Chronicle 19
“The Fall of Aetheris: Part 1”
It was a normal spring morning at Daral Lake.
The snows had long since begun to retreat into the
mountains, and with them came the busiest season of the year. The Order of the
Blue Shield did not celebrate spring with festivals or idleness. Spring meant
work. Every day lost now would be felt months later when winter returned.
Across the valley, the fields were alive with activity.
Men and women alike spread across the farmland, preparing
the soil that had lain frozen for months. Wooden plows were inspected and
repaired. Irrigation channels clogged by melting snow were cleared. Seeds
waited patiently in woven baskets beside the fields.
Zasaramel stood near the edge of one of the larger plots,
sleeves rolled above his forearms as he guided a heavy cultivator through the
earth. Beside him, Azamat wrestled with another piece of equipment, grumbling
under his breath as a stubborn wheel refused to turn before finally giving way
with a loud crack.
"There," Azamat muttered with satisfaction.
"You see? It only needed encouragement."
Zas allowed himself the faintest smile before returning to
his work.
Not far away, Arel-Sin eagerly carried bundles of wooden
stakes from one end of the field to the other. He had reached the age where Zas
believed he was finally ready to contribute meaningful labor to the tribe.
The teenager couldn't have been happier.
Each task was another chance to prove himself- not merely as
a child helping adults, but as someone becoming one of them. Every bundle he
carried, every tool he returned, every instruction he followed earned him
another nod from the older members of the Order.
Priya was equally busy.
Kneeling beside several pieces of farming equipment, she
worked methodically through each mechanism, tightening bindings, replacing worn
leather straps and checking every moving part before it entered the fields. Her
hands were blackened with grease by now, but she barely noticed. If the
equipment failed during planting season, precious days would be lost.
Around them, even the animals understood that winter's rest
had ended.
The oxen were already harnessed to plows, snorting
impatiently as they waited for their handlers.
Nearby, several broad-backed triceratopses shifted their
enormous weight, blinking lazily as members of the Order coaxed them toward
their own assignments. A gentle shove here, a reassuring pat there, and
eventually even the great beasts lumbered into motion, their immense strength
making light work of hauling equipment far too heavy for people alone.
For Daral Lake, it was simply another ordinary day.
No one imagined that before the sun had set, word would arrive that would change everything.
The Palace of Aetheris stood high above the capital, its
white stone walls catching the evening sun until they seemed almost to glow.
Marble columns lined the grand dining hall, while towering stained-glass
windows depicted centuries of royal victories. Gold trim adorned nearly every
surface. Crystal chandeliers bathed the room in warm light.
King Havin insisted upon nothing less.
The royal family gathered around a table so long that
servants had to walk constantly around it, refilling goblets and replacing
platters before they had a chance to empty. Roasted triceratops, fresh breads,
exotic fruits imported from across the continent, fragrant soups, rich cheeses
and pastries filled every available space.
It was a feast fit for royalty.
…and tonight, for once, it was simply family.
One of Elara's younger brothers enthusiastically recounted a
cavalry exercise.
"I swear Father," he laughed, "Sir Darius was
thrown clear over his mount. Landed flat on his back."
Several of his siblings burst into laughter.
"He'll tell everyone he did it intentionally,"
another replied.
"He already has," their mother smiled.
Even King Havin chuckled before taking another bite of his
meal.
"I like commanders who survive embarrassing mistakes.
Dead commanders rarely learn from them."
More laughter circled the table.
Several of Elara's brothers had recently served with the
Aetherian Army surrounding Curgarden, and despite the grim nature of the
campaign, they spoke of patrols, mishaps and barracks life with the easy
familiarity of soldiers who believed victory was only a matter of time.
Only one member of the family remained silent.
Princess Elara slowly moved vegetables around her plate
without eating much of anything.
Her mother noticed first.
"You're unusually quiet."
"I'm fine."
"You've hardly touched your dinner."
"I'm just... thinking."
Havin glanced toward his daughter.
"Thinking about what?"
Elara hesitated.
She hadn't intended to bring it up.
This was supposed to be one peaceful evening.
Yet every bite she tried to take brought the same images
back into her mind.
Families trapped behind stone walls.
Empty fields waiting to be planted.
Children who had done nothing wrong.
Finally she set down her fork.
"Father..."
The conversation around the table faded.
"...how much longer will the siege continue?"
The king answered without hesitation.
"Until Curgarden submits."
"They've already been surrounded for nearly three
months."
"…and?"
"They should be planting."
"They chose not to."
"They can't."
"They can."
His voice remained calm.
"They need only surrender."
Elara took a slow breath.
"They're trapped."
"They trapped themselves."
"You know that isn't true."
A few of her siblings shifted uneasily.
No one enjoyed these conversations.
Havin calmly sipped from his goblet.
"The Curgarden refused lawful orders. They organized
strikes. They attacked members of this family." He gestured toward one of
Elara's brothers. "Your brother still bears the scar."
The young prince instinctively touched the side of his jaw.
"They crossed a line."
"I know they did."
"Then you know why this became necessary."
Elara looked around the lavish hall.
Servants continued quietly replacing food no one had
finished.
Candles flickered beneath polished silver.
Outside these walls, an entire city was slowly starving.
"They're workers, Father."
"They're rebels."
"They were asking for better wages."
"They were demanding concessions through
violence."
"…and we're answering with starvation."
Silence.
Havin folded his hands together.
"My answer prevents a war."
"It is a war."
"No."
His tone never rose.
"It is a siege."
"A distinction the people inside those walls won't
appreciate."
"The fewer battles we fight, the fewer people
die."
Elara shook her head.
"They're already dying."
"The alternative is storming the city."
"We could negotiate."
"They refused."
"We barely tried."
"They attacked my family."
"They attacked soldiers."
"They attacked Aetheris."
"They attacked because they felt unheard."
"They attacked because they believed violence would
force my hand."
His eyes met hers.
"If I reward that behavior, every province in this
kingdom learns the same lesson."
Elara's heart sank.
She knew this argument.
Her father had made it before.
Everything, to Havin, was measured against stability.
Against efficiency.
Against preserving the kingdom.
"The people of Curgarden built much of this
kingdom," she said quietly. "They clean our streets. They work our
docks. They build our homes. They harvest our food."
"They are replaceable."
The words landed like a hammer.
Several of Elara's siblings stopped eating altogether.
"They're people."
"They're labor."
"They're both."
"They are whatever the kingdom requires them to
be."
"…and if they all die?"
Havin answered without emotion.
"Then others will take their place."
"Who?"
"If necessary..."
He cut another piece of meat with deliberate precision.
"...we will compel others."
The implication hung over the table.
Slavery.
No one spoke.
Even the servants seemed to move more quietly.
Elara stared at the man seated across from her.
He wasn't shouting.
He wasn't angry.
He wasn't cruel for the sake of cruelty.
That almost made it worse.
Her father genuinely believed this was the logical solution.
He viewed the kingdom as an equation.
If sacrificing one city preserved ten others...
...the answer was obvious.
Elara saw something entirely different.
She saw fathers.
Mothers.
Children.
