, "Surprise for the Swords? Is that possible?"

"Yes Lar, it will be a surprise for them," the King chuckled too.

For a moment he let himself be drawn into his private fantasy world and the Axes were free to keep on living in the lands they stole so long ago. Though, he knew all too well, that Swords would never let that happen. Maybe this time the Fates would be on the Axes side yet again. They needed to win so badly this coming battle, to survive long enough to prepare for what’s coming next.

The two of them, a father and his only daughter sat in silence while he was hoping for a better future, hoping to keep this moment just a little while longer, hoping this peace could stretch into infinity.

 

"Ah." She quieted for a bit, trying to gather her courage for the burning question that she wanted to ask in the first place. "Da?"

"Yes?" he asked absently, for he was deeply immersed in his plans again.

"What is the meat we eat made of?" she asked tentatively.

"You know it Lar. It's from flesh." He closed his eyes with a deep sigh.

"But where do we get that flesh from?" Lar wouldn’t let go once she noticed his sigh. A sigh like that could only mean an uneasy truth or a secret.

"From the ones that need it no more," the King evaded.

"From the dead?" she asked breathlessly.

"It's not possible to eat something that is still alive, Lar."

"I mean, do we eat our dead?" she asked, "I mean, our people?"

There was no answer for that question for a long time. The Red Axe King frowned and nervously cleared his throat with a faked cough.

"Yes," he said after a long silence.

"Why?" she sniffed and tears welled in her eyes.

"It would be a waste to just let it rot." The King embraced his daughter tightly, letting her express her shock in the only way she knew, through tears.

"But it's so awful," Lar sobbed.

"Why? Why is it more awful than eating a dead animal?" he reasoned patiently.

"It just is," she quieted.

"But you like it. You like the meats you eat. You like the way it tastes."

"You never told me what is made of."

"Would it make any difference?" he sighed.

"I don’t know," she admitted.

"Lar, we don’t kill our food, we don’t hunt anymore. We take only what the nature gives us. The dead body is a nature's gift that we learned to make use of to survive."

"We don’t hunt anymore?" she picked up on the other question she really wanted to know answer to.

"We don’t," he said absently, already looking through his plans.

"When did we hunt and what?" Her tears were already gone.

"It was a long, long time ago Lar, even before we were forced to be slaves."

"I want to know about it," she said stubbornly and in all-business tone. She knew right then, she just wanted to hear it out loud from him.

"You are too young."

"Is it that bad? Am I that bad?" She asked feeling a little bit lost, even though she knew already what he was to say, it made her feel uneasy, knowing it ran in her veins, the bloody past of her ancestry.

"Of course, you are not, Lar. It was a long time ago, I'm not even sure anymore if that’s a true story," he tried to derail her interest one last time.

"Tell it to me then, Da," she pleaded, "Please. Pretty please," ‘I have to know,’ was the thing she didn’t have to add. They both knew it was there.

"Ah, Lar, don’t look at me like that." Suddenly he was afraid to close his eyes while she targeted him.

"Then tell me."

"All right. Do you remember that story of the times where there was this brightness in the sky gave us light and warmth?"

"About the days? I love that story!"

"Yes, that one. We don’t know what it was, but once it just disappeared. We still don’t know why. But it did. In one moment, the light was gone, and the food was gone with it. There is a legend that our ancestors started to hunt others to survive," he said evenly, though he didn’t dare to meet her eyes.

"To eat them?" she gasped wide eyed and disgusted.

"Yes. Though this seems very unlikely, Lar. Maybe it was just when we started to eat dead flesh. So many people were dying out of hunger then. Who knows? The legend also says about the red blood eyes curse. Have you seen anyone with red blood eyes?"

"No, of course not, but it's a horrible story anyway."

"Yes it is. Hopefully, it's only a story, nothing more," the King frowned, like he just realized something important.

"But we do eat our dead now, that is not a story," she moaned unhappy.

"We eat them and we don’t waste it," he said sharply, cutting her arguments short.

"I don’t think I will be able to do it again, Da," Lar looked straight into his eyes, defiant in her tone.

"What?"

"Eat flesh. I don’t want it," Lar said decisively.

"You don’t have to, but you will become weak at some point," he chuckled.

"I don’t mind it, Da," she said as she left the room, "Even if I have to eat dirt, I won't ever eat flesh again."

The Red Axe King was left agape. He knew, she couldn’t know that eating dirt was a long forgotten tradition of the Seekinglanders. Lar's origins were starting to reveal themselves, he realized somberly. She was turning into a Seekinglander, into her mother's kind. He hoped there was still time to fix it.

 

 

 

CHAPTER TWELVE

"Bertan! I'm so happy to see that the rumors of your arrival, and return, were the embodiment of the truth, this time," a soft and deceiving voice of the High Mother Of The Third Line tried to put a comfort spell into Bertan's mind and make her let her guards down. Bertan, on the other hand, knew her Mother too well though, being her last true daughter. She had learned the hard way not to make the same mistake twice and would never trust that creature again.

"May the blessings guard you, Mother." Bertan kept herself as stiff and composed as a taut tension line of her kite. Her formal robes were the key reminder of the right posture to keep, and the right words to say. The usual garment of a Sword was an armored robe, easily and readily worn into fights and informal meetings, always filled with the favorite and necessary weaponry. While she chose to wear for this meeting soft and alien cascades of a formal silk coat that was draped in waves around her body hiding everything but the lies.

"I never thought that I would live to see it happen, so forgive me please but I just have to ask. What brings you back, to where you obviously don't belong? Dearest of daughters." A tall and statuesque Mother of too many generations appeared tense herself, hiding it well beneath her act. The training that Bertan went through with the southern tribe, made her easily see through that act. She could notice the things she would most certainly ignore before. That fact brought a startling revelation that it was way too easy for her to see through the Mother. The conversation was becoming dangerous before it even started.

"I need to speak with you in private. Where no ears can hear and no eyes may see, Mother." Bertan's voice didn’t even feel as her own.

That request alone sparked a rare look of interest in her Mother, a calculating gleam filled her bright eyes.

"Ah, I see. We should visit the Winter's Peak then." The Mother led the way in silence with such poise and superiority that all of her guards and company knew they were being dismissed right there, without any need for a verbal command. The Highest Mother of the Third Line was followed only by Bertan, who nodded at Genes to stay too. He could not object, frozen as a stone, he waited.

When nothingness spread around, it was only darkness that met Bertan's feet. Crescent moonlight soothed her eyes, unused to the amount of light that graced the Royal City. The Winters Peak was a small terrace, forged into the peak of the mountain. The view would be breathtaking, was it not the only a place of solitude granted to the few with secrets and the ones eager to keep them in darkness. It was the only place in the entire Royal City of Naam accessible only by stairs. One thousand two hundred and fifteen of them, and as many ways to avoid being followed and heard.

"Why did you come back now Bertan? You know what that means. You can't leave without having a death squad after your head soon. You will pay not only for your own past sins here," a sincere worry marred Mother's voice. Not the thing Bertan would ever expect to hear. "Much has changed while you were gone."

"I know Mother. I will try to deal with that later." Bertan decided, to go with the most pressing issue she faced first. "Now I need to ask you one question… Who am I Mother, I know, I'm not the one you told me I was."

"How can you be sure?" Her Mother asked clearly not surprised. She kept her eyes closed to avoid any eye-linking with her daughter.

"I know Mother. This knowledge has been growing inside me. Who am I? Who is my real father?" Bertan tried very hard not to sound too hungry for knowledge. She was sick at the thought of being fed with lies again.

"I do not know, dearest daughter." Impossible sorrow seemed to enter the Mother's voice for a tiniest of moments. Just a fleeting impression that Bertan was almost sure she had to imagine it in the first place.

"How can you not know that?" Bertan asked more hostile than she wished to. That exactly had to be just another lie that her mother kept on repeating throughout her life. The Echo suddenly carried a bit too much sound for her liking. And she looked around nervously.

Her Mother's figure seemed to crumple at that exact moment.

"Mother!" Bertan lunged forward with an embrace, to keep the matron from falling down from the terrace's stone ledge. She crouched to assess the damages, finding some kind of darts that bit her Mother who was barely breathing at that point.

"I'm not your Mother, Bertan, I never was," the Mother struggled to say. "We don't breed anymore, even with the foreigners." Last breath wheezed out of her. The Mother left Bertan lost and alone once again.

Of all the moments, Bertan had wished for death to come upon her Mother that was the only one time, in her entire life, she prayed for one more breath, one more second of life, for the person she hated. All was futile now. More questions without answers arose. The Fates were not kind for her first approach to uncover the truth of her origins, rendering everything else to be pointless. She had only a few moments more to buy some more time before she would be able to leave the city again.

 

Genes couldn’t believe his eyes. It seemed as if a stranger hijacked Bertan's body that walked down the stairs. It was the first time when he truly noted and appreciated her beauty, strength, and grace. Stormy, and empty dark eyes that belonged to Bertan assessed everyone who gathered by the staircase. In her left hand she held the head of The Mother of The third line.

Her unwavering voice announced a clear, but detached message, "I, Bertan of The Third Line To The Throne, by the law of blood, am taking over the Third Line Throne Head position. Anyone, who wishes to fight my claim, speak now, or stay silent forever!" She raised her right hand to point into the sky.

Not a softest of sounds to broke the shocked silence that followed, not a bit wind, not a rasp of a shoe on the marble floor. Even breaths seemed to be held for a long while, as she had claimed her new position.

As no competition arose, she dropped the head to the floor. "Prepare the funeral immediately." her voice was still strong and unrelenting.

Bertan quickly left. People by the scene were left disoriented and awed. They had a chance to be a part of a live-and-tell experience that they would relish for the rest of their lives. Her Mother had been one of the ultimate masters of the Sword Kingdom for more Great Cycles than most of their own lives. No sane person would take lightly the one who had apparently just chopped her head off to claim her position, so they feared Bertan greatly then. The Swords respected only those they feared.

 

Genes had no choice, but to follow the stranger that had now taken control of his friend. That thought brought him up short. Aye, Bertan, the Sword, the killer, the ultimate enemy, was becoming his friend deep within his heart.

 

Bertan ran through the last corridor that separated her from the Red Rooms. She was barely aware of the troubles Genes had to follow her stride. She ran straight for the trash bin to throw up, heaving an almost empty stomach out, drowning in panic that was hovering over her ever since she had to chop off that damn head off. It had not been a killing, for blood was already unmoving, yet the disgust it unveiled had fed her Madness. No matter how much she tried to shut down that voice in her head, it did not relent.

She had known, she was no Sword by nature. The difference now was that she was sure, she was no Sword by blood either. Volatile Madness devoured her mind, and boiled her blood, as she cursed the fictitious heritage she was made to believe in her whole life. At some point her awareness gave up, letting her slip out of her body. It was a bit of reprieve from the hatred in a tortured mind.

 

Bertan became a'De in Genes eyes, almost Death within a living, and breathing body that had a soul at the ready to leave. Everything was an act since then. She uttered no word nor took any interest in his presence.

He didn’t bother to count the cycles that passed, and he could feel death creeping into him too, for she was the only person that kept him alive in the Royal City of Naam, in the middle of Sword territories. He still had problems to wrap his mind around the fact that he was in the middle of the enemy lands. So he kept his head low, and started to observe things, and people.

The only thing he did know for sure was that this was his prison, and he would never be able to reach his tribe that had probably already started the Great Trek into the unknown. The Oracle would be followed closely, with or without him present. He had never felt so alone, raw and hopeless as in the time that Bertan was swept into a'De. All the cycles blended into one until his fear turned into the only food for his body and soul.

Uninterrupted time of silence and stillness stretched into Cycles, until six guards stormed into Bertan's main room. She didn’t even bother to raise her eyes then. Her sole focus was aimed at the glass of the Tharo Juice. Nothing could break the connection she had with the glass in her hand and the liquid in her mouth.

The guards froze in a rigid formation, three by each side. They waited for something to happen. When nothing had for a long time, they did not relax their wariness. As one, they fell to their knees to sit on their heels. Their leader was still to reveal himself, from behind the thick doors the guards left opened. The aura of his hidden presence was heavy with the weight of his position and the strength of his scent. Once that odd kind of perfume reached Bertan, it caused her to raise her head and look at the doors, drilling it through to the place that someone apparently waited.

"In!" A sudden awareness and fury in Bertan's voice startled Genes in an instant. He fell into a dizziness, when he thought that nothing would make her alive again but in that great wake up call, his only one thought was to hide. Nothing, and not one that was able to bring her from the a'De, and yell this way, could by no means, herald anything good to happen. So, Genes dived straight down and behind her sofa to watch a bizarre scene that took place by the rules of the world, he knew wasn't his.

A tallest man, he had ever seen, entered the room to stop right in the middle of his guards. The figure was robed in a strict attire, complete with a hood and a face-covering that revealed only his wary eyes.

"What brings you here, Ash of the Second Line, with double the guards you usually bring, to my lowly rooms?" the ice in her voice would freeze all the piss in Genes groin, was it directed to him.

"Hardly lowly anymore, you are, Bertan,” a raspy voice, hidden behind the customary mask, answered ruefully, “You should be proud some of us started to take you… a bit more seriously after…"

"After I took my Mother's head to take her position at my house?" she asked coldly, not giving away that she was still deeply sickened with that fact.

"Well, yes, of course. You are finally showing signs of becoming a true Sword to be on guard around, with more guards of course," his voice was so deep and rumbling that it almost reached the edge of being inaudible at times, "But that is not the reason of my visit."

"What is it then?" she asked, and narrowed her eyes to look more closely at her visitor, in the search for any signs to be wary of, and yet, she could not find any.

"Always quick to the root of things,” he laughed quietly, “You haven't changed that much."

"I have not changed, at all," she voiced the bitter truth that tugged at her core even more relentless since she came back into her senses again.

"Don't expect me to fall for your sweet appearance ever again. As well as for the continuous mutiny to the custom of face covering, walking barefaced like only the slaves do. A visible face lies just as good as the covered one, even better in fact, because no one expects the deception then. That's why your Mother had fallen, isn't it?" His words stated both admiration and a warning. "Mind now, all of us have learned that lesson pretty quick."

"Noted. Why are you here? Is it a secret?" Bertan straightened her posture even more, standing up in an almost unnoticeable movement.

"Hardly Bertan, the new Mistress of the Third Line." He seemed to be amused when it became apparent that she noticed her physical disadvantages. As tall as she was for a female, she barely reached the middle of his torso. Yet, he still brought twice as many guards with him, and he wore full battle robes. She noticed that too.

"The Ruling House calls you in Bertan, the new Leader of the Third Line to the Throne," an odd pleasure appeared in his voice as he softly hissed out the last word, "Now."

"You see yourself I'm not robed, nor equipped for that visit, Ash." Her hands flew restlessly to make a point that only, as obsessed with the royal court rules male as Ash of the Second Line, would understand.

"We will wait for you Bertan," he mocked her tone, and restless hand gesture and he started to retreat closely followed by his guards. "While you will be getting ready for that visit," he whispered knowingly.

 

There was a moment of a great stillness, just after the loud clang of the closing doors had waved into its last echo. Not one breath broke that silence. Hidden Genes witnessed a silent movement of a red fury in the place that Bertan had stood just moments before. It was as if she became one with the missing wind. She was taking steps on her tiptoes, and her flowing robes would not match her speed. A fleeting and red night flower took its form for just two eye-blinks, to vanish just as quickly.

In his admiration Genes didn't dare to leave his hiding place, behind her sofa. Her hyper-awareness made him even more uneasy than the never-ending a'De state just moments before. He closed his eyes when she crouched to face him.

 

"Are you ready to hate me yet, Genes?" Bertan asked him softly. She searched, for fear in him, fear strong enough to melt his will, and erase his core. It was present, of course, it was there, just behind his eyes that he was slowly opening again, in the tremble of his hands, and in the way he bit his lips when she looked straight through him. His fear wasn’t strong enough to kill them, she decided. "Are you ready to hate me now Genes?" She repeated with the impossible force that felt so natural for her like it was her own.

"No." he breathed out "Yes." He closed his eyes to confess his deepest secret. "I don't know what hate is Bert. I don't know what love is either. I don't feel anything. And it's not like I have to kill it, I lack that ability within to feel anything more than the connection to seek."

"Is it your thing? I mean Anarthan?" she paused, thoughtfully analyzing his statement.

"Maybe, I don’t know. It’s not the thing we talk about freely,” he stuttered, “And now, I won't ask how do you know what lies at my core. But soon I will Bert, and you'd better have the answer ready." Fearless, as if a mere mention of his true origin made him find that last grain of courage to hold onto. He straightened up, feeling Great Cycles older. The maturity didn't just only awaken in him, but it reached its full potential, in one single moment of decision, he was forced to make. "What is it that you want me to do just now? Why would I hate you for that?"

"I need you now Genes, as much as you need me here to stay alive. It’s not safe for you to play my slave anymore, and now I hold the power to make you a Sword. Know that once it's done, it cannot be undone. You will be Sword until the day you die if the Fates are that kind to you," Bertan approached him slowly whispering into his ear, "Know that without it, we are as good as dead at this moment. There is no other way for you to leave the Sword territories alive and you are the only person I can trust in this place." She paused to give him some time to process her request, "It was not me who killed my Mother, just moments after we arrived here. You must be changed into a Sword. Are you ready to hate me for that Genes? Are you ready for a fight to stay alive for a little bit longer now?" She whispered that last plea almost inaudibly.

It was clear to his mind, and soul that she asked for his permission to make him into his own enemy. It felt weird for him to feel absolutely nothing about it. He heard no quiet voice of reason and no whispers of treason. Smile as bright as the starlight graced his face. It was becoming clear that placing his life and destiny in her hands brought a strange state of joy at his core. There was no other way, so it was the only right way, and it felt way too good to be a wrong choice.

"Do what must be done," was his only answer, “But I’m not cutting my hair,” he said stubbornly, tensing in anticipation for the unknown strike.

"I think, it will be best for you to take a bath now," Bertan said lightly as if no previous words were said out loud.

"A bath?" Genes repeated taken aback, suddenly uncertain of her sanity.

"A bath… to hide and replace our real scents, real Royals are weird that way," she explained.

"Real Royals? Are there the ones that are not real?"

"Yes. We are not real Royals. Me, and soon you too, are of the Third line to the throne. That means we are three steps away from being the real thing." Bertan laughed with ease looking less tense ever since he agreed to her proposal. "And that is actually the best what could have happened to us."

"Why?" It was hard, for a redneck boy, to grasp the complicity of his new formal reality.

"The Royal House is where the evil reigns," she said somberly, and her smile was quick to leave her face.

"So bath is needed so the evil wouldn't scent us?" he asked. He was surprised when she didn’t object his ridiculous statement.

"Kind of."

"Kind of?"

"Ah, you see, all my life I have been running away from this place, and I've spent a lot of time abroad. I've never paid any attention to the formal stuff," Bertan grimaced, "And apparently, now it's going to bite me in the wrong place."

"Isn't there one person you can ask?" Genes asked tentatively, “I just hope it’s not the thing you can do in a wrong way,” he muttered.

"As you well know by now, I'm having trust issues now, and Ash is waiting behind the main doors to take me for a visit to the source of evil," she groaned, clearly unhappy with the way events were unfolding. ”And I’ve never heard it could be done badly. I think.”

 

The bathroom they entered was blood red, like everything else of the Third Line. It was steaming with a white mist and a white foamy liquid that filled the bathing pools. A strong fragrance, emanating from that liquid, was pretty neutral, almost nice, but it felt like an acid in Genes' nostrils, burning and making him sneeze.

"What is that smell?" he almost failed to say, while struggling with the spasms of unending sneezing that shook his body time after time.

"It's the aroma of the assigned to the Third Line underwater fruit of Napple. It's also one of the ingredients of the Tharo Juice, our only food source. Our scent line as well as color originate from in. I think, it's important for you to remember that part, though it's used only in official situations. People of any Line always copy the Royal house customs only, never their own. There are seven Royal Houses of the Swords, each has own color code. Each House has one ingredient of the Tharo Juice assigned to its care. There are seven distinct scents, one for each House. Everything is neatly ordered into a six-pointed star that you can see almost everywhere around." Genes followed with his eyes where she motioned and was surprised to notice the star embedded into every surface and every furniture. What really surprised him was that he didn’t notice it before, even though it was literally everywhere around. It was impossible to miss it and yet it was the first time he truly saw that star. He looked around while Bertan searched for something in all of the drawers in the bathroom.

"Why a six-pointed star if there are seven houses?" Genes finally asked. He was starting to feel more and more unwell. As if a great weight was attached to every pore of his skin, dragging him down to the floor.

"The seventh is the Ruling house, the point in the middle where all the lines meet." She looked more and more distracted, "Gods, where is that needle when I need it?"

"What do you need a needle for?" he asked more out of curiosity than fear, for at that moment his body felt like it was no longer really his.

"I need to mark you now, and there is no time to visit a marking fairy." She started to rummage through a pile of their old travel robes to find the travel sack. Genes recognized it at once. There it was, a small safety pin secured one of the belts. "That will have to be enough," she muttered, and turned to face the moony-eyed Genes that was lying on the floor already. Bertan turned him onto his stomach, and cleaned her safety pin with fire.

The origins of the Napple fruit were hidden deep inside the Naam mountain range. Spring water that fed it came up to the surface of the hills, only to be swallowed back almost immediately. There, it penetrated a thick surface crust to drip into the massive, underground lake that spread out under a large part of the Swords territory. The other half of their lands had the mark of fiery rivers and lakes of fire as well as a caustic, unbreathable air. The brownish, thin, and elongated fruit that Bertan took from one of the tables contained hundreds of highly poisonous and deep-red seeds.

With a heavy heart, she broke the ripe fruit in half and dripped its red juice on Genes' hand. She held up her breath, and she nicked her fingertip to encourage one single drop of her blood to drip onto the juice dot marrying his skin already. She knew, once she pierced his skin, and the mixture of the poison and her blood entered his system, there would be no way to reverse the process anymore. He would be changing slowly, but ceaselessly.

Without anyone present to stop her, all she could do was to go on with her insane plan. The sharp safety pin pierced the boy's skin gently. The Fates could not be undone at that point. She looked at a piece of the fruit still in her hand. Bertan was afraid to look at his body that was already trembling and straining with the poison. All this pain because of her. She dropped the piece of fruit into the bathing pool. At changed the white fluid into a sizzling and bubbling red foam and she walked right into this exquisite potion carrying the newly made Sword in her arms, for the full poisoning of his body to take place, and to keep him sanely alive. Time stopped to restart its course later on.

 

"It is true then," a disapproving whisper swirled through the air all around Bertan that was still soaking in the pool filled with red bathing foam.

"To whatever is the thing you are thinking of right now..." Bertan opened her eyes, still covered in the foam that seemed to seep into her skin as she looked at her visitor, "Yes."

She knew that masked man, shrouded in secrets, lies and the killing so much that he had never been named. The Unnamed was a position, a title, and a choice that his parents, his Mother, burdened him with at a pretty young age. Not that it ever appeared to be a wrong choice, for his cold nature, guaranteed that the most vicious tasks were completed without a shadow of doubt on his side. The servant of death, Bertan knew all too well.

"Not one member of our line ever thought it possible, that you, the eternal runaway, would even consider, reaching for the Head position, sister. I admit, I did not think you had it in you either…" he said lazily, watching closely as her skin was absorbing the last foamy remnants that started to change into the white liquid form once again. "…And you are already making new Swords out of our dearest enemies." His sneer, invisible to her eyes was clearly heard in his tone.

"Hopefully, he survives," Bertan said, shamelessly leaving her bathing pool in front of his eyes. She checked Genes' skin that started to blaze deep red. She decided, it was the right time to put him on the sofa, the same she had occupied before Ash of the Second Line barged in.

"He is looking strong enough," the Unnamed noted evenly, though he didn't even glance at Genes, "I would never imagine that you like your males young, small, weak, and of the enemy kind. Sister."

"I think we need to agree on few issues right now," she said, annoyed with his unrelenting hostility.

"As you wish, the new Mistress of my Line House. I am to serve you now." There it was, that irritating sneer in his voice again.

"That young lad over there is of our Line House now. I don't want any hints of his past to get past your lips from now on. And stop with that tone, it's unnerving," she demanded, tired with the past that seemed to haunt her at all times when the Unnamed was around.

"As you wish. Sister," he answered, after a long while that took him to compose into an emotionless creature he naturally seemed to be.

"Stop calling me sister," she stressed quite seriously.

"Do you want me to call you The Highest Mother now?" he visibly tensed, and his tone became too cautious all of the sudden. He was staring into her like she was someone new. A new kind of enemy.

"Gods, where did you take that one from? Of course not! I don't ever want to be called Mother by any of you, so be sure to spread this around. Call me The Head of the Line if necessary." She winced, for the remainder of how she had acquired her position would be etched into her own name forever on.

"As you wish."

"I want you to stop calling me sister because we are of no blood relation. I'd hate that reminder of the Mothers deception and lies to follow me around." She noticed with a great dose of satisfaction that he tensed again, narrowing his eyes. Thankfully, he did not even try to comment her statement, or ask her questions she had no answers to. "Be kind to dress the boy in the most reinforced combat robes. I have been invited for a chat in the Ruling House. I need him resistant to any harm from now on." Bertan walked swiftly through the curtained wall into one of her private rooms to change into the most reinforced robes as well.

"What do you want me to do while you are gone?" The Unnamed asked when she entered the main room again, dressed all black with the customary mask veiling her face that revealed only her nervously unfocused eyes, the only sign of how much she was affected.

"Guard the boy with your life while I'm gone," she said quietly, "Guard him especially if I don't come back."

There was a fleeting moment of indecision in her eyes, a clear sign of inner battle. Her body wanted to go in one direction, and it fought the order of her mind to go in the opposite way. The final decision, she was forced to make then, forged the extraordinary change within herself. She was suddenly a protective creature who just found her home-point to always go back to. It was startling to discover that it was not the place, but the people in it. Indecision was soon forgotten, leaving her with only one goal in mind. Stay alive just few moments longer. Stay alive so that he could live too.

 

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

The boats were following a sleepy water-river. Slow and uneventful journey made almost all of the Seekinglander children fall asleep, so none of them noticed when the river disappeared into the underground tunnel. The fall itself wasn't steep or speedy, quite the contrary. Water never stopped its lazy and constant flow, not even when it started to spill into wider and wider body of water that had no visible shoreline in sight. Dark and wet the next cycles went.

Brine yawned and then he yawned some more top the point where his jaw stretched so wide, it started to hurt. Judging by the sounds, he wasn’t the only one yawning at the moment. It was so easy to lose the track of time and space as they followed the unseen current in the absolute darkness. Once the (x?) boats found their way into the underground cave waterway, not the slightest sight of light eased their blind eyes. The children were asleep, but their guides and protectors couldn’t surrender into that much comfort.

At one time, it almost seemed like a dream to Brine. Wasn’t it for the cold water he kept on touching, he would have sworn he was only a spirit in a dead land. Only Fates knew, how many cycles had passed up to the point when he finally heard something that wasn’t his own loud breathing. None of the other boats made any audible sign of their existence. Even their Wicked guide possessed some exceptional ability to swim along the current without being noticed or heard, though it seemed impossible to observe his technique.

Soft breeze danced on the water surface, bringing even more coldness and doubts into Brine's mind. It was just then when he heard one of his siblings moping.

"Brine?" the softest of inquiring whispers brought him back to where and why of the moment.

"Yes Pam?" he whispered back.

"Where are we?" she asked audibly relieved.

"I don’t know," he answered truthfully.

"How much longer are we going to sail here?" Pam asked.

"I don't know," he repeated.

"I have to pee," an embarrassed whisper confessed so quietly, he wasn't even sure if that was what she said.

"Me too," Coope sighed after a weighty pause, "And I'm hungry, " he added, "How much longer are we going to be here?"

"I don’t know," Brine sighed once again when answering.

"What are we to do now?" Pam whined.

"There is some food in the pack mom gave you," he paused," And if you have to relieve yourselves, just… um… pee into the water. Just take some of the water to drink before it's still clean enough to drink," he paused again trying to put some sort of strategy into their actions, "Though I'm not sure if that water is safe to drink in the first place," he muttered more to himself. "Just wait a moment."

Brine took his time to gather the scraps of courage he still had. He hated the darkness, and he was scared of the dark water even more.

"Ehm," he coughed loudly, "Is this water safe to drink?" his question hung in the air, echoing over and over again.

"It should be," a raspy and quite rumbling whisper answered unexpectedly close to Brine, "Though not much longer judging by your issue here."

"By the Gods!" Brine exclaimed into the echoes as he shuddered while his heart suddenly found his chest too small. "Warn me next time," he whispered.

"Why?" the Wicked Guide chuckled.

"Cos it's dark and quiet," Brine said, "You scared the life out of me like nothing and no one before," he admitted though he was dangerously close to being ashamed, "I'm not even sure if we are still all together," Brine voiced his biggest fear.

"We are here, but I had the same impression," Brine's Commander said testily. He was few boats away judging by the way the sound of his voice trembled. "It's spooky in here."

"Yeah, and kids just woke up and want to relieve themselves." Brine sighed, knowing the time of silence was over.

“But Brine, how am I going to do it? I'm a girl!" Pam whined in a loud whisper, fully awake and aware.

"Don't do anything yet. First, drink some…" Brine started to explain his plan.

"And wait till I get to the front boat," their Wicked Guide said while audibly swimming away from their vessel, "Girls can just sit on the edge of the boat at the back end, it has the right curve and is wide enough, and it won't trip over. Just have someone hold your feet, so you don't fall, " he said a little louder. His voice was so deep and raspy the echo didn’t wake up for him.

"Eww. I don’t want to fall into…" Pam started to whine again.

"Come on Pam; it's just water." Coope scoffed at his little sister.

"I can't swim!" she almost shrieked.

"I mean your pee, it's just water. Don't eww it," Coope sighed, "Anyway I'm going to be. First, cos water is water… Still, I don’t want to have wet pants," he laughed and got up to get to the edge of the boat.

"But everyone will hear it!" Pam started to laugh too.

"I won't be the only one to do it," Coope said grimly. Few other young voices agreed. The thought of being heard was so horrifying none of the boys moved.

"Gods, the children…" the Wicked guide groaned, "I will be splashing very loud for a few moments, so better hurry up. If the almost-grownups could do the same, if would be more comfortable for the little ones. " he said just before making deafening noise that was intensified and multiplied by the echoes. Brine took his cue and started to make some noise with the so far useless nav-bar he was holding throughout the whole journey.

"Just be sure to relieve yourself to the outside of the boats," Brine's Commander said only half seriously. That one remark caused an unexplainable wave of laughter in each and every boat.

"Why? We just love to sit in our own pee…" Coope said grimly. Laughter roared for so long everyone managed to relieve their needs.

Silence ringed within their ears once again. Not for long, though.

"I'm hungry," Pam said.

"I told you, it's in the backpack mom gave you," Brine frowned.

"I can't eat it," she said stubbornly.

"Why?"

"I can't eat something I can't see."

"Why?"

"I don’t know. I just can't." her whispers were getting stronger. Everyone knew Pam thrived when she was having any sort of dispute or argument.

"Try," Brine sought to convince her.

"But I don’t want to!" she whined.

"Fine, then be hungry, " Coope said while he rummaged through the backpack their mom packed for them.

"Coope! Don't you dare to eat everything." Pam said frantically.

"You don’t want it anyway," he said mighty surprised.

"I never said I didn’t want it. I said I couldn’t help it when I can't see what I eat, I can’t eat" she paused, "MISTER WICKED!" she yelled, and everyone went silent and immobile.

"Pam!" Brine gasped.

"What?"

"It's not nice to call anyone like that," he tried to explain the polite ways to his wild little sister.

"Why? Even High Vaala calls him the Wicked." Pam sniffed.

"It's ok," the rumbling voice answered next to Brine again, "I know what they call me," he laughed, "Just trust the child to say it to my face."

"I'm sorry if you don't like it, " Pam apologized, "I just never heard your other name."

"My what?" the Wicked Guide was taken aback.

"Your other name. Real name. What is it?" she inquired insistently.