A people slowly disappearing behind walls while the rest of
the world knew nothing.
The Curgarden had depended upon Aetheris for communication
beyond their borders. With the siege in place, no journalists, no foreign
observers, and no representatives from Peace had any idea what was unfolding.
The city had become a prison hidden in plain sight.
For the first time that evening, the lavish meal before
Elara made her stomach turn.
She quietly laid her fork across her plate.
She had lost her appetite.
The streets of Curgarden were quieter than they had ever
been.
Not silent.
Children still played when they could. Bakers still tended
ovens that burned ever smaller fires. Blacksmiths still repaired tools that no
one knew when they would next use.
But the village no longer possessed the rhythm of a place
preparing for another season.
Beyond the massive stone walls lay the oasis that had
sustained Curgarden for generations. Its waters still flowed, glittering
beneath the morning sun.
Beyond the oasis...
...their fields.
Rows upon rows of fertile earth waited untouched.
The growing season had begun.
No seed had been planted.
No plow had broken the soil.
No farmer dared approach.
High upon the walls, Aetherian banners fluttered in the
distance.
The soldiers barely needed to patrol anymore.
Everyone understood the rules.
Anyone leaving the walls died.
The first few deaths had been enough.
Now no one tried.
This was hardly the first siege Curgarden had endured.
In truth, it had become an ugly ritual.
Workers demanded fairer treatment.
Employers refused.
King Havin declared a siege.
After several miserable weeks, one side inevitably blinked.
Merchants grew impatient. Landowners complained. Factories slowed. Eventually
everyone accepted some compromise, and the gates reopened.
Life resumed.
It was cruel.
It was predictable.
This siege was neither.
Winter had, ironically, become Curgarden's ally.
The villagers had anticipated another standoff. They had
salted meat, stored grain, preserved fruit and carefully rationed supplies,
expecting that by spring Aetheris would once again realize it needed
Curgarden's labour.
Surely no king would willingly sacrifice such a productive
workforce.
They had underestimated Havin.
Now spring had arrived.
The gates remained closed.
No messenger came.
No negotiations began.
The siege simply... continued.
Inside one of the village's largest storehouses, Forman
stared at shelves that had once reassured him.
Now they accused him.
He walked slowly between stacks of sacks and barrels while a
clerk read figures aloud.
"Barley."
The clerk hesitated.
"...three barrels."
Forman made another mark.
"Salted meat."
"One hundred and forty-seven portions."
Another mark.
"Dried fruit."
"...gone."
The scratching of charcoal across parchment seemed louder
than the clerk's voice.
Finally Forman lowered the ledger.
"Again."
The clerk swallowed.
"We've counted twice already."
"I said again."
Neither man believed another count would change anything.
An hour later, it hadn't.
Forman closed the ledger.
If they maintained the current rationing...
Perhaps seven days.
If illness spread...
Less.
If panic began...
Less still.
For several moments he simply stood there.
He had defended Curgarden against raids.
Floods.
Bandits.
Even previous sieges.
None of them had frightened him like arithmetic.
"Bring me Eldred."
The young man arrived several minutes later, breathing hard
from having run across the village.
"You sent for me, Commander?"
Forman looked him over.
Young.
Fit.
Unknown to the Aetherians.
That last quality mattered most.
Without a word, Forman placed a heavy leather pouch on the
table.
It landed with a dull thud.
Eldred frowned.
"...Gold?"
Forman nodded.
"More than you've ever held."
Then he produced a folded letter, sealed with the mark of
Curgarden.
"I need you to leave the city."
Eldred's face drained of colour.
"The Aetherians-"
"I know where the Aetherians are."
"They kill anyone outside the walls."
"I know."
Silence hung between them.
"I want you to find help."
"Who?"
"I don't care."
Forman slid the letter across the table.
"Find a king."
"A merchant."
"A wandering caravan."
"A foreign ambassador."
"A priest."
"Peace."
"Anyone."
He leaned forward.
"Someone out there still has a conscience."
Eldred looked at the gold, then at the letter.
"What if they catch me?"
Forman did not answer immediately.
Finally he said quietly,
"Then they catch you."
The words settled heavily between them.
"I've never left Curgarden."
"I know."
"I'm not a soldier."
"No."
"Why me?"
Forman's expression softened for the first time.
"Because this..."
He placed a hand on Eldred's shoulder.
"...is your chance to prove you're a man."
Eldred swallowed.
His hands trembled as he picked up the pouch.
For a long moment, he considered setting it back down.
Instead, he tucked the gold beneath his cloak and slipped
the letter inside his tunic.
"I'll go."
That night, the moon disappeared behind thick clouds.
Perfect.
A narrow postern gate opened just wide enough for one
person.
Eldred squeezed through.
The gate shut behind him without a sound.
Ahead lay open ground.
Beyond it...
The Aetherian lines.
He took one slow breath.
Then another.
…and began to run.
Eldred kept low, using every patch of darkness the night
offered.
His heart hammered so loudly he was convinced the Aetherian
sentries could hear it.
The siege lines were quieter than he had expected.
Cookfires had long since burned down.
Only the occasional torch flickered against the earthworks
surrounding Curgarden.
He crawled past stacked crates.
Past abandoned wagons.
Past rows of sleeping dinosaurs.
Every step seemed impossibly loud.
Then...
He froze.
Just ahead, an Aetherian soldier sat slumped against a
wooden post, helmet tipped over his eyes.
His breathing was slow and heavy.
Asleep.
Beside him stood a gallimimus, its reins loosely tied to the
post. The long-legged dinosaur shifted its weight lazily, occasionally pecking
at the ground in search of insects.
Eldred stared.
It couldn't be this easy.
He waited.
The soldier snored.
The gallimimus lifted its head, studying him with curious
eyes.
Slowly...
Very slowly...
Eldred untied the reins.
The dinosaur gave a soft chirp.
The soldier shifted.
Eldred stopped breathing.
Nothing.
Another snore.
Keeping one hand on the reins, Eldred led the gallimimus
farther into the darkness before finally climbing onto its back.
"Please..."
The whisper escaped before he realized he'd spoken.
The gallimimus took a cautious step.
Then another.
Then-
A brilliant white beam swept across the ground.
A searchlight.
Eldred's blood turned to ice.
The light caught him squarely.
For one terrifying heartbeat he expected a shout.
An alarm.
An arrow.
A bullet.
Instead, the operator lingered only briefly before moving
the light onward.
From that distance, the rider appeared little more than
another gangly dinosaur wandering the perimeter. Eldred's dark green travelling
cloak blended almost perfectly with the animal's own colouring, while his
slight frame disappeared into its silhouette.
The watchman dismissed it.
A stray gallimimus.
Nothing more.
The beam drifted away.
Eldred didn't wait to question his fortune.
He dug his heels into the animal's sides.
The gallimimus exploded forward.
Its powerful legs devoured the ground.
Within seconds the siege lines were behind him.
Then came the shouting.
Someone had finally noticed.
A horn echoed through the darkness.
Another answered.
The gallimimus ran faster.
Wind tore at Eldred's cloak.
His eyes watered.
He dared not look back.