"Mars. My name is Mars. " their Guide said after a stretched out silence, "Though I don’t even remember anyone saying it out loud," he confessed silently.

"I'm Pam. Nice to meet you, Mars," she said.

"Same here," a choir of voices from all the boats shared their greetings.

"So, Pam. What did you want to ask me?" Guide Mars asked her, once the echoes subsided, and it was quiet again.

"Mars, how long are we going to travel like this?" she inquired

"Like what?"

"In boats."

"A bit longer. We still haven't even reached the halfway point," Mars answered. Groans of unhappiness came out of every boat.

"Really?" Pam asked genuinely disappointed.

"Yes," he admitted.

"I'm hungry, and I can't eat in darkness," she sniffed.

"Haven't any of you taken any light?" Mars asked truly baffled.

"We were warned by the High Vaala not to do that," the Commander said stiffly few boats away.

"Yes," Mars sniggered, "I can actually see why she would tell you that. I just can't imagine any of the Seekinglanders listening to any authority figures."

"Why wouldn't we?" Coope asked clearly intrigued.

"Ah, it's a story for another time," Mars said way too quickly not to wake the curiosity of the siblings even more. "There should be a few stones at the bottom of each boat. Grab it and hold for a while," he sighed heavily.

"Why?" Pam asked again.

"Those are Tarn stones," Mars said.

"Why should I hold them?"

"Didn’t they teach you anything about the Tarn stones?" he roared in anger forgetting of the echoing force he could summon.

"No," everyone said in unison.

"That stupid tribe of yours and your Elders," Mars seethed.

"Isn't it your tribe too?" It was Coope's turn to ask questions.

"No! By the Gods. Never!" Mars roared in anger so loud, the echoes seemed to live forever on. "Just because I'm of your kind, doesn’t mean I'm of your tribe," he finished after he calmed down enough to hold his breath.

"I thought you had to belong to our tribe," Coope explained.

"Not really," Brine said, "You are too young to know that."

"Know what?"

"No matter how young they are," Mars was getting agitated again, "They should be aware they are Inner Ground Dwellers!"

"We do know that!" Pam protested indignantly.

"You just don’t know what that means," Mars finished sadly.

"I guess it's your Fate to teach us," Brine said hopefully.

"Maybe," Mars said absently, "We just might not have enough time for that."

"But what do I do about the stones?" Pam had asked before Brine had the time to react to the Mars' last statement.

"Nothing. Just hold it in your hands till it changes. It may seem a little wet, or more rough, or in contrast more smooth," Mars explained patiently.

"Why would that stone change like that?" Coope was curious too.

"You are all the Inner Ground Dwellers, your ancestors were Anaerthers. Even though your forefathers chose to leave the Inner Core and give up its life after the Skyfire Storm the Slave Rebellion reached our dwellings. You still hold the ability to draw nutrition directly from the Tarn stones," Mars sighed heavily, "It used to be the only way to feed our people down there."

"When we used to live down below." Brine protested.

"And also when we started to live on the surface," Mars shared, "It was just the Tribe's decision to switch to the surface food when the Tarn stones became scarce."

"We lost the ability to feed in the ancient way,"

"Says who?" Mars sneered.

"The Elders." Brine admitted, suddenly struck with unease.

"Always question authority. Always," the Wicked Guide stressed, "The only loyalty should always be to your own Core," he said as the silence fell into every restless mind.

Unnoticed by their protectors, the children regarded the Tarn stones with great curiosity. There was nothing interesting about holding a cold rock in hands, but it was always something to do in the sea of boredom. Everyone expected that mysterious thing, Mars was talking about, to take place the moment they reached for those stones. When nothing happened their curiosity ebbed. The murmurs of their protectors and soft sway of the boats made some of the younger kids take another nap. As Fates had it, none of them let their stone out of their hands for the rest of the journey.

 

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

"I can still feel your hate. I don't think any of my people hates me as much as you do, Bertan of the Third Line." The King of Invisible Sword trained his sight directly into her core without any effort. He was becoming to be almost too big for his seat and dwarfed her enough to make her feel out of place by his giant side.

Bertan recalled the Mother's words that the difference in size occurred, because the longer they lived, the more they consumed and accumulated Tharo Juice in their bodies. Swords never stopped growing, until the sheer size itself killed their bodies. But of course, Bertan started to question everything, she had ever been told. Though right there she couldn’t deny that his eyes were full of mesmerizing wisdom and she couldn’t stop herself from being lulled into a weird sense of security, and belonging right there. With him. With them.

"Would you take my head too?" he asked in a powerful whisper, like a lover murmuring sweet lies.

"In a heartbeat and we both know it," she answered boldly, deeply in a trance he had to induce just moments before. His scent, voice, and eyes held the secrets of half immortal generations, and the beasts that they had been before.

"Yes, we do know it." The King seemed more amused than upset with this kind of uncommon honesty Bertan was known for.

"Be sure my King, the moment you let it be, I will strike." The truth spilled through her lips, though she wasn't sure if that was truth anymore. Maybe it was just a deepest, darkest wish, for it took a certain type of character to take a life. Surely, she lacked that quality so far in her life. She had the only proof of that already.

"Don't you think there are more of us that have been waiting, throughout the ages, for a single chance to do just that?" He genuinely laughed aloud. "None of them is stupid enough to admit their treasonous plans right into my eyes, though… Maybe I should finish you here quickly so you could lay in the fire with your Mother."

"It wouldn't be a wise act at your position," Bertan answered unafraid. As deep into her trance as she was, she was still aware of the mind-games he played.

"You are right. Why do you think so?" His amusement disappeared, giving place to a visible weariness. Clearly, the giant was nearing his final breath, and it was never more apparent in front of her eyes.

"There are many reasons actually," she said after a brief pause she took to gather her thoughts together in one place, "There would be so many political questions from the other Head of Lines. They would start to feel endangered, and that would make them double their efforts to off you. Maybe they would even unite all against you. Which would also be the most unfortunate, as there is no blood relation to you to pass the knowledge of your Line Tharo ingredient, so there would be no one to lead your house. Only chaos and bloodshed will follow if you decide to kill me now. The Swords would crumble from within, as it was foretold eons ago by the Oracle," she reasoned clearly, even though she was completely dazed inside her mind. "To be honest, for me personally, that doesn't really feel that bad. So, feel free to take my head. I will laugh at you from the beyond," Bertan laughed sincerely, just as he had done moments before.

"You haven't been around here much, but you still managed to grasp our essence." He looked through her with a newfound spike of interest.

"Kill others, or shed your own blood, isn't that complicated rule, really,” she answered, “You are alive as long as they fear you enough I suspect."

"Others you talk about are little more than beasts. Our blood has been blessed to turn poison into nutrition, and a fleeting notion of an immortal life that does end. What do slaves and enemies mean to you? To us? When their lives are so short and insignificant, why do you care about them so much?" he asked looking truly baffled and confused, "You were gifted, and blessed with the superiority, yet you still detest that privilege."

"Protecting all life, regardless of its length, and origins, is the most important thing, I perceive as a true blessing. This long life we share and you seem to be so fond of, has become the curse that made us beasts on the inside. It killed our respect for the life itself."

"You can't even realize the level of the blasphemy you are representing to me, can you?" He asked seriously. The deliberation that each word carried created a subtle lifeline, she knew, should never be crossed.

"I'm not sure if I care much about that, my King," her answer was pointing right at the middle of that invisible line.

"You see, Bertan of the Third Line, I protect the lives of our people above all else," the King said after a moment of silence. The decision whether to let her live a little bit longer, was being made. "That's why I called upon you. I have a story to share with you. I was blessed with luck in my past to meet the Oracles throughout their existence. It would seem that unimaginable forces have guided you to fulfill the last line of a very old prophecy that I heard just once," he sighed heavily. "You have no idea what you started with your impulse to take the head of your Mother. So be it. It had been foretold a long time ago anyway… Please sit, and join me for a drink, for my story is not that easy, and neither that short."

He left his throne and walked toward the lounging corner, where a soft light emanated from a sturdy table. A huge Tharo Juice Carafe stood in between of very battered glasses and chalices. Bertan joined him, unable to hide her hesitation.

Once the King disconnected the linking between their eyes, the truth-trance disappeared into nonexistence. It was hard not to notice the great exertion it cost him to move. The Old King had already crossed the line of being too big to live, she realized, and others certainly had to make the same observation. Suddenly, it became clear that she had made the biggest mistake of her whole life when she claimed the Head Position of her Line. The death of her King would mark the end of her too, and there was no way to undo her mistake at this point.

"A long time ago, we had been mortal beasts digging in the ground for food," he started to share his story once he felt comfortable enough, "At the time there had been a period of an intense light coming from all over the sky, over and over again, in between of our beloved nights. That light brought warmth and was a reason for many things to grow on the surface, food to people and many animals that used to live around. Life was thriving everywhere, no place was left alone without a living companion At some point, the light went away to never reappear. We didn’t know how and why, for back then we were little more than beasts… illiterate, living only to eat and breed. Everything had ended in one moment, the light and the food. Everyone starved after every living thing died, or got eaten," he paused to take a deep breath, "Do you know how the Axes received their name?"

"No, I don't." Bertan frowned, for it never occurred to her to ask anything that fundamental. Some facts were to be accepted, not questioned. She should have learned earlier to question every single thing. She had no time to fix that mistake.

"It's certainly not because they were one tribe. No. They started out as wild individuals of different tribes and kinds, focused on one thing only. Survival at all cost. Back then, they used axes to kill their prey and chop it into pieces. Do you know what used to be their prey?" He looked at her pointedly not bothering to link her into the truth-trance.

"No, I don't," she said as a slight nausea gripped her, she started to suspect the untold truth that was buried beneath the Sword hatred towards their slaves and enemies.

"It was us- the non-Axes. I am the last of a peaceful tribe we used to be. I still remember the times of the great hunt, and the time when I used to be the prey… Trust me Bertan. They will never stop paying for that… As long as we live to remember what really happened." The Old Sword King sipped his Juice slowly, drowning in his memories. "Some of the people went to seek out to where the light disappeared to never be seen again. The rest of us had to run, as fast as possible, to avoid capture and death but the hunting seemed to have no end. My friends and I ran for the mountains and the maze of caves within to stay alive, maybe for a few more days, but free and in one piece. We tried to prepare for the time of the real hunger. You can't imagine what the real hunger is unless you experience it yourself. It makes you cry with the pain it brings to your body, and when those tears become your sole sustenance. I have to admit, there was a kind of conscious decision we made to kill our bodies, to stop the unending suffering. We could do it one by one, or everyone at once. It's a weird place to be, a weird plan to make. Just before we did anything final, when there was no possibility to be saved at the last moment… It was when our cores screamed at us so loud to stay alive, not to give up. That inner voice couldn’t be unheard, nor ignored, our link to it couldn’t be undone and cut away." He closed his eyes and took deep, wheezing breaths, clearly back in time within his mind, recalling the source of their current life.

"You didn’t have the courage to do it." Bertan did not know whether she should sneer or be thankful for that. Was the life for the courageous and death for the weak? Or was it the other way round? She knew she wasn’t the most qualified person to search for that answer. After all, every Sword deemed her an eternal runaway for her weakness, but in her head, it was the most courageous thing she could have done. Who was to decide what weakness and courage really meant?

"No. None of us really wanted to die when the biggest bravery was to live and die slowly, aware of each passing second, aware of the pain to come. We decided to walk a little farther instead, to take one of the narrow tunnels where no adult person would fit into. Inside the tunnel was the most intoxicating sweet scent I'd ever met. Water dripped down, so we licked the walls to quench the unimaginable thirst. Wild vines climbed its walls with the tiny green Nante berries that we ate… until the Madness took us deep beneath that mountain range, almost to the edge of the fire-rivers at its base core. There, rooted to still warm rock and ashes, grew the Oranges full of juice that we ate too. So, the visions joined our Madness. We were gone in a way only a sane mind can be gone. We died there to be born into a different kind of life down below the surface. It was a place where rocks had a glow to them and water dripped down the walls constantly. We died mentally, emotionally, and physically just as we found new and edible, but still poisonous to our bodies plants. To wake up, was to witness something beyond our understanding, There was something unreal that joined us in creating a stronghold, which we only dreamt of. So much more was there, underground, at the line between the solid and liquid rocks. Some design was taken straight out of our dreams to become a solid structure. We were mad, but we created bliss within hell."

"You created the Anaerthers Stronghold," Bertan whispered in awe once she realized what the King was describing.

"No, Bertan. It's how my insane mind perceived things down there. It's how I recall it now. I think, it was not just us down there, for it felt that something much bigger was waiting for the creation to take place too. Something linked to us its creative force. We were truly mad back then, and probably, everything had been already in place when we arrived, but each discovery felt like a creation. It was just so empty of life. Nothing was a reason for awe, as we started to feel very lonely, thinking of the people and families we left behind, of the beasts we could now hide from, of the light in the sky we missed and hoped to see once again. We tried to recreate everything we knew from above. We could not recreate life to be the way we wished it to be. The loneliness tortured us into picking up all the fruit we could find and saving it for the way back up to the surface. Pure chance had it that water had seeped through the rocks to one of the vases. The fruit had ripened, opened and mashed before we realized, and it was unusable for travel, so we drank it. The fog of Madness lifted not much later for all of us at once. Except for Sylt, my First Daughter, her sanity left her completely, though she received a gift of a kind. A gift we were all too late to recognize. She refused to go with to the surface and decided to cross over, beyond the molten fire-rivers, for the refuge, even closer to the core. We could not and would not join her in that journey. She was the first of the Oracles to foretell your current actions and everything that will happen soon after. There are no people that could elude the Fates."

"Is that the reason of your calling?" Bertan asked with growing apprehension.

"In a way, yes… And in a way it's a choice, I was destined to take. I could have picked any other subject. I could have called the most obedient and vicious male, twice your size and strength," he said.

"Why have you decided to choose me then?" she asked, uneasy in her suspicions.

"Because, that is the one thing I would never do in any situation. Trust has become a rare commodity among our kind as you have surely noticed. You loathe me, and I'm one of the few who know that you are not of our kind by blood, but by your Mother's actions and choices. It had nothing to do with her will and everything to do with your destiny, and the future of everyone on and under the surface."

"But you don't trust me at all," she said bewildered that he would still entrust her something so vital to the survival of his race.

"No, I don't… Of course, I don't… I wouldn't be a King as long as I have been if I trusted any living soul." He cackled trying to laugh while breathing almost failed his lungs.

"You would rather see me dead," she concluded, still unable to see the reason behind his words.

"Yes," his answer was short, "Instead, I'm sending you out to retrieve my First Daughter Sylt and bring her here."

"Why?" she asked, "How can you be sure she is still alive?"

"She is to take my position in my Line House," he ignored her questions.

"That would exclude your house from contending for the Ruling House position. No house led by a female can contend," she was beyond being shocked by his request at that point.

"Ruling forever was never my intention. It just happened that I grew slower than the others, and it's only now that it kills me, while whole generations are gone already," the King said sadly as if he could remember every member of the past generations he survived.

"There are no males as the Head of Houses anymore," Bertan whispered, amazed by the sadness in his words, "That's why you are sending me out. To be sure my Line House would not contend either, for we are supposed to stay out of it too."

"You are supposed to stay alive just a little bit longer, You wouldn’t survive here otherwise as you don't really want your position anyway," he slowly whispered, “It’s very important, you must live, so whatever happens don’t let yourself to cross over. No matter what happens. Stay within your body.”

"There is something you aren't sharing with me." Bertan could feel something huge was left out, something that touched her fate directly in ways she could only dread, as all her hair seemed to quiver in warning.

"But of course child. Some things should stay hidden, some should be found only by certain individuals. Whole eons of our history since we have left the Stronghold are shrouded and hidden to hopefully never see the light again. Those generations are already gone anyway… Knowledge is not always the best of the options, Bertan, and knowing future events beforehand breaks our cores."

"Ignorance sure isn't a good option either," she muttered, "It's still my choice whether to go or not, on your orders, isn't it?"

"It always is someone's conscious choice. It's up to you to pick up that path or die soon, not by my hand. We both know it's not my place to pick up on your choices."

"I could run away." Her mind whispered, tempting her with her favorite way out of troubles.

"You clearly don't even realize, yet again, how many daggers, arrows, and bullets will be directed at you the moment you leave this room." He chuckled, though sadness never left his eyes. “Though be sure that you will die anyway, we all will.”

Bertan hated the idea of dying soon, just as she loathed being maneuvered so blatantly. Million thoughts thundered through her mind, all at once, alerting her of the trap this could be. "Still, I would like to have some more time to think this through and decide."

"As you wish, Bertan, the new Head of the Third Line House. If you decide on your travel plans, you should already know where to start your quest." His tone was of a final dismissal, so Bertan left the unimaginably comfortable high sofa. “Just don’t wait too long.”

"Yes, my King." She grimaced, for she knew exactly where to start. She bowed with an unknown before respect for the dying royal.

 

 

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

The tribe of the Seekinglanders left Palome soon after they buried their dwellings deeply with the sand of nearby dunes. Their way back into the First Homeland was the only one they planned to take. Coming back to Palome has never been taken seriously.

Cressy felt the grim mood that gripped them. It blanketed everyone present and ready to leave. They were born ready to go back, she mused, but once the moment they have been waiting for all their lives actually arrived, there was no excitement, no drive to leave. They were filled with the grim awareness of the end that neared instead, for it was the final moment of the lives they knew. The pain of slowly burying each and every of their dwellings with sand-grains felt like a funeral pyre where sand stole fires’ place.

She was getting a bit detached while watching the whole process. Knowing that her own children were somewhere out there, on their way to a real safety brought no comfort. It was only for the sakes of Brine, Pam and Coope that she forced her feet to move towards the Wall. She dragged herself through the sand and away from her Core of her buried dwelling, deep inside she was moved in an unexpected way, making her feel more uneasy than it should. It should have never taken place, she knew right then.

'The Trek of the Final Steps' as it was called by the Oracle Lore, seemed to have no end. Not because it covered a great distance, but because none of the Seekinglanders could focus on what was ahead, lamenting only what was left behind.

Cressy's mind was constantly working, trying to spot the best moment to fade into the darkness they were leaving behind, at the end of the last Marauder line. It was pointless. The Oracle Wards were following the tribe to make sure everyone followed the Elders and no one got lost. She wanted to get lost so much.

"What a joke," an angered voice muttered next to her.

"What?" Cressy asked, quite unwillingly surprised.

"This whole walk."

"Why?"

"We are walking right into the big red trap over there," the voice seethed, "If I could, I would strangle Vaala and all the Elders."

"I'm not sure they would take it lightly," Cressy chuckled, "Though I can relate to your feelings."

"I know," the woman walking next to her took her hood off.

"Why are you even here? You could have left before," Cressy said when she realized that female next to her was the grand-daughter of the Elder couple.

"My parents forced me to join this funeral,"

"And you always listen to your parents?" Cressy asked with incredulity.

"And why are you here? Do you believe in the tale of the Great Return?" the young woman mockingly asked in return..

"I don’t know,” Cressy sighed.

"Yeah. Same here. I wish I believed. I wish I were able to," the female quieted for a moment, "But I don’t, I know I don’t believe any of that rubbish. I just wish I could."

"Why?"

"Cos if it was true, we might just survive it somehow."

"How can you be sure we won't?" Cressy asked despite having the same feelings and doubts.

"I believe what the Duchess said."

"Do you even know what she said? You couldn't have been born when she visited us the last time," Cressy snorted.

"Umm. I heard what other people say," her companion said indignantly.

"I do wonder what are they telling nowadays," Cressy asked offhandedly, "Could you be so kind…"

"Don’t you know!? She begged the Elders to reconsider, for this trek will mean the end of the Seekinglander tribe."

"Of course, there will be no more Seekinglanders," Cressy chuckled.

"And you don't have any problem with our extinction?"

"Have you ever given any thought to what you've heard?" Cressy wanted to reassure that young woman, though her gut churned, "There will be no more of us, of Seekinglanders, cos we are going back to our First Homeland. We are going to be the Anaerthers again."

"Oh, I've never thought about it this way."

"I know," Cressy sighed, "Nobody ever does anymore."

"I still don’t want to go, " the young woman whined.

"I know… I know."

They walked in silence ever since. Cressy was deep in her thoughts, for she was right there when the Duchess had visited the Elders. She remembered well what was said then. All she had to do was to reach back into her memories to recall that conversation.

Truth be told she shouldn’t have remember it for she shouldn’t be there in the first place, not mentioning understanding what was happening. She was just a kid and it was only the Elders that could attend their secret meetings that were so secret no one knew where or when they took place.

Even then, rules weren’t for Cressy to follow, just as shadows weren’t to be the source of fear but a place to hide in. Forbidden was always for her the thing to treasure the most and the Elders Council was always the most forbidden thing of all for all and every Seekinglander.

It was kind of the Fates chance that she learned where and when the meetings took place. The Elders knew that the best way to keep secrets was to keep them hidden out in the open for everyone to see. The trick was to put it in such situation that nobody would suspect what lied behind what they just witnessed.

All Cressy had to do back then was to follow the Duchess around like an annoying but sweet kid she used to be. She had no other idea anyway and it was the only one person rumored to take place in the Elders Council. The Elders were so secretive that even their identity was hidden. The only reason Cressy would never be suspected of snooping around was that she just loved secrets and gossip since very young age and she did act like she was half deaf all the time. People talk a lot and reveal secrets when they think no ear can hear them. She used that fact wisely to her advantage. Combine that with the exceptional ability to remember everything. She had to know everything.

Cressy hadn’t realized that she actually attended the first two Elders Council meetings. Apparently no one had realized that as well for it was the time of great festivities at the turn of one Great Cycle into another. Adults went through rites of the past after which the Idle Juice reigned, stripping them out of their minds. Music was loud, light were bright and the festivities brought a respite to everyone from being a Seekinglander- an outcast Inner Ground Dweller forced to live on the surface, separated from the First and only Home. Cressy never felt that way, being still too young.

Something jump-started her own core the moment she realized she was hearing exactly the same words from exactly the same person at exactly the same time, for the third time. Connecting the dots she became hyper-alert for what would come into history as the last meeting the Duchess attended.

Everything Cressy heard from that moment on, seen and scented was burned into her memory forever, always at the ready to recall. Even as distressed as she was during the Last Trek she could still remember everything that had been said on that fateful night…

“A danger of serenity lies in the bagpipe,” had said the oldest Seekinglander man that was still alive back then.

“Oh, old man. The bagpipes are already gone. They bring nothing and their music is long forgotten,” the Duchess scoffed, “Aru, another Juice here!” She yelled to the warrior tending to the kegs.

“Not by the ones who have heard them play.”

“Do you even know anyone who heard it and is still alive?” she asked with incredulity.

“We hear the music everyday.”

“The surface bagpipes are just a different kind of instrument. We all have to accept that fact.” That sentence that the Duchess uttered was the one that made Cressy’s mind go into overdrive with excitement. She knew it right then. It was the prelude to the Elders Council meeting. Out in the open, few seemingly deranged and hazed people argued about bagpipes and their music, next to the Idle Juice kegs.

“The music might seem different, but the tune they play stays the same,” High Vala said, “Like the tune of a runaway who steals a royal heart.”

“There are no runaways anymore,” the Duchess sighed, “Why would anyone run away when there is no place to go?”

“The bagpipes used to play so well in their time, just as runaways used to always find a good place,” the oldest man said.

“Past is a place when the music was the most graceful for us, now I don’t like the music at all,” she grumbled.

“How can you not like the music? We have been graced with the bagpipes and their tunes, we can still dance and sing, hoping to find them once again.”

“We do it all by the old tunes,” the Duchess argued, visibly agitated.

“Because it’s not forgotten, even I can sing the tune,” High Vaala smirked.

“But can’t you see that without the bagpipes it’s all pointless?” The Duchess argued clearly getting frustrated.

“Maybe there is a way to craft some more bagpipes,” the oldest Seekinglanders said.

“There are no craftsmen among us,” the Duchess explained impatiently.

“Maybe we can play with the trumpets instead? It’s so new! And the tunes are in the thousands if not more!” High Vaala proposed.

“Even if we had it we still wouldn’t know how to play it. A teacher would be needed,” the main water bearer of the Seekinglands answered, “Aru, some more juice over here!”

“Where would we find a teacher?” the oldest Seekinglanders asked.

“We all know that the trumpets had been born right in the heart of the Axeland. I’m not going to let everyone risk their lives for that damned music!” the Duchess hissed in fury.

“We desperately need the new music, or we would have to craft a new bagpipe, and that seems even less likely than finding a trumpet teacher,” the water bearer said.

“What do you think we should do then?

“Nothing. There are more instruments on the surface, more tunes to discover. We should forget the past and the bagpipes. There are so many good tunes that we have never heard of,” the Duchess said unable to hide her frustration at that point.

“That is rubbish, and you know it! Most of the ‘unheard’ tunes are just so bad we can’t stand to listen to them,” high Vaala disagreed.

“Then maybe it’s time to think of something totally new,” the Duchess proposed.

Aru brought all the Idle Juice they all hailed him for. He looked at them all, saw Cressy huddled by the Duchess’ side and yelled to her with laughter, “Old people can’t hold their juice! Is it because they’re old or cos they drink so much?”

“Ye’ will get old one day too!” High Vaala screeched and threw an empty mug at him. Everyone laughed too then.

“Hopefully not as old as you,” he said ducking from the mug that barely missed him, “I don’t get your issue with the current tunes,” he said motioning to the rowdy band not far away from them, getting away from the Elders before they answered.

“Your wish might just be granted,” the Duchess muttered, clearly not intending for anyone to hear it. The Elders became silent for a moment, contemplating.

“What are we to do then?” the water bearer asked somberly, “We won’t survive without your help,” he looked at the Duchess, “Please.”

“Please don’t make me do it. The heart of the Axeland is the heart of our own doom. It will destroy any core that enters it,” she pleaded quietly.

“We don’t have any choice,” he whispered.

“There are always other ways!” the Duchess hissed, forgetting that Cressy was at her side.

“Not for us. Surface will always be our enemy land. It’s time we think of the Trek back Home, but we need that gates open and friendly.”

“The Red Axe will never be friendly to us!”

“He might. That’s why we need you. He is of royal blood.”

“You can’t expect that from me! I can’t pay for our sins.”

“And yet we beg you to do just that,” he whispered to her ear, “Everything is prepared for you to go already.”

“Fine!” The Duchess said very agitated, “You don’t ask for my approval, you are telling me to go! Do I mean so little now?”

“No, it’s the tribe that means so much and you are the only person who can make it all work out just fine.”

“Fine! Just remember my words that the Axelands spell our doom” she said and left to never be seen in the Seekinglands again ever since.

 

 

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

As soon as Bertan left the King's room, her whole body tensed in a subtle warning. There it was, that familiar sense of danger again. Watchful eyes and evil intent seemed to surround her at every turn. She hoped that her reinforced robes would be able to take a lot and make her safe, but still, so many possibilities could go beyond her imagination to prepare for beforehand. There were so many steps to take back to her rooms. It seemed even farther than the place she was appointed to go to.

Unexpectedly, a swarm of slaves surrounded her like a river of bodies and she was swept off her feet. Loose sheet of fabric covered her as it would cover a slave and the flow of bodies delivered her quickly straight to her rooms. One creation of many dissolved and disappeared right after.

It could be the way to make her scared. It could be the King's way to keep her safe until she made up her mind. Even more undecided than before, she stared at the curtained walls of her main room. She could almost taste its deep red color, recalling how thick and fleshy the curtains were, unchanged throughout the time she had last seen this room, it had given her refuge for so long, when she refused to live and learn by the Sword's rules.

Safety and belonging she desperately craved appeared once again at her core when she looked at the small, still unconscious body, guarded closely by the Unnamed who was standing still as a monument cut from an unforgiving stone. He never stopped fulfilling the task once it was given to him.

"Who wants me dead now?" Bertan asked quietly. She couldn’t stop herself and admired his perfect guarding stance. He was the best protection she could have ever given to her newfound young friend.

"You mean generally or specifically?" his rigid combat position remained unchanged.

"Both," she muttered taking off her hood with its mask to be able to breathe freely again.

"Probably the whole line of ours. The King is…" He tried to find the right word to describe the seemingly ever-present and seemingly un-dying being that led the Swords.

“Fading. Yes, I’ve noticed it today," she said, disliking how bitter those words felt on her tongue. It was as if she started to actually like that old giant.

"What you have noticed just mere moments ago, has been evident for the rest of us for a long time already. It was clear even before you went away for the southern lands. There are no males at the Head positions of the Lines anymore to contest for his position. Your deed made you the most vulnerable Sword, compared to other Heads of Lines.” He looked right into her eyes, “Let's face it, you are the weakest of us, the young lad you told me to guard here aside. You had vehemently refused to kill and train to fight and you are still so unnaturally small, even for a female. You stand no chance to survive for long, even with my protection," he explained patiently, there was no hint that he was being mean for he stated only cold and pure facts, she knew anyway.

 

"Take off your mask," she demanded suddenly, tired with the useless custom that made them look, act and feel inhuman. She wanted to see his face for the pure fun of it. "Now." She needed to see his face again, to remind herself, he was a living, breathing creature too.

"What? Why?" He was taken aback and would not obey immediately. Bertan could see his hesitation.

"Just do as I say and take it off," she said testily standing in front of him. He was kneeling, so she could see right into his defiant eyes. Still, she craved to see more. For all their face hiding, the Swords had no habit to control their expression at all times. She wanted to exploit that fact. Especially, that he was always wearing a full mask, which revealed only his eyes.

The Unnamed hesitated for a long while, too long. She stared intently, right into the eye slits of his mask, until hesitantly, he lowered his hood, and she just could not look away. Mesmerized, she watched the way he was untying his mask at the back of his head. His unwillingness to take his veiling off was evident in the deliberate slowness of his movements.

 

It took all of his willpower not to bail out at the last moment, even his Mother had never requested such blasphemy. For the Swords a face was a private sanctuary, revealed only at certain times for certain people. He could never understand Bertan's willingness to show it off, like a slave, to everyone, to let everyone see her emotions and truth.

However, he knew exactly why she asked for it. She was still so young and without any ability to scent. Though it would be of no use for he used the foam to seep into his body more often than others did. His position required to remain unchanged and unrecognized. He knew that she would want to read his face instead. Futile venture, in his opinion. He had been trained with fire and pain to control his face and all of his muscles. She was so oblivious to their practices and customs, he still couldn’t get over his amazement, that she managed to grab the Mother's position. He was still surprised that Bertan even wanted it in the first place.

 

The moment his mask touched the floor everything stilled. All of the breathable air seemed to leave the room altogether. To hide her own uneasiness, she took a great interest in her fingernails. When they finally looked at each other again, bare face to bare face, none was willing to break the silence, or the eye-linking. There was no space to take a deeper breath. It wasn't a battle yet, though it could be.

After spending so much time in the foreign lands, Bertan didn't realize the full extent of the intimacy it meant for every Sword. Even if she could realize that, she would never understand the raw feeling the unveiling brought to someone who spent all of his life hidden behind a mask, like the Unnamed had.

"Do you hate me?" Bertan whispered slowly, taking her time with her words. Silence that followed stole her senses.

"Sometimes more than the others," he answered tense to his bones. All of his efforts were focused onto hiding how affected he felt by baring his face for a casual conversation.

"Do you wish me dead too?" she asked, ready for the hard, painful truth in return.

"Sometimes," he smiled playfully to soften the blow. Such knowledge had to hurt her. It was clear he wouldn’t lie to her, no matter how painful that truth was.

"Do you want to kill me too? Like the rest of our House does?"

"At some point, I probably will," he admitted without a twitch, his eyes narrowed unintentionally.

"Are you planning to kill me now?" She asked, unaffected on the outside. She was ready for this pain, she could take it, she knew.

"Not yet, I don't have to, too many people do that already. None of my plans to are of any importance now," he said.

"Do you know who is planning to kill me at this moment then?"

"The ones who will ask for your hand soon," the Unnamed paused thoughtfully, "If you live that long."

"Do I want to find out?" she asked with hesitation.

"Choosing a partner is the only way for you to survive now, but at the same time you would look at your biggest enemy standing by your side, waiting patiently to kill you when the time gets right," he paused for a while to look at the ceiling, frowning as if he saw something unwanted up there. "At least till the competition to take the King's position starts, then all bets are off again."

"Whatever I can do, is to buy me some more time only," she mused, grim facts made her unhappy. She strived to find a way in her own mind-maze.

"It would be much easier for you if the Mother was still alive. You would only have to choose a consort, or to leave again to the foreign lands. Your troubles are all your own doing." In his tone, there were threats and hatred towards Bertan that he wasn't able to hide. Each time he mentioned or thought of his Mother all of his feelings came up to the surface of his face. He seemed to have no control of the emotions he didn’t like and wanted to be free of any of them, wanting his safe black emptiness cover his core once again.

"Our King would say it's the Fates." She ignored the raw hate coming off of his whole body and voice. Their Mother and her death would always stand between them. She couldn't explain, even to herself, why she was still avoiding to tell him the truth about what really happened on Winter's Peak.

"Our King is back into the Madness again. He has been dwelling too far in the past," The Unnamed answered, all too knowingly for her liking.

"That he is." Looking at the carpet, she just had to ask the question that burned her core the most, "What do you think I should do?"

"Are you asking for my advice?" he frowned. He looked genuinely surprised. Clearly he wasn’t used to having anyone asking him anything.

"Yes. Yes, I am." Bertan looked up right into his eyes again in a search for a deception. She knew he could hide it well.

"If you want to stay here, you need to pick your partner as soon as possible. If you wish to pick him from the other houses… Ash of the Second Line would probably be your best choice. He is the most powerful and driven enough to both protect you and contend for the King's position. But then again, you would have to be aware of his Line House Mother. Fortunately, she would be the only person to be unhappy about. Mind that his earlier visit here was a show of his force, and a sign of his connections and interest in you. Choosing a partner within our Line would make you a target until the new King is chosen, but only from other, weaker families. If you pick that option, you should decide on the strongest family, which would now be the Cassesses.

If you disappear, you would deprive all of the Third Line from contending for the Throne, and that is, of course, the worst decision you could take from my point of view. You have to sacrifice your life for our Line's future whether you want it or not. Everyone knows of your past inclinations, so the hunting has in fact already begun. You will become the prey the moment you leave your rooms," he nodded in the direction of the main doors.

"I don’t seem to have many options," she sighed. There was no easy way out of the mess she got herself into. 'Not as many as I would have liked… And none I'd want to go with.'

"You actually have more options than the others. It was bold to do what you have done. I have to admit. But now, you need even more courage and wisdom to keep what you have gained because losing it is to lose your head in your case," he said emotionlessly. A moment of silence fell between them. Both were deeply in thoughts, oblivious to the time passing by.

"Would you like to drink some Juice with me?" Bertan asked suddenly, taking him by a surprise again, breaking rigid focus of his mind once again.

"Why?” He asked bewildered, “Yes. I think yes." He frowned at his stutter, watching her walk to the tray nearby.

He had to take a deep breath when he saw her pouring the juice into two glasses. Then she did something even more outrageous. She sat down on the floor next to him, letting him take in the full extent of her small size and weakness. He could break her in half despite the reinforced suit she wore.

"Do I have access to the Mother's rooms?" she asked when he decided to join her on the floor. She sipped the Juice slowly while her mind worked on the evacuation plans to follow.

"No. You know that there is a fifty-Cycles moratorium when a Mother’, or a Royal' death is involved," he scoffed at her inability to remember the basic laws.

"Is there any way around it?"

"The only way around it is to break the laws and break in unnoticed," he looked into her calculating eyes, "You cannot be considering that."

"I am. The Mother took few things from me, and I want them back. It's not like they are going to be of use to her anymore." Her eyes suddenly blazed. "You have the map of the known territories, and the Royal City on you at all times! Show it to me," she demanded.

He reached into the inner slit of his vest to deliver a small rectangle that was the size of her palm. She pulled at its corners to spread it into a full sized sheet bigger than her whole body. "That is not what I'm looking for," she yawned, "Where are the older maps? Especially the ones from before the slave times? Or even older ones?" she asked him, swishing the last of the Juice in her glass. Her breathing became slower and deeper as the juice began to work its poison through her body.

"If they exist, they should be in the King's possession. Some might have survived in the hands of the Mothers of the Lines." He watched her closely, never relaxing his tense posture. "Probably Mother had them too at some point."

Everything became clear to him the moment he noticed the way her shoulders tensed when she heard his answer.

"You want the maps. You don’t care about any of your things the Mother might have taken from you." He closed off his expression, and his face became his mask. That was the invisible line she had crossed, he realized, she had lied to him.

"We can't go ask around any of them, and I certainly don't want to visit the King again so soon… I'm so tired." Bertan ignored his accusation and yawned again.

She could not hide her fatigue anymore. Her eyes drooped, and the carpet seemed softer than her bed that was suddenly too far away to even try and walk there. Lying down by the side of the Unnamed seemed the best idea to follow. The safety he emanated was the balm for all the fears and troubles that have targeted her at all times lately.

"I need to join the boy," she uttered semiconsciously. It was her Madness speaking. Unable to keep her eyes open anymore, she dived straight into the Maddened dreams.

"I know Bertan, the Mother of your first Sword child,” he whispered softly carrying her into her sleeping-room. “Have a safe journey."

He watched her sleeping longer than he would ever want to admit. The softness of her face took an almost childlike form. He was sure, she didn’t know about this part of making a child, of the Madness the Mother and the Child would have to share just as every Sword that had been made before.

The Unnamed knew that Bertan was still very young and spent so much time out of their lands, so till now, small but important details would go unnoticed in front of her eyes. She would have to learn the hard way of the Madness sharing with that boy, he smirked, as if he thought she deserved that kind of punishment. It would be her first real lesson what being a Sword really meant. And he was there to guard those two kids who had no idea what Fates they had spun into existence. This was going to be a long waiting time, he finally relaxed, for no eyes were focused on him.

 

 

7

The Trek of the last days finally came to an end, it wasn’t pretty. Red eyes were everywhere around. Wild, blood red eyes watched Cressy and the rest of the Seekinglander tribe for a long time, almost at ready to strike. None of the blood-maddened Axe Warriors said a word. Their hostility was brewing, the air was thick with it while her tribe took their time to cross the Wall into the heart of the Axeland.

Cressy noticed that there was something enthralling in the way the maddened soldiers dug the trenches around the Wall. No sound other than the one of the sand scraping and shoveling was present. No orders, no grunts, no whistling, nothing and yet they still worked like a well-oiled machine. Everyone knew their place, function, and a task at hand, accepting it without any question.

She watched the unreal scene that was happening in front of her eyes, utterly dazed and fascinated. There was no fear in her, quite the opposite. She even dared to walk closer to the group of men digging a narrow trench at the base of the Wall. Cressy could see how deeply rooted into the ground the Wall was. There were old legends in the Old Lore that it had no end below the ground, she recalled, and it certainly looked like it was true.

She just stood there, unaware of the time passing by, missing the fact that every one of her tribe managed to cross the Wall. She was completely alone, surrounded by the enemy that started to take notice of her vulnerability. It wasn’t till she looked right into the blood red eyes of the Warrior who already tightly held her arms that she realized those eyes could be the last thing she would see in her lifetime.

Tension left her body at once. Clarity raced through her mind.

"I just want to help you," Cressy feebly protested with her last conscious breath.

 

A flash of light grazed her skin. Some kind of a neutral, unfamiliar buzz scraped her ears. Marked with the red-eyed haze, she was born into a very different world. A new world that was embedded in the founding structures of the one her mind had just left behind.

There was so much light around! Brightness seemed to hurt her eyes, once she fully recovered and looked around. So many people looked at her though they never stopped working and digging the same trench around the same Wall she knew from the other world. It was clear that everyone noticed her at once when she fully regained her mind.

"It looks the same, yet it's so different," Cressy thought, "I have to remind myself where I am." At this moment she realized her thoughts were out there for everyone to hear for it was audible, despite her muteness. "How is this even possible?"

"It's not possible in the slightest," a finely tuned voice answered. Cressy couldn’t see who it belonged to because everyone around looked at her with great interest.

"Then how can it be?" she asked.

"It's not and yet it is," the same voice seemed to decide to have a conversation with her.

"Explain please," she pleaded, still very disoriented in the reality of weirdness around her.

"It cannot be explained. You can only experience it for yourself," the voice scraped her mind

"Does it ever end? Is this a dream?" Cressy asked.

"Doesn’t everything have an end?" A quiet chuckle turned into a loud cackle.

"Is my world over?" She questioned more herself, than the voice.

"This is your world. It just looks differently from here, but it's still our world."

"Why am I seeing and experiencing it then?" She frowned looking around with more attention to the details of what was happening.

"Isn't it obvious? You said the magic words that had the power to bring you in here."

"What did I say?" Cressy asked utterly confused.

"You said you wanted to help us," the voice seemed to be more distant.

"Really? I don’t recall that part,” she said bewildered.

"It's only natural that you don’t remember. We keep on forgetting where we come from." Silence echoed for few moments. "A pure wish to be of service, not tainted with expectations, is something to cherish and treasure."

"Why?" Cressy asked.

"It just is. Why question it?" The voice seemed to get tired, weakened in her head.

"What could be so special about my offer to help?" she wondered, thinking again more to herself.

"It was made, for starters," the answer took her by surprise as she wasn’t expecting it.

"People don’t do that?" She couldn’t hide her surprise.

"Not many and not one of your kind." Words stretched into the infinity.

"Not one Seekinglander ever linked with you?" Cressy felt a tad disappointed. She held some hope of meeting here someone she knew.

"No," the voice chuckled, "I should have said more clearly. You are the only female here so far. You had accepted the test before it was even presented to you. So here it comes. Help us."

"How do I help you?" she asked after a while, wondering why some of her thoughts were audible, and some had to be 'thought louder' in order to be heard.

"Look around, find what gets your attention." Silent yawn accompanied the weakening voice.

"Isn't here a taskmaster of sorts?" Cressy looked around restlessly.

"No," cold be heard form a great distance.

"Some kind of leader?"

"We are here on our own," barely audible whisper answered.

"Then how do you know what to do?" she asked totally perplexed.

"We are only doing what got our attention. We don't have any plan going on."

A pause that followed stretched for so long it became clear to her that the conversation might be over.

Cressy looked around, full of curiosity and wonder. Everything looked the way she remembered it to be, but was different at the same time. Was it the unnatural existence of so much light here that caused everything seem so vibrant and alive? She had no answer for that.

The sky was yellowy-gold in hue, like it wanted to be more of a white gold instead, but couldn’t decide. It was as if the sky itself was the sole source of light. Cressy was amazed that the brightness didn’t hurt her eyes anymore for sometimes even the firelight was too strong for her comfort. The sky was void of stars, so it was hard for her to know her exact position. The Wall remained the only navigation mark she could follow. Only then she realized how pretty it was. It didn’t seem mirror-like anymore. What was a highly polished surface before, now seemed rough, turned into a sand-still form.

Cressy became mesmerized with the way tiny grains reflected the skylight. She couldn’t stop herself. She needed to get closer to that Wall, to touch it and reassure herself that it’s not just her eyes playing tricks on her. The only thing that came to her mind was to jump into the trench others were still digging. It was much deeper than she had expected, so she stumbled and fell on her butt. It hurt. Good. Pain meant she was still alive. Crazy but alive, there was still no comfort in that knowledge.

"Boredom kills," the voice continued their conversation out of the blue.

"What?" she asked completely confused.

"Here, wherever it is that we are, boredom kills," the whisper droned on.

"What do you mean?" Cressy got up groaning and assessing her damages. There were none.

"If you won't find a thing to work at, you will cease to exist."

"How?" She asked, but felt at the same time that she didn’t want to continue this conversation anymore.

"How what?"

"How will I cease to exist?" She prompted.

"Ah, that," the voice chuckled again, "Normally, by the death of your body."

"And how that does usually happen around here?" she asked quite annoyed with the half-truths she was getting all the time.

"It's not a fun thing to watch and even less so to talk about," the voice snapped, "Just find yourself something to do."

"I don’t want to dig," Cressy whined.

"Who tells you to dig?"

"You told me to work. It doesn’t look like there is anything else to do here." She touched the Wall with pleasure. That couldn’t be any kind of work, obviously.

"If you don’t feel like digging, don’t." The voice was getting distant once again.

"What are you doing?" Cressy asked, resting her forehead on the Wall. That was nice

"We dig."

"Why?" She asked, not interested in any answer she might get, for a great need to close eyes and cover her ears, to pretend that none of this was happening.

"Cos we feel like it." The voice was just as strong as before. No amount of hiding could get her away from hearing it.

"I definitely don’t feel like digging," she sighed.

"Then find something you feel like doing."

Silence reigned again, Cressy noticed with a great dose of relief. It felt so odd to talk without using vocal cords.

 

The sand-still stone that covered the Wall called her again. She had to inspect it. It felt so rough and yet so silky under her fingertips. The urge to lick it and check how it tasted like was so great, she couldn’t stop herself. The need was so strong and foreign that it was a surprise to find out that the Wall had no taste or scent at all. It was just like any other stone. At the back of her mind, she pondered if tasting the Wall would count as working. The sheer pleasure of linking in this way with the ancient structure made it impossible to stop, or to want to stop. As if it was the only thing that kept her alive, even though it made her thoughts to go into hiding as her mind lost its hold over her body.

Cressy came back into her senses in the part of the trench that was so deep she couldn't see the sky anymore. It shouldn't be possible to uncover the base-roots of the Wall like that, at this depth, without having the surrounding ground collapse. Still, it was exactly like that. Possible. Just as it shouldn't be possible to see such a brightly lit sky and yet it was there for her eyes to see. The surface of the Wall shouldn’t be so grainy and rough, and yet it was just like that, for her skin to feel.

What kind of world she was in? How could she go back to the one that still carried her children she had to abandon in such an unholy way? Cressy had a lot of questions in between of thinking nothing at all.

The Wall started to crumble where her fingers touched it. Sand detached from its still-form and started to flow in cascading streams, down to her feet. That part of the Wall seemed to be hollow inside, with the sand glued into the emptiness. Cressy followed the indentation into the freed space till it engulfed and drowned her body.

The inhale she took captured the unmistakable scent of liquid un-being. Cressy looked around frantically in the search for its source. There it was, half buried in the dust beneath her feet. It couldn't have been more than a cycle ago when the spill of liquid life poured into the ground. Blood, blood everywhere around. Still warm and sticky. Sick joke of the Fates.

"Why do you want me to walk through the impossible?" she asked, not expecting any answer anymore, "There can't be anything left to find anyway. I can see it’s going to be the end of me here."

"You are mistaken." Her breath hitched when the familiar, eerie voice in her head answered without any warning. "We don’t want you to do anything."

"The need to go inside that I’m feeling now is the most unnatural thing I've ever felt. It's a pull that isn't mine, like your words aren't mine either." Cressy wanted her anger to fire up her veins, while unnatural state of ecstasy stole her body, piece by piece.

"It's not us. It's you. It's always been you. Always."

"I know you lie. There is no other real need in me other than to rejoin with my family," she tried to resist the pull, "And I know I'm dead once I enter the impossible."

"You got it wrong again."

"Want?"

"You won't die in there."

"Are you certain?" she asked with the last surface breath.

"Yes."

She walked into the Wall.

"I hate myself for listening to the masters of lies. I know you lie! And I just can’t stop my body from obeying this pull. Your pull." Cressy muttered aloud just before nothingness struck her. All of her senses left her body, heeding the guidance of the forces beyond her will, unbent to her own understanding.

Creamy white walls of unknown origin and no end were all that she could remember then. when she took that fateful step. The wall of sand collapsed behind her and fused into the glass it once was. Life that was, was no more.

 

8

When silent footsteps reached his ears, it was already too late to react. The Unnamed would fail to protect Bertan and Genes in such a stupid way. He would never stop berating himself for that if he survived. A footfall this soft and deliberate could mean only the most skilled assassin was targeting him, more skilled than him. He tensed, waiting for the strike to take him out from behind.

Silence, like he had just imagined things, stretched into infinity. Sweet breath swirled right by his neck. Silence surrounded him again until Bertan slowly walked by him. Wordless, he watched her as she undressed and joined him in the foam bath. Only when she positioned herself on the opposite side, he noticed, her eyes were still closed, and a blissful expression on her face was a testament of the Madness that consumed her. It was not really her anymore when her eyes opened seemingly lifeless and deathly wide.

"You do realize that in reality, there is no choice to take, there are no endless possibilities,” she said slowly, “The Fates order and we follow. The path we take is always the only one possible for us to take." Her voice didn’t seem to be really hers. She belonged to the Madness, and it worried him that she could act as a bridge between the two separate forms of consciousness. The Madness could seep into her at all times, uncontrolled, then.

"We… have… met… before... We… could… meet… again," she stated slowly, submerging all of her in the still fizzling red foam bath.

He welcomed her cries of rage moments later with great relief that he would not admit, even to himself. She came back into their reality, having been almost on the brink of becoming the Edge Walker, where the Madness and reality collide constantly. A state so dangerous everyone suffering this affliction had always been killed without any trials.

The Unnamed killed himself quite a few deranged females of his own family. That was his main task. To punish and kill the ones who endangered every one of his Line. He was the executioner of the Masters and Mistresses that answered only to the Head of the Line, and that position currently belonged to the raging, but hopefully still sane, almost naked woman, he just shared the bathing pool with.

At that thought, he jumped out of the elaborate tub-pod in the floor as if the red color of it had burned his body. Bertan still didn't realize her power to control the life and death of every member of the Third Line to the throne House, and she didn't know all the rules and laws yet. Gods help them all when she finds her ruthless side, for she hated nothing in this world as strong as her own people.

Bertan couldn't stop screaming. It felt as if she screamed her lungs out, it was so hoarse and raw. All that she could express was the rage and pain, though the cause for it was already forgotten, and the awareness of her body and its real pain caught up with her mind. She shivered so much she couldn’t crawl out of the bathing pool. The Unnamed lifted her body for the second time and carried her into the same sleeping room as before. This time, he had no luxury to watch her unashamed. He took a large sheet of fabric to cover and wrap her into, knowing she needed as much warmth he could provide without actually touching her.

"I don't want to ever talk about it," she tried to say, but the tremors ruled over her body, so she stared intently into his eyes instead, "You hear me? Never!" That was the last attempt to raise her voice that failed, and her voice gave way to a hoarse whisper, "Never."

"Your wish is my command… Mother." That last word left his mouth light as a cruel caress. It was the last straw to make her break down to a raging and wailing crumpled body.

He left her to her personal hell without giving her a second glance, to spare her some dignity. He steeled himself and his face into one of his masks once again, welcoming the following silence like a saving bliss.

 

Genes woke up like rolling thunder. Slowly and audibly even before he managed to open his eyes.

"Berts?" was his first word, before he dared to move any part of his body.

"She is weeping. Better not to disturb her in that grimy and ugly process." An unknown rich male voice answered. The surprise it caused literally made Genes shot up into a vertical position.

"Why would she do that?" Genes was still out of breath, with his heart pounding loudly in his ears, but that would never suppress his curiosity.

"You don't spend your whole life avoiding your Fates, to embrace it with grace later on when they strike you down," a big and masked man answered bluntly.

"Who are you?" Genes blurted out wide-eyed.

The Sword males were huge by any measure. Even though the one facing him was a size or two smaller than Ash of the Second Line he saw earlier, there was a lethal peace and grace in his voice hinting that this should be a person to be afraid of. Who would even dream of fighting them, Genes mused at the back of his mind, recalling all of the war plans Rex Axe has supposedly made.

"I don't have a name," the answer was short and clipped.

"Um… then how do people call you?" Genes probed unabashed, silently mesmerized by the way this Sword stood still, like a statue, so powerful in his well-trained inaction.

"They don't." A frown on his face seemed to deepen with every question he had to answer. It was visible through his face mask.

"Why?"

"I'm the executioner; people don't want my presence around. When they do see me, it's usually too late to talk and call me any names."

"And when you take that mask off? Do you have a name then?" the boy kept on asking relentlessly, he was becoming bolder with every answer he received.

"I don't take my mask off very often." The figure deeply exhaled, like he already knew where this conversation was heading.

"Even to bed, or to bathe?" Now it was Genes’ turn to frown.

 

That boy looked a little too interested for his own good, the Unnamed decided. However, it was to be expected. The youngling was surely even more oblivious to the Swords ways than Bertan, and the urge to learn something had to be overwhelming at this age and circumstances.

"Yes, but then I don't need a company," the Sword scoffed.

"Why do you sleep alone?"

"Because no woman would want me, and I can't stomach bedding slaves." There was a barely noticeable tone of regret in his voice. The Unnamed wouldn’t understand why it was there as his ability to control his body and vice was the only one thing he trusted.

"But, if you met a lady with your mask off, how would she know what your… umm… profession is?"

"Because I don't have a name, and all I have is my position. I'm the Unnamed."

"Is it that hard to think of something only for the ladies?" The boy chuckled exasperated.

"What would be the purpose of such lie? My position is the source of my pride and usefulness. Why would I demean myself like that?" The Unnamed said after a while.

"To get her to your bed," Genes scoffed, "And she told me that my lot was uptight," he muttered to himself.

"Any Sword Lady would find out the truth eventually, and rattle me up to my ruler. That would not end well for me, or my bed."

"Ah. Women," Genes sighed with understanding, "At least one thing we do seem share, Seekinglanders, and Swords, weird female behavior at all times. So, who is your Ruler anyway? The King?"

"No, not directly. As of recently, it's Bertan, she is my Ruler."

Genes looked at his companion as if he were a lunatic

"I'm sure Bertan would never really punish you for such infraction as faking your name."

"You are right." The Unnamed smiled knowingly and took his mask off once again. "That is actually a good point here. She does have issues with punishing others. At the same time, she is exceptionally full of hate towards me so that gamble would be a very uncertain one."

"You seem to know her well." Genes looked curiously at the mean and scarred the face of a man that was still kind enough to answer all of his questions.

"Sometimes I get a feeling I know her too well, and sometimes it's like we never met," the big male admitted.

"So, um, how did you guys meet?" Genes did not drink Tharo Juice in a dignified manner. He gulped it straight from the carafe he nicked from the nearby tray.

The Unnamed tensed quietly for a moment, trying to recall that exact setting of his first row with Bertan.

"When I met her for the first time, she was about half your size and half your age, furious, crying, bleeding and calling the Mother names no one ever dared to utter in her presence ever before, or ever since that moment,” he paused for a moment to close his eyes and relive the past, “Bertan had the courage for all the wrong reasons. To punish a slave? An abhorrence worthy to shed her own blood for, but there was a fire of hatred burning deep in her eyes even back then. It was the first thing I noticed about her. I'm not really surprised that she took the Mother's head. If anyone of our House were to do it, it was her. I'm amazed, though, for she let her hatred burn deep all this time, and she used it at the first opportunity the Fates granted her. Ironically, she cut my Mother's head from its body, when back then she had refused to take the slave's head." The Unnamed looked up to the ceiling and its painting of never-stopping rivers of fire. The squinting of his eyes and the way he fisted his hands showed that he was a man fighting fury rather than admiration. He was, after all, the real son of The Mother.

"You hate her so much." Genes wasn't blind to the raw rage the Unnamed unintentionally shared with him.

"Sometimes," the huge Sword admitted, "I'm sure she hates me even more."

"Does she has any reason for it?"

"Who knows what boils in any female's minds and hearts. I had been sent for to teach her how to punish slaves, when that failed, I was to punish her. The mother should have just let her die then." The unnamed frowned again without realizing that he was actually expressing his emotions through his face.

 

"Aw… still pining after that old bitch?" Bertan appeared out of nowhere right behind, taking them both by surprise.

"I am her son, Bertan, never forget that," he said, dosing his own hatred evenly.

"I know," she said suddenly saddened, "Blood will always win out. And I do need to get to her rooms as soon as possible," she glanced at him expectantly, "Please," Bertan added in a soft whisper.

They stared into each-other way too long for it to end comfortably. Finally, he took a deep breath and sighed.

"Find her slaves," he said and walked away from her.

"Wait! Where are you going?" She followed him nervously, visibly unhappy with his departure.

"Out,” he clipped out his answer, “To fulfill my duties. To hold our House Line together." The fury boiling just beneath his skin was easily noticeable, even to someone as inattentive as Bertan.

"Why? What did I do wrong now?" she wailed.

He walked up to her like the predator he was and whispered softly into her ear.

"Nothing… Yet. But you are leaving, I see that fire burning in your eyes again, the Runaway fever eats at you again. You won't try to stay here for our people and clean up this mess you have caused. All we need is more time. Please buy it for us, for me. Buy it with your life."

"You cannot expect this from me. You cannot demand it!" Bertan failed to make her voice sound strong and powerful.

"I cannot, and yet I do, in a way," he admitted quietly.

"You ask me to do this, knowing it would be the end of me."

"No, Bertan, you are so wrong again It's going to be the end of us otherwise."

"There have never been any ‘us’!" She screamed right into his face.

The deepest of sighs left his lungs. He looked at her long enough to let their breaths mingle.

"You have never noticed anything beyond yourself Bertan. The only things you did notice were the ones you chose to hate. Then, you ran away, just like you are going to do now. It's so sad.” He closed his eyes for a long moment, leaving her breathless. “You've never noticed what was there, nor what could have been. You've always been about yourself only."

"There was nothing," she protested feebly, shocked to her bones with his veiled confession.

"If you say so," he said, rigidly, detaching from her.

"There was nothing," her voice carried even less power.

"If you say so," he repeated, slowly retreating, "Mother," he paused, "I don't want to take any part in any of your actions from now on."

"You don't have to. I'm not asking you for anything," she pleaded quietly, almost out of breath.

"You never ask for anything. You never want a thing. You never want the things you already have," he continued bitterly, "And now, I'm going to ask you for one thing only. Relieve me of my duty, Mother of the Third Line."

Silence wept through the course it took in her red chambers.

"I, Mother of the Third Line, am relieving you from your duty as the Unnamed." Her voice was not hers anymore, for the tears threatened to well in her eyes as she watched his mask fall to her feet. "Head to the King and ask him to name you properly." She managed to say, just before, he took a bow and stormed out of her rooms.

"May the Fates greet you with the happiness, you have been refused so far." She whispered to the closing doors. All that she was able to do afterward was to weep again. She took her time to compose herself, and she took that mask off the floor to cradle it in her arms.

 

Bertan walked up to the wall and pressed a button, which she had sworn to never touch as long as she lives.

"I'm going to be cursed forever from now on," she muttered to herself.

"Why?" Genes was as quick as always to start another endless conversation.

"I've just called up a slave. I had to. It's safer in here than to go to their quarters." Bertan started to explain when a soft knock brought her up to her task at hand, "I've forgotten how quick they can get here."

A young, unhooded female slave stood at the door, eyes respectfully cast down

"You called, Mother?" She uttered too quickly, looking up and around nervously.

"What is your name?" Bertan asked, careful in her politeness.

"E, Mother. My name is E." The slave stood a bit taller once given the possibility of uttering her own name, not mentioning thats the person asking her was the most important figure of the Line House she served.

"Bring me, please, my Mother's oldest slave E. And E? Do not hurry." E was already curtsying and running away to fill the request, even before Bertan managed to close the doors.

"I thought the time is of the essence now," Genes noted. He was surprised by the relaxed state Bertan seemed to be enjoying.

"It surely is, but let's not put too much pressure on them. Life is hard enough with the awareness that you are a slave, and that it's the only thing you are ever going to be, as well as your children and grandchildren and so on. Let's not add crazy owners to that," she explained.

"Why don't you just free them then?" Genes still didn’t understand the full scope of her struggles within the slave-based Sword society.

"That would mean their immediate death. By all laws of the Sword territories, only Sword people can be present here. Other nations are allowed in, but only as slaves, who are not permitted to cross any of the borders. Non-Sword and non-slave individuals are to be destroyed upon their discovery."

"Pretty strict laws you have here," he muttered.

"It's your law now too," she reminded him, "You are a Sword now too."

"What exactly does that mean? I don't feel any differently than I had before." Genes frowned trying to pinpoint any change to himself that could have taken place, physical, or mental or even emotional.

"For starters, you will not get poisoned by the Tharo Juice." She laughed, relieved she could finally tell him the truth, for he did live long enough to learn.

"What? How do you mean poisoned? You… you said it's a nutritious potion that keeps life flowing or something like that!" He exclaimed in horror.

"In a way, it is like that… When one survives the transition into the Sword that you luckily already have, before that, you would be poisoned, after some time." She decided that issue of periods of temporary Madness could be discussed later.

"How much?" he whispered, almost too quietly for her to hear.

"How much what?"

"How much more time was left for me? Did you even care when you gave me that first drink?" he bellowed unexpectedly.

"I don't know. It's different for everyone, maybe a few cycles, or maybe a whole Great Cycle?" she did not meet his eyes.

"Have you given any thought to it when you kidnapped me from The Block?" he roared, angry with her disregard of his life and wellbeing.

"Hey, I did not kidnap you. I saved your life then… I think." Bertan explained, trying to defend her choices.

"Are you sure?" he asked, too loud.

"Not really, no. Maybe you would have been perfectly fine back there," she admitted lightly.

"Then why did you take me at all? You just took me away from everything and everyone I ever knew," he asked quietly, sharing his darkness with her.

"I heard your Call," she whispered almost inaudibly.

"What call?" he asked, surprised, thinking, he might have misheard her.

"The Call." She looked right into his eyes, placing her palm on her chest.

He knew then. He understood everything, in that single moment. At the same time, he understood nothing at all.

"I did not think everything through, I admit, I never do. It's always the way of improvisation to the unforeseen when any mission takes place,” Bertan explained slowly, “I did not think. I acted upon the most incredible occurrence that happened to me then. I'd heard and read about it, but to feel it inside me was as if the lightning struck my chest, to leave me burned to the bones of the identity I thought I knew," she frowned. "I needed some answers myself, and you were the closest person to the source I could put my hands on, so I grabbed you, and I ran. I abandoned my mission, my partners and I ran with you. Not one of my best moments, I know that now, but it is what it is. I would do the same thing again if I could turn back the time," she whispered into his ear.

He was so surprised that he was unable to ask any more questions in his bewilderment.

"Just know, you have changed everything for me, and apparently for all the Swords too. Your mere presence changed it all, so help me once more, and follow me into our Fates," she told him everything that had happened during her meeting with the Old King. All Genes could do was to nod throughout the story. He was rooted to the floor until a familiar soft knock on the doors interrupted them when she almost finished her story.

 

"Do come in." Bertan faced the doors to witness the three hooded slaves carefully enter her room. Two were helping and holding the third slave, aged beyond any reason, judging by the way she slightly trembled and couldn't stay still. Bertan looked at the three of them with a tinge of unease tugging at her core.

"Please, sit down." She motioned to the sofa placed in the middle of the room, following them quickly, once they were comfortable. Suddenly, at the loss of words, she looked down at her hands. Only then, she realized, she was still gripping the mask of the Unnamed like a lifeline.

Bertan tried to gather the courage to speak. The slaves had always intimidated her in a way that left her feeling vile and unworthy to lead her life the way she should, considering her status. So, she had never required a slave of her own, since she refused to punish the one she had, with the only punishment fit for slaves: death by beheading on the spot.

When she saw her shy visitors, she tried so hard not to recall that fateful scene. A vision of her childhood friend's head, rolling on the floor at her feet, would not leave her mind. Slow-motion images of the Unnamed performing one swift cut, with the seemingly invisible string-blade, took her by surprise, yet again. She frowned at the mask gripped in her hands and finally let it fall to the floor.

 

9

 

Suddenly, steady drums of death roared heavily piercing deep into the night. Every living being present in The Royal City of Naam froze into its place.

Quite the opposite behavior compared to the three slaves facing Bertan at that moment. At the first tone of the drums, they stood up as one, lifted their hoods, and sprang into action. E jumped to the doors to lock them up. The other young girl quickly moved the sofa into the bathing room. Bertan glanced around bewildered and looked at the third slave female, noticing she was not nearly as old as she had guessed when the triad had arrived. She was the slave that was first to open her mouth and speak quietly.