He had no destination.
No map.
No certainty that anyone beyond Curgarden would even listen.
Only a sealed letter.
A bag of gold.
…and the desperate hope that somewhere beyond the horizon,
someone still cared enough to help.
So dinosaur and rider continued into the night.
Past the last campfires.
Past the last patrols.
Into a darkness neither of them understood.
Toward a future neither of them could imagine.
By sunrise, the Aetherian camps were little more than
distant specks behind him.
Eldred finally slowed the exhausted gallimimus.
The animal's breathing came in heavy bursts, but it had
carried him farther than he had dared hope.
Now he had another problem.
He had escaped.
He had absolutely no idea where he was.
The mountains around him were unfamiliar, their slopes
broken by scattered forests and narrow streams that wound through isolated
valleys.
Hours later, smoke caught his eye.
Not the thick smoke of an army camp.
A chimney.
Nestled against the hillside stood a weathered cabin
surrounded by a small vegetable garden. A few sheep grazed lazily behind a
rough wooden fence while an elderly man mended part of the enclosure with
surprising patience.
The old man looked up.
"You're a long way from anywhere."
"So am I," Eldred admitted.
The man smiled.
"Then come eat."
The cabin was humble.
One table.
One bed.
One stove.
Shelves filled with preserves.
A kettle quietly hissed over the fire.
Eldred hadn't realized how hungry he was until warm bread
was placed before him.
Between bites, the old man listened.
Not to everything.
Eldred wisely omitted the gold and the letter.
…but he spoke of fleeing soldiers and searching for help.
The old man nodded without interrupting.
"You won't find much help here."
Eldred had already reached that conclusion.
His eyes wandered around the room.
An old satellite television sat quietly in one corner
beneath a shelf of worn films.
Near the window rested a satellite telephone connected to a
small antenna outside.
"I mostly use that to call my son," the old man
said, noticing Eldred looking at it.
"He lives clear across the continent now. Doesn't visit
enough."
He chuckled softly.
"The television keeps me company the rest of the
time."
Eldred nodded politely.
To him, it was simply another strange convenience.
No different than the stove.
Or the lantern.
He never considered asking to use it.
Instead he unfolded Forman's sealed letter.
"I need to find people."
"What sort of people?"
"A village."
"A city."
"Someone who can help us."
The old man thought for a moment.
Then he walked outside.
He pointed toward a distant mountain range.
"There's a settlement somewhere beyond those
passes."
"You've been there?"
The old man laughed.
"Oh, no."
"My knees stopped agreeing with mountains years
ago."
"…but traders mention it from time to time."
"A friendly place, they say."
He shrugged.
"Couldn't tell you its name."
"…but if I were looking for decent folk..."
He pointed again.
"...I'd start there."
Eldred followed the direction with his eyes.
Beyond ridge after ridge, hidden somewhere among the
mountains...
...lay Daral Lake.
Neither man knew it.
…but the future of Aetheris had just changed direction.
The sun had yet to rise over Daral Lake.
The village remained quiet save for the occasional call of a
waking dinosaur and the distant sound of water flowing into the irrigation
channels.
Inside his home, Zasaramel cradled his phone in one hand
while quietly sipping from a steaming mug.
Half a world away, the evening bustle of Buffalo filled
Joanna's hotel room.
The contrast always amused them.
"Good morning," Joanna smiled.
"Good evening."
"You look tired."
"I have not yet had the opportunity to become
awake."
Joanna laughed.
"I've missed you."
"I miss you as well."
Their conversations had become wonderfully ordinary.
Once, every phone call had revolved around finding Phoebe
and Armintie.
Now they discussed groceries.
Weather.
Neighbors.
Work.
Exactly the sort of life neither had realized they wanted.
"So..."
Joanna grinned.
"We saw the giant turtles."
"The giant turtles?"
"They're amazing!"
Phoebe suddenly leaned into view.
"They're huge!"
"Like... really huge."
Armintie nodded enthusiastically.
"…and they don't even care that people walk right
beside them."
"They're so chill."
Zas smiled.
"I have seen pictures."
"It is difficult to appreciate their size from
photographs."
"It really is," Joanna agreed.
"You'll have to come see them someday."
"I hope to."
Phoebe disappeared from the screen for a moment before
returning with a thoughtful expression.
"...Dad?"
"Yes?"
"I have something strange to tell you."
"I'm listening."
"I get bored."
Armintie burst out laughing.
"It's true!"
"We have so much free time!"
"We thought we'd be busy all the time."
"…but after school..."
"...there isn't really anything we have to
do."
Phoebe shrugged.
"I'm still getting used to it."
"There was always something at Daral Lake."
Feeding animals.
Repairing fences.
Cleaning.
Cooking.
Gathering supplies.
Training.
There had rarely been an idle afternoon.
Zas nodded knowingly.
"I have a solution."
Three curious faces looked back at him.
"You may return to Daral Lake."
A dramatic pause.
"We can quickly remove your boredom."
Armintie narrowed her eyes suspiciously.
"...How?"
"There are irrigation ditches that require
cleaning."
Phoebe laughed.
"No."
"We need volunteers for planting."
"No."
"There are fences requiring repair."
"No."
"There are several triceratopses who would appreciate
bathing."
"No!"
Joanna laughed so hard she nearly dropped the phone.
"I think we'll stay bored."
"A wise decision," Phoebe added.
"So how is everyone?"
Zas looked toward the window where dawn was beginning to
brighten the mountains.
"The growing season has begun."
"Everyone is occupied."
"Azamat has somehow convinced himself he can supervise
both livestock and professional wrestling."
Joanna smiled.
"That sounds like Azamat."
"Priya has already repaired equipment I believed
impossible to repair."
"…and Arel-Sin..."
Zas's expression softened.
"...has surprised me."
"In a good way?"
"A very good way."
"I feared I would spend every day reminding him to
work."
"I have not needed to."
"He has embraced it."
"He wishes to prove himself."
Joanna smiled warmly.
"I knew he would."
"So did I."
Zas paused.
"I simply underestimated how eager he would be."
A knock came at Joanna's hotel room.
"Carly!" Joanna called.
The door opened.
Carly Sweeting poked her head inside.
"There you are."
"We're leaving in twenty minutes."
Then she spotted the phone.
"Oh!"
"Hi, Zas!"
"Good evening, Carly."
"Everyone behaving?"
"No," Phoebe answered immediately.
"I knew it."
Carly rolled her eyes dramatically.
"I leave them alone for five minutes..."
Joanna smiled as Carly disappeared again.
"She really has become family."
"I noticed."
"She's more than my tag partner now."
"We've become... life partners, I suppose."
"Not in the romantic sense."
"…but she's always around."
"Helping with the girls."
"Checking in on me."
"I don't think I realized how much I needed a friend
like her."
"I am glad you found one."
"So am I."
Joanna looked at the clock.
Her smile faded just slightly.
"I should get going."
"You are nervous."
She sighed.
"Is it that obvious?"
"It is."
"What if Buffalo doesn't like us?"
"They already do."
"What if I mess up?"
"You have prepared."
"What if-"
"Joanna."