"The King has just died as you surely have realized by the first drum tone. The plans have been made in every Line House, to be executed exactly at this moment. Your Line House has made those plans too, obviously. You are not the leader of the Third Line, Bertan, you have never really been. You do not perceive those plans or the powers behind them. The race for your head has begun the moment King's heart stopped the blood in his veins from flowing," the slave spoke quickly, while she watched the rest of her companions. She didn't dare to look at Bertan directly. "We are the beings of the short lifespan, comparing to you, but we do not forget acts of kindness. We do not erase the history the way Swords do," she said meaningfully, looking straight into Bertan, who had been at a loss for words, though quick in the understanding of the problems that arose with the King's death. There were mere moments left to act, she knew and ran into the connecting room to grab two travel packs, she had been preparing earlier, berating herself, she had not completed that task, grabbing everything she could find at the last moment.

"What do we do now then?" Genes asked a question crucial for their survival, just after Bertan handed him his new pack, and secured its frame around his body.

"First, drink this quickly. As much as you can handle." The slave handed them two Tharo Juice glasses. "Whatever is that you wanted from us, Bertan, will not work out. Not now, that death has just taken Him… Follow me." The female ran into the bathroom where the sofa was standing under the opened window. A thin wire was already secured to the stone pillar standing next to the window. "You need to leave Naam immediately. I hope that you do realize this now. The bathroom window is facing the dark side of the mountain. So, it's not as illuminated as the other walls are. You need to go up to reach the roof and to find the main vent well. Then, you need to enter that well and follow it down until you reach its bottom. It's well below the town. Then look for a river influx, and follow it to get out of the city." She handed Bertan a small device attached to the end of the wire.

"And then?" dazed Genes asked nervously.

"Then it's all up to us." Bertan looked thankfully into the slave's eyes "Thank you…"

"No, Bertan… Thank you," she said, "Now. Quick."

"Genes, I need you close," Bertan said, already standing on the windowsill. The boy climbed up awkwardly with the help of the two slave girls. Bertan tied both of their packs together.

"Lighten up," she whispered, and she walked out of the window. She held the device the slave gave to her. Its handles started to spin the moment their combined weight strained the wire. Bertan managed to hold the horizontal position and walked swiftly up the wall to reach the roof, where the wire was attached. Once they reached the roof, she located the vent shaft almost immediately. A round and tall structure was gleaming from afar. Bertan untied the packs that were holding them together.

"Have you drunk any of that Juice she handed you?" she asked, placing a black mask on her face and fastened it at the back of her head.

"Um… No, not really, maybe one sip or two? I drank so much when I woke up. I think it's going to keep my stomach full for much, much longer and I just couldn’t drink more," he quickly explained.

"Relax. Remember, trust is the rare commodity in those walls." She said slowly while placing another kind of mask on his face. "How long can you keep from breathing?"

"Ah, I don't know? Why? Where are we going? To the river?" The quick stutter of his voice hid the immense fear that crept into his mind. His worst nightmares were coming into life.

"Never trust the plans you haven't made yourself, Genes," Bertan scoffed at him rigidly.

"Where are we going then?" He didn't like the way she changed, the way no fear and no doubt were present in her eyes.

"There." She pointed at the black tower, twice as thick as theirs, and twice as tall and totally darkened out. Deep below their feet was the Royal City of Naam that sparkled with the millions of lights, though none of them seemed to be moving.

"How are we going to get there?" Genes decided that maybe this wasn't the best moment to mention his fear of heights. It started to cripple his abilities to move freely already, especially when he tried to walk towards the roof's edge. He couldn’t even think straight amid the panic welling up inside him.

"The same way we were supposed to leave," she explained patiently, “All of the vent shafts from the city meet at the base of the rock Naam was built on.”

Bertan shattered one of the smaller stones next to smallest vent shaft. Once the stone gave up, she dislodged some of the bigger ones, until a small cube box could be extracted. Bertan did not touch it at first as if reluctant of consequences.

"What's inside?" He sighed with relief that there was something else to focus on. Something other than the impending journey down to the ground level, he feared more and more with each passing moment.

"A weapon… Of sorts." Bertan bit her lips. "It's armor, of sorts. I'm still not sure, to be honest."

"Haven't you tried it out yet?"

"There was no suitable occasion to do so," she admitted reluctantly.

"So, how did you get it?"

"Do you remember, how people call me here?" she asked in return to cut the uncomfortable questions out. There was a shameful secret in her past connected to the way she had acquired that artifact.

"Ah… Bertan?"

"Ha. No, not anymore” she paused, “Not ever, actually. I've been known here as the Eternal Runaway. I would have never thought, my preparations would aid me in actual breaking in, rather than breaking out."

Her hand hovered over the box before she finally opened it.

The Artifacts of the past times, when the Madness guided all that had been built and made, were very unpredictable finds. Beautiful and heavily decorated with steel, thick, black suit revealed itself in her hands. She handed it to Genes, knowing he was the weakest link in all of her plans. Keeping him alive and unharmed was somehow of the utmost importance. She still didn't understand why that feeling was nagging deep at her core, ever since that moment she spotted him, back at The Inner Block. She told him to fit the Artifact under his robes.

The moment it touched his body, Genes felt it started to breathe with him. It seemed to link with his mind and his nerves, and some sort of electric currents tickled his skin. Each move he made was effortless, almost to the point of making him feel weightless.

"Why are we not leaving the city?" he asked, afraid to move. His own body felt so foreign and different all of the sudden.

"Because, when everyone wants me to, I can't help myself to stop and check why." She smiled right into his face. "Fools."

"Unnamed wanted you to stay." Genes argued the one point she chose to forget.

"Follow me now." She decided to ignore his words, and turned to climb the steel rods embedded into the stone that served as a tech ladder for the cleaning servers. At the top of Third Line Tower, rows of steel hooks and rods adorned the turret, which was made of a see-through steel net dome. The empty spaces in between of state of the art steel net were small enough for the slaves only.

Genes, for his size, had no troubles to squeeze through the thick wires to the inner side. However, Bertan had to strip out of the most of her gear and robes, trying to get through. The net's empty spaces were fit for the small slaves, not for the bones enlarged by the Tharo Juice influence. She was too small, for a Sword, but too large for a slave. There was no way for her to fit, and there was no way to cut through the steel wires.

"You have to go by yourself, Genes," Bertan said when no other option appeared in her mind.

"What? No. No way." He got through the rods to her side anxiously. "I don't think I can."

"You have to. I can't fit in there, who knows what waits for us at the bottom of that well. It's fit for the slaves only… and you are even smaller, Genes. You have to go alone," she pleaded, trying her hardest to sound reassuring. She was terrified for him. The thought of the forced separation cut deeply through her core and gnawed at her mind. Yet, it seemed the right choice to let him go this way. After all, she was the prey, not Genes. He might survive this, and that was the most important thing to look forward to.

"I can see the wire prepared for the descend from here. Just hook it to this handle." She gave him the same device she used on her way up there. "Hold it and it will let you ride down that wire without any effort. Just remember to go to the bottom of that well. Never trust the first ground you see and feel. Trust nothing and no one. Never. Wait for me there, no one else but me." Tears welled in her eyes she hugged him goodbye. "You have to go Genes, quickly. I have my ways of leaving this roof, but not with you slowing me down. I will find a way to reach you. There is only one thing I still need, one map I have to see, and we can leave this hell. I promise."

"I… I understand." Genes stuttered, striving for the last caress of her hands. "I will wait for you. Always," he said through the cage that separated them and hooked the handle to the thin wire attached to one of the pillars to finally disappear down the stone well.

Bertan dressed herself up without giving any thought to her actions. Her hands worked up the black, soft robes and wired reinforcements, placing small and handy weapons all around her body. It took only a moment to decide on leaving her face bare for that last quest. She was sensing the Nothingness creeping closer ever since the Old King died. None could escape that cold and deathly feeling.

Tossing the safety and carefulness aside, she shot a teethed arrow, with an attached wire, straight into one of the windows of the black Ruling Line House Tower. Without the time and will for the subtleties, she just tied the end of the wire to the closest steel rod and checked its tension. She had no troubles with walking down that almost invisible line, for the winds were merciful and still.

Once she got through that window, she saw the piles of slave bodies that seemed to spill with every step she took. Bodies still hot to the touch, wide-eyed and peaceful.

"I forgot they would still do that," Bertan muttered to herself in agony, closing her eyes to calm the storm of fury at the waste of life she couldn’t stand. It was an old and forgotten custom to kill all the Royal Line House slaves before sealing the King's dwelling. They all knew too much to be safe afterwards.

She wasn’t able to finish that thought, as her steel-mesh covered throat met the invisible blade. Never in her life, was she ever as thankful to wear her most reinforced robes. She would be dead at that moment otherwise. She fell to the floor anyway, to see her attacker. It appeared to be one of the slaves, quick on his feet and efficient with the blade. She did not fight him, trying to dodge his blows instead.

"I did not come here to harm you!" she finally yelled loudly to get his attention. The assailant didn't take any notice of her words, as he was mad with the fury. He kept on slashing at her body hard enough, with the blade designed to cut through the armors. Her robes started to tear, despite the protective reinforcements that were a part of them. Blood started to overflow some of her cuts.

She knew, she wasn't a match for anyone, not even for a mere slave in the throes of the Madness caused by the Tharo Juice, and she was not ready to start killing anyone in this lifetime just yet. So, she ran as if the winds of Zephyr fueled her blood.

She ran and realized that more than one pair of footsteps followed her. The impossible knowledge, that the Ruling Tower wasn't in a lockdown mode yet hit her. It was enough to speed up even more, for fear began to sink deeper into her mind. The fear turned into the terror that seeped into her whole being with the strength of her blood seeping out of her body right up to the moment when everything in her head went black the moment she collided with the unforgiving wall of bodies robed in black.

 

So much darkness engulfed her, restricting any moves and most of her senses. Some voices seemed to flow in and out of her hearing range.

"How did she get in here now? You were supposed to fetch her later on when I'm ready… How much does she know?" someone seemed to ask insistently.

"I don't know!" raged the other, more familiar voice.

"What did you tell her?" the first voice demanded.

"Nothing! I set up her escape to grab her outside of her Tower. She is not supposed to be here, aware of her senses and free."

"You should have killed her while you had the chance." A hissing voice full of hatred brought her up closer to the reality around.

"She would not leave her rooms. You know well enough the safety net laws concerning one's rooms, and the whole Tower when it concerns a Mother. Your plans would never work out if her blood were shed within her own place. You have to spill her blood, not me. We have been going over that over and over." Familiar emotionless patience and reasoning broke her core.

"She went to visit the King not long ago," the mean voice whined.

"You know she went there with Ash of the Second Line and his primary guards. I'm trying to tell you, we have been discussing that over and over again, for the hundred times. The Fates are kind to us now, bringing her alone to your feet right at the time we need her to be here." Bertan finally accepted it was the voice of the Unnamed that reasoned so patiently and emotionlessly, "This is your moment to grab the power and to lead us, Cassess. This is your time, blessed by the Fates. Stick to the plan."

"Yes, you are right, as always. The Fates are even clearer now. Is she awake yet?" the high-pitched voice continued to attack her ears.

"No, I don't think so. I don't think she will wake up anytime soon. You need to be quick to shed her blood by your hand while she still has some of it left, and the heart is still moving that blood in her. She is getting weaker." Bare, hot, ungloved hands found the hole in her robes cut by the slave in the throes of his Madness. Strong and impatient fingers tore her clothing apart and held her shoulders tightly. "Go for the heart. Now!"

 

Bertan had no time to prepare herself for that sharp pain that exploded in her chest as the instrument of her destruction struck hard, to be removed right afterward. Opening her eyes spontaneously, she looked up, still conscious, straight into the cold and unblinking, deadly eyes of the bare-faced Unnamed staring back into her. With a dazed relief, she welcomed a familiar vibration that struck her core, for the final drops of her Sword life were leaving her body. Her core happily joined with the silent Calling song.

"I, Cassess of The Third Line To The Throne, by the law of blood, am taking over the Third Line Throne Head position. Anyone who wishes to fight my claim speak up now, or stay silent forever!"

When not a whisper sounded, he continued filled with pride and violence. "I, The Male Head of the Third line to the Throne contend for the Throne position. Anyone who wishes to fight my claim speak up now, or stay silent forever." The New King's triumphant words were the last Bertan thing heard of that world.

"Excellent," Cassess exclaimed with a sneer. He was visibly relieved that everyone present agreed with his newfound position. "Now, we can go to quench that ridiculous rebellion at our own Mines. We have been waiting way too long. We have let them breed like the beasts they are, without any control. They used up our resources we had gathered there for so long This has to end. It will end now!" he felt the power seeping into his presence as the whispering and calculating Swords started to fill the room. "But first things first," he smiled viciously "Kneel to me," he faced the Unnamed, "Prove your loyalty."

With a short nod and an impassive face, the Unnamed kneeled in front of his new King while uttering emotionlessly "My loyalty goes to you. Now and forever."

That supposedly satisfied the New King, who confidently dared everyone else. "Now the rest of you, it's your turn to give me loyalty!"

The crowd's reaction was not the one he had envisioned in his dreams of this moment. He finally took the position that had belonged to him in his dreams, ever since he understood who the King was. It was his moment of glory, and he wouldn't let any of them destroy it for him. "I'm waiting!" He yelled impatiently while no one seemed to move. Not the slightest rustle interrupted the deafening silence that filled the room.

"Fine," he said, turning to the Unnamed, "Kill them all," he commanded.

A short nod of understanding from the male standing to his right was followed by an inaudible order to the mostly hidden guards. It gave way to the silent carnage that spared none of the insolent Swords.

"It's getting too dirty in here," The New King sighed ostentatiously, and he walked through the slaughtered bodies. "Let's find a room more up to my style and liking."

Everyone, that was still alive at this point, left the opened and endless space filled with death, leaving only the Unnamed behind.

 

 

CHAPTER TWENTY

 

 

CHAPTER

 

 

 

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

 

 

 

 

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

 

 

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

 

 

 

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

 

 

 

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

 

 

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

 

 

 

10

Red Axe King grimly stared at the reports laid out in front of him. "Translate it to me… How much time is left before the Swords reach the barrier of the Wall?"
"We can't be sure at the moment. The tracks have been seen to have appeared unnoticed over the last two cycles," a raven-haired Councilor explained quickly. Deep frown seemed to never leave his face when he attended his meetings with the King. The room was small, almost too small, and suffocating, but it was the room the King favored ever since a breach in the Throne Room was discovered.
"Is it in four places, up in the north?" The King checked once again. “This can mean one thing only and I don’t like that option. Most of our own war preparations are between ‘just somewhere halfway done,’ and ‘still in the planning stage.’ We have been preparing tirelessly for the last generations, but still, it feels like we’re taken by a surprise yet again.”
"Yes, my King. We have sent out some of the stealth troops to check out the remaining territories, they should be back at the end of the next cycle," the Councilor repeated the answer for the fifth time, by his count. He did not like the way the King seemed to slip from his awareness into a window-gazing standstill.
"The time of war has come. I hoped, I wouldn’t live to see it." The Red Axe King said heavily when the prolonged stillness and silence let go of him.
"We have been preparing for war all our life, my King. Surely, you've always known it was going to be you to lead us into our Fates." The Councilor tried to bring back the reason into the royal mind and at least ease the doubts and ease the depression emanating from the King in dark waves.
"I still hoped. No matter how much we prepare, we stand no chance against fully grown Sword." The Royal breathed heavily, looking through the window again. "It will always take at least ten men to take one of them down when it comes to direct confrontation. I mean if we are that lucky," Red Axe sighed again, "It pains me greatly that no Sword have been seen or heard of since they were forced to abandon the Mines. We hold no knowledge of them since then, only some tales that could be delusional stories fed with fear of our enslaved ancestors. It worries me a lot."
"We have grown into millions upon millions since those stories had originated. We may still hold the key to winning." Councilor brought up one of Axe strengths they had been counting on.
"How many of those millions joined our troops Councilor? We cannot let yhe Swords get close enough for them to breach the Wall." The royal seemed getting annoyed at that point, disliking being placated in his worries like a little child. "Once they get to the Wall they will breach it… and then only Fates can save us," he added much more quietly, recalling the way the Fates had once intervened in their favor. It was the only real reason they could have that conversation.
"What are we to do now my King? What is your command?" the Councilor straightened his posture and waited for the answer, he already knew.
"Prepare the fire wells. There is not much else we can do now." The king had decided.
"My King, you are right. The Swords won't come here prepared for the fire to meet them first. Can suggest one more thing, my Lord?" he asked politely.
"Yes, of course, Councilor," the King was surprised by this request but agreed anyway, already distracted with something else on his table.
"Under the circumstances, before we fire up the wells… I think it's the time to call every Axe that resides within the Wall to look for safety of the Inner Block." The Councilor said quickly to hide his nervousness.
"We can't do that now, not when there is the slightest chance we might… We can't allow the only possible outcome of that action to come true," the King strongly opposed.
"They would erase everything and everyone inside then," the Councilor agreed.
"They would do not only that," the Royal thought deeply, "All of the people should hide somewhere until all is done and gone. They could travel far enough to go even farther afterward… though still, no one knows exactly who and what lies at the Line of Unknown now."
"Should I send out the messengers then? You do realize, my King, that not everyone will get warned in time, and still some tribes would want to take a safe refuge within the Wall." The Councilor felt it was safe to express his worries.
"That is their own choice then. The Southern route would be much safer than taking a refuge here."
"We don’t know that for sure until the time comes, my King. There is always a spark of hope for the Fates to spare us. One is sure, we won't surrender. It's better to be dead than to become the Sword's slaves again." "Shouldn't we at least move some troops to defend other parts of the Wall?" The Councilor proposed quietly.
"We cannot change anything. It has to look like we are unaware of their approach."
A young boy dashed into the room to deliver a small and neatly folded message into the Councilor hands, and he disappeared just as suddenly.
"The Seekinglanders have just arrived my Lord." The Councilor wasn't able to hide a tremble of his voice.
"Vlad must have warned them. Damn that man and his Oracles," Red Axe frowned when he realized Vlad might have been right, after all. "Guard them closely. They are not to granted permission to enter the Inner Block. They are not allowed to enter the Mines, Councilor."
"I understand your reluctance, my King, but isn't it what should be done to keep the civilians safe? Shouldn't we send them down to wait the storm out down below?" He tried once again to plead his case one more time.
"You and I, we both know what would happen when Swords breach the Wall. We know what will happen the moment they reclaim the Inner Block. Let us all die as free men on the surface. When Seekinglanders enter the Mine, the rest including the soldiers, will want to follow. Fearlessness is the luxury of peaceful times. I want my soldiers to be the fiercest when darkest fear strikes down. I want them to fight for their lives, for their families. The desperation is the only way we can face our former Masters. The Seekinglander tribe should be outside the Wall, seeking their lands, not coming back here again." The King couldn't hide his irritation with that annoying tribe. The knowledge of their origins had become obscured with time, but the Axe Kings had always deeply treasured the truth. "Be sure that the Seekinglanders are contained, Councilor."
"Of course, my King." The Councilor bowed and turned to leave the small room that guarded their meeting.
"Be sure to personally bring me the latest report on the fire-wells preparations," the King said almost unaware of doing so, already deep in thoughts of the fire-wells strategies.
In fact, their greatest defense weapon has never been tried to its true and full force. In theory and during small tests, it worked perfectly. It was a system of many wells placed within the soil-crust, anchored right to the thin layer of natural gasses and poisonous fumes. The report from that last test, he ordered Councilor to bring, was crucial to any further actions.
One thing Red Axe would never underestimate, though, was the Councilors' Anaerther ancestry that was hidden too well for his liking. That one small finding changed all of his plans for the Seekinglanders. At the time of war, when the survival of the whole race is endangered, the loyalty goes to the only good side: the Axe’ survival.
 
The Councilor, unaware of the King's schemes, hurried towards the Seekinglander camp, just outside the Inner Block to greet the Elders and share the recent developments.
"You were lucky to arrive at the last possible moment to be granted the passage into the Wall, High Vaala," he said, bowing his head in respect in front of a tall and crisp lady.
"It's not that easy to order and manage the immediate Trek of so many people, Councilor. Even though, we have been preparing for that since Vlad left to face the King," she answered barely moving her lips.
"Thankfully, the King was too preoccupied with tracks that appeared seemingly out of nowhere, in the north. The same track we have been waiting for. Hopefully, he didn't give much thought to your arrival. I don’t like that he forbids any Seekinglander to enter the Inner Block," he said quickly, feeling a strange tug to his core that called him to go back into the Inner Block immediately.
"It was to be expected," she heaved, "The Oracle made a point to mention that, and we made a point to follow the prophecies throughout the ages. Most certainly, we won't stop now."
"Certainly," he agreed.
"Where is the Duchess and the others?" High Vaala asked nervously, glancing around in a search for the familiar faces.
"I'm afraid, I'm the only one left in here Vaala," he frowned worriedly, "They haven't been seen or heard of in the last few cycles."
"Surely they have not gone down under alone!" Vaala gasped in disbelief.
"That is the only possible conclusion," he said, sensing the immediate danger in the air.
"What are we to do if she is not around to guide us through? The female of a great worth has been foretold to lead us back into the Mines. How can it be if she is not here?" the female started to twitch nervously.
"High Vaala, sure you don't want to let the doubt seep into your core now when the time of the final fulfillment has come upon us." The Councilor wanted to calm her down and relieve the duress she had been experiencing as of late. He turned to go back to the Castle, knowing it's already too late for any of them.
"Doubts feed our demons Councilor, even mine. Especially mine," she whispered to herself after they parted their ways.
Her face aged by the decades when she relaxed the muscles that kept her rigid and straight, revealing unwanted secret. She turned to go back to the Seekinglander camp that was already set up, at the Inner Block edge. The closer they could get to the entrance, the better, she thought, but still, growing concerns of the Duchess’ current absence worried her greatly till everything changed in one moment.
High Vaala couldn’t unsee the unusual amount of guards encircling their camp. "No blood will ever be spilled by your hands at the cost of your surface existence," she began reciting the most esteemed part of the Oracle words. None of the Seekinglanders carried any kind of weaponry. The weight of their past sins still pulled them down, right into self-sacrifice.
It was only the children that she still hoped to save, the little ones completely void of the knowledge and guilt it brought that burned their parents' cores with undying inferno. Hopefully, they were safe somewhere out there, waiting to join their parents, blissfully unaware of the brutal truth the Axeland was to deal to their tribe. High Vaala had to save the children in the only way that seemed to be left, by robbing them of their tribe and the knowledge of their own origins. If that’s the price of their survival, so be it, she thought as her core started to sing its farewell Calling song.
A final prayer of the Call set upon her while the rest of her tribe joined in unnoticed by others shook the Inner Block to its core with an inaudible to the ears sound. Last gift to their final Trek. It was the power of all of the Seekinglander’ cores present there, combined in a secret song that opened the foretold Fate's gates as the red-eyed guards executed every single one of their tribe.
 
The Red Axe King stood silently by the window watching the guards encircling the Seekinglanders’ camp. Fools, who had not only believed the Oracle, but also thought they were the only ones to read it all. Self-righteous fools, he thought. The Councilors' loud steps announced arrival of the last reports on the fire-wells.
"How did your chat with your kind go?" the King asked, a feral gleam appeared in his eyes as he turned to look at his guest
"What do you mean my King?" the Councilor visibly stiffened and paled.
"You really think I didn't know of your ancestry, Councilor?" The King’ smile never reached his eyes. "It's not that hard to dig it out. It's not that hard to check your loyalties. We both know what the first and only priority is for a Seekinglander… or should I say Anaerther?"
"My king, my only loyalty has always been to you," the Councilor's voice did not waiver, though sweat graced his furrowed brow, "It has always been yours," he added quietly.
"Liar, liar,” Red Axe sneered, “We both know you lie with the same ease that the Duchess does. Now, I'm sure you know you won't leave this room alive, but do hand me the reports you have brought with you."
The self-sacrificing part of Councilor's nature was already blessing him with an eerie sense of comfort and calm. Breathing deeply, he watched red-eyed King wield an invisible blade and aim at him.
Little did the King know of the little eyes watching his every move, of the young ears listening to every breath he took and every word he said. Lar didn't like to be left out but at that moment, she would have chosen an oblivion over the witnessing the monster clutching her da' body. It could not be her father, who dealt that final blow to the Councilor, this funny looking man who used to tell her stories of the times-past. A predator consumed its prey that was her father and she couldn’t breathe. Lar was of little size and age, but her mind recognized the signs of the blood Madness that were taking her father and his men hostage.
Tainted Dreams did nothing to tame the innocent core within her. It was only the weird sensation, she started to feel deeply within her chest that saved her sanity, life, and tears. Unexpected vibration, she had felt a few times already, seized her with great force, pushing her out of the hiding place within the vent-shafts. That familiar pull guided her through her private pathways. She had to follow its silent song to witness yet another kind of carnage, taking place just outside the Inner Block walls.
Lar wished time would go back to where it all started. She wished for her senses to fail and the nightmare to end. The pull of the Call weakened with the last Seekinglander body that hit the ground, but the blood Madness seemed to keep its hold over the guards, for they started to fight each other ruthlessly.
The Great War started right then, from the within of maddened Axe minds.
Two lone in their sanity figures quickly took the terrified and rooted to the ground child into safety. The last child of the Seekinglands to ever grace Axeland. Lar.
 
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Was it not for Bertan's secretive and emotional confession earlier in her room, Genes would have crumbled into dust right then. In his hideout, he watched helplessly. Thankfully, a part of his mind wasn’t overwhelmed with emotion, and he managed to immerse himself in his Calling.
It didn’t even seem real to him, like a bad dream, the Unnamed couldn’t just hold down her shoulders and help the other monster to bury the Invisible Blade deep into the core of her chest. Genes kept watching in disbelief, detached from his own body, at the time the events were unfolding. He found himself to become a different man in an instant, of a cold heart, calculating mind, and unforgiving vengeance that gnawed at his core.
His descent into that huge vent well had turned into a painful descent into his sinking and screaming core. Having witnessed the willing sacrifice of someone, he started to think of as a family, the sacrifice to make him safe, had triggered an inescapable transformation into a mental and emotional full-blooded Anaerther male. Suddenly, Genes was not a boy anymore, his change was so strong and tangible he half-expected to see visible marks on his body.
Instead, two assassins had struck him hard the moment his feet touched the bottom of the well. The Artifact seemed to blend into his skin, leaving only a silvery sheen as a mark of its existence, but it still served him well and saved his life. He played his part of being overpowered and unconscious, so very sure that those assassins would take him to where Bertan was. He was right, and the Artifact provided his weak body with the strength and speed needed to kill his captors, once he realized where Bertan was. Where her body was.
Brutal truth tortured him every time he realized, had Bertan worn the Artifact on her own body, nothing could have defeated her. That knowledge fed his rage and self-loathing. Still, he thought, he held the secret knowledge to keep her alive. After all, being an Anaerther did not only mean to hear the Call, even though it was only a story their legends were made of. So he waited patiently and watched the carnage till the New King departed alongside his guards.
 
Broken bonds of trust dissatisfied his newfound conscience and the Unnamed seemed not to understand it yet. This weird place in his chest pulled him through the floor each time his eyes caught the sight of her wrecked and lifeless body. Being aware, that it had been all of his doing, should not wake a monster of sorrow within his Sword core just like that, he decided, stunned with his own feelings. He should have no feelings.
For him, for the Sword in him, the prosperity and unity of his Kingdom was worthy of all and any sacrifice. His pride and joy to serve New King overshadowed his pain only for a mere eye-blink, after which a great, dismal pit of unparalleled sorrow sucked him completely in to never let any spark of light in.
There it had been, he thought, in the eyes of the Old King. The knowledge that there was no redemption for a betrayal of one's heart needs, for the last word of the dying Titan, was the long forgotten name of his first daughter. Sylt.
The Unnamed didn't have to look around to feel the restrained fury boring right into his back. He did not need to use his sense of sight to know who had been watchfully lurking in the dark. That confrontation had been long in the making of the Fates.
What really made him uneasy was the reluctance to turn around and leave Bertan's body out of his sight. He felt extremely protective of her now for some reason, more than when that body had been full of life rushing through her veins.
That last gaze they had shared. That last time when she opened her dark eyes to look right into his soul while he let the Invisible Blade burrow into her chest. That last moment had shattered his inner peace beyond anything he had been through before. He couldn't name it, couldn't put his finger on it, to pinpoint the source of his change, couldn't even name this weird sensation that rushed through his body and mind, ever since their eyes met, just before he let her die.
The Unnamed didn’t understand why Bertan wasn’t surprised to see him then nor disappointed by his betrayal. Her acceptance of that last revelation ruined him, shaken him to his core, and he couldn’t find a way to fix it in any way other than joining her. Somehow, he knew, nothing would bring him more pleasure in his long life than to meet the darkness and join with the newfound center of his world. Soon.
 
"You can leave your hiding place, boy, and join me. I can easily feel your hate from here," the Unnamed said loud enough for Genes to hear. "Nobody will be coming back here anytime soon. You don't need to fear me now boy," he stayed frozen in his place and position, disliking the idea of leaving Her side.
"Genes, my name is Genes," the whisper did nothing to hide the soft and almost inaudible steps the boy took to meet his nemesis.
"I will not harm you. The only thing that binds us at the moment is the only order Bertan gave me as the head of our Line House," the Unnamed finally managed to turn around and see Genes appear.
"What was the order?" the curiosity seemed never to leave the boy, ignoring the existence of the times of dread.
"To guard you with my life. Especially if she doesn't come back," the Unnamed told the truth as if it was the most natural thing to say.
"It doesn't look like she is coming back, does it?" the unbearable pain reigning over Genes poured through his voice and spilled through his eyes. No longer was he raging. It was blazing like a fire that he started to grieve.
"She is on a journey all of us will take some day." Some sooner some later, was the unspoken part, the Unnamed chose keep to himself only. It brought the wisps of peace to his core that he almost inhaled greedily, unwilling to share this blissful and addictive emotion. In that one fateful eye-link with Her, he changed in so many ways that he was starting to forget who he had been before. Before he let her die. No. Before he made her die. Still, that part of truth brought only a frown to his face. He wasn’t ready for it, yet.
"Why did you let it to be done to her? Why to kill her if now you are so graciously following her orders?" Genes sneered, feeling the hate welling up inside him was almost visible, ready to explode just then.
"You are too young to understand that," the Unnamed sighed deeply with sorrow, something he couldn’t quite name yet.
"That is surely lame excuse for not accepting the truth that you betrayed the head of your own Line House!" Genes screamed loudly enough to wake winds with the strength of his voice, "Of our house now," he added almost silently.
"There is loyalty to the House, and there is a larger form of loyalty to something higher and bigger than just you, your friend, or your family house. We need a King, a leader. We are not supposed to dwell in a small bickering when all of the Swords are failing at something bigger." The Unnamed tried to explain his reasoning to a young boy who didn't seem to understand the world beyond his small tribe.
"At what?" Genes yelled again.
"Living," the Unnamed answered after the echo finished its song.
"Is it really that easy to kill? Just for that?" Genes whispered, standing still. Deep breaths he took were the only sign of his state of mind.
"To kill for the happiness of your own family and all the people? It's not only just that easy boy, but it's also the only reason, to give your own life for." He frowned, surprised how empty those words felt now, void of any meaning and emotion. "I only had no idea it would hurt so much, to see her look at me for the last time, to watch her life fade away," The Unnamed added more to himself as if he was already unaware of Genes' presence nearby. He knew that the young ones don’t see the world beyond their heads. It was so easy for him to explain what younglings were doing wrong.
"Then why did you do it? Why did you let him do it?" Genes yelled in a homicidal rage that ignited once again when he looked one more time at the crumpled body on the floor. A blinding fire of hate worked him up. He took aim at the Unnamed with a small invisible blade that was hidden within his robes.
Surprised with the fierce force coming from Genes, unaware of the artifact shielding him and unwilling to hurt his only link to Bertan, the Unnamed did not move to par the blow and did not shield himself in any way. Blows were raining down on him without a pause and he welcomed the pain with an unfamiliar relief that flooded and filled him up, right to his core.
Before, nothing could bore into the soft tissue of his recently thawed heart. He just discovered it had one more purpose than just pumping blood throughout his body. That last look, she had given him, was the reason his rational mind demanded hard facts and logical answers. He still wasn’t able to grieve, just because he did not understand the process and would never let his mind slide into the Madness that easily.
 
It was the sight of blood, pooling at the feet of the Unnamed, that brought Genes back into his senses. He was breathing heavily, assessing the damage he managed to inflict. The red, ragged flesh did nothing to satisfy his anger and hatred. Though, it obviously helped to push back his Madness that devoured still fragile, young mind. He could not and would not utter any apologies.
 
"It's that easy to kill." Unmoved Unnamed said quietly, observing how the young lad was struggling with unnecessary emotions and the lack of any control. Genes had a lot to learn if he was to stay and become a Sword by his free will, he noted, accepting the challenge it would bring.
"Did you really hate her that much?" Genes whispered after a long, silent break. His eyes never left the puddle of blood on the floor that he had caused mere moments earlier in his rage.
"No, I did not do it with any hate for her in my heart. I did it with the love for the Swords," the Unnamed said, each word emptied his core so fast, he had to look back again to catch the sight of her body and make sure it wasn't all just a dream.
"You helped to kill her, just so your new King could start a war." Genes accused him.
"it’s your King now too, boy. Through her sacrifice it’s your King now and our House Line is now the Royal House. The war is unavoidable now, has always been, no matter who was meant to rise and grab the position. The quicker it occurs, the fewer losses will be suffered."
The Unnamed didn’t realize that he was taking small steps back to find himself near her body again. She seemed to call his core with a power he had never met before. His blood, still pouring out of his wounds, rained on her body and mingled with hers. It actually brought him a weird sense of pleasure, for it brought him closed to her than ever before.
"What will happen to your victims? What will happen to my tribe?" Genes asked hopelessly.
"Hopefully, they all will perish. Axes do not hold the right to live free on our territories," the Sword male answered absentmindedly.
"Those aren't your territories anymore!" Genes stuttered in anger.
"Here is where you are wrong, boy. Mere two thousand Great Cycles is nothing but a blink of an eye to any of us. The Fates forced us to regroup and rebuilt. It's only made us stronger," the Unnamed smiled.
"I'm an Axe, and you know it." Genes walked up to the Unnamed and looked into his eyes. “A Seekinglander, but still an Axe,” he added.
"Yes, I guessed that much, though she never mentioned your ancestry." The Unnamed frowned when he realized he had to tread carefully, for the unwilling and spirited minds were an easier target for the Madness to strike. "You just still don't understand what happened, Genes. Your origins are in the past. You are a Sword now."
"No! I will never be a Sword, not in my heart!" The boy screamed at the top of his lungs. Tears of anger and rebel streamed down his cheeks, refusing to back down, ready to strike one more time.
"You sound so much like Bertan now. You must have been very close." The Unnamed smiled when her name touched his lips.
"No. Not really. It's how normal, conscious, mortal people-us Axes- think and act." Genes closed his eyes to stop the tear flow that seemed to strengthen each time her name was spoken out loud. A true reaction of his core brought up to his surface. "I must go back… I must warn them somehow…"
 
Genes stopped right in his tracks, in the middle of his thought. Suddenly, he realized that there was something much more important to his life now, than the future and wellbeing of his own tribe. He recognized the Fates had separated them when Bertan joined his path. "No. First, I need to give Bertan a proper Burial."
"You will never make it in time to warn anyone... and what do you mean proper burial? You have no idea of Sword ways yet."
"Shh… let me think." Genes closed his eyes for a moment again, this time by his own will, recalling the plans that she shared with him. "I need a map!" He exclaimed, startled by the way it echoed her words not so long ago. "I need the oldest map there is."
"What is wrong with the new maps? I don’t get your map fixation. There is nothing wrong with the latest maps. They're only two eons old as the Skyfire Storm brought a stop to the Sword development in every area."
"It's what Bertan went into this damned Tower for, the oldest maps that might have survived." Genes was happy that he finally found a starting point to his next move in the sea of unknown in the enemyland.
"Why would she risk her life for something that trivial?" The Unnamed mused taken aback. He looked startled by the revelation that revealed her needs he ignored earlier. There it was again, the tug to his core, to fulfill her wishes. "Though, I think I can help you with that one. Follow me."
"No. I will not leave her for one moment. You need to bring it to me," Genes protested, kneeling next to Her body.
 
The Unnamed looked at him cautiously. The follower of the eternal runaway couldn't be trusted not to run on his own and make it impossible to fulfill her will.
"Fine. We need to place you somewhere safer then. Nobody should be coming back into this carnage, but the trust is a rare commodity here." He looked around, only then noticing that his feet were touching her body. Lifting and cradling her body in his arms felt like the most natural thing to do.
"I noticed." Genes said, pained again at the remainder of her words.
Meanwhile, the Unnamed was lost deep in thoughts and looked as still as a statue, despite the blood still pouring down his injured side.
"There should be no lockdown procedure in this tower since the New King is already in place, so staying here should be safe," he finally said, "We just don't want any random discovery." The Unnamed walked up to the beautifully adorned half see-through chest behind the abandoned throne. "Here both of you should be safe and comfortable," he said, opening the chest filled with black sheets and he carefully laid her down inside.
Genes watched the Unnamed. Without giving much thought to it at the time, he jumped in to find himself right beside her. It was only then when the lid closed and enclosed them that he realized what a mistake it could have been to trust the Unnamed. When he stood up his fingers could barely scrap the top lid, and there was no way he could lift and open it by himself.
Trapped and exhausted, he had no other choice, but to let it all go. He wept silently and soft tremors shook him. Bertan’s body lying next to him was still warm to his touch, and that made him fall into the throes of the mindless Madness again. The only way to connect with her, and pay tribute to his dearest friend, was the ultimate betrayal of the secrecy in a place where only one fellow Anaerthan used to live.
Genes made the Call unaware of his own actions. His chest vibrated with the familiar sensation of homecoming. A sheer joy of it fueled his core with the strength he didn't know he had, and he lost himself out there, in his mind. A time of a true need and desperation, which made his Call to reverberate silently with an unknown force in the Sword lands, stirring unsuspecting hearts and cores. The roots of Anaerthan life rose up from its slumber. The Madness and urgency were destroying his sanity, weakness, and fear, shutting his awareness away. Time passed by unaccounted for.
Suddenly, Genes found himself kneeling on the marble floor, out of his little prison, surrounded by a few, tightly robed figures. They seemed to strengthen his Call with their own coarse cores, looking at the young boy curiously, for he was seemingly sharing their newfound other origins. No word was said, and Swords were waiting for him to compose himself and start any kind of explanations. The Fates had it that Genes was still out of his mind, and the only thing he was guided to share was as cryptic as it could be.
"It's time to return home," he said in a voice that belonged to the Madness too. Silence followed his words into the unspoken contract that bound them at the price of disobedience to their current world.
"You are home, boy,” the Unnamed appeared unexpectedly, taking everyone by a surprise, “There is no way anyone will be allowed to leave the city before the war starts. Then, everyone will have to leave armed with the invisible blades to conquer our own lands once more. This is not the time of that much freedom here."
 
The Unnamed assessed the instantaneous group that formed mysteriously, as far as he was concerned. It worried him that some strange Swords managed to surround Genes. Though he perceived no threat from the younglings, his hand never left the invisible blade placed close to his side. None of the new arrivals had the size of the older generations. Even together they wouldn't be able to best him. What worried him, even more, was that closed-eyed Genes was in the throes of Madness, and that shouldn’t be taking place at all, as it meant he became an Edge Walker, destined to be executed upon discovery, by the Sword laws. For the first time the Unnamed was grateful for the fact that Bertan relieved him on his duty. He didn’t have to kill the boy. But still, none of this should happen at any time, the silent whisper in his mind had an answer at the ready.
 
 
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
 
A feeling cut out of a bad dream brought the Unnamed down to his knees like a blast, without any warning. The floor shook in its roots deep below to signal that the long-awaited war had just been born.
"That can't be right. It's still too early for that," he muttered to himself, looking at Genes again. The eerie stillness the boy displayed didn't agree with the usual, erratic Madness behavior.
"Once it starts to go wrong, it falls," one of the figures standing around frozen-in-time-space Genes said, looking straight into the Unnamed "This Kingdom has begun its fall."
"All of us agree to join him in his quest to find our new home, though we still don't know his name." The other, even smaller than Genes, apparently female figure added slowly, minding her words as if they bore the weight too dear to let go of.
"It's Genes, his name is Genes,” The Unnamed explained, “He is the first and only son of Bertan of the third line," the Unnamed explained patiently, though his mind was still scrambling to find the possible explanation for the unexpected visitation.
"Genes, what is our destination?" the female standing closest to Genes asked, taking his hand delicately.
"The source." was the only thing he said, before falling to the stone floor. The Unnamed grimaced at the thought of having to carry both of the bodies out now.
"You know, it could only mean what's below the mines on the Axe’ territory." The one holding invisible sword at the ready said after a long pause they all took to ponder crippled message.
"It's the place the war is heading to anyway. Can't we just wait till we take it over?" The female that was still holding Genes hand crouched on the floor to be near his body.
"We might not survive that war," the first male to speak said grimly, “We are not the first, not even the middle generations.” He looked at the Unnamed with envy.
"Does anybody know the way into the mines?" The youngest of all voices asked with a spark of excitement only a very young soul can hold and spread around.
"Nearly all of them were destroyed by us when the Axes got control over that land." The Unnamed answered, knowing the younglings never learn of the past and the events that had played out before their arrival.
Another long moment of silence followed. Everyone stood still as if in waiting for the Fates to strike them down one more time.
"I have a map," the Unnamed finally said, overwhelmed with a sudden revelation of where the things were proceeding all along.
"We all have maps," the smallest one scoffed at him indignantly.
"I doubt, you would have that one." The Unnamed moved cautiously to get closer to the group.
"What is so special about it?" the one holding the invisible sword asked the nearing Unnamed, pointing it at him.
"It's the oldest map that has survived until now. It was created before the City of Naam was built. Though, I'm not sure it can be called map anymore." He took a small roll of parchment out of his side pocket and spread it into a thin strip. He looked at the elaborate painting once again.
"Then it's of no use for us, how can it be, if it doesn't show the ways out of here because here hadn't been around yet," a soft female voice interjected.
"This is the part of the inception myths that describe the supposed Sword origins," The Unnamed ignored her, "It shows something very interesting, though. The first underground route to and from the mines that were abandoned by the time City of Naam had risen. Those first routes went directly below the mountains of the eastern city blocks." All of the Swords leaned towards the minuscule painting, depicting threads of mountains and a cave system within them.
"That's got to be the Fools Tunnels!" One of the males exclaimed in amazement that made him jump excitedly, "I'm of the Second Line. We live in the area surrounding that mountain. There is a maze, real maze of tunnels. We used to play hide and seek there as kids. We could literally spend weeks there without any risk to be found, as the farther you go, the smaller the tunnels get. No Older Generation Swords could ever squeeze through to find us."
"Are we still small enough to get through?" One of the females asked worriedly.
"I'm not sure. Some of them were really tight for us, even then. Certainly, he would not fit in," the young male said, nodding at the Unnamed, "I'm not even sure how we are going to approach that place, with that war starting out and Ash regrouping his troops now, just to be ready."
"We are going to find a burial place for my Mother, Bertan of the Third Line." Genes took everyone by surprise yet again, being up and apparently back into his fully aware self again.
"That could actually work out," the Unnamed said slowly after giving that idea a second and a third thought, "We need to go now, before the real war preparations begin, all everyone is doing now is thinking, regrouping and talking."
The Unnamed took Her body out of the nearby chest. She was still warm to his touch, and her scent was still as intoxicating to him as ever, he marveled in his mind. He wrapped her tightly in the shroud made of black sheets the chest was filled with.
"Let's go!" He walked quickly through the carnage on the floor, followed closely by the six young Swords.
The Tower of the Second Line was a spiral-shaped dome, full of soft beauty. Intertwined arcs seemed to flow like water, in and out of the line of sight, metal, and a glowing inner light dominated the blue stone.
The Unnamed was closely accompanied by the young male that had revealed himself to be of the Second Line. They walked up to the star-like Sword engravement. It was a place where the unseen doors guarded the way into the surrounding walls. No guards were present, and nothing stated they have been noticed, until Ash, accompanied by his six guards, emerged from the passage, hidden below their feet.
"What brings you here at the dawn of the long-awaited war, the Unnamed of the Third Line?" Ash of the Second Line asked tightly. His whole body tensed, unnaturally still, when he spoke the customary welcoming words.
"You will not manage to insult me with your words, Ash of the Second Line, but our New King might see things differently once he is aware of those words," the Unnamed answered. The venom and rage were overflowing his reasoning mind.
"My mistake, the Unnamed of the Royal House. Are you coming here on King's Orders perhaps?" Ash' rigid body and tone of his voice remained unchanged.
"No. I come here in Bertan's name, along with some of her close companions."
Ash visibly relaxed when his mind fully registered Her name and the purpose of this unexpected visit. All of the tension and the air he had been holding up inside left him in that quick and precious moment.
"Hopefully, they have never had a chance to get as close to her as you have," Ash said with great sadness, giving the shrouded body a long look filled with a shattered longing.
"The Royal games hold no prisoners here and you know it well." The Unnamed said testily. He wasn't ready to take any criticism from a member of another Line House, yet.
"I hoped, she could be spared," Ash almost sniffed, "I hoped, I could be the one to save her," he whispered.
"She brought it all upon herself with her own actions," the Unnamed said impatiently.
"It's admirable you think so, even now. Though, she did use to react in the most unexpected ways," Ash mused absently.
"What do you mean, Ash?" The Unnamed did not like that irritating warning in his opponent tone.
"Nothing,” Ash said quickly, “ What is the reason for your visit then?"
"We would like to ask for the permission to walk through your House Line lands to reach the foothills of the mountain that belong to your Line. We seek nothing but a quiet burial place for Bertan," the Unnamed answered emotionlessly.
"Why on our lands and mountains?" Ash frowned, "The third line has a lot of its own water traditions."
"She did not hold it closer than yours." A silent and meaningful communication between the two males took place, changing the flow of the events the Fates pre-planned.
"Safe passage will be granted then, under the condition of a temporal blindness for everyone but my son," Ash finally said. His eyes bore deep into the male that recognized the Tunnels. There was an invisible fight between the two of them. "I did not realize, you got close to her crowd too," he said to his son without any threat in his voice.
"I did not realize, you got there too, father," the young male replied with a seething menace in his voice, walking right into the uprooted gates and quickly disappeared within.
"We will mount the platform on the tracks for you, so the time could be spared. After the gates check your Status, of course," Ash quickly added. "No slave would ever be allowed into the Second Line Stronghold." He looked pointedly at Genes. “Second Line to the Throne has no use for slaves.”
"Your gracious help would also make us leave earlier," the Unnamed snorted knowingly, following Ash’ son into the gates.
The rest of young Swords did the same. Genes walked in as the last one, amazed how that stronghold differed from the others he had visited. No slaves meant those Swords did everything for themselves, even cleaned, and yet everything was sparkling with light. The home of the Second Line wan not of the Royal kind, not relaxed like the House of the Third. A military precision of everyone’s duty and usefulness was visible in the way they walked, talked and moved.
 
Every of the visitors to the House of the Second Line, let their eyes to be covered once they boarded the opened platform that followed the three-tracks up to the mountain range. Surrounded by twenty-one guards, they were unable to assess the real speed the platform reached, no turns were made, not the slightest bump along the ride occurred. The deceleration was subtle enough too, so it was almost unnoticeable, but the Unnamed and his senses had been honed for centuries, he knew exactly where they arrived even before the platform came to a full stop. By the time everyone uncovered their eyes, the platform and the guards were long gone already.
They arrived to the foothill of a massive blue-grey rock-mountain. Everyone looked expectantly at the young male of the Second Line to guide them ahead. He took his time to breathe deeply instead.
"I don't know where the Fools Tunnels will take us, but I think it's the time to uncover myself in front of your eyes and share my name," he said. He took off all of his hoods and untied his facemask. "My name is Ashte. I'm the son of Ash of the former Second Line. Though, I think we might stay the second in line as before." A clean shaved bronzed man with a scarred face and skull said slowly. His scars added a certain kind of inner strength and beauty to his otherwise handsome face.
There was a silence, undisturbed and heavy. The winds didn’t howl. The Royal City didn’t growl. One by one, the young and still nameless Swords, took their hoods off and removed their facemasks.
"My name is Dawn, and I'm of the former Fifth Line," a sharp, raven-haired, wild, and a visibly untamed fierce lady said briskly. Her black eyes invited everyone to fight her claim. She looked like she was always at the ready for any kind of confrontation.
"I'm Pat. I'm of the former Sixth Line, a son of a slave,” a man of a red fire said, unapologetic in his manner. Obviously, he was used to being ridiculed, but here he encountered only a raw curiosity, which made him relax his stern features. His eyes unleashed a playful fire at everyone. A prolonged silence emerged as the next Sword fully unmasked her face, five of them unintentionally gasped.
"I can see, you know me already," she smiled wickedly, "I'm Evan the Destroyer, of the former Ruling house." The beauty of her features was in contrast to the hoarseness of her deep voice. It was the most feared female of the Sword kind, packed in the smallest possible size. Her foreign beauty mesmerized everyone and was a weapon greatest than anything a man could think of. The spell her eyes seemed to spread around made all the men burn with a great need to surrender to her. The foothills of the Naam mountain Range was no exception, every of the men present there looked at her greedily, only the Unnamed didn’t seem to notice her at all.
"I am Seven, and I'm of the former Seventh Line. I am the youngest Sword of the Naam territories." The female seemed shy enough to flee at any moment, wasn't it for the fact that they were in a place where the stone wall met quite a few hard bodies, probably ready to kill her for just that one sign of weakness.
"I'm Genes. This is Unnamed, and we really have to go now," he started to get a little impatient with the prolonged introductions, "Lead the way into the Tunnels, Ashte."
"Are we in any hurry?" Ashe was genuinely taken aback with Genes' hard tone and impatience.
"We'd better be." Genes did not relax. His words were clipped to the point of a stutter.
"Why?"
"It's more prudent at this certain time, Ashte," the Unnamed spoke with tension. The frowning, and apparently disobedient in general young male was clearly unaccustomed of taking any notice of time. Hurry was more of a foreign word in its meaning to him (as to most of the Swords) than an idea of an endless light of the day, in this place of the never-ending night.
"All righty," Ashte finally huffed, giving everyone dirty looks. "We can set out now, but you still have a lot of explaining to do, Genes." He pointed his gloved finger at Genes, paused for a short while to let it all sink in, and unexpectedly headed downwards. He was nearing the darkness of the valley's deep crack that housed several tunnel entrances into the Mountain. "Does anyone know which entrance we should pick?" He asked while they were sliding through the gravel to get near the entrance.
"The smallest one, as it's depicted on the map," the Unnamed answered, "You need your masks on, to filter out some of the pollutants that will be present within the corridors." Everyone stopped half step and quickly fastened their masks and covered their heads with hoods.
"It was the original aim of those masks. Not to hide our faces, but to breathe in less dirt," he explained with a snort, "I'm not sure when it became a fashion and position statement."
They did listen to him, for he was much older and bigger than the rest of them combined. The Unnamed was shrouded in a mystery, secrets and knowledge everyone craved to learn.
"You do realize, you won't be able to squeeze through some of those cracks. Especially on the inside. There is one tunnel that allows crawling through only." Ashte seemed genuinely concerned with the older generation Sword’ help and assistance in their adventure. He obviously didn't like the idea of separating with the Unnamed, for his skills and experience could prove priceless. They all realized that without him, the risks they decided to take were beyond their knowledge and practice. Going in there, just the six of them, carrying a shrouded body, seemed like a sacrifice, not a fun venture.
"That is most likely the tunnel you have to take." The Unnamed nodded when they resumed walking. "I can't accompany you, but I will help you as far as possible… I'm not sure I should enter this Mountain though," he added reluctantly in a strained voice.
"What? Why?" Genes was panicking.
"The eyes are watching us, whether you want it or not. Especially now, that the New King is still in the process of seating himself into the position. He seems pretty jumpy and irrational," the Unnamed explained patiently. "No one should notice this place as a fact of any special significance to me."
"You think they might follow us?" Evan asked, clearly not stressed by any possible outcome.
"That, or they might try and block that entryway to trap you inside." Unnamed said quickly.
Genes looked like he was thinking intensely while the others slowly walked into the Mountain through the smallest opening. The Unnamed handed them the shrouded body of Bertan, he was carrying carefully in his arms all this way.
There was a moment of silence and stillness when his hands refused to leave her body, even when the young disciples held it already. Reluctance blocked his ability to move and breathe. They waited for the time of his silent goodbye to end. When he finally came back into his senses, he turned Genes and gave him the tiny scrap of paper with the painting of their most treasured map.
"I'm not sure why, but I will miss you… Despite what you have done." Genes swallowed unwanted tears.
"Our deeds are what make us, and our destiny to welcome," Unnamed said unmoved.
"She had not done, what you think she had," Genes whispered to share her last secret.
"What and who are you talking about?" The Unnamed frowned, not understanding that cryptic message at first.
Genes walked up to him. "Bertan, she did not kill your Mother. I think you should know that." He refused to look into the cruel eyes of his nemesis.
"How can you know that?" The Unnamed tightened visibly. His jaw became so tensed the tendons started to peek out through his skin.
"She told me," the young man answered simply.
"Women say many things," the Sword male scoffed tightly. He didn’t want to grant Bertan that last sin absolution. Not for the thing, it was so easy to let her die for.
"But why would she lie to me all this time?" Genes challenged him silently and bowed in a final goodbye before he disappeared into the crack to follow his new company.

11

The Unnamed stared at the mountain's entrance crack for a long time. He was thinking about his future and his past, though he wished for the voices in his head to finally leave him. It was not the time for guilt, not yet.
He turned around to see the Royal City of Naam in its full glory. The first Sword Troops were already pouring into the city from the outer Sword territories. He climbed even higher, fluid in his moves like smoke and water in between of the cracks in the ground. Not far into the climb, he noticed Ash, standing still on a viewing platform among the solitary stones. After some consideration, he walked up to face him. It was the only time and place to have a conversation unheard by a wrong set of ears.
"Ash?" he asked when he got close enough to be heard.
"Unnamed?" Ash mimicked the question and tone without sparing his opponent a glance.
"What exactly do you know of my Mother's death?" The Unnamed decided to ask the one question that burned at his core with the strength of the Core’s white-fire.
"Are you sure you want to have that conversation now?" Ash asked in return, "You seem to be so happy, set in your own views and ideas."
"I'm only happy when my views and ideas are based on truth," The Unnamed admitted reluctantly.
"Had you not had this conversation with Bertan?" Ash couldn't hide his surprise.
"Apparently, she did not trust me enough for that," he sighed with unease.
"Considering what you have done to her, it was a good assumption on her side. You should be the last person she should have ever trusted. Unnamed betrayer." There was no accusation in Ash' tone, but this cold statement hurt the Unnamed more that Ash would have imagined.
"I… ah… I actually do have a name now," he sighed deeply, grimacing at the memory of his Naming.
"How come?" There weren't many things that Ash wasn't aware of, but it appeared to be one of them.
"Bertan had freed me of my status and ordered me to go to the King for a Naming," the Unnamed confessed, "I followed that order immediately and went to the King directly afterward and demanded a hearing. He only looked at me once, without a question. He just looked right through me and Name me Sil then. I was about to leave his room when he mentioned I was to leave my Line House soon after the New King takes his residence, and I was free to decide which house suits me best… And then he died, right in front of my eyes." the Unnamed finished somberly.
"Prove it!" Ash interrupted him unceremoniously, bringing his invisible blade up to the Unnamed' throat. "Show the seal, or I'll take your head."
The Unnamed slowly took glove off his right hand and lifted the sleeve to reveal the Old King's seal that was burned deep into the still raw flesh.
Ash eased his blade and looked up to the skies to whisper. "So this is how the Fates want to play."
"What do you know, Ash?" The Unknown asked again, though this time, he was unable to hide the torment of his voice.
"I can't share my knowledge until you join me, Sil of no Line. "Ash extended his arm in an invitation gesture, "I freely offer you a place in my Line House as my brother in arms. Do you accept that offer?"
"I'll follow my Fates with you and your Line," the Unnamed said without a hesitation, accepting Ash' offer, suddenly filled with a strange emotion swelling in his core. Finding a new home was a rare occurrence among their kind.
Ash covered the Old King's seal that was burned into the Unnamed 'skin with a Yanna fruit, the one ingredient of the Tharo Juice that was under the Second Line's care. The raw flesh healed almost in an instant, leaving only a faint blue scar hidden within the skin.

At first, an unsettling moment of silence seemed to separate the two giant Swords even more. The Unnamed no more, carrying the name Sil closed his eyes, looking into his own core and sought answers, not to questions, but to emotions that seemed to drown his senses ever since she had given him that last gaze, full of the acceptance and understanding.
"Why do you trust me now?" He asked at a loss. Suddenly, his old reasoning felt more unnatural than leaving his face bare, for everyone to see.
"I think, it's because I can feel that your awakening almost nears." Ash looked straight ahead, at the fiery river that drifted through the city to sink down under the surface again.
"Awakening? What sort of awakening are you talking about?" Great was his surprise with the word Ash decided to choose. It was so close to describing the feelings he was still hesitant to name.
"Awakening from the Madness everyone here seems to wear with pride while forgetting that this Madness is not and has never been our natural state of mind. It came as a price once. The price we still pay to live." He still refused to look at his newfound brother.
"All of us? Is it really all of us?"
"You will see that once you are fully awakened. It pains me dearly, though, how painful it will be for you." Ash's voice dipped even lower with the sadness his core carried, "It shouldn't pain me that much, though.”
"Why?"
"You had sacrificed her in your Madness, betrayed her trust. Her! Once you are fully aware, that knowledge and the memory of it will kill you from the inside so often, you will wish for it to come back again and grace you with the familiar bliss of feeling nothing at all."
The Unnamed of the name Sil nodded in acceptance, for the words he heard, rang a truth to his core, "I can feel your own sadness and fury over this sacrifice, Ash," he said quietly, thankful for the darkness and the lack of an eye contact, afraid to see any of the pain and truth he could hear.
"The only reason you still breathe is because I'm waiting for your core to swell up with the pain so deep that your only reprieve will be vengeance. You will live, breathe and crave revenge so much that you will let it consume your heart and soul with abandon. Then, just then, we can talk about Bertan again." Ash growled.
"You promised to share your knowledge with me." The Unnamed opposed that anger weakly, deeply shaken, by the way usually cold and emotionless Ash, uncovered his inner fire, just like that. Yet, he knew right then, it wasn't just like that. Everything Ash had done had a reason to it. His every plan had an unseen path within, and his every word had a second meaning to it.
"I lied," Ash burst aloud in a roaring laughter, "You shouldn’t look that surprised, the Unnamed of the name Sil now we are all Swords, we lie like we breathe. Infinitely. Never forget that."
"You can continue calling me Unnamed. I've come to like the way it describes me." He frowned at the sudden revelation that appeared in his mind, surprised he had said aloud before he had enough time to process it.
"That I will do, Unnamed. Let's talk about something else now," Ash said slowly, leading the Unnamed to climb the foothills, to the place where an ancient water-river had left a patch of white sand, right in the middle of the giant crushed stones. He took his time to sit down on the sandy dune they had reached.
"Do you know, what was the first station I was sent to after I had been deemed ready to be of use to our Kingdom?" Ash asked cautiously while he absentmindedly played with the grains of sand.
"No, I assume that must have had happened before my birth to my Mother," the Unnamed answered, uneasy that he couldn’t see the direction this conversation would be heading into. Yet.