She stopped.
"You have spent your entire life preparing for moments
such as this."
"You have trained."
"You have improved."
"You have earned your place."
"The audience is not waiting for perfection."
"They are waiting for you."
Silence.
Then Joanna smiled.
"...I needed that."
"I know."
She shook her head with a laugh.
"One day."
"What?"
"One day you're flying over here."
"You'll sit in the front row."
"…and you'll actually get to see one of my matches
instead of hearing about it afterward."
"I hope to."
"No."
She smiled.
"I know you will."
A sharp knock echoed from Zas' front door.
He frowned.
"Someone is here."
"At this hour?" Joanna asked.
"It would seem so."
He stood.
"I should answer."
"Good luck tonight."
"I love you."
"I love you as well."
The call ended.
For a moment, the little house was silent.
Then came another knock.
This one more urgent than the first.
Zas crossed the room and opened the door.
Standing outside was a young man he had never seen before.
His clothes were filthy.
His face was hollow with exhaustion.
A leather pouch hung from one shoulder.
Clutched tightly in one hand was a sealed letter.
"I..."
The stranger struggled to catch his breath.
"...I need help."
Zas immediately knew this was no ordinary visitor.
Zas opened the door fully.
The young man looked barely old enough to shave.
His cloak was torn.
His boots were caked in mud.
Dark circles hung beneath exhausted eyes that had clearly
gone far too long without proper sleep.
Yet despite everything, he still clutched a sealed letter
against his chest.
"How may I help you?"
The stranger blinked, almost surprised by the question.
"I..."
He swallowed.
"My name is Eldred."
"I've come from Curgarden."
The name immediately caught Zas's attention.
"Curgarden?"
"Yes."
"…and Aetheris."
Zas frowned.
"Come inside."
Several minutes later, Eldred sat wrapped in a blanket with
a steaming mug between his hands.
Only after the trembling in his fingers began to subside did
Zas begin asking questions.
"You said you came from Curgarden."
"I did."
"…and the siege?"
"It hasn't ended."
Zas looked genuinely puzzled.
"It has been..."
He searched his memory.
"...months."
Eldred nodded.
"Almost three."
Zas remained silent.
That couldn't be right.
The conflicts between Aetheris and Curgarden were
unpleasant, but they had always been temporary.
Kingdom officials demanded more work.
The Curgarden demanded better wages.
A siege followed.
Then someone compromised.
It was almost a political ritual.
"The sieges normally last days."
"Sometimes weeks."
"Everyone loses money."
"So everyone eventually negotiates."
"They always have."
Eldred stared into his cup.
"This time..."
"...King Havin never came back to the table."
Zas listened without interruption.
As the Blue Shield's unofficial diplomat, he had spent years
studying neighboring peoples, their customs, and their histories.
He knew the story of Aetheris.
King Zorban had accomplished what many believed impossible.
Through patience, charisma and compromise, he had united
rival steppe tribes into a single kingdom.
His successors...
...had inherited the kingdom.
None had inherited Zorban himself.
Zas had quietly watched relations between Aetheris and
Curgarden worsen over the years, but never imagined they would reach this
point.
"You believe your city may fall."
"If no one comes..."
Eldred's voice broke.
"...we'll starve."
He placed a heavy leather pouch onto the table.
Gold spilled into the light.
Forman's letter followed.
"Our commander gave me these."
"He said to find help."
"I don't care who."
"Please."
"You have to help us."
Zas examined the pouch.
There was a respectable amount of gold.
Enough to hire skilled men.
Enough to pay for supplies.
Enough to matter.
Not enough to casually send an army.
"The Order of the Blue Shield sometimes hires its
warriors to outside communities."
Eldred's eyes brightened.
"…but..."
Zas continued carefully,
"...those decisions are made by the Elder."
He rested a hand upon the pouch.
"I cannot promise this payment will persuade him."
"Our people have responsibilities here."
"It is the beginning of planting season."
"Many lives depend upon our remaining."
Hope flickered in Eldred's eyes...
...then threatened to disappear.
"Then..."
He leaned forward desperately.
"...please."
"At least ask."
"If he says no..."
His voice became almost a whisper.
"...then at least I'll know I tried."
Zas looked at the exhausted young man for a long moment.
Finally he stood.
"I can do that."
The two men stepped into the cool mountain morning.
Around them, Daral Lake was already waking.
Villagers prepared tools.
Farmers gathered seed.
Triceratopses were being led toward the fields.
Everyone had work waiting for them.
Zas looked toward the Elder's hall.
"This decision..."
he said quietly,
"...will affect more than either of us."
Together, they began walking toward the center of the
village.
The Elder's hall was already busy despite the early hour.
Spring waited for no one.
Several members of the Order stood around a large wooden
table covered with maps of Daral Valley, discussing irrigation schedules and
which fields would receive water first. Others quietly entered and left,
carrying ledgers, tools, and messages as the village prepared for another
season of work.
When Zas entered with the exhausted stranger at his side,
the room gradually fell silent.
The Elder looked up.
"Zas."
"I apologize for the interruption."
"You seldom interrupt me without reason."
Zas inclined his head toward Eldred.
"This is Eldred of Curgarden."
The Elder's expression changed almost imperceptibly.
"Curgarden."
He motioned toward an empty chair.
"Sit."
Several minutes later, Eldred had told his story from
beginning to end.
He spoke of empty storehouses.
Of children surviving on shrinking rations.
Of fields lying untouched beyond the walls.
Of Forman's desperate gamble.
Throughout the entire account, The Elder never interrupted.
His weathered face betrayed almost nothing.
Only Zas, who had known him for decades, noticed the
smallest tightening around the eyes.
The story had reached him.
He simply refused to wear it on his face.
Finally, after a long silence, The Elder spoke.
"How many remain inside Curgarden?"
"A little under four thousand."
"How many soldiers surround you?"
"I don't know."
"Hundreds."
"Maybe more."
"When was your last communication with King
Havin?"
"We've had none."
"No messenger?"
"No."
"No demands?"
"No."
The Elder folded his hands.
"So..."
"He no longer wishes to negotiate."
Eldred slowly nodded.
"I don't think he ever intended to."
Another silence settled over the room.
Eldred finally reached into his cloak.
He placed the heavy leather pouch upon the table.
Gold coins spilled into the morning light.
"Our commander sent this."
"It isn't everything we have."
"…but it's everything he could spare."
"We'll pay."
"We'll pay whatever we have."
"Please..."
"...save us."
The Elder looked at the gold for only a moment before
returning his attention to Eldred.
The coins clearly interested him far less than the young man
who had carried them across the mountains.
"The planting season has begun."
"Yes."
"Our own people require every available hand."
"I know."
"If I send a hundred warriors..."
"...a hundred farmers disappear."
"I know."
"If I send two hundred..."
"...we may create hardship here in order to prevent
hardship elsewhere."
Eldred lowered his head.
"I understand."
"…but I had to ask."
The room remained quiet until Zas spoke.
"There may be another way."
Every eye turned toward him.
"I could travel to Aetheris."
The Elder raised an eyebrow.
"Alone?"
"I would prefer not."