"Just barely, I'm not that much older," Ash said, slow in both his words and gestures. "Much changed since I had taken that station," he continued to reflect on the times past, deeply submerged inside the thoughts that went beyond of what he intended to share. Slowly and carefully, he took his hood off and unclasped his mask to reveal his bare face that wore the expression of ecstatic joy that settled there for the briefest of moments.
"I've forgotten, how it feels to have the outside breeze kiss my skin," Ash confessed half ashamed and half amused by his need to befriend the Unnamed. He wanted to open himself this way in the presence of his already unmasked newfound brother, who waited patiently for the story just to be continued. "It'd been just before the Skyfire Storm that I had been assigned to the commander of the Great Mine." Ash finally let the truth to leave his mouth, "And it's the first time I will talk about it ever since."
"How many people know about it?"
"Now? At this point, it's probably only my Mother, and she's never cared about that fact much. Her aspiration has always been aiming much higher than anything outside the walls of Naam."
"I think all Mothers have that tendency," the Unnamed sighed in sympathy. "But why are you telling that to me now?"
"Patience, my newfound brother, find your patience," Ash smiled once more, paused to inhale some more of the calming breaths. He needed more courage to spill the secrets of the last two millennia. "I had been young, scrawny, and still a bit uneducated in every art other than war, as far as the Sword standards went. So, I'd been the best candidate to work in the Mines, as I didn’t realize the full extent of the power and potential they held until it was too late. I could compete with the slaves then, with my small statue, because of that the air-travel and the tubes to the inner core were opened to me. So, I worked tirelessly to deliver the unearthed stones from the lower tiers into the Melting Place," he paused once again, lost in his memories, "It's funny how it has skipped everyone's knowledge and memory that we actually worked in those mines too. The slaves couldn’t be trusted with the tiers that were closest to the core. They could never be aware of the trading that was made down below. Though, now I think maybe it has never been an open information for the Swords either."
"Trading? Who exactly did we trade with there?" the Unnamed frowned at the new piece of information. "And why has it all been hidden… still is?"
"This is what time and history do. Obscure. We are on the edge of extinction, and the guilty will do everything to erase and bury their faults and deeds deeper than the core itself. The Fates had it that I was sent with the last transport that had left the Inner Block before the Skyfire Storm struck at its center. I saw the tongues of fire lick the whole area just before my descent into the Naam Royal Tower. We were beyond lucky that the Mountain Ranges separated our city from the inferno that surged otherwise all around and that not a single fire-lick had met this area. Long before that we had been a great race, full of inner light.
Back in time, when the Great Outer Darkness had engulfed our world, we had been gifted with Tharo Juice, so we were able to survive without any light and any real food. Now it seems, the firelight of the last Skyfire Storm revealed the darkness that poisoned our cores. The whole Slave Rebellion that followed that fiery Storm could only be possible because we had killed most of our own kind that worked the lower tiers ourselves. They died when we flooded the undergrounds with the Great Lake waters. Because of that, the fire-rivers changed their courses, and the water that aids us was suddenly void of the poison that used to keep us whole."
"How come, you know exactly what happened?" the Unnamed asked hesitantly.
"Some of the things I had to know when I was working in the Mine. Like the emergency procedures. At the first sight of any danger the Pit was to be cooled.”
“The Pit? What’s that?”
“It was a place at the entryway to the lowest tiers, a small but deep tunnel right into the core, filled with a molten fiery liquid. It was used to transport what we have traded with the Core, the only way we were to communicate with the Deep Below. We used to use iced dust that cooled the fire for a few cycles, and Iced sword that would cool it indefinitely, till it was removed, so that everyone of our men could go to the forbidden tier and wait out the danger with the ones who used to trade with us. ”
“I still don’t know what and with who had we been trading.” The Unnamed frowned.
“Have you ever read any of our history books?” Ash chuckled, avoiding answer once again.
“I wasn’t trained to know or think about the past. I know only of basic truths and facts.”
“That explains a lot,” Ash sighed.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Nevermind.”
“No, tell me what you have in mind.”
“First, tell me why did you let Her die,” Ash whispered, “I know there was a linking between the two of you, why did you let her die?”
“I, ah. It’s complicated,” the Unnamed stalled.
“Say. It. Out. Loud,” Ash hissed.
“She didn’t order me not to,” the Unnamed said unwillingly, “It’s who I am, what I do. I follow orders, and as the Mother she never bothered to say it.”
“Yes. It’s who you are. A machine trained to follow orders. Not to think, not to feel. It’s all that you know,” Ash muttered, “We talked about the awakening before. My own awakening was to realize I took and executed the order to kill everyone who survived the Skyfire Storm at the forbidden tier of the Mine. I was the one to block the water-well that allowed the Great Sea underneath our lands not to overflow. It used to shed the excess volume to the spaces that we knew weren’t inhabited. My hands brought the destruction more painful to the Swords than the Skyfire Storm had."
"Who gave you that order?"
"The King… our New King that is, he knew I wouldn’t know then where that water was supposed to go," Ash said, " And I doubt the Old King had realized what happened before the effects struck us all, if at all, as no one ever asked me about that. By then I was reassigned to the Outer Barrier anyway, so nobody was present to share the knowledge. Cassess would never admit to his mistake, though I’m not sure if that had really been a mistake. He wanted all of the riches of the Core for himself, without having to trade."
"That's why he is so quick to start this war." Some of the pieces finally started to fall into right places and formed a clearer picture in the mind of the Unnamed, it was easily visible on his face.
"That's why he's the engine of our ultimate doom. The decision he had made back then left us, Swords, barren ever since the Skyfire Storm… I think you were the last one to be birthed by any of the Mothers."
"Are you sure?" the Unnamed asked, “It’s hard to believe in something that ridiculous.”
"Of course, I am." Ash snorted, disbelieving that anyone would doubt his words.
"Then who is your own son, Ashte? He is not that old. Who are all the young ones? Who had been Her?" The Unnamed caught his tongue just in time to stop himself from saying Her name out loud with Ash still present around.
"I don't know, it depends on. There are many ways to bring a foreign child into the Sword territories," Ash answered, "I have never been of your Line House, so I don’t know what deals your Mother had made."
"It always comes back to her," the Unnamed frowned, "Everything starts and ends with my Mother."
"She used to rule your Line House, it's obvious."
"She used to rule me," the Unnamed said with closed eyes, disliking how truth and lies ruled his life so far. Used, used… he was used to being used.
"That she did," Ash said, "We need to get ready for war. I think The New King won't appreciate waiting for his first victory."
The time of truth and storytelling was over for both of them. The time of war arrived.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
Six young Swords walked into a massive cave. The farther they went, the more ablaze it seemed, white veins of light fused with the stone all around. Genes stopped in the middle of this nature-made wonder. He knew, he was the only one who had some knowledge, and it was a time to share it with the ones who followed his so willingly and readily.
"Do you all recognize what you have felt before?” he asked his companions quietly once they gathered around him.
"Yes," Ashe answered first, clearly wanting to take the leadership of this group. "Though, we still don't know how that is even possible. That can't just be."
"But it has happened. We all felt it," Seven interrupted awkwardly. "It's time to accept that now, or to go back to your Towers there." She gestured back towards the entryway into the Sword-lands. "I feel there won't be returning to the Swordlands from this journey."
"How do you reckon? Why there will be no turning back?" Ashe was sincerely surprised.
"It's obvious the rumors have some truth to then, Ashe, Can't you see that now?" Seven smirked, suddenly bold and daring, "Are you that deaf being a son of the Second Line?"
"What rumors for Fates’ sakes?" Ashte was becoming really anxious.
"You haven't heard anything?" It was Pat's turn to be surprised, "No?" he looked around, "Not any of you?" his frown deepened. "I guess it pays off to be of slave origins. They do carry gossip like no other between house-lines."
"That they do." Seven smiled so openly that her eyes crinkled beneath her mask.
"Can any of you just explain, to those of us who are still clueless, what you are talking about?" Evan said impatiently. Dialogue and conversation were not one of her strongest qualities. She was known to have troubles with suppressing her uncontrollable thirst for adventure that would start once they could start moving.
"The Swords have been barren for some time," Seven quickly explained, right in time to tame one of Evan's famous rages.
"What that makes us then? The last Sword children?" Evan asked, finally satisfied that she was gaining the ability to hold off her emotional rages, at least while she still talked. Her infamous lack of control was the most un-Sword-like thing there was.
"No, you moron! It makes us taken, not born into being a Sword." There was a kind of mental transformation Seven went through that made her suddenly fierce and unapologetic for the slower minds of her companions.
"Is that even possible, to be turned into a Sword?" Ashte asked surprised.
"Yes, I only have been a Sword for a few cycles. They call it ‘making a child’ as opposed to bearing one," Genes shared his own experience before anyone had the time to gather thoughts.
"Do you mean that every slave could be just made a Sword at any point of their life, and drink the Juice without going Mad?" Pat asked incredulously.
"Basically, yes," Genes answered hesitantly. "Though, it would make no sense if they could recall their life before that. The hate doesn't just go away. A gift of an almost eternal life wouldn’t erase Swords sins."
"How would they decide, which child would be made into a Sword, and which would be turned into a slave?" Pat asked again, distress marrying his clear voice.
"You would have to ask that question of your Mothers," Genes said with a visible unease.
A prolonged silence fell upon them, as they began to think about the revelations and their implications. For a long time, the only audible sound around was their breathing.
Then, Pat was furiously muttering along the lines of, "I'm going to kill every single one of them."
"We have to accept, there is no blood connection linking us to Swords, while there is an obvious link between us and our origins that we felt just a while ago. Are we ready to accept that we are Anaerthers?" Dawn asked unexpectedly, "Our real families might be long gone, but our real home is still waiting for us. Are we willing to take this quest to discover our true origins?" The silence reigned again until, one after one, they voiced and humped their acceptance.
"Then Genes, lead us to where the Fates mean to take us." Dawn concluded, motioning others to pick up the shrouded body, Genes held in his arms.
"Follow me," was all that he could say. He unfolded the small piece of map that the Unnamed handed him. He smirked and muttered, "How else? Just please be careful with that body we are carrying, she is just sleeping and I intend to wake her up when we get home.”
“Come on! She is dead, don’t you see it?” Evan confronted Genes, “What? He better get used to that thought, “ she added when everyone just stared at her blankly.
“Have you even carried her for a moment?” Ashte asked.
“Not yet, we still have a long way ahead,” Evan evaded.
“Then you don’t know yet, that this body is still warm to the touch. Heart may have stopped it’s gift of life, but something makes her still alive. Like Genes just said. She is just sleeping,”
“But that’s impossible. No one is immortal that much!” Evan wailed dissatisfied with the answer she got. ”Genes, how is that possible?”
“I don’t know,” he said, “It’s the power of the Anaerther Calling that keeps seemingly dead body warm and soft. But it’s only a tale I’ve heard once. The only power that can make her undie, is where our Home lies, its eternal light will bring her back.”
“How?” was all Evan could ask as they resumed walking.
“I don’t know,” he smiled, “I guess we just have to get there.”

Only silence followed their steps as they crawled through the cracks and shafts, careful enough to keep the shrouded body of Bertan unharmed.
The tunnel Genes decided to follow wasn't an easy one. It was filled with dust, fumes, and creeping ivy clinging to their robes. The impenetrable darkness crept in as the glowing and glassy lava veins that adorned the walls, gave way to the water dripping from the ceiling. It was flowing down the corridor like a tiny, mean river, and it became the only reference, Genes followed through the rugged opening into the mountain's deepest interiors.

12

The Unnamed stared at the mountain's entrance crack for a long time. He was thinking about his future and his past, though he wished for the voices in his head to finally leave him. It was not the time for guilt, not yet.
He turned around to see the Royal City of Naam in its full glory. The first Sword Troops were already pouring into the city from the outer Sword territories. He climbed even higher, fluid in his moves like smoke and water in between of the cracks in the ground. Not far into the climb, he noticed Ash, standing still on a viewing platform among the solitary stones. After some consideration, he walked up to face him. It was the only time and place to have a conversation unheard by a wrong set of ears.
"Ash?" he asked when he got close enough to be heard.
"Unnamed?" Ash mimicked the question and tone without sparing his opponent a glance.
"What exactly do you know of my Mother's death?" The Unnamed decided to ask the one question that burned at his core with the strength of the Core’s white-fire.
"Are you sure you want to have that conversation now?" Ash asked in return, "You seem to be so happy, set in your own views and ideas."
"I'm only happy when my views and ideas are based on truth," The Unnamed admitted reluctantly.
"Had you not had this conversation with Bertan?" Ash couldn't hide his surprise.
"Apparently, she did not trust me enough for that," he sighed with unease.
"Considering what you have done to her, it was a good assumption on her side. You should be the last person she should have ever trusted. Unnamed betrayer." There was no accusation in Ash' tone, but this cold statement hurt the Unnamed more that Ash would have imagined.
"I… ah… I actually do have a name now," he sighed deeply, grimacing at the memory of his Naming.
"How come?" There weren't many things that Ash wasn't aware of, but it appeared to be one of them.
"Bertan had freed me of my status and ordered me to go to the King for a Naming," the Unnamed confessed, "I followed that order immediately and went to the King directly afterward and demanded a hearing. He only looked at me once, without a question. He just looked right through me and Name me Sil then. I was about to leave his room when he mentioned I was to leave my Line House soon after the New King takes his residence, and I was free to decide which house suits me best… And then he died, right in front of my eyes." the Unnamed finished somberly.
"Prove it!" Ash interrupted him unceremoniously, bringing his invisible blade up to the Unnamed' throat. "Show the seal, or I'll take your head."
The Unnamed slowly took glove off his right hand and lifted the sleeve to reveal the Old King's seal that was burned deep into the still raw flesh.
Ash eased his blade and looked up to the skies to whisper. "So this is how the Fates want to play."
"What do you know, Ash?" The Unknown asked again, though this time, he was unable to hide the torment of his voice.
"I can't share my knowledge until you join me, Sil of no Line. "Ash extended his arm in an invitation gesture, "I freely offer you a place in my Line House as my brother in arms. Do you accept that offer?"
"I'll follow my Fates with you and your Line," the Unnamed said without a hesitation, accepting Ash' offer, suddenly filled with a strange emotion swelling in his core. Finding a new home was a rare occurrence among their kind.
Ash covered the Old King's seal that was burned into the Unnamed 'skin with a Yanna fruit, the one ingredient of the Tharo Juice that was under the Second Line's care. The raw flesh healed almost in an instant, leaving only a faint blue scar hidden within the skin.
 
At first, an unsettling moment of silence seemed to separate the two giant Swords even more. The Unnamed no more, carrying the name Sil closed his eyes, looking into his own core and sought answers, not to questions, but to emotions that seemed to drown his senses ever since she had given him that last gaze, full of the acceptance and understanding.
"Why do you trust me now?" He asked at a loss. Suddenly, his old reasoning felt more unnatural than leaving his face bare, for everyone to see.
"I think, it's because I can feel that your awakening almost nears." Ash looked straight ahead, at the fiery river that drifted through the city to sink down under the surface again.
"Awakening? What sort of awakening are you talking about?" Great was his surprise with the word Ash decided to choose. It was so close to describing the feelings he was still hesitant to name.
"Awakening from the Madness everyone here seems to wear with pride while forgetting that this Madness is not and has never been our natural state of mind. It came as a price once. The price we still pay to live." He still refused to look at his newfound brother.
"All of us? Is it really all of us?"
"You will see that once you are fully awakened. It pains me dearly, though, how painful it will be for you." Ash's voice dipped even lower with the sadness his core carried, "It shouldn't pain me that much, though.”
"Why?"
"You had sacrificed her in your Madness, betrayed her trust. Her! Once you are fully aware, that knowledge and the memory of it will kill you from the inside so often, you will wish for it to come back again and grace you with the familiar bliss of feeling nothing at all."
The Unnamed of the name Sil nodded in acceptance, for the words he heard, rang a truth to his core, "I can feel your own sadness and fury over this sacrifice, Ash," he said quietly, thankful for the darkness and the lack of an eye contact, afraid to see any of the pain and truth he could hear.
"The only reason you still breathe is because I'm waiting for your core to swell up with the pain so deep that your only reprieve will be vengeance. You will live, breathe and crave revenge so much that you will let it consume your heart and soul with abandon. Then, just then, we can talk about Bertan again." Ash growled.
"You promised to share your knowledge with me." The Unnamed opposed that anger weakly, deeply shaken, by the way usually cold and emotionless Ash, uncovered his inner fire, just like that. Yet, he knew right then, it wasn't just like that. Everything Ash had done had a reason to it. His every plan had an unseen path within, and his every word had a second meaning to it.
"I lied," Ash burst aloud in a roaring laughter, "You shouldn’t look that surprised, the Unnamed of the name Sil now we are all Swords, we lie like we breathe. Infinitely. Never forget that."
"You can continue calling me Unnamed. I've come to like the way it describes me." He frowned at the sudden revelation that appeared in his mind, surprised he had said aloud before he had enough time to process it.
"That I will do, Unnamed. Let's talk about something else now," Ash said slowly, leading the Unnamed to climb the foothills, to the place where an ancient water-river had left a patch of white sand, right in the middle of the giant crushed stones. He took his time to sit down on the sandy dune they had reached.
"Do you know, what was the first station I was sent to after I had been deemed ready to be of use to our Kingdom?" Ash asked cautiously while he absentmindedly played with the grains of sand.
"No, I assume that must have had happened before my birth to my Mother," the Unnamed answered, uneasy that he couldn’t see the direction this conversation would be heading into. Yet.
 
"Just barely, I'm not that much older," Ash said, slow in both his words and gestures. "Much changed since I had taken that station," he continued to reflect on the times past, deeply submerged inside the thoughts that went beyond of what he intended to share. Slowly and carefully, he took his hood off and unclasped his mask to reveal his bare face that wore the expression of ecstatic joy that settled there for the briefest of moments.
"I've forgotten, how it feels to have the outside breeze kiss my skin," Ash confessed half ashamed and half amused by his need to befriend the Unnamed. He wanted to open himself this way in the presence of his already unmasked newfound brother, who waited patiently for the story just to be continued. "It'd been just before the Skyfire Storm that I had been assigned to the commander of the Great Mine." Ash finally let the truth to leave his mouth, "And it's the first time I will talk about it ever since."
"How many people know about it?"
"Now? At this point, it's probably only my Mother, and she's never cared about that fact much. Her aspiration has always been aiming much higher than anything outside the walls of Naam."
"I think all Mothers have that tendency," the Unnamed sighed in sympathy. "But why are you telling that to me now?"
"Patience, my newfound brother, find your patience," Ash smiled once more, paused to inhale some more of the calming breaths. He needed more courage to spill the secrets of the last two millennia. "I had been young, scrawny, and still a bit uneducated in every art other than war, as far as the Sword standards went. So, I'd been the best candidate to work in the Mines, as I didn’t realize the full extent of the power and potential they held until it was too late. I could compete with the slaves then, with my small statue, because of that the air-travel and the tubes to the inner core were opened to me. So, I worked tirelessly to deliver the unearthed stones from the lower tiers into the Melting Place," he paused once again, lost in his memories, "It's funny how it has skipped everyone's knowledge and memory that we actually worked in those mines too. The slaves couldn’t be trusted with the tiers that were closest to the core. They could never be aware of the trading that was made down below. Though, now I think maybe it has never been an open information for the Swords either."
"Trading? Who exactly did we trade with there?" the Unnamed frowned at the new piece of information. "And why has it all been hidden… still is?"
"This is what time and history do. Obscure. We are on the edge of extinction, and the guilty will do everything to erase and bury their faults and deeds deeper than the core itself. The Fates had it that I was sent with the last transport that had left the Inner Block before the Skyfire Storm struck at its center. I saw the tongues of fire lick the whole area just before my descent into the Naam Royal Tower. We were beyond lucky that the Mountain Ranges separated our city from the inferno that surged otherwise all around and that not a single fire-lick had met this area. Long before that we had been a great race, full of inner light.
Back in time, when the Great Outer Darkness had engulfed our world, we had been gifted with Tharo Juice, so we were able to survive without any light and any real food. Now it seems, the firelight of the last Skyfire Storm revealed the darkness that poisoned our cores. The whole Slave Rebellion that followed that fiery Storm could only be possible because we had killed most of our own kind that worked the lower tiers ourselves. They died when we flooded the undergrounds with the Great Lake waters. Because of that, the fire-rivers changed their courses, and the water that aids us was suddenly void of the poison that used to keep us whole."
"How come, you know exactly what happened?" the Unnamed asked hesitantly.
"Some of the things I had to know when I was working in the Mine. Like the emergency procedures. At the first sight of any danger the Pit was to be cooled.”
“The Pit? What’s that?”
“It was a place at the entryway to the lowest tiers, a small but deep tunnel right into the core, filled with a molten fiery liquid. It was used to transport what we have traded with the Core, the only way we were to communicate with the Deep Below. We used to use iced dust that cooled the fire for a few cycles, and Iced sword that would cool it indefinitely, till it was removed, so that everyone of our men could go to the forbidden tier and wait out the danger with the ones who used to trade with us. ”
“I still don’t know what and with who had we been trading.” The Unnamed frowned.
“Have you ever read any of our history books?” Ash chuckled, avoiding answer once again.
“I wasn’t trained to know or think about the past. I know only of basic truths and facts.”
“That explains a lot,” Ash sighed.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Nevermind.”
“No, tell me what you have in mind.”
“First, tell me why did you let Her die,” Ash whispered, “I know there was a linking between the two of you, why did you let her die?”
“I, ah. It’s complicated,” the Unnamed stalled.
“Say. It. Out. Loud,” Ash hissed.
“She didn’t order me not to,” the Unnamed said unwillingly, “It’s who I am, what I do. I follow orders, and as the Mother she never bothered to say it.”
“Yes. It’s who you are. A machine trained to follow orders. Not to think, not to feel. It’s all that you know,” Ash muttered, “We talked about the awakening before. My own awakening was to realize I took and executed the order to kill everyone who survived the Skyfire Storm at the forbidden tier of the Mine. I was the one to block the water-well that allowed the Great Sea underneath our lands not to overflow. It used to shed the excess volume to the spaces that we knew weren’t inhabited. My hands brought the destruction more painful to the Swords than the Skyfire Storm had."
"Who gave you that order?"
"The King… our New King that is, he knew I wouldn’t know then where that water was supposed to go," Ash said, " And I doubt the Old King had realized what happened before the effects struck us all, if at all, as no one ever asked me about that. By then I was reassigned to the Outer Barrier anyway, so nobody was present to share the knowledge. Cassess would never admit to his mistake, though I’m not sure if that had really been a mistake. He wanted all of the riches of the Core for himself, without having to trade."
"That's why he is so quick to start this war." Some of the pieces finally started to fall into right places and formed a clearer picture in the mind of the Unnamed, it was easily visible on his face.
"That's why he's the engine of our ultimate doom. The decision he had made back then left us, Swords, barren ever since the Skyfire Storm… I think you were the last one to be birthed by any of the Mothers."
"Are you sure?" the Unnamed asked, “It’s hard to believe in something that ridiculous.”
"Of course, I am." Ash snorted, disbelieving that anyone would doubt his words.
"Then who is your own son, Ashte? He is not that old. Who are all the young ones? Who had been Her?" The Unnamed caught his tongue just in time to stop himself from saying Her name out loud with Ash still present around.
"I don't know, it depends on. There are many ways to bring a foreign child into the Sword territories," Ash answered, "I have never been of your Line House, so I don’t know what deals your Mother had made."
"It always comes back to her," the Unnamed frowned, "Everything starts and ends with my Mother."
"She used to rule your Line House, it's obvious."
"She used to rule me," the Unnamed said with closed eyes, disliking how truth and lies ruled his life so far. Used, used… he was used to being used.
"That she did," Ash said, "We need to get ready for war. I think The New King won't appreciate waiting for his first victory."
The time of truth and storytelling was over for both of them. The time of war arrived.

13

 Six young Swords walked into a massive cave. The farther they went, the more ablaze it seemed, white veins of light fused with the stone all around. Genes stopped in the middle of this nature-made wonder. He knew, he was the only one who had some knowledge, and it was a time to share it with the ones who followed his so willingly and readily.
"Do you all recognize what you have felt before?” he asked his companions quietly once they gathered around him.
"Yes," Ashe answered first, clearly wanting to take the leadership of this group. "Though, we still don't know how that is even possible. That can't just be."
"But it has happened. We all felt it," Seven interrupted awkwardly. "It's time to accept that now, or to go back to your Towers there." She gestured back towards the entryway into the Sword-lands. "I feel there won't be returning to the Swordlands from this journey."
"How do you reckon? Why there will be no turning back?" Ashe was sincerely surprised.
"It's obvious the rumors have some truth to then, Ashe, Can't you see that now?" Seven smirked, suddenly bold and daring, "Are you that deaf being a son of the Second Line?"
"What rumors for Fates’ sakes?" Ashte was becoming really anxious.
"You haven't heard anything?" It was Pat's turn to be surprised, "No?" he looked around, "Not any of you?" his frown deepened. "I guess it pays off to be of slave origins. They do carry gossip like no other between house-lines."
"That they do." Seven smiled so openly that her eyes crinkled beneath her mask.
"Can any of you just explain, to those of us who are still clueless, what you are talking about?" Evan said impatiently. Dialogue and conversation were not one of her strongest qualities. She was known to have troubles with suppressing her uncontrollable thirst for adventure that would start once they could start moving.
"The Swords have been barren for some time," Seven quickly explained, right in time to tame one of Evan's famous rages.
"What that makes us then? The last Sword children?" Evan asked, finally satisfied that she was gaining the ability to hold off her emotional rages, at least while she still talked. Her infamous lack of control was the most un-Sword-like thing there was.
"No, you moron! It makes us taken, not born into being a Sword." There was a kind of mental transformation Seven went through that made her suddenly fierce and unapologetic for the slower minds of her companions.
"Is that even possible, to be turned into a Sword?" Ashte asked surprised.
"Yes, I only have been a Sword for a few cycles. They call it ‘making a child’ as opposed to bearing one," Genes shared his own experience before anyone had the time to gather thoughts.
"Do you mean that every slave could be just made a Sword at any point of their life, and drink the Juice without going Mad?" Pat asked incredulously.
"Basically, yes," Genes answered hesitantly. "Though, it would make no sense if they could recall their life before that. The hate doesn't just go away. A gift of an almost eternal life wouldn’t erase Swords sins."
"How would they decide, which child would be made into a Sword, and which would be turned into a slave?" Pat asked again, distress marrying his clear voice.
"You would have to ask that question of your Mothers," Genes said with a visible unease.
A prolonged silence fell upon them, as they began to think about the revelations and their implications. For a long time, the only audible sound around was their breathing.
Then, Pat was furiously muttering along the lines of, "I'm going to kill every single one of them."
"We have to accept, there is no blood connection linking us to Swords, while there is an obvious link between us and our origins that we felt just a while ago. Are we ready to accept that we are Anaerthers?" Dawn asked unexpectedly, "Our real families might be long gone, but our real home is still waiting for us. Are we willing to take this quest to discover our true origins?" The silence reigned again until, one after one, they voiced and humped their acceptance.
"Then Genes, lead us to where the Fates mean to take us." Dawn concluded, motioning others to pick up the shrouded body, Genes held in his arms.
"Follow me," was all that he could say. He unfolded the small piece of map that the Unnamed handed him. He smirked and muttered, "How else? Just please be careful with that body we are carrying, she is just sleeping and I intend to wake her up when we get home.”
“Come on! She is dead, don’t you see it?” Evan confronted Genes, “What? He better get used to that thought, “ she added when everyone just stared at her blankly.
“Have you even carried her for a moment?” Ashte asked.
“Not yet, we still have a long way ahead,” Evan evaded.
“Then you don’t know yet, that this body is still warm to the touch. Heart may have stopped it’s gift of life, but something makes her still alive. Like Genes just said. She is just sleeping,”
“But that’s impossible. No one is immortal that much!” Evan wailed dissatisfied with the answer she got. ”Genes, how is that possible?”
“I don’t know,” he said, “It’s the power of the Anaerther Calling that keeps seemingly dead body warm and soft. But it’s only a tale I’ve heard once. The only power that can make her undie, is where our Home lies, its eternal light will bring her back.”
“How?” was all Evan could ask as they resumed walking.
“I don’t know,” he smiled, “I guess we just have to get there.”
 
Only silence followed their steps as they crawled through the cracks and shafts, careful enough to keep the shrouded body of Bertan unharmed.
The tunnel Genes decided to follow wasn't an easy one. It was filled with dust, fumes, and creeping ivy clinging to their robes. The impenetrable darkness crept in as the glowing and glassy lava veins that adorned the walls, gave way to the water dripping from the ceiling. It was flowing down the corridor like a tiny, mean river, and it became the only reference, Genes followed through the rugged opening into the mountain's deepest interiors.

14

 The New Sword King didn’t take well the fact that the Unnamed who carried the name Sil, had been granted the opening to leave his, currently the Ruling House, to join the Second Line House of Ash. Cassess’ outrage at this betrayal could not be tamed. His pride, bled by the unforeseen blow, craved blood and vengeance. Yet, he was very much so unable to react on the outside, aware that the only thing he could do, considering the situation, was to have the whole Second Line out to bleed and die out, and that meant to have them all close by his side.
Upon the Swords arrival at the battlefield gates, the air seemed to thicken, and the darkness became even more impenetrable to their eyes. No lights could be deployed to help them along the way when the last pieces of the tracks were put in their place. The platforms were waiting at the ready, for the final sign to deliver the unbroken Titans to reclaim the Wall as their own again.
The Unnamed chose not to reveal his name to any more people than to an unlikely friend and to the certain enemy. He didn’t feel worthy enough to gain a name yet, so he remained unnamed, like an idea that was still to come. He worked tirelessly alongside Ash to deliver the final track pieces to where they belonged. They worked all around the inaccessible, and immense Ombre Valley, where the spies had found out was the main Axe troops base.
The Sword King Cassess’ idea was to crush the Axes before they could spread around and defend the Wall. At the same time, some smaller teams would access the Wall and fairly undefended Inner Block. The Unnamed did not like the odds of attacking the valley at all. It was surrounded by the Mad Mountain Range and the fire-rivers, while safely nesting next to the Wall and the easiest way to get there was to actually go through the Wall. To add to this insanity, the Valley's area was vast, filled to its full capacity with Axe soldiers.
The Unnamed didn't like the King's recklessness and the underestimation of the enemy numbers. Of course, the Swords' size was a big advantage, but the uneasy and overlooked truth was that some of them became too big to leave their strongholds, while the fire of battle has long expired in the younger cores. It was nothing more than a mad dream of the grandeur to bring back the old times and reclaim Mines while Sword kingdom fared reasonably well without them, the Unnamed knew.
Once the tracks were completed, the platforms would deliver the Second Line's warriors to the foothills of the Mad Mountains, even before other teams would even arrive, and that was another fact that made the Unnamed feel even more uneasy.
"It's looking a little bit suicidal, Ash," he said grimly, watching the first platforms arrive soundlessly, bringing the hard warriors to the battle that would start soon.
"It makes no sense. If we skip the Ombre Valley and go straight for the Inner Block, we could just take and defend it. It's much easier than taking it after dealing with the army that fakes the unawareness of our arrival. I think all the soldiers are there, and that it leaves Inner Block undefended," Ash agreed quietly.
"Their platforms within the Wall are quick to spread their troops around, but they don’t hold the right capacity for them all to appear at the right place at the right time. We could exploit that weakness," the Unnamed continued.
"Don’t forget that we have the same problem with our platforms. Before we gather to set out everyone in the view range, we will be noticed. But then again, breaching that Wall would take time and effort too. It would cost us the time that their soldiers need," Ash said.
"There is no easy way into this war…" the Unnamed broke mid-sentence, for the General of the Second Line arrived.
"Ladies, what are you gossiping about here? Are we getting a bit anxious to fight with our slaves?" the female General Wass mocked the much smaller and younger men. "Let us show you how things are done," she whistled arrogantly.
The flood of hard Titan bodies took the Mad Mountains' slopes with ease and speed that warmed the hearts of Ash and the Unnamed. It gave them enough hope to pick up their invisible blades and close their rational minds. A Sword Warrior had to be an unthinking machine, going strictly with an instinct to kill anything that could breathe. Second Line followed mindlessly the first strike team, spilling through the Mad Mountains to meet their fates, for the Valley and the Axe soldiers waited anxiously for their arrival.
Howls of the war-horns blew into the silent night. A waiting sea of Axe soldiers was oblivious to the kind of predators they would face until that point. They didn’t waiver, though, they didn’t take one step back.
It was not about courage anymore for any of the Axes. The maddened blood spirits entered their bodies, just as the fire-wells were being prepared to be fired up, and soft odors spread through the air. The fight of the Madness against the Ancient started, and would bring no final winners to celebrate. Not one felt fear or pain when two waves of hard bodies clashed together in a deadly spiral dance.
The second wave crashed upon the fallen bodies of the first. The third wave swirled tirelessly when all of the fire-wells blazed up, carrying out the unholiest of the stone-melting fires. Ash and the Unnamed got separated from their burning peers, and it brought the sanity back into their war-ridden minds.
"This will not go as planned," Ash whistled and smirked, certainly happy with the way events were playing out.
"It’s to be expected, considering the way things have been going for us recently. Do we have other plans?" the Unnamed didn’t try to hide his concern, unlike Ash, he always had the best of his people at core.
"Let's leave the planning to the King," Ash smiled openly at the thought of King's unsavory reaction to the fires.
The two Swords meandered carefully back to join with the remaining forces at the same time that the Red Axe King watched the tall, blazing walls of fire encircling the Wall with glee. He could almost feel the linking with the King of Swords rage at this development.
***
"Here's to you, old masters," the Red Axe King spat out with disgust in his voice, lifting the chalice of the Idle Juice into the air and awaited the latest reports to come, in one of rare moments of his sanity reigning over his mind.
***
Meanwhile, the New Sword King raged on the inside, but nothing in his demeanor revealed his shock at the realization, what kind of fire Axes unleashed. It was unimaginable that the slaves managed to control and release it on the surface. The white fire used to be restricted to the Melting Place in the Great Mine only, out of safety and fear of its stone-melting powers. There was no safe passage through the Wall, or even near it anymore, there was no fast enemy clean-crush to be done either.
For none of his plans ever ended, morphing with a single modification at a time, his flushed mind calculated in its race. Any invasion to follow this development would have to be done the ancient way, the only way the Inner Block was really planned and build for. He carefully assessed the height of the flames, grimacing that the gliding kites could be out of the question too, for it looked like the only suitable place to take a plunge and reach the right height were the peaks of Mad Mountains that had just witnessed his failure to capture the Ombre Valley in a simple and fast strike.
Kites' would be too slow and too few in numbers at the same time, Cassess assessed. The capture and fight on the ground were imminent while their weaponry would not be complete for the kites had their own weight limits. He frowned at that thought for the oldest, and most experienced fighters would not reach that limit even if they flew butt naked.
"How did the capture of Ombre Valley exactly go?" He asked of the approaching Unnamed and Ash. He was the most unexpectedly glad to see them once again, his revenge could wait a little bit more, he decided, this moment called for unity, not confrontation.
"The Axes managed to point that fire directly into the fight, melting their own people together with ours," the Unnamed informed him emotionlessly.
"Do not ever call those flesh eating animals people! We are the people and will be forever! Just us! They got what they deserved for the attempt to resist us," the King barked at him, "What are you thinking Ash?" he asked.
"The surface became inaccessible as for now. We could wait it out, for the fires must burn out at some point." Ash was cautious in his words, it was clear that the King has become unstable in the wake of just one failure.
"We don't even know how they managed to get this fire to the surface in the first place, how they direct it at will… We can't wait for Fates know how long!" The King exclaimed in annoyance.
"Forgive me, my King, all we have is time, the one thing that they don't own and never will," Ash reasoned, knowing his calm demeanor would drive the King over the edge.
"We have been waiting by the Old King for millennia already. We gave them time to steal, breed, multiply and learn while we grew old and big," the New King couldn't hide the hatred he's been feeding throughout the centuries, “It’s our time. Now or never, to get those damned mines back with all the treasures they hold.”
It was his only one dream, to bring the Mines back under the Sword control and secure the undisputed support of the distant Sword cities, and all of the House Lines. Cassess own position as a King was still unstable at that point. Some had already questioned his eligibility to take over the Ruling position, and the carnage he caused the moment he claimed the throne, had made him even more enemies that hid among his supporters. The Warriors' turnout had also been disappointing from the start. It was an essential imperative to win this war. The Inner Block was becoming the symbol of his failure, and it could be the last chance to turn it into a success.
"We will take kites," the King narrowed his eyes in Fates spite.
"There are only mere hundred left," Ash was taken by a surprise. "It's an unpredictable artifact of old. Who knows if they still work the way they should? I don't think they've been accessed recently."
"That is insignificant when there are even fewer warriors able to ride them if they are to wear any weapons and armor. We are leaving as soon as you bring and prepare the kites for everyone," the royal decided.
"Are you joining us too my King?" the Unnamed seemed to be genuinely surprised with such a rash decision too.
"At this point, every sword-bearing arm is at the weight of its life," Cassess said stiffly, striding towards the remaining warriors awaiting his orders.
 
The Unnamed and Ash stared at each other in silence.
"I'm getting this weird feeling, it could go even worse than the first attempt," the Unnamed said after he thought about the whole idea to bring the Kites back while they walked up to the deserted platforms. In the new Sword era a mere thought of air-travel of any kind brought nothing but uneasiness into a Sword's core. They had forgotten how to fly, and let it slip through the cracks of time.
"Look at the bright side then," Ash smiled in a feral way that made the Unnamed even more uneasy
"Is there one?" the Unnamed asked, though truthfully he didn't expect any real answer.
"If everything works out fine we do get to fly. I've forgotten how great it felt," his voice took a soft, dreamlike tone, "We can get our hands dirty without being constantly picked on by the ancient ones. I never truly liked to be around them." Ash was known to be the first to jump into any kind of trouble. "And if anything goes wrong, yet again, there are always catapults waiting, so we get to soar up in the air anyway." He unhitched the last platform from the docking and released it on the three tracks on the ground. Once the platform was released, and it was almost empty of any load, it soared back to where it came from almost soundlessly.
"You truly don't want the Swords to win this war." The Unnamed realized when he noticed laughter deep within Ash' posture and couldn’t hide the surprise in his tone. A meaningful silence was his only answer Ash gave him. "You know it well, and yet you share it with me… While you know loyalty is the only thing…" the Unnamed fidgeted nervously for the first time in his life.
"Yes I know, I know. It's the only thing that separates us from those beasts we are fighting now," Ash finished the Sword ruling, still wearing the marks of a smile in his voice. "I know there is no fault in that reasoning, brother," he finished after a short pause.
"Give me one reason to save your life now," the Unnamed took his invisible blade to meet the Ash' throat with such speed and stealth that it felt like a soft breeze until the first drop of blood was drawn.
"I don't wish us to lose, brother. No matter what happens, we are nearing extinction anyway. No slaughter, no restoration, no temporary moment of glory could ever change that fact."
"You know how to fix it, though. I feel you know it, and yet you don't want to act upon that knowledge," the Unnamed didn't appreciate the overwhelming sense of defeat with every possible option that Ash seemed to believe in. He couldn't understand why anyone would think of the future like it was set in the stone of time. Some thought that the only thing they could do was counting down to nothing, while for him the time of future was like sand, always looking for the best place to pour into, just as the future searched for the weakest link to cling to and bring change. Though, even the most prominent Swords looked up for the Oracles to guide them into the one prophesized standard-future. All they were doing for ages was to follow its guidance on the way out of their own existence, the Unnamed now realized.
"There are other things that need to be done too. First in order of things to fix calls for a sacrifice much bigger than I can spare at the moment," Ash said heavily, hinting the price he was unwilling to pay.
Life usually comes in many flavors and an unknown expiration date. Not everyone could ever be ready to consciously sign it off. Especially not Ash of the Second Line. His plans and ambitions went far into the unknown. He knew, he had to live just a few more moments to salvage the ruins of the Sword history.
"None of the things you are planning guarantees your life to be spared at any point." The Unnamed finally understood the full scope of the problem. Ash couldn’t be in two places at once, and there was this pesky problem that he was afraid to pay the ultimate price. Watching their kind's slow and steady destruction had nothing to do with the war on their hands.
"Fates will decide on that," Ash was calm to say when the first sight of Naam in the distance greeted them, "I'm not afraid of failure… that much."

15

Heavy breaths started to fill the silence as darkness gave way to the softest of glows that emanated from water surrounding the boats. Scant lightning of a very mysterious origin revealed the immense size of cave the inner-lake was placed in. The ceiling was so high, it was barely visible. Despite its height, it was covered with intricate paintings that were so big Brine had no problem understanding their meaning. His breathing hitched, and his gut churned with a sudden spike of fear as the low in water was becoming brighter and brighter and more details met his eyes, but shoreline was still nowhere to be seen. Brine’s growing fear had a taste of blood after he bit his lip to remain still and unaffected. He didn’t want to scare the kids that were waking up again, one by one.
"We have just reached the halfway," Mars said unexpectedly close to Brine, making him jump out of his skin again.
"Why is the water glowing?" Pam asked excitedly.
"Nobody knows," their guide answered offhandedly, still quietly laughing at Brine’s nervous reaction.
"Why?"
"Why what?" Mars asked with a deep frown that Brine could finally see.
"Why nobody knows?" Pam huffed impatiently.
"There is no way to check what it is, or what it could be."
"So," Pam looked up to spot another thing that bothered her, "How did that painting on the ceiling got there?"
"Nobody knows that either," Mars chuckled and sped away from their boat quietly to talk with the Commander few vessels away.
"I don't like it," Pam muttered to her brother, still gaping at the ceiling. Her eyes narrowed in suspicion. “I don’t like it and I don’t even know what it is.”
"Me neither," Coope agreed, “It doesn’t look bad, but it makes me scared. It has to be something bad.”
"I feel the same," Brine whispered, already knowing the truth that painting on the ceiling represented. Deep down he felt, not many people visited this cavern. From the moment he glimpsed the secrets the ceiling had unveiled he suspected that even fewer people had made it out of this place alive. He held the eyes of his siblings. If he were, to be honest with himself, he would have to admit that he wasn't surprised at all to notice that their young minds had the kind of defiance and scheming only their mother possessed. He nodded at them, giving his permission to go with whatever they might plan.
The second half of the children’s journey awaited, the part Brine loathed the most, for all through that time he would know they were sailing into a trap, and he could do nothing about it. The children had to be saved and this was the Seekinglanders’ only option.
Darkness slowly surrounded them again and everyone in the boats became unusually silent. Suddenly, it was understood that each breath brought them closer to the end of the life they all knew. The unknown beyond the ever-closing shoreline sped up the time so much, that when finally a lone figure could be noticed, holding a bright light, waiting for them, everyone wished for their journey to continue. Brine knew at that point, whatever that bright light would bring, was to be a curse.
Finally, it was there. The lake decided to let them go unharmed. The closer they got, the more details were visible, the blood red robes the figure was wearing and the wide stone stairs that led up to the ceiling.
Every boat safely arrived to the rocky shore. Most of the children were keen on getting out of the boats to finally have some solid ground under their feet. It's only Pam and Coope that lingered and waited for everyone to leave first. There was some form of silent sibling-only communication between Pam and Brine that went unnoticed to everyone. The older brother nodded again and turned around to hide any sign of Pam and Coope hiding under the boat’s wide sitting benches.
"Welcome everyone," a beautiful female dressed in black, tightly fitted suit greeted them. She wasn’t any bigger than any of the Seekinglander adults. Her eyes flashed with the kind of foreign power that spelled fear to everyone around. "Welcome to the Sword Territories little ones," she repeated after everyone took notice of her presence, "I am the Mother of the former Ruling House. You are not of the Axe kind. Therefore you are not our enemies and you may live here unharmed. Even more so, your tribe has been in a close contact with us for a very long time” she paused to let it all sink in, “ A great treaty was designed between your tribe and the Sword kingdom. You are the descendants of the Anaerthers, our former allies and we are offering you, and only you, a gift of great importance. There are only two choices for you to make, for you can't go back as your past has just disappeared. The Oracle has foreseen that the old world would be devoured by a war now, and those of you that are not here right now will die out. Surface is to be lost forever."
Brine saw it right then and there, in the eyes of the Sword Mother greeting them, the death sentence upon every adult Seekinglander protector. Suddenly, it was all clear. The deal was to take the children, only the children. The adults that arrived with them were just objects to get rid of.
Brine wasn’t the only one to notice death sentence within the Mother’s message. His Commander standing next to him tensed. The two of them, without any communication, started to retreat as soon as the Mother turned to face the children more closely. She continued, unaware of their movements, "At this cycle only we are offering you the gift of eternal life and power beyond your dreams. The only way to pay for that gift is your memories. The other choice you have is to keep your past in your minds, but you will never grow into anything more than servants to us, without the gift of life. The choice is yours, of course, and we will respect it. Just be sure that now is the only moment this choice is given to you," she finished.
Brine and the Commander retreated slowly and quietly into the water when the Mother started to climb up the stairs that seemed to reach the ceiling, followed by the children. Sword Guards closed in to separate the little ones from their Protectors. All in silence.
The boat that carried Pam and Coope was the last in the row of the boats. With the last of his might, Brine pushed that boat away from the shoreline, hoping their resistance would save their lives. He prayed for the Fates to guide the children into the safety, knowing he couldn’t join them without being heard or seen by the Sword guards who appeared around out of nowhere. He was still holding the ropes when the fated arrow met his chest. Silent fountain of the Call spilled from every Anaerther core upon their final departure.
***
After the cavern was deserted and empty once again, Mars walked up to the robed figure that greeted them with her bright lantern earlier. She was standing still, exactly at the same spot.
"How are you E. the slave of the Titans?" he asked worriedly when he made sure again no ears were to hear their conversation.
"Not better and not worse than when we met the last time," E. answered not bothering to take off her hood.
"How is the little rebel?" He asked, like so many times before.
"She is gone," E. whispered almost inaudibly, “Dead.”
"How can it be?" Mars almost collapsed, "I thought everything was in place," he was breathing heavily with his hand close to his core.
"It was, but we still failed. It's only our fault, for we failed to take into account her grown size," she choked out.
"She shouldn't have grown while being away and without steady doses of the Tharo," he whispered.
"And yet she had grown so much that our plan failed," E. said with such a deep sorrow that she seemed to crumble with every breath she took. "I'm sorry Mars, your daughter is dead."
"Who killed her?" He asked after a long and meaningful silence. He was thankful that E. kept her face hooded, so no one would witness tears marrying his cheeks.
"The new King," E. answered slowly.
"The Cassess?" He asked, just to be sure.
"Yes."
Mars took his time to steady his breath and ease his mind. He took some of the dirt in his palm to smear it into his face. After a moment he started to mutter.
"By the dirt that feeds us and by the tears that spilled from my pain. I, Mars of the Old, curse the Swords to become a tribe without a King. I curse the King Cassess to die of the deception and lie, in revenge for the death of my beloved daughter, Bertan. So help me in my calling the lost halls and the lost light of the Anaerthers." More tears rose within his eyes.
"I'm not sure if curses work on the Swords. So many slaves cursed them in their deaths and nothing ever happened," E. said while following Mars down the steps to the shore.
"My curses always do work," Mars gritted through his teeth, "When we were leaving out first Homeland, I cursed our own ancestors and the Anaerthers Stronghold, for the evil that took their cores."
"None of them have ever been seen again ever since," E. mused, "Still, Swords seem to have Fates on their side."
"Not anymore. They just never picked up any fight with someone their own size or power," he said reaching for one of the boats, "Until now."
"Will you take the two of us to the safety?" E. asked quickly, "Time starts to take a toll on the third shift already."
"They should be quick before the guards come back here to clean up," he looked at the Protectors.
"They are already waiting by the tall rocks. We thought you would come a little earlier."
"The Lake seems to have its own time," Mars sighed heavily.
"That it does," E. agreed and watched him pull the boat through the shallow waters. Finally, he was quietly towing it towards the big rocks visible in the distance where the Slave Elders always waited.
 
"Took you long enough." A low whisper was carried by the surface of the Lake, accompanied by the fallen Protectors’ last Calling.
"Is there anywhere else you have to be?" Mars asked with a deep sigh.
"No, but we don’t want to be here either," an older woman dressed in red robes said when she boarded the boat.
"It's a gruesome place," said the lady dressed in black.
"Not for long," Mars gritted through his teeth.
"Indeed," the woman in red said with a frown, "Though, I'd like to see the end of the Anaerthers being turned into those monsters. How many more of our own will have to suffer here?" she asked impatiently.
"As long as it takes," Mars answered. He chose to swim and push the boat this time, so it would be easier to talk with the Elder Slaves, "But I think it was the last of the children as the Elders decided for the Final Trek."
"Are they out of their minds?" The woman in black squeaked.
"It's been worse and worse with every generation that fed in the ways of the surface," the lady in black robes said with contempt, "We should have never let them go on with that experiment."
"Like the first generation would ever listen to anyone," Mars said emotionlessly, "Would you listen to anyone back then? Even to the voice of reason?"
"We had been stubborn. We have to admit that." lady in red admitted, her eyes crinkling, "And now it seems to bite us in all the wrong places now."
"What are we going to do now then?" her companion asked in agitation.
"Nothing Lela, nothing. We keep on doing nothing but some small tweaks to the reality around."
"How is that going anyway?" Mars asked grimly.
"They still don’t know what hit them," the woman in red cackled, "They have no idea who their slaves are, what they really do and why their Tharo doesn’t work the way it should anymore. Like any other royals, they hide behind regality, afraid to admit their time is over."
"It's not really over. Still, after all, those years, they still walk this surface," Lela scoffed, "We should never let them be. We should let them die in their insanity, not create this race of monsters."
"Lela, my dear. They aren't any worse monsters that we used to be and still are," the woman in red said calmingly. "We created that new race out of pity and sorrow. Their hateful minds turned against our gift, so we work to take it back. But we had learned the hard way that any process must happen slowly and without being noticed in the first place."
"We had been noticed," Lela protested.
"And we still pay our price, don’t forget that. The only time we were spotted to meddle with the life around us, and the Anaerthers are still paying the price."
"It hasn’t been all that bad this time around here," Mars said from behind the boat, "I like it here, and I'm sure I don’t ever want to go back to the Stronghold. The air we can breathe here is amazing, and the freedom we can achieve is just mind-numbing."
"None of us wants that to happen. That’s why I'm still angry the Elders decided to take that Trek," woman in Red said in a raised voice.
"Why are you so surprised?" Lela asked testily, "They know their Home place is not on the surface, it's only natural to want to go back. It’s all our fault too. We never told them exactly why we ran away from the Stronghold."
The conversation quieted soon after and they sailed in silence, until unnatural movement shook their boat. It crashed into something that was in front of them. The darkness was impenetrable until the moment Lela lighted a small lantern that revealed two wide-eyed children, mute and wide-eyed with fear.
Mars jumped into their boat and gathered their little terrified bodies.
"Everything will be ok now. You are safe with me now," he kept murmuring, finding his own peace right then as Pam and Coope found their courage to weep.

16

"We are losing the stability of the wells, my King," the Royal Mechanic, dressed all in black, nervously informed Red Axe.
"How long will it hold?" Red Axe roared in answer.
"We are hoping for some time, but the degradation of the whole system proceeds much faster than we have calculated. The strength and amount of fire fuel breaks our stability expectations in many places. The white fire keeps on increasing its heat and size, well above of what we tested.
"How long exactly do we still have," the King said, calming himself down, knowing none of his plans would matter anymore once that fire dies.
"No one can really say, my King. Might be minutes, might be hours," the mechanic quickly answered, making a move to go back to his station.
"What can be done to keep it up?"
"Nothing. We should consider shutting it down while we still can," Mechanic stuttered and fidgeted.
"No, we need more time,” Red Axe disagreed, ”We still need more time. We are still relocating our troops, make us more time to take that army inside the Wall to fight for us all."
"I don't think it will be possible, my Lord," First General by the King's side said unexpectedly.
"Why wouldn't it be possible?" Red Axe asked, his anger firing up slightly again.
"The Blood Madness is seizing our troops, my Lord," First General answered.
"What does that mean exactly?" the King narrowed his eyes, unwilling to reveal any special interest in that matter.
"It's drowning people in waves, for a while they are in and out of sanity. Once it claims them completely, it changes them from within.” First General paused and gathered his thoughts. ”The claimed troops refuse going back into the Wall territories. Any communication with them seems to be pointless. Any plans we might have made are being ignored, and they seem to create their own ranks and orders of sorts. The maddened began digging trenches of sorts all around the Wall to wait for the coming Sword attack."
"How many are refusing to go back?"
"We have estimated it's about eighty percent, my Lord," the First General said untroubled.
"We will not be able to defend the inner Wall territories with only twenty percent of our army!" the Red Axe King did not like that news.
"Even if all the claimed troops did go back into the Wall territories, they would never heed our orders. As I said, any communication with them seems to be pointless. They have their own plan. Of sorts,” First General cleared his throat, “At least this is what it looks like.”
"Meaning?" the King frowned, trying to understand the repercussions of that fact.
"We don't know what that means, yet, my Lord."
"How do you think we should deal with that problem, General," the King said, becoming restless and impatient. He knew his own Red Haze time was nearing again.
"We cannot control what they do outside the Wall. We cannot force them to protect the inner Wall territories. All we can do is to move everyone that managed to cross back into the Wall territories, into the Inner Block area. We can count on the Blood Madness for the troops to fight fiercely the Swords who will want to reclaim this place first when they breach the Wall."
"You said when, not if, General."
"War is not the time for false hopes, my Lord," The First General replied.
"Do what you must then," the King said unfocused. He was withdrawing from the conversation.
"Yes, my Lord," the First General bowed to the King, accepting his task. After a moment of silence, he turned to the pale Royal Mechanic, "Give us more time, please."
"We are working at it. Just please be aware that any failure that would occur before we shut it down may bring us more destruction than we could handle at this point," the Royal Mechanic stuttered.
"Are you sure of that?" the First General narrowed his eyes into thin slits, looking straight through the royal mechanic.
"No, our tests never went beyond a certain point," The mechanic stuttered even more fearful all of the sudden.
"Splendid. Let's not trouble ourselves with ‘what ifs’. We need more time," the First General said stiffly. The King left the room without a word. He didn't want to reveal that none of those problems truly bothered him, "Take me to Lar," The Red Axe King commanded sharply. One of his guards shuffled his feet and turned with a silent motion inviting the King to follow.
***
"We need to leave this place immediately." Kyre turned to face Hunn, "I'm having a really nasty feeling about this fire."
"I don’t think it's possible. There's no way to cross the Wall now that the wells have been fired up. Even your bird isn't able to fly high enough yet and avoid getting fried in the process," Hunn opposed thoughtfully.
"We could always go to the Ombre Valley," Kyre proposed without any hope in his voice, “Though it’s suicide to go there now,” he added quietly.
"And be stuck surrounded by mountains and even fewer options to hide? Within the Inner Block are still hiding places to find," Hunn said, “We can still wait it out here, down below.”
"There are, of course some places but I have more and more bad feelings that the Oracle had been right with one thing." Kyre frowned, looking into the blazing fires outside.
"Which one?" Hunn sighed
"The one where everyone of both Kingdoms perishes. That means staying anywhere near Axe or Sword territories is a death trap to us."
"There are no other options,” Gi'Waters said unexpectedly, making the men jump in surprise,” Everything now is Axe or Sword Territory, there is nothing else out there for many Cycles. I agree with Hunn, we could try to get into the other mines, there are twenty seven mines within the Wall. One of them could give us shelter."
"Everything had been sealed off already by this time. Our only chance is to join the troops remaining at the Ombre Valley," Kyre disagreed, “And the Mountains Range technically belongs to no one, yet. I think this is where we should go, if the fire dies down, it’s our only safe place to go.”
"You said if. What if it doesn’t die? How will we cross that fire there to get into the Mountains, if it's put a halt even to Swords?" Gi’ said heatedly, her eyes subtly flashing into blood-red zone.
"This kind of fire can't burn for eternity. I feel it's only to stop Swords for a while, Red Axe would never trust one weapon in this war," Kyre answered, “I think the Mountains are our safest bet at this moment. I just don't know how we are going to get there,"
"We actually do." Si'Waters said dazedly, as if she has just awoken, "We have been working at the Diner outside the Inner Block walls. They regularly ship provisions for the troops stationing at the Valley. We could sign up for the next roundtrip. And place you within that transport. Once you are behind the Wall, you would have to find your way around.”
"Place us? What would happen to you then?" Kyre looked at her suspiciously.
"We would stay inside the Wall obviously. We can disappear and find a safe place here," she scoffed, “We think the safest place would be within one of the mines. There are ways to get everywhere.”
"It's of no meaning now. We go together, or we die here together. The choice is yours," Kyre dared to stomp away and leave her agape in disbelief.
"Just how do you imagine otherwise? Tell me, how are you going to smuggle out of here two big men, two pretty females, a royal child and a bird in the midst of a blood-crazed soldiers?" Si'Waters said way too loud for her nerves started to reach their breaking point. Her eyes were switching in and out of the red zone, still in the sane zone, though.
"Sh." Gi'Waters calmed her twin. "I bet they have an idea that is better than ours." She shot both men a look of challenge.
The men did nothing to disrupt the twins’ silent fury, noticing the instability of the Southener eye-color.
"Worry not females." Hunn bowed, and both of the men disappeared to weave their plans into the reality.
Kyre and Hunn heard nearing footsteps the moment they left their hiding place, so they jumped to the sides soundlessly to hide from the new arrivals. Cloaked group of well-trained King’s guards quietly surrounded them.
"Do you seriously expect that I would know nothing of my own daughter's dealings and whereabouts?" Red Axe asked the surprised Seekinglanders.
"Honestly, I gave very little thought to it," Hunn said when he was sure there was no hostility in the way in the King’s demeanor.
"What has been on your mind then?" Red Axe asked suspiciously.
"Mostly it’s how to safely leave this place," Kyre answered
"And how to take my daughter with you." Still, there was no hostility, no rage in the King's voice.
"Yes, that too," Kyre nodded, "You have noticed the Blood Madness that has been claiming you," he whispered like it was a forbidden knowledge.
"Aye, I have." The King said completely deflated in his posture.
"Lar needs to leave this place," Kyre stated without any question or hesitation.
"I agree. I can grant you a passage, of sorts." Red Axe breathed heavily. "But I cannot guarantee your safety. There is no control over the Blood Madness. Almost every Axe seems to be slowly claimed by it."
"We are no Axes," Hunn said getting closer to the King.
"You are not Axes. Therefore you are my only hope to help in her escape." The King paused, closing his eyes. "I wish I had listened to Vlad. My pride clouded my judgment back then. Please forgive me," his last words were barely audible, like a shy plea thrown to the winds. “For everything.”
"It's not us you really need to ask for forgiveness," Hunn did not look into the King’s eyes.
"I know, I'm not sure I have the strength to face her now." Red Axe paused once again closing his eyes and breathing heavily. "Just tell her, when she agrees to listen, that I love her greatly."
"We will." Hunn bowed his head in agreement. "What is the escape route you propose then? Time is of the essence now"
"You should do what the Councilor wanted all of the remaining Seekinglanders to do," Red Axe sighed uncomfortably, "He wanted all of your kind to be granted a way into the Melting Place," he frowned, "I didn’t take his idea too well at the time."
"Obviously. You killed him and every one of our tribe that arrived here," Kyre said with much hostility in his voice.
"Yes. My body killed his body and my order killed your men," Red Axe admitted reluctantly.
"Men, women and children. You don’t want to take any responsibility for your actions?" Hunn asked harshly.
"I don’t even remember doing it. I don’t remember a lot of things," the King sighed, "And I don’t have any control over the time the madness takes me."
"That’s why you don’t want to meet with your daughter," Seekinglanders nodded in understanding.
"Partly. I can't guarantee her safety when she is with me. That is the one thing it's so very hard to admit. I am her father, and I cannot be trusted. I want her to remember me in a better way," Red Axe said looking defeated, like a shadow of his former self.
"She has already witnessed your Madness, and she hasn’t uttered a word since," Kyre sighed quietly
"I know, it had to be a shock for her. Just take her to the safety of the Great Mine," Red Axe pleaded.
"How are we going to get there? Everything is sealed off."
"And I don’t trust the elevator in the Throne Room," the King thought deeply and became so still, Hunn and Kyre thought that he was being taken by the Madness again. "I think there should be another way to the places below, but it doesn’t go all the way down to the Melting place. You would have to walk quite a distance to reach the staircase that ends in the Melting Place, but it should be safe enough."
"Where is it?" Hunn asked with a sudden spike of interest.
"I think it would be best if Lar guided you there, she claimed the whole Inner Block as her own, in many ways," the King said heavily.
"What is that place?" Kyre frowned, not following the conversation he was a part of.
"Just tell her it starts in the Vault, she will know what I mean." Red Axe looked at them. "Just one more thing."
"What would be that?" Hunn asked suspiciously.
"You need to cut your hair. It's not only that you will be the only sane people out there. Your hair is a telltale sign of the Seekinglander presence… and I, ah…" he stuttered.
"You declared any Seekinglander an enemy." Hunn finished with a broad smile.
"Yes," the King admitted.
"You declared your own daughter an enemy too," he had no problem with accusing Red Axe.
"I hoped her mixed origins would never reveal themselves," the King whispered, looking up to the corridor’s ceiling to avoid looking into the eyes of the Seekinglanders he was talking to.
"No wonder you don't have the courage to face her now," Kyre said, “You still despise her origins.”
"I will take that fault to my death asking the Fates for forgiveness. It is the only thing I truly regret," Red Axe whispered even quieter, "Get ready. And make yourself presentable for Gods' sakes." He dropped to the floor a great sack he nervously carried like a baby. "Your new clothes… for all of you," he said finally and fled back to his rooms leaving both of the Seekinglanders agape.
"Now that is something I did not expect," Kyre mused absently, "Do you think we should trust him?"
"I think we have no other choice," Hunn answered without hesitation, "But you are the one to share the news with the females."
"Why me? They will be impossible,” Kyre groaned at the mere thought, “They will hate it straight away."
"Aye. And they will scoff at everything. Therefore you talk with them," Hunn said seriously, "I don't do well with resistance."
"I know." Kyre had the gall to chuckle. "I will talk to the females, but you will be in my debt." He laughed at the uncomfortable grunt he got for an answer. “Forever.”
"We will need to drug them at some point, though," Hunn said after a moment, "The Blood Madness is claiming them slowly too, I can see it in their eyes."
"I noticed it too, they would never follow our lead when sane. With the Madness claiming them it's not safe to have them aware anymore," Kyre agreed quickly. "Let's just hope they will not remember that fact."
"Let's hope the Madness leaves them at some point first, Kyre. I have never seen anything like what's been happening here. It looks like all the Axe bloodlines are susceptible, as you, me and the child seem still sane." Hunn was becoming clearly disturbed and anxious. Something, Kyre would never think possible before.
"I think we need to pay the Duchess' rooms a visit. I bet she has some more of her darts there," Kyre said lightly, already striding towards the Duchess’ rooms.
"Are you sure you want the females to go through that hell?" Hunn asked him but followed his steps.
"They won't feel a thing, their Madness will." He carefully peeked into the narrow corridor.
"Are you sure? Is that a great difference anyway?"
"Hopefully they will live to tell," Kyre said, "You heard the King yourself, he doesn’t recall anything of his Madness times."
"I hope you are right," Hunn muttered putting this argument on hold.
"I'm just still not sure if going down there is a good idea."
"Kyre, we don’t have any other options, you know it," Hunn argued, "Trying to get to the Ombre Valley and the Mountains Range that encloses it at this point is nothing more than a suicide. We don’t stand a chance between the Swords and the blood-mad Axes. The only thing we can do is to hide for the time being."
"Maybe. I wonder if Vlad and the rest had the chance to reach that damn Melting Place," Kyre argued no more.
"I don’t think so, I guess they went further, right into the Stronghold,” Hunn whispered, pausing at the corridors crossroads. No guards were present throughout their way so far, and that was both reassuring and suspicious to his core. "Shouldn't we at least try to join them when we get down there? It will be so close."
"I don’t know," Kyre frowned looking around, “It’s so weird, no guard around.”
" I know, I don’t like it either. I’m not sure Red Axe would go that far in helping us,” Hunn agreed, “What is the other option we would have here if we stay on the surface? Especially if the Swords win?"
"I think there won't be any winners."
"Do you seriously believe in the whole Oracle stuff?" Hunn asked in disbelief.
"I have to say yes. I do. I honestly do," Kyre said stopping midway, “I think we should change our robes now, let’s not push our luck here.”
“Fine. But I’m not cutting my hair.”
“It’s just hair, it will grow back,” Kyre chuckled cutting his braid with one swift move of his knife.
“I’m not cutting my hair,” Hunn hissed and stomped away leaving Kyre behind. "So, it foretold what exactly? I mean the Oracle," he asked suddenly.
"The destruction of everything that is on the surface."
"So you think it will be safe to come up here once it’s over?"
"Basically yes. I just hope I'm right, " Kyre said as they reached the Duchess rooms.
"Let's find those damned darts," Hunn muttered shaking his head.
***
Later on, in their hidey-hole Kyre kneeled in front of the girl. Lar had been mute and silent ever since they found her frozen into the spot. Lar witnessed the Seekinglanders massacre, a thing that no child should ever be forced to see.
Kyre looked deep into her almost unresponsive eyes, relieved to notice the tears, the rage, and grief. It was a good sign of change, for before, there was nothing at all. The rebel ran too deep through Lar's ancestry lines to let anything break the spirit of her core.
Kyre knew that the Seekinglanders have become meek and ordinary in their surface lives, obedient to the point of self-willing sacrifice. Just not her, not Lar, the direct descendant of the two most rebellious and fierce lines to walk the land and breathe that sweet air. He took his time to look at her. It seemed that she was finally getting back to her old self. The fire of life burned deeply in her eyes.
"We need to leave now," he said slowly not to disturb her again, afraid she was still too close to the breaking point.
"It looks like it," she admitted without any spike of interest.
"You do know the way," he said offhandedly to avoid any tone of urgency, "The way into the Great Mine, you know it," he paused, "You do, don't you?"
"I won't ever go in there," she answered in the same tone he used. She looked up to the ceiling. A small smile brightened her appearance.
"Why not?" He knew that he had to tread cautiously.
"It's cursed." Lar didn’t bother to hide her surprise at his ignorance.
"It's not," Kyre chuckled.
"It is, in a way Kyre. Look at everyone who tries to get there. They die. Only the ones looking for a way out of there are granted the permission to live," she explained.
"It's not the Mine's fault actually," Kyre was getting dangerously close to getting into an argument over the child's fears.
"Whatever. I won't ever go there," she just notified him of her decision, with a poise and will Kyre couldn’t accept. She was just a child afterall.
"We can't stay here," he frowned, disliking the amount of time that was already wasted.
"We won't," Lar said calmly.
"I don't think there are any other choices that we have here Lar. The only way out of here into some sort of safety, any safety, is to go down into the Mines, and maybe, just maybe we will survive what's to come."
"But we have one more option you didn’t mention," she walked around the room and stretched stiff muscles and joints that were frozen into one position for a bit of time.
"Which is?" Kyre asked.
"We will follow them," Lar smiled as she nodded at the unconscious twins that took the infamous darts sometime earlier.
Hunn, who listened to this conversation hidden within the shadows, coughed unexpectedly. There was something about the way he kept vigil that brought both peace and tension to everyone who were present and aware enough to notice. The air in the room thickened and everyone focused their attention on the silent, so far, figure.
"If I may interrupt,” he coughed again, “I hope I don’t know where this conversation is going. The twins are not only in the throes of blood madness. We had to poison them with your mother’s darts, that means they are sort of sleeping. And they will be, for a very long time to come," Hunn explained patiently.
"But they are faking it," Lar giggled in answer, leaving both of the warriors agape.
"What do you mean?" Hunn asked cautiously, looking at Gi’ and Si’Waters suspiciously.
"They are waiting for something," she explained, "I've been faking being asleep so often I do know the signs." Lar walked up to the twins that were lying in disarray on the bed. "And I know that red eyes never really sleep, even in their sleep." She bent over and started to whisper something into Gi’Waters ear.
"Why would we follow the Blood Madness? Do you realize that they have been infected and taken and there is no way to bring them back?" Kyre exclaimed exasperated as he noticed that the twins opened their eyes.
“I’m not sure they know that,” she said quietly robbing men of their questions.
”Bloody females. Can’t ever trust them,” Hunn muttered quietly.
 