"Azamat could accompany me."
"A small delegation."
"I know something of Aetherian history."
"I understand their customs."
"If King Havin still possesses any interest in
diplomacy..."
"...perhaps he can yet be persuaded."
The Elder considered the proposal.
"It is... possible."
Eldred's eyes wandered around the room.
They stopped on something sitting quietly atop a nearby
shelf.
A smartphone.
He blinked.
"You have..."
He pointed.
"...one of those."
The Elder glanced toward it.
"I do."
An idea flashed across Eldred's face.
"Then tell everyone!"
Several members of the Order looked confused.
"The whole world!"
"Make a social media post!"
"Show people what's happening!"
"Someone will help!"
"Peace!"
"They'll have to do something!"
For the first time since entering the hall, Eldred sounded
hopeful.
Then Zas quietly shook his head.
"No."
Eldred stared at him.
"No?"
"If Peace becomes involved..."
"They'll stop the siege!"
"You don't know that."
"They have to!"
"They do not."
Zas's voice remained calm.
"They may issue statements."
"They may request access."
"They may condemn Aetheris."
"They may do nothing."
Eldred opened his mouth to object, but Zas continued.
"…and if King Havin learns the world is
watching..."
"He may decide he cannot appear weak."
Eldred frowned.
"I don't understand."
"Cornered rulers rarely become more
compassionate."
"They become more dangerous."
"If Havin believes outside pressure threatens his
authority..."
"...he may tighten the siege."
"...or decide starvation is no longer sufficient."
The room became noticeably quieter.
Zas wasn't speaking from cynicism.
He was speaking from history.
The Elder leaned back in his chair.
"I agree."
Eldred's shoulders sagged.
"The diplomatic approach carries fewer risks."
He looked toward Zas.
"You will go."
Zas nodded once.
"I will."
"You will not go alone."
"No."
"Take several others."
"Enough to appear respectable."
"…but not enough to appear threatening."
Zas smiled faintly.
"I was thinking the same."
"…and..."
The Elder paused.
"...take the Land Rover."
A few members of the Order exchanged amused glances.
Walking to Aetheris would take far too long.
The Land Rover would cut days from the journey.
"It has enough room for supplies," Zas agreed.
"…and if diplomacy fails?"
"We return."
"Unless circumstances require otherwise."
The Elder nodded.
"A sensible answer."
His attention shifted back to the pouch of gold.
"Place it in the tribal account."
Zas reached for it.
"…but..."
The Elder added almost as an afterthought,
"...wait until tomorrow before selling it."
Zas looked up.
"The market opens in the morning."
"Our broker expects a better price."
"No sense losing money."
Several members of the council quietly nodded.
To anyone unfamiliar with Daral Lake, the conversation might
have sounded absurd.
A desperate refugee had arrived.
An entire city stood on the brink of starvation.
Yet the Elder still took time to make a prudent financial
decision.
Leadership, he believed, required attention to both the
extraordinary...
...and the ordinary.
Finally, he stood.
"Prepare immediately."
He looked first at Zas.
Then at Eldred.
"If what you say is true..."
"...time has become our greatest enemy."
For the first time since leaving Curgarden, Eldred felt
something he had not dared allow himself.
Hope.
The house was unusually quiet.
Outside, Daral Lake hummed with the steady rhythm of spring.
Somewhere in the distance, Azamat was unsuccessfully trying to convince a
stubborn triceratops that work was, in fact, a wonderful idea.
Inside, Zasaramel methodically packed.
He laid everything upon the table before deciding what would
accompany him.
A bedroll.
A change of clothes.
Rations for several days.
Medical supplies.
A canteen.
Maps.
A compass.
His satellite phone.
Everything had its place.
Everything had a purpose.
He packed the way he lived.
Without hurry.
Without waste.
"So..."
Arel-Sin leaned against the doorway with his arms folded.
"You're really leaving."
"For a short time."
"How short?"
"I do not yet know."
"Where?"
"Aetheris."
Arel-Sin frowned.
"I've heard of Aetheris."
"There are problems there."
"There are."
"What kind of problems?"
"Curgarden."
"The siege?"
Zas looked up.
"You've been listening."
"It was hard not to."
Arel-Sin walked farther into the room.
"Can I come?"
"No."
"I can help."
"I know."
"I've been working."
"I know."
"I've been training."
"I know."
"I'm not a little kid anymore."
Zas smiled gently.
"I know."
Arel-Sin waited.
"So..."
"...can I come?"
"No."
His shoulders slumped.
"Why not?"
"Because I need you here."
"With the Elder?"
"With the village."
"With yourself."
"I can do all that after."
"You may."
"…but not this time."
Arel-Sin sighed dramatically.
"I knew you were going to say that."
"I suspected you did."
For a while, neither spoke.
Zas continued packing.
Then he reached toward the highest shelf.
His hand rested on an old canvas case.
He carefully lowered it onto the table.
Arel-Sin immediately recognized it.
"...Brutus."
Zas unbuckled the worn leather straps.
Inside rested an aging Roman rifle.
Its walnut stock bore scratches earned over decades of
mountain travel.
The steel had long since lost its factory shine.
Yet every moving part remained spotless.
Zas cleaned it after every journey.
Maintained it after every hunt.
Despite its age...
...Brutus remained utterly dependable.
Arel-Sin's smile disappeared.
"You never bring Brutus unless..."
He stopped himself.
Zas quietly inspected the chamber.
"...unless you think you might need him."
"I hope I will not."
"…but you're taking him."
"I am."
Silence settled over the room.
The mission had suddenly become real.
Arel-Sin lowered his eyes.
"...Dad."
Zas looked up.
"...Please come home."
The words were barely louder than a whisper.
For years...
That sentence would have received the same answer.
"I always do."
Or perhaps,
"The mountains are dangerous."
Or,
"It is my duty."
Simple truths.
Comforting enough.
Except...
They no longer felt complete.
Zas looked at his son.
Really looked.
Not the promising young man learning to carry his share of
the village's burdens.
Not the student.
Not the future warrior.
His son.
A boy who had already watched his sister disappear once.
Who had watched his father leave on desperate searches.
Who knew, better than most children ever should...
...that sometimes people didn't come home.
Without thinking, Zas crossed the room.
He rested both hands on Arel-Sin's shoulders.
"I will do everything in my power to return."
Arel-Sin nodded.
"I know."
"I mean it."
"So do I."
Zas searched for the familiar words.
Duty.
Responsibility.
Service.
They had guided nearly every important decision of his life.
Yet standing before his son...
...they felt strangely insufficient.
Meeting Joanna had changed something inside him.
Once, he had believed a warrior's first obligation was
simply to fulfill his duty.
If that duty cost him his life...
...then so be it.
Now...
He understood something he had somehow overlooked.
His life was not his alone.
Phoebe.
Arel-Sin.
Armintie.
Joanna.
Each of them carried a piece of him.
If he failed to return...
They would carry that absence for the rest of their lives.
Duty still mattered.
It always would.
…but it no longer stood alone.
"I used to think courage meant accepting that I might
not come back."
He spoke almost to himself.
"Now?"
Zas smiled sadly.
"I think courage also means doing everything possible
to make sure you do."
Arel-Sin threw his arms around him before Zas could say
another word.
The embrace caught him by surprise.
After a brief hesitation...
...Zas hugged him back.
Tightly.
For perhaps the first time in his life, he understood why
Joanna always insisted on hugs before saying goodbye.
Not because they made leaving easier.
Because they made coming home worth fighting for.
The Buffalo Memorial Arena buzzed with activity.
Music echoed through the building.
A referee counted a practice match in one ring.
Weight plates clanged in another room.
Across the gym, Joanna Goldsmith and Carly Sweeting sat
against the apron after another long sequence of drills. Carly sat against the
apron, wiping sweat from her forehead.
Joanna, by contrast, kept moving.
"Again?"
"Five minutes."
Joanna blinked.
"Five?"
"I'm thirty-two, Jo. Recovery isn't as automatic as it
used to be."
Joanna grinned.
"You're making yourself sound ancient."
Carly gave her a mock glare.
"Keep talking, kid."
Joanna’s phone buzzed.
She smiled as soon as she saw the name.
"Zas."
She answered immediately.
"Hi."
On the other end came the familiar sound of mountain wind.
"Good evening."
"You're already outside."
"I am."
Joanna sat up.
"You left already?"
"Yes."
"I wished to call before we departed."
"We?"
"Azamat."
"Rahim."
"Two others."
"The Elder insisted I not travel alone."
Joanna looked toward the far side of the gym without really
seeing it.
"How long will you be gone?"
"I do not know."
The words landed heavily.
Neither of them spoke for several seconds.
"I don't know when I'll be able to call again."
His voice was steady.
Too steady.
Joanna knew him well enough now to hear what hid beneath it.
"...Oh."
She swallowed.
"I hadn't even thought about that."
"The mountains become unreliable."
"So do roads."
"There may not be another opportunity."
The silence returned.
It was somehow louder this time.
"Zas..."
"...please come home."
The words escaped almost involuntarily.
On the other end of the line, Zas closed his eyes.
Earlier that morning...
Arel-Sin had asked him exactly the same thing.
Now Joanna was asking too.
"I intend to."
"I know."
"I will do everything I can."
"I know."
"…but promise me."
"I promise I will do everything within my power."
Joanna smiled weakly.
"You sound like a lawyer."
"I have read enough legal history."
Despite herself, she laughed through wet eyes.
"If..."
Zas hesitated.
"If I do not return..."
"No."
She said it immediately.
"If-"
"No."
"I only wish you to know-"
"I know."
"Joanna-"
"I know you love me."
Her voice cracked.
"You don't have to finish that sentence."
"I don't want to hear the rest."
Not today.
Not tomorrow.
Not ever.
For several seconds...
Neither spoke.
They simply listened to each other breathe.
Finally Joanna managed a smile.
"When you get back..."
"You still owe me Buffalo."
"I remember."
"…and the turtles."
"I remember."
"…and Carly insists she's taking you to a
steakhouse."
"I have also been informed."
"So..."
She wiped another tear away.
"...you don't get to miss those."
"I shall do my best."
"I know you will."
"I love you."
"I love you as well."
The call ended.
Joanna stared at the blank screen for a long time.
"You okay?"
Carly had been watching from a respectful distance.
Joanna looked up.
For one brief moment she tried to smile.
Instead...
Her face crumpled.
She crossed the few steps between them and wrapped both arms
around Carly without saying a word.
Carly hugged her back immediately.
Neither asked permission.
Neither needed to.
Joanna buried her face against Carly's shoulder.
The tears she'd been holding back finally came.
"It's Zas," she whispered.
"I know."
"He's gone."
"I know."
"I'm scared."
"I know."
Carly simply held her tighter.
"Jo?"
A familiar voice came from behind them.
Triple X had stopped halfway across the gym.
The veteran wrestler took one look at Joanna's face.
His own expression changed instantly.
He walked over without another word.
"What happened?"
Joanna wiped at her eyes.
"Zas."
"He's heading into Aetheris."
Triple X frowned.
"The siege?"
She nodded.
"He doesn't know when he'll be able to call
again."
Triple X looked down for a moment.
Then back up.
"Stay here."
"What?"
"I'll go talk to Vince."
Joanna blinked.
"I'll get you pulled from the show."
"You don't have to wrestle."
"If Vince says no..."
A determined look settled across his face.
"...then he can fire me."
"I'll fight him anyway."
For a second...
Joanna simply stared.
She knew Triple X cared.
She hadn't realized how much.
"You'd do that?"
"In a heartbeat."
Joanna looked toward the ring.
Toward the ropes.
Toward the bright lights waiting for tomorrow night.
Then she thought of Zas.
Driving toward uncertainty.
Knowing exactly how dangerous it might become.
She slowly shook her head.
"No."
Triple X frowned.
"Are you sure?"
She nodded.
"If Zas is willing to walk toward danger..."
"...then I can walk into a wrestling ring."
"It isn't the same."
"No."
"It isn't."
"…but he'd tell me the same thing."
"Do your job."
"Trust your training."
"…and don't let fear decide for you."
She smiled faintly through the last of her tears.
"He'd never forgive me if I scratched because he was
worried."
Triple X couldn't help but smile.
"No."
"I don't think he would."
Carly squeezed Joanna's hand.
"Then let's make sure you give him something worth
coming home to watch."
Joanna took a long, steadying breath.
She stood.
"One more match rehearsal?"
Carly grinned.
"I was hoping you'd say that."
The three of them walked back toward the ring.
Half a world away, Zas was driving toward a kingdom on the
brink.
Here in Buffalo, Joanna stepped through the ropes.
Different battlefields.
The same resolve.
The Land Rover sat outside the house.
Its rear compartment was already loaded with supplies.
Azamat's voice drifted across the village as he
argued—good-naturedly—with someone about how much food constituted
"reasonable" provisions.
Zas smiled faintly.
He had one more thing to do.
He scrolled through his contacts.
Phoebe.
For a long moment...
...he simply looked at her name.
Then he pressed "Call."
The screen lit up almost immediately.
"Dad!"
Phoebe's face filled the display.
Before Zas could answer, another familiar face squeezed into
view.
"Move over," Armintie complained.
"I am moving over."
"No, you're not."
"You have tiny shoulders."
"You have a big head."
"I do not!"
"You absolutely do."
Phoebe laughed.
"There. Better."
The two girls finally fit into the frame.
Zas couldn't help smiling.
"It appears I have interrupted an important
discussion."
"We were watching a movie."
"It wasn't very good," Armintie added.
"It was your idea."
"I know."
"What are you doing?"
Phoebe asked.
"You look like you're outside."
"I am."
"Working already?"
"No."
Zas hesitated.
"I'm leaving."
The smiles faded.
"For where?"
"Aetheris."
Neither girl spoke.
"The siege?"
Phoebe asked quietly.
"Yes."
"You heard."
"It was hard not to."
Zas nodded.
"I've been asked to speak with King Havin."
"To try to end it."
Armintie frowned.
"...That's dangerous."