"And I’m pretty sure we won't be following any real madness." Lar frowned.
"Then what?" Kyre gritted his teeth, hating the fact that he was going to take orders from the child to follow the maddened bodies.
"I don't know." Lar opened the doors, ready to leave.
"Why should we trust them then?" Hunn asked watching in awe as the twins got up and left the room.
"Cos they're not Anaerthers." Lar followed the girls swiftly, "It's the Inner Ground Dwellers that we have to be afraid of at this point."
"Why would you say that?" Kyre asked joining her. His Axe found the way into his hand, he didn't even think about it. The action came naturally to him, like breathing. He didn't like the way she sounded, like her father.
"Cos they would rather see us all in Pods," she finished, breaking into the run, following the twins. “It’s not the time to talk. The evil and fire is preparing to wake up and the Mine is its lair." Kyre and Hunn shared a frown, but they wouldn't argue.
“How can you be so sure? How can I listen to a child?” Kyre wanted so much to reject her idea.
“I am to become a queen once. I have to be right, even when I'm wrong,” she said after a moment, “There is no difference if we die right here or just a few moments later.”
“We can still make it,” Kyre said unable to find enough hope to transfer it into his mind and voice, “Can’t we?”
“I think it's best not to lie ourselves anymore. Not at this point,” Lar muttered.
“You still have a lot to learn, kid,” he said, “Though your kingdom seems to be doomed.”
“Obviously.” Lar looked at the white fires, the first and last line of defense. “It doesn’t really matter now. Does it?” she stopped for a while and looked wearily into his eyes. Kyre was shocked to see that it was not a child anymore he was having this discussion with and he knew what took her inner youth away.
Deep was the sigh that left his lungs as the relief flooded and warmed him when he realized he could do nothing else than to follow the maddened twins in their pointless trek. He finally came to accept that it was the time for all of them to die at some point and join the rest of their tribe. He looked one more time at the fiery creatures that led them.
Gi'Waters and Si'Waters leading them were meandering like the lava-rivers, though the land was flat and unobstructed. They chose their private paths, seen and understandable only to the Blood Madness. Was it the luck or the Fates that they met not a single core on their way?
It took less time than they expected to enter the Red Madness Lands, where the three of them were the only ones bearing sane minds. Fear claimed Kyre, Hunn, and Lar once more.
Lar was unable to close her eyes even for a moment, curious to the paths they walked, forgetting at times that she was scared. Every red eyed monster they passed along the way renewed that fear. Every time she relived what happened outside the Inner Block walls, till every set of eyes blurred into one image of the face of her maddened father. From that moment everything felt like a dream, a silent red-eyed nightmare.
The future queen could not accept the sacrifice she witnessed back then. Her blood line had been tainted in a way that could not be fixed by staying alive. When an unsuspecting heart finds its courage, the gravity can be defied with a force that hides behind the unseen, blind faith. For what it's worth in fear and anger, her young core held the keys to the future once it became clear that the only storm she had to control was the one on the inside. Lar knew right then, when her child eyes stared into the white flames shooting up for the clouded sky that there was no brave thing to do left for the past had already erased future dreams and hopes. The past already robbed her of her people, her family and her reign.
Lar kept on walking and following the twins though what seemed like a dream. Her body was tense as a stone. Her hand never left the soft and feathery Haxe bird, as if that mere touch brought enough comfort for her to let her life go on.
Once they crossed the Wall, uneventfully, even though no sanity met their eyes, they boarded the lonely platform, that looked like it was waiting just for them. Lar gripped its railings like it was a life line. Mountain Range foothills bathed in a white fire kept on getting closer and closer to finally stop their platform, as the three-tracks finished there. Only then did Lar close her eyes and wept, while the Twins fell to the ground as if aiming to get some of the lost poison-induced coma.
“All we can do now is to wait for the fire to fail,” Hunn said, “Then we climb and get to the other side. It’s not that far, if we find our way to the Foregone Caves. They cut right through the mountain.”
“How do you know about them? How can we be sure Swords won’t wait on the other side? Why haven’t you mentioned that earlier for fates Sakes?” Kyre exclaimed agitated.
“I didn’t think it was a vital information as I would never even plan to go through the Red Madness,” Hunn laid down his Haxe bird next to Lar, “I’m sure Swords don’t know about the caves yet, as it was the first Seekinglanders to delve into this mountain, I’m not even sure why it’s such a big secret.”
“Probably it’s the Duchess’ idea. It always goes back to her. Whatever we don’t know, it always goes back to her,” Kyre sighed. “What really worries me is why the Twins know of it.”
“How do you know they know about it?” Hunn asked.
“Just a feeling, just as I know it’s all the Duchess’ fault. None of this would have happened if it wasn’t for her.” Kyre gestured towards Lar.
“Mom has her ways. I wouldn’t advise you to criticize any of them,” Lar chuckled, ”I might tell on you.”
“Feel free kid, if we ever get out of this mess,” Hunn tried to smile a very tired smile.
“We will.” Lar said.
“How can you be so sure of that?” Kyre asked.
“I just know, just as I know this fire will go out soon, so let’s be prepared to find the way,” she smiled and laid down on the ground, next to the Haxe bird, “Thank you, “ she whispered silently into its feathers.

17

The streets were deserted. The lights were still and lacked their usual sparkle. The Royal City of Naam came to a lifeless stillness that nothing of logic and reason could explain. With a great curiosity, Ash and the Unnamed looked and searched around for any sign of life. No luck there. It seemed that no Sword and no slave were present in the whole city.
"Is there any immediate need to find out what’s wrong here?" The Unnamed asked, already knowing the answer.
"No, not really.” Ash frowned and looked around for the last time, “I think this can wait. There is a high probability everyone fled to get away from the New King Cassess. He will just crush every other Line House like he just erased mine, once he learns what happened here. But let's not trouble our minds with that. It's good, in a way. It means the Mountain Range Peaks stay unguarded."
"How is that going to help us with anything?" The Unnamed asked. Suddenly his core let him know how important it was as the familiar tug called for his attention.
"That helps only if you're ready to undo my mistake," Ash said and looked at the Unnamed expectantly, "Are you ready for another sacrifice to save the night, brother?"
"Yes." There was no hesitation in his voice.
“We need to get to the Winter’s Peak,” Ash said and walked through the abandoned city. The Unnamed gasped unintentionally.
“It’s the only way,” Ash sighed waiting for his newfound brother to join him, ”Water has always been the essential element of the Tharo Juice." He started another one of his stories, "It has always been the domain of the former Ruling House. Our water used to be poisoned with time, and it seeped through the mountains into the underground Great Lake. There it created distinct layers from its surface to the rocky bottom. Each layer had a different color and taste. The original way for the water to leave the lake had been by an outlet well at the bottom, it regulated the depth of that lake. We used to draw water from the surface layer.”
The Unnamed remained silent in the face of visiting the place where his Mother lost her head.
“When I clogged that outlet-well, the surface layer started to overflow the natural-made dam and drowned the mines and tiers down below,” Ash continued, “It's been leaking and overflowing the dam walls ever since. The lake is still big enough to reach its shores deep beneath Naam, but its overall composition had changed. The taste and color changed too, leaving us barren. The slaves have always been the ones to prepare the Tharo Juice, so we didn’t realize anything was wrong with it for centuries. Honestly, I'm not sure a lot of Swords knows the truth about it." He took a deep and calming breath once more to be able to continue. His anger started to seep through the crust of his training. "First, we tried to breed with the outsiders and then even with the slaves. The Fathers got a freedom of choice as far as the partners went when it became clear there was a problem. All for nothing. The gift of a new life was taken from us, and we started to grow even bigger and bigger." Ash looked right through the unfocused eyes of his companion. "The process of our extinction had started with my hands to blame."
"I still don’t get it, Ash. Why have literally no one picked up on this? How come that the children just popped in and around without anyone taking notice? How did that even happen?" the Unnamed mused aloud, finally something grasped his attention strongly enough to make him stop thinking about his Mother. His mind has some things to do now, trying to put more of the pieces together into a picture that would be wide enough to understand it, without any more questions to follow.
"The Swords have the infinite time to find the solution. At least, that was the Old King's reasoning, so nobody really paid any attention. The Mothers being the Mothers felt the need to have more and more children. So, at some point, the Fathers' duties evolved into bringing the babies in. I did not understand the pull myself until I found Ashe in the outer rim territories. Kidnapping babies have been our way ever since. But, of course, another problem arose then," Ash sighed.
"They were untrainable into the Sword ways," the Unnamed realized as if struck by lightning. A memory of Bertan's resistance and hatred at their first encounter had resurfaced in front of his eyes.
"Yes, some less than the others. The King's order was clear on that, though. The weak ones had to be weeded out as soon as the weakness emerged," Ash said in a light tone that defied the anger coming from him. His fury, for the lost and executed at the slightest sign of weakness, was almost tangible.
"But the Mothers interfered yet again," the Unnamed said, leading Ash through the Tower of the Third, now Royal House , “She was just sent away, instead of having her head taken by me.”
"Even with the new blood entering our midst not one Sword baby has been born, not even to the new additions. The Mothers grew more and more restless, willing to spill the secrets to the young ones. They grew the conscience at some point and saved many of the weaklings, and that started to endanger the integrity of the whole Sword kingdom, for their actions spoke louder than their robes. The questioning of our ways began." Ash became so quiet that his lips seemed to move without any sound. He looked at the staircase that led to the Winter’s Peak.
"So, all the Mothers had to be eliminated one by one, even before the Old King died," the Unnamed quickly realized. He was very disappointed that his own Mother decided not to share that fact with him. Though, he knew that this knowledge could make him question his duties too. An executioner had to have no doubts and no questions burning through his mind. "Who had killed my Mother then Ash?"
"We both know it wasn’t her” Ash glared, “Only one Sword gained a lot, following your Mother's death, and we both know that it wasn't Bertan. You should know perfectly well by now who it was." The giant smiled sadly, taking the first step upwards.
"I think I do. I finally do," the Unnamed said, following Ash in his climb. His core sank to his feet at the implications of that knowledge. He realized, he had been manipulated and used, over and over again. He let it happen, but he still wasn't ready for the full awakening from the Madness that hazed his guilty senses into oblivion. "The New King will stop at nothing to win this war and bring the balance and the chance to fix everything to be the way it used to be before."
"It's not possible to fix it completely from the Axe territories," Ashe said after a long moment of considering silence. "He knows it, but wants to buy more time."
"It's where the flooded tiers are."
"Yes, and it’s where we froze and darkened the pit of fire that allowed all the Core’s preciousness to travel to the surface, so it’s essential to undo that too, but it's not where I clogged the water outflow with the stones. The blockades should be removed, so the water doesn't overflow the dam walls. It's only the pit of white fire that needs to be reignited down below the Inner Block. But Cassess is deep into his Madness too. He will not listen to any reason, especially from me, as I'm the only one who reminds him of his faults back then. He fears greatly that what and who had been flooded could be brought back to the surface once again." The sad smile it brought to Ash’ face reminded the Unnamed of Genes who started his quest not that long ago, and of the five young Swords, he might share ancestry with, of his Mother protecting Bertan from his sword. The all-consuming sadness was the only thing he could recall of his past. The joy had been absent all along everywhere he would choose to look at throughout his time of hazed awareness. The only possible outcome shone brightly.
"You will not live much longer Ash," the Unnamed was slow with his words knowing that Ash had a lot at stake too, for his position was higher, and his game should never end in death. Ash was not to be trusted, but he would be helpful.
"Most certainly my brother. My Fates have joined with yours unexpectedly, for this short time being," Ash didn’t look concerned with his future at all. Probably his long-lived acceptance of how his life would end brought the serenity to his features. Inner peace was the thing to grow into, not the thing to be fought over for.
"Where do our Fates take us now?" The Unnamed asked and immediately he felt that he lost his grip over his own life. Suddenly, there was nothing left to sacrifice, no words to fearfully whisper, no more breaths to take that would give any meaning to what he had already done. He was taking his steps mindlessly, entering the unseen gates that could take him close enough to fix the past. Though, it would never be close enough to undo it altogether.
"What are your plans for yourself?" the Unnamed asked in return, avoiding any commitment. He was still raw and unable to trust anew. He felt the Fates had put him in place to be used over and over again by the people who never saw a person in him. He feared that yet again, Ash regarded him just as a mean to an endgame of his own. Though, that fear started to mean nothing to him. He understood that his life revealed how empty it was, and how empty he was.
"The greatest plan a man can wield is a patience and self-restraint, not the action itself. Fates never interfere with patience," Ash said once they reached the terrace the Mother had died on, subtle marks of blood were still visible to their eyes. "Troubling things and deeds will bring always even themselves out and I’m not sure if it’s always the Fates’ fault."
"Always?" The Unnamed had his doubts and hopes in perfect balance as he looked at the blood signs on the floor. He looked back at the times when his trust was wrongly placed. Past deeds reached deeply into his core, eating it up, making him feel dead on the inside. Almost. Yes… Almost.
"Always," Ash said in a final tone of dismissal.
"Are you brave enough to bring the bad Royal City news to the King all by yourself? When are you planning to do it?" The Unnamed asked cautiously when they prepared to separate once again. He was personally aware of the New King's instabilities and didn’t particularly agree with Ash in his plans, but would always follow him through, for the truth that Ash had shared more than once.
"This time is as good as any other, and I'm just as good as any other person. It's not like there is any other choice anyway," Ash smiled once again, “Mine… Our House Line is almost extinct anyway,” Some part of him enjoyed goading the New King, while another part wished him a long and painful death.
 
At this point Ash knew his own life was at stake here more than the King's. He just couldn’t care anymore in his recklessness. He was changed at the moment he discovered that every single Sword was barren, including himself. What was life without the ability to pass it over? What was the near immortality for, when it lacked the gift and joy of creating a new life? It ceased to be a big secret over time as more and more of younger Swords raised the concerns. The old ones, like the Mothers, they had known about everything all too well and acted accordingly. For a man who valued life above all, in contrast to everyone around, it was a blow right at the core of his being, of his will to exist.
"He could kill you right there, on the spot," the Unnamed noted without any real emotion.
"He is mad, but not that mad. The New King needs his troops to trust him enough to go into that fire with him. He would not want to risk his position in their eyes by any outburst that he might privately take pleasure in," Ash smirked and walked up to the platform. He was ready to go back to the battle. "What we saw here, will trouble him enough. It will make him think about many other things, many important to him things. So, I guess there's a big chance that he might just let me go."
Ash pointed the way the Unnamed was to take then, into the Well of Fates. He mentioned no plans he had for himself, for he didn't trust even himself to go on with it anyway. That way, there was always time and place to pull out and give the planning some more attention. Waiting for the best opportunity to strike was his best option. Waiting should be his middle name.
They parted without a word, knowing it’s a last time to say something, the best sound was silence, as always.
 
Dusted stones that the Unnamed was constantly disrupting kept on falling through in between of his feet. He had to trust the unlikely story told by his newfound brother to keep on going down the narrowing well. It seemed to have no end and deprived him of the comfort his senses would have given him. He lost his scent, taste, and sight.
He knew at this point that nothing else could bring him peace. Waves of awareness hit his core over and over again to remind him what the pain felt like. Last twitch of extinguished reason, last drop of the Sword Madness to haze his guilty hands.
Constant in his repeating moves, he could feel the slow detachment of his mind that brought him to the verge of the other Madness Swords were prone to experience. The ones who live next to forever get addicted to testing the boundaries of their immortality. His mind screamed at him to jump down and shorten the time. It would cut the boredom slowly creeping near, too. Great Cycles passed throughout his lifetime, depriving him of any real time perception.
The countless lives he finished with his sword made him welcome the feel and taste of his own blood graciously. Though many might claim of the Swords fiery origins, the opposite truth was evident in the liquidity of the pouring blood, whatever the color it might choose to take. He realized, the water was the source of life, for a Sword and a slave.
Just as a beating heart of the fire is the most seductive part of it, the flowing water was set to drown unsuspecting Swords and stones. The unsaid promise to reach the deepest of caverns carved deeply into the Royal City of Naam Mountain Range urged the Unnamed to continue, against his odds and climb down through the darkness surrounding him. Tightness and warmth were becoming unbearable. Unforgiving stone walls tugged and chaffed at his combat robes, almost to the point of restricting his movements.
Giving his life into the Fates once again, the stubborn Sword climbed back up a bit and cut off his armored robes. He had to free his body of any restraint to be able to slip through the tight well passage. Only then, he slid through, naked and wet like a flowing water. A sigh of relief, his lungs exhaled, welcomed a seemingly never-ending free fall. Eyes closed, out of control, till the moment it all ended with a mind numbing, bone shattering crash into the cold, still and hard as glass surface of the water-lake.
No outer or inner pieces of him were left untouched in that crash, and still, his mind would focus only on the impossible task at hand. He had to dive to find the stones that had been put in place by Ash the Deceiver… Ash the Savior… By the Fates, the future was still undecided at that point. The Unnamed floated slowly but steadily towards the small whirlpool that marked the place where the outflow had been blocked. One last breath. One last pain that was left to bear. He welcomed the pain even more happily than the sight of his own blood.
If there was anything he could have done to reverse his words and actions, he would have done it without a question, including taking his own life in place of hers. Erasing his own existence from before the time started seemed the best way to ask for forgiveness. The Fates weren't that merciful, they were hateful and mercy was just for a few still deep within their graces. The only thing he could do was to undo Ash’ sins.
There was no power left in his body for him to try and fight the currents that he had just freed. The Unnamed let it all happen to him with his last conscious thought. Giving up the fight, he let his body be drowned and sucked in by the hungry whirlpools. Maybe someone will undo his own sins, he pleaded with the Fates.

18

The King Cassess of the Short Sword was lost to the memories of his youth, recalling the way sky-boats had soared into the night sky on their journey to and from the Inner Block. The secret of the right elements composition that had enabled engines to work with enough force to raise the boats high into the sky had been lost the same moment everything else had been lost for Swords.
He knew all too well there was no way to uproot the Wall or to damage it at any place for, unknown to the younger Sword generations, the whole structure had been an integral piece of the Mine and the Inner Block itself. He discovered that purely by accident during his own work-time in the Inner Block. He wasted no time in his plans and preparations to consider tearing it down.
Cassess looked with a great displeasure at the coarse and unsophisticated machines the Swords had to use now to get over the Wall. Their current great inventors could never measure up not only with the ancients but also with the minds killed during the Skyfire Storm.
Forgoing its primitivism the catapults had been known and tested to work without a glitch. He watched as the first team of ten Swords had been preparing to board it the moment the fire subsided low enough not to fry them. A large sheet of strong fabric held by each of them slowed their descend enough so their bones were left intact. He hated how much the Swords had degraded throughout the times, how unreachable the ancients had become in their knowledge and talents. Nothing great about them anymore but their ever growing size.
"My Lord," Ash started timidly once he reached Cassess. It was about the same place and position the King had been at since at the moment of his earlier departure, still staring into the white flames. "We have failed to bring the kites."
"May you tell me why?" The King was too calm on the outside not to harbor a great uproar deep within, hiding it too well.
"The Royal City of Naam was deserted when we arrived. Everything and everyone had vanished." Ash looked right into the royal eyes.
"What do you mean vanished? That's not possible!" Cassess cried out loud.
"No person or slave had been present, but it seems most of the possessions were gone too. No signs of struggle could be seen." Ash explained, his disrespect and dislike for The King growing with every moment they spent in discussion.
"How is that even possible? We could not have been here long enough for the whole city to empty out." Cassess’ eyes flashed reflecting the white fire he was staring at mindlessly.
"I don't know, my King, I'm sharing what we witnessed only. The Unnamed decided to stay and investigate the unnatural state of things to ensure your safety upon the return to the City." Ash bowed his head to hide his disgust with the New King.
"Fine." The king closed his eyes and frowned deep in thought. "We have to wait it out after all. Just as you wished, Ash." He seethed through his teeth at the seemingly troubled and frightened Ash who started to retreat slowly.
As expected, Cassess did not really care about the City and its inhabitants and most certainly would not bother his mind with that riddle when the Wall, the biggest structure the Swords had erected, still waited to be breached and reclaimed.
"Look!" Ash called in awe, the King Cassess followed this command and smiled.
It was the moment when the fire-wells failed. Distrustful of the sudden luck Cassess hailed his troops to make no move. The Wall gleamed invitingly in the distance, like a mirage straight out of his dreams. It was right there, waiting for his arrival, urging him to reclaim his rightful heritage. Every Sword present by his side looked at him expectantly.
"Send one unit to reach the Wall. This might be another trap to seize our remaining troops," the King said cautiously.
"Yes, my Lord."
One of the silver guards took his order and ran towards the first unit. The first for glory or death. During the wartime, there was no real distinction between the two. For the glory often accompanies the death and doom. For a very long time nothing happened. No more fires blazed into the night sky. The first unit reached the Wall unharmed. Not a sound disrupted this first quiet victory. The Sword King, still wary, held his breaths close to his chest.
"Prepare the catapults for breach, all around the Wall at once, but start with every fifth machine to enter the fire zone," he whispered to the second silver guard. He was too anxious to fully embrace his luck. The horns blew, and his troops quickly entered the fire-zone with their machines. Every unit was at the ready to breach the Wall soon, and all of them were itching to start their march towards the Inner Block.
"Call upon the platform technicians first. They need to be among the first troops to cross the Wall, to fix the tracks for our use," Cassess commanded to his guards.
"Of course, my King."
"Send the breaching equipment just after the technicians. Those machines are too slow to send the whole army in time. Time is our enemy now," he said to his silver guards. Hope started to swell within every Sword core. The victory and reclaiming of the long lost Mines seemed at arm's length.
Cassess watched the troop units flying over the Wall with a twinge of jealousy. He would never admit his fear of flying, the real reason behind the plan to use the breaching equipment as ropes and makeshift elevators after the first troops reached the enemy lands. It was the only way he would be able to dig his feet into the inner Wall territories to reclaim them and he waited impatiently for that moment.
"Let's go," he finally commanded to everyone around him to follow.
The Fates granted him a moment of glory when he stood where the sky met the surface, the ledge of the Wall, the in-between place of his very dreams. He took a deep breath few moments later, digging his feet into the Inner Wall Territories to celebrate his victory, the very moment the Fates ceased to cooperate. The moment the first Swords reached the Inner Wall Territories. Unrest shook the surface, straight to the roots of their demise. It was the land, the Swords craved so much, that ceased to cooperate, breaking under their feet.
Overgrown bodies were thrown in the air to fly, gentle as stones. They were falling, like an unforgiving rain to the whimpering ground. There was a minuscule , almost imperceptible change in the way winds howled. Dryness subsided giving way to the unbearably humid stench.
On the outside of things, everything was going as planned. Dust was ever-present from the moment they touched the ground. The Dust was so thick that it shrouded the sky above, like a sandstorm born through unnatural means.
It was such a great mystery. How could the Swords hold such a control over this land, that it would strive to rebel against their brute strength and weight? The land would rebel in the same way the Axes had before. Suddenly, the only known thing was the unchanged space around. What used to be the curse of the worst kind, they welcomed as a blessing now
Unholy spirits left the caverns beneath, mingling with the Dust, rejoicing their freedom. The end was nearing and the Swords were blind and deaf to all of the signs around.
The biggest ones never heed any warnings until it's already too late and their fall is imminent. Should the Fates care for the stupid and for the too big to fail?
In the middle of the great sea of nothingness, lone, lost, and beridden cores sparkled with clarity, awaken in time for the last time before the end of that time. Time had changed in their absence, but everything else stayed the same.
The land of shadows turned into dust, so that it would never be called land again. It's still there, the deserts that grow into the freed space.
The Fates dictated the paths to take , supplied the words to utter, and inspired the unthinkable. Was it the Fates orchestrating that Sword minds grew wider and their will to resist weakened? Was it why the mad spirits had taked control of the Sword bodies in the way blood madness claimed the Axes?
The rain came down unexpectedly. The attackers didn’t think much of it, blissfully  ignorant to the fact that  not one drop of water fell from the sky within the Wall Territories ever since the  Wall had been erected. The Swords couldn’t perceive the abhorrent anomaly that rain represented to the land they re-walked and re-claimed.
Not one of them took any interest in the color of the falling water, nor they looked around to notice the clouds. The shapeless shadows were rising from the ground rather than travelling through the skies.
All that mattered was the victory. Cassess raced towards the Inner Block with the speed only the upgraded by the Axes platforms could achieve. He chose to ignore that fact, as otherwise it would mean he’d have to admire them.  Stupid and grand never give any credit to the ones that don’t belong with them.
He laughed when he finally saw the Inner Block dancing in front of his eyes in the distance. The Victory was his, the Wall breached and reclaimed, the land almost back into their hands again. There was only a small thing to do left, a formality, really.
By no means could it be a fair fight. Cassess was easily twice the Red Axe' size and even more of his strength. Even though the Axe King was armed in fearless blood madness, nothing could shield him from the Invisible Blade made to cut not only through the flesh and bone. Any metal anyone could ever think of was of no meaning as it stopped only at the stone. Back in the ancient times, there had been artifacts of stone skillfully turned into threads of armor. Artifacts like that none of the Swords could recall to existence ever again. Nothing and no one was safe from its power ever since.
"Finally, we meet, slave," he said leisurely, taking his seat right on the throne, mocking his seething opponent that was being crushed into the floor by his feet. "You know, you still can save your life to me. You do not have to die at this moment," he paused with a cruel smile, "All you have to do is to pledge your underserved freedom to me, to my kind, and become what you have always been, a slave to my will."
"Never!" Red Axe seethed breathing heavily, for the heaviness of the other King foot was crushing and cutting deeply into his chest. "We will be free in our deaths at your hands, never your breathing slaves!"
"Ah, at my feet you mean. I will kill you with pleasure. But be sure that you have never been really free, always full of fear at our shadows. Your inferior kind is and always will be slaves for us." Cassess raised his hand to give the final blow with his treasured Invisible Sword and cut the usurper's head off.
Suddenly, his unsuspecting hand was stopped midair and dropped lifelessly at his feet. Ash of the Second Line stood to his right, fully armed and ready to fight with his Swords pointed at him.
"How dare you strike your own King?!" The Sword King roared furiously through his pain.
"Ah, but are you really a King?" Ash mocked his earlier tone "Never mind that. Not one Sword is present here to live and tell anyway." Smaller in size as Ash was, now that the King could wield his Sword only in one hand, Ash felt cocky enough as he had the advantage.
"I am your king, and the penalty for treason is death," Cassess screamed attacking Ash with his size, speed and the biggest Invisible Blade in the Sword history, leaving the Red Axe King forgotten on the floor. The battle of Titans lasted but a quick moment, the crippled King overwhelmed and disarmed Ash with a power of his rage.
"Your whole House Line will cease to exist. I will exterminate the rest of your family and friends for your betrayal," Cassess said just before dealing the final blow, "The ones that are unlucky enough to be still alive," he sneered raising his sword.
"You are not the King of our kind. You are the real usurper, and deep down you know it too. You broke the laws, and you even don't know how." Ash smiled waiting for his death to come when a great thunder broke the sky. He looked through the windows to witness the exploding inferno that fired up the skies unlike any storm in history, closing by dangerously fast.
The Fire-Wells had finally lost their stability. The uncontrolled white fire spilled across the land and through the air into the sky, igniting and scorching the surface in one moment. Cassess looked through the window too. His eyes widened in fear. Ash was waiting for the last blow that never arrived for the Sword King fell limply to the floor.
Both of the Swords immersed in their battle, forgot about the Red Axe King who watched and waited. His crude axe burrowed deep in the neck of the fallen New Sword King at the first opportunity the Fates had granted him.
Ash spared no glance to the fallen body of his King. The raging cloud of white fire was speeding in the Inner Block direction so fast he hoped to at least reach the elevator hidden within the Axe Throne. He prayed to the long forgotten Gods that it still worked when he opened its doors. He entered the small cubicle of the elevator, and looked back at the Red Axe King who still deeply gone within his Blood Madness, still ravaging the fallen body of the Sword King. Ash called him three times to enter the elevator too, but the Red Axe King was too far gone to listen.
Crisp, white fire took the land for its own. Not one scream got through the ashes that had been of life, blood, and bone just before the end. No time registered in between of being and un-being of the surface- infected with the white, scorching nest that brought the end of the known worlds. All of life was erased where the Fates purged and cleansed. Destruction cycles within cycles of time.
There was no other choice for Ash than to ride down to the Melting Place alone in the hopes to outrun searing flames that started to assault the Inner Block. The chains he chose to ride with sped down in an instant, much faster than the elevator would, but it was still too slow to escape the surface-born inferno. His tight and armored clothes grew hotter and hotter to the point where they started to melt and drip down. Every inhale burned his insides. The clothes that covered Ash' body. Fire took him for its own to spit the scorched body out at the bottom of the Melting Place. Ash the Savior, nudged with the remains of his leg the mechanism that would unlock the Ice-Cold blockade of the only known way into the Core.
 

19

 
Six pure Sword hearts ventured into the past rites and places of old with no questioning minds at hand. It's only the youth that accepts Fates and their paths without a question, filled with joy and happiness to be of help for the future to come. Where the truth burns like acid unsuspecting minds, the faith gives the wings and seals up the lips with courage to meet the end that is the beginning of the world to end.
Something was finally visible in the distance. A bright, crystal light graced them from afar. Repetitive patterns of the past under their feet revealed the fated path to take. The narrow, dust covered stony trail urged them down, its stones almost silky soft of time and service. The path closely followed a lazy but persistent river of fire, right into the core of their creation. There was no need to look for any directions anymore.
Genes could feel the faraway place calling him to hasten his steps. There it was. The source of the longing in his core, the beauty of life itself beckoning at him to witness its power, hopes and wishes to fulfill. He didn't realize, it was the Madness claiming him again with the greedy force of the insatiable hunger feeding off his sanity. All of them followed their uneasy fates. The freshest, moist and fragrant air engulfed their senses.
Time lapsed in silence, their bodies burned with fever, bringing their inner water to the surface of the skin. The burning heat was calling them to submerge in the black water lake, just off the path they were following.
Time lapsed again, bathed in the music of splashing and giggles as they reverted mentally into frolicking toddlers. Though still, no word has been uttered and would not be uttered when the death dealt the hidden blows right into their breaths.
Time lapsed for the third and final time as the water washed away their bodies at the faraway shore of fine and sticky white sand. Home welcomed them at last. The Great Wait of the Anaerthers Stronghold has ended upon their arrival. Lone emptiness was filled once again with death to be broken in the most unexpected and peculiar ways.
Genes was the first one to regain his senses, while his Sword companions were still fast asleep. He looked around as if he was being guided to do so. His sight centered on a lone crystal pillar of light that was not too far away, the same that led them from afar. It was deeply rooted into the ground with its irregular veins. Its grand and eternal light was powered from the areas deep below the known inner spaces. Not even the oldest and the most obscure legends of lore told of what could lie beneath. Not one creature met the real source of the bright glowing light that still graced what was left of the Anaerther Stronghold. Genes looked up to it like he was hypnotized with hope for an answer. He dragged Bertan’s body to lay next to the pillar.
 
“Syltears,” he muttered disoriented, not knowing where those words were coming from, “Syltears, the first daughter of the core, please hear my plea, bring Bertan back to the life she is still to lead.”
Genes touched the crystal vein that was the closest to him. It was so sleek, it almost felt soft, wet from the moisture of his fingers, its light was calling to his core, and it calmed his fears. Safety was the only thought left in his mind as the world around faded away from his senses. The only thing he was able to do at this point was to detach his mind from his body till he was nothing more than a stone fused with the crystal light.
Just then, his wish was granted. Bertan took her first breath. The half of the non-beating heart became whole again.
 

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Tag der Veröffentlichung: 13.02.2017

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