"It may be."
"How long will you be gone?"
"I do not know."
Again...
Silence.
Phoebe looked down at her hands.
"You won't be able to call much."
"I may not."
"The roads become unreliable."
"…and if diplomacy succeeds..."
"I will likely have other responsibilities."
Phoebe nodded slowly.
"I understand."
She looked back into the camera.
"...Just come home."
Zas felt something tighten in his chest.
"I intend to."
Armintie spoke next.
"…and don't do anything stupid."
Phoebe looked sideways at her.
"That's your advice?"
"It covers a lot."
She looked back at Zas.
"I mean it."
"You're allowed to run away if you have to."
Phoebe nodded immediately.
"Seriously."
"No one's going to think less of you."
"We won't."
"You've already done enough."
For a moment...
Zas forgot entirely what he had planned to say.
He had rehearsed this conversation.
He had intended to prepare them.
To tell them...
If I don't return...
The words refused to come.
Instead, he found himself simply looking at them.
Phoebe.
His daughter.
Armintie.
A girl who, despite everything that had happened between
them, now looked at him with the same concern.
It struck him all at once.
Arel-Sin.
Joanna.
Phoebe.
Armintie.
Every single one of them had asked for exactly the same
thing.
Come home.
Nothing more.
Nothing less.
"I..."
He stopped.
Neither girl interrupted.
"I did not realize..."
His voice was unusually quiet.
"...how many people were waiting for me."
Phoebe smiled gently.
"There are."
"A lot."
"…and that's a good thing."
Armintie nodded.
"You've got people now."
"You didn't always."
"…but you do."
"So..."
She pointed toward the camera.
"...don't forget that."
When the call ended, Zas lowered the phone.
The village bustled around him.
Someone called for seed.
Someone else led a pair of triceratopses toward the fields.
Children laughed somewhere beyond the houses.
Everything looked exactly as it had an hour earlier.
Yet something inside him had shifted.
His eyes drifted toward the Land Rover.
He could still tell the Elder he had changed his mind.
Someone else could go.
Perhaps diplomacy could wait a day.
Perhaps...
His hand rested on the driver's door.
No.
Joanna hadn't asked him to stay.
She had asked him to come back.
There was a difference.
Phoebe hadn't told him to abandon Curgarden.
She had simply asked him to return.
Neither had Armintie.
Nor Arel-Sin.
None of them wanted him to become someone who turned away
from people in need.
They wanted the man they loved...
...to survive being that man.
Zas took a slow breath.
Then he opened the driver's door and climbed inside.
For the first time in his life, he wasn't driving toward
danger because duty demanded it.
He was driving because he hoped that, by preventing one more
tragedy, he would earn the chance to come home to the people who had given his
life a meaning beyond duty itself.
The Land Rover rumbled steadily along the winding mountain
road.
Snow still clung stubbornly to the highest peaks despite the
arrival of spring.
Inside the vehicle, nobody spoke much.
The engine provided enough conversation of its own.
Zas kept both hands firmly on the steering wheel.
Azamat occupied the passenger seat.
Rahim, Semin and Ravi sat in the rear among their packs and
supplies.
"You know..."
Azamat looked sideways at Zas.
"...I can drive."
"I know."
"You've been driving for three hours."
"I know."
"You could use a break."
"I could."
"So..."
Azamat smiled hopefully.
"...my turn?"
"No."
Azamat sighed dramatically.
"You never let me drive."
"I do."
"When?"
"When we are transporting manure."
Rahim laughed from the back seat.
Azamat looked offended.
"I am a very capable driver."
"You once reversed into the grain shed."
"There was ice."
"You also drove into a fence."
"The fence was poorly positioned."
"It had occupied the same location for forty
years."
"It was still unexpected."
Even Ravi chuckled.
The conversation faded.
The road narrowed as it climbed another ridge.
Zas's attention never wandered far from the track.
Yet...
He became aware of something pressing gently against his
leg.
His phone.
He shifted slightly.
The sensation didn't disappear.
He knew exactly what was waiting inside it.
Candy Crush.
It had begun months earlier in Purushapura.
Joanna had handed him her phone while they were in their
hotel room with the kids.
"Here."
"What is it?"
"Candy Crush."
"I have no idea what that means."
"It means you're about to waste fifteen minutes."
"I do not waste time."
"Humor me."
He had.
Fifteen minutes became thirty.
Thirty became...
Well...
He wasn't entirely certain.
He had eventually purchased his own smartphone.
Not an expensive one.
He had insisted upon something practical.
Good battery life.
A durable case.
Offline maps.
Weather forecasts.
Emergency communication.
Medical reference guides.
Astronomical navigation.
…and...
Candy Crush.
Entirely because Joanna had introduced him to it.
His phone vibrated softly.
No notification.
Just the vehicle bouncing over rough ground.
Still...
His mind wandered.
I could ask Azamat to drive.
No.
Only for one level.
No.
It is a straight road.
No.
He frowned almost imperceptibly.
He knew exactly how that internal conversation would end.
Azamat noticed.
"What?"
"What?"
"You've made your Candy Crush face."
Zas blinked.
"My... what?"
"Your Candy Crush face."
"I do not have one."
"You absolutely do."
Rahim leaned forward between the seats.
"You really do."
Semin nodded enthusiastically.
"It looks like you're trying to solve a military
campaign."
"I am not."
"You squint."
"I do not."
"You absolutely squint."
Ravi smiled.
"I've seen it too."
Zas remained silent for several seconds.
"...I am concentrating on driving."
Azamat grinned.
"Sure you are."
Another half hour passed.
The phone remained in his pocket.
Unplayed.
The temptation returned every now and then.
Each time...
He ignored it.
Not because Candy Crush wasn't enjoyable.
It was.
Perhaps more enjoyable than he cared to admit.
…but five men depended upon the person behind the wheel.
No game-
Not even one particularly difficult level involving an
absurd quantity of jelly-
Was worth risking their safety.
The candies...
Could wait.
As the Land Rover rounded another bend, Azamat glanced out
the window.
"You know..."
"What?"
"When this is all over..."
"We're making Joanna tell us what level you're
on."
Zas didn't take his eyes off the road.
"I do not see how that information would benefit
anyone."
"It'll benefit me."
"How?"
"If I'm finally ahead of you."
For the first time in over an hour...
Zas smiled.
"I would not count upon it."
Azamat laughed.
"Oh, so now it's a competition?"
"It always was."
The Land Rover continued toward Aetheris, carrying five men
into an uncertain future.
For a little while, at least, the conversation wasn't about
sieges, diplomacy, or danger.
It was about who would eventually beat level 4,937 first.
By midday, the mountains had begun to warm.
The Land Rover pulled into a small gravel turnout
overlooking a valley below.
No buildings.
No villages.
Just a weathered information board, a picnic table that had
seen better decades, and a single washroom maintained for travelers crossing
the pass.
Azamat stretched until his back popped.
"I'm beginning to think this seat was designed by
someone who hated people."
"It probably was," Rahim replied.
"Five minutes."
Zas shut off the engine.
"Use the facilities."
"Check your equipment."
"We leave immediately afterward."
Everyone wandered off.
Zas stepped out of the Land Rover, stretched his own stiff
shoulders and glanced instinctively at his phone.
No signal.
He wasn't surprised.
The farther they climbed, the less civilization followed.
Still...
He smiled.
"Offline."
That was enough.
He sat down on the edge of the picnic table.
One level.
Just one.
Fifteen minutes earlier...
He had needed only three purple candies.
Now...
He needed one striped candy.
The game refused to cooperate.
"It is making poor decisions."
He muttered the words so quietly he barely heard himself.
He carefully slid another candy into place.
No.
That wasn't it.
Perhaps-
A cascade.
More candies fell.
Almost...
Almost...
"...Excellent."
"Zas?"
Nothing.
Another move.
"Zas."
Still nothing.
"Zas!"
He blinked.
Looked up.
Four men stood beside the Land Rover.
Watching him.
Azamat had his arms folded.
Rahim was trying very hard not to laugh.
Semin had stopped trying.
Ravi simply smiled.
Zas slowly looked down at the phone.
Then back at them.
"...I believe..."
He checked the clock.
"...that may have taken longer than anticipated."
Rahim burst out laughing.
"Just a little."
Zas stood, slipping the phone back into his pocket.
"My apologies."
"No apology necessary," Azamat said.
"As long as you finally beat the level."
"I did."
"Worth it."
"It was moderately satisfying."
Semin shook his head.
"Listen to him."
"'Moderately satisfying.'"
"He sounds like he's reviewing military
equipment."
Back inside the Land Rover, Zas settled into the driver's
seat.
He inserted the key.
Then...
Yawned.
A long one.
He covered it immediately.
Azamat noticed anyway.
"No."
Zas looked over.
"What?"
"You're tired."
"I am capable."
"You've been driving since before sunrise."
"I remain capable."
Another yawn escaped before he could stop it.
Azamat pointed triumphantly.
"There."
"That proves nothing."
"It proves you're tired."
"I will continue driving."
"No."
"The Elder entrusted me with the Land Rover."
"The Elder isn't here."
"He trusted you because you're the best driver."
"Exactly."
"…and right now..."
Azamat tapped the dashboard.
"...the best driver is the one who's awake."
Zas opened his mouth.
Closed it.
Opened it again.
"...I dislike how reasonable that argument is."
"I know."
For a moment, nobody spoke.
Then Ravi quietly raised a hand.
"I can drive."
Every head turned.
Ravi shrugged.
"I've driven this route before."
"I slept most of the morning."
"I'm fresh."
Azamat looked at Zas.
"See?"
"You don't even have to trust me."
Rahim grinned.
"Probably for the best."
"I heard that."
"You were supposed to."
Zas hesitated.
The steering wheel remained beneath his hands.
Eventually...
He sighed.
Very reluctantly.
He removed the keys.
Handed them across the cabin.
"Drive carefully."
Ravi accepted them almost ceremoniously.
"I will."
"If anything happens to this vehicle..."
"I know."
"...The Elder will kill me."
"No."
Zas smiled faintly.
"He will kill me."
Everyone laughed.
Ravi pulled smoothly onto the mountain road.
The Land Rover handled beautifully beneath him.
Azamat leaned back in his seat.
"There."
"See?"
"We're all still alive."
"So far."
A minute later...
Zas's phone quietly appeared in his hands.
Azamat didn't even look over.
"I knew it."
"What?"
"You only agreed because now you can play."
"I agreed because Ravi is competent."
A pause.
"...and because I can now play."
Azamat laughed.
"There he is."
"The legendary warrior of Daral Lake."
"Conqueror of mountains."
"Master diplomat."
"Destroyer of jelly."
Without looking up from the screen, Zas replied,
"I have nearly reached level 5,000."
The cabin fell silent.
Rahim leaned forward.
"...You're serious?"
"Yes."
Semin whistled.
"I don't know whether to be impressed..."
"...or concerned."
Zas calmly matched five candies.
A color bomb exploded across the screen.
He allowed himself the smallest of smiles.
"...Both are acceptable."
The mountains slowly opened before them.
The road curved around another ridge.
Then...
There it was.
Even dozens of kilometers away, its shape was unmistakable.
A solitary white pyramid, rising above every neighboring
peak.
K2.
Ravi smiled.
"We're close."
Rahim nodded.
"Aetheria lies beyond."
Nobody spoke for a while.
Not because they weren't impressed.
Because every man in the Land Rover knew exactly what that
mountain could do.
Finally Semin broke the silence.
"...I still think about that rescue."
Azamat looked out the window.
"So do I."
Years earlier...
The Blue Shield had received a desperate call.
A climbing expedition had vanished high on K2's eastern
face.
The weather had already turned.
Everyone else had written them off.
The Order hadn't.
"It took us four days just to reach them."
Rahim remembered.
"…and another two before we even thought about
descending."
"We reached the summit," Ravi said quietly.
"…but that wasn't the victory."
"No."
"It wasn't."
The silence returned.
Each man remembered different faces.
Different names.
The people they'd managed to save.
…and the people they hadn't.
The summit itself had scarcely mattered.
Zas finally spoke.
"I still remember the wind."
"So do I," Azamat answered.
"It sounded..."
He searched for the word.
"...angry."
Zas nodded.
"That is an appropriate description."
Ravi glanced into the mirror.
"You've stood on two of the highest mountains in the
world."
"K2."
"…and..."
He pointed vaguely eastward.
"...Qomolangma."
Zas nodded once.
"Yes."
Rahim smiled.
"I've always wondered."
"When you slipped..."
"...what went through your head?"
Zas thought for a moment.
"Nothing."
Everyone looked at him.
"I did not have time."
"I simply acted."
He looked toward the distant mountain.
"When I was younger..."
"...our instructors repeatedly taught us how to survive
a fall on steep terrain."
"How to arrest a slide."
"How to use whatever was available."
"Hands."
"Feet."
"Ice axe."
"Rock."
"Anything."
"I hated those exercises."
Semin laughed.
"We all did."
"They were miserable."
"They also saved my life."
Nobody questioned that.
Every man in the vehicle knew the story.
The fall should have killed him.
Instead...
Training had taken over before conscious thought.
After another long silence, Azamat asked,
"So..."
"If someone offered you enough money..."
"...would you climb either mountain again?"
"Just because?"
"No rescue."
"No emergency."
"No reason."
"Just to stand on top."
"No."
The answer came simultaneously.
Five voices.
Without hesitation.
Rahim laughed.
"I've never heard us agree so quickly."
Semin shook his head.
"I've already seen enough of K2."
Ravi added,
"If I ever return..."
"...I'd rather stay in the valley."
Azamat nodded.
"I'll admire it from down here."
Finally they looked toward Zas.
"What about you?"
He studied K2 for several moments.
"It is a magnificent mountain."
"It does not need me to stand upon it."
He smiled faintly.
"…and I do not need to stand upon it to appreciate
it."
The Land Rover continued toward Aetheria.
K2 slowly disappeared behind another ridge.
None of them watched it vanish.
Some places...
Were better remembered than revisited.
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