The procession of ghouls were strung out across half a dozen columns, each hoverboard dedicated to one gap between the columns. Py, Chippy, and Juan were standing on the central column, surrounded by a group of ghoul bodyguards on Crimson Spear’s orders. The ghoul leader had been quick to assign them a guard once he had realized that their inventions were the only way across the chasm to the alternate route.
With the sixth hoverboard finally finished, they could start ferrying across at a much faster rate than when they’d first started. Sanguine attacks were few and far between now, but a new enemy had appeared once the ghouls had started crossing the stone columns.
A flash of aura came from Crimson Spear, a signal they had developed for Juan. The Elementalist sent a fireball arcing into the air, undirected and loose from his aura. It spread wide as it rose, unfurling like a flower to illuminate the open air above them.
Thousands of bat-like animals swarmed, shrieking as the light from the fire momentarily blinded them. At the same time, nearly a hundred telekinetically enhanced spears launched out at nearby targets, spearing the creatures and launching past—oftentimes impaling two, three, or more—before returning to their owners.
Chippy took the distraction to inject more aura into his personal hoverboard, drifting off the stone column and into open air. It was a particularly vulnerable sensation, drifting over a thousand-foot drop secured by nothing but his own aura. Especially so considering his people’s natural predators in their prehistoric times had been a flying creature known for plucking them from the ground before dropping them to their death.
Of course, they’d eventually conquered their skies with technology and later the magic offered by their Systems. But genetic fears were visceral and Chippy was no exception.
He squeaked in terror as his hoverboard seemed to drift forward in slow motion, despite the rush of aura he shoved into it. It arrived at the far column in mere seconds that had stretched on for eternity and he let out a triumphant cry as it once again hovered over stable ground.
The ghoulish procession made good time with six floating shields and they fended off the flying attackers with the help of Juan’s fire and the flying spears. When the final ghoul touched ground, Crimson Spear urged them forward with barely a moment to recover.
Chippy let out a defeated squeak as he propelled his hoverboard after the ghouls.
It was only when they entered the cover of a tunnel leading down into the next layer did he feel his glands cease their excretion.
Terry went into the Evolution Chamber of the Fleshsplitter Clan alone with Mara-Lin-Jaid. Al’Ruzan and Ben were forced to stay behind, leaving only a single lich and Obsidian Blade himself to accompany him.
Unlike the Chamber back in Wichita, the doors didn’t open up directly onto a beach leading to the Blood Pit, but instead stretched on, the end shrouded in dark.
Activating Master of Light, he enhanced his vision to penetrate the inky black and was surprised to see more carvings etched into the walls and ceiling of the tunnel.
He had a sudden urge to reach out a hand and caress the stone, almost as if he could absorb the stories told through touch alone. With Mara-Lin-Jaid in his arms, he didn’t dare…yet there was something pulling him toward the carvings that he couldn’t resist—didn’t want to resist.
With a flex of aura, he used Master of Telekinesis to hold the woman and free up his hands. It was a drain on his reserves, but he only intended to do it for a few moments.
His hands reached out on either side, fingertips caressing the walls, running over the texture of the carvings.
Images—no, memories—flashed in his mind, causing him to stumble in surprise. He nearly dropped Mara-Lin-Jaid and had to reach out and catch her as his magical hold faltered.
Obsidian Blade glanced over his shoulder, his expression unreadable.
“Your senses are receptive,” the ghoul said. “Not many Outsiders would be drawn to our history, let alone be open enough to receive the impressions.”
With a firm grip on Mara-Lin-Jaid—and a chagrined expression on his face as he imagined what Al’Ruzan would have done had he seen that—he considered Obsidian Blade’s words.
“It feels like memories were carved into the stone,” he said after a moment. “Like when a ghoul or lich expresses their name but…permanent.”
He felt the lich behind him reach his aura forward, its sibilant voice echoing in the tunnel.
“Everything the Blessed do is with aura. We do not create without infusing aura. We do not speak without aura. Aura is the gift of the Mother to her Children.”
They walked in silence as Terry contemplated that. He was dying to delve more into the thoughts of the undead like he had never done as a child, but also was hesitant to say the wrong thing and rock the current dynamic.
“Why do you say aura is the gift of the Mother to her Children? Many creatures that are not Blessed possess and use aura…”
He held his breath after that question, hoping he hadn’t pressed his luck. The lich started to stir his aura in response when Obsidian Blade interjected.
“The Mother is giving to all—even those that are not her Children. She is generous and loving where us baser creatures are jealous and grasping. It is this understanding that drives our entire species. In our adherence to duty and sacrifice, we honor the selfless nature of the Mother.”
Before he could process those words and dive deeper, they turned a corner, the narrow tunnel opening into a wide open space. Compared to the Bloodsplatter Clan, it was a trove of wealth. But compared to his memory of the Wichitan Evolution Chamber, it was basically a large swimming pool.
For some reason, the fact that Fleshripper Clan was one of the more powerful of the ghoulish clans and this was the extent of their Blood supply made Terry sad. Like he was staring upon the dilapidated, weathered exterior of a once-grand cathedral.
“Come, Lightbringer,” the lich hissed. “Bring the spawnling to the edge of the Pit.”
Shaken from his melancholy, Terry did as he was bidden, laying Mara-Lin-Jaid on the stone edge near the pool.
The lich pulled a brush from its robes and extended it down into the black liquid. He scraped the excess off before brushing it against the skin of her face.
“Can I ask a question?” Terry ventured, projecting yearning curiosity toward Obsidian Blade.
“You may.”
“Without the Lakarot, how does the Fleshripper Clan have such a large pool of the Mother’s Blood?” He felt the aura among the two undead shift, though not overtly hostile. “I mean no offense. It just seems that with the supply cut off, your Clan would eventually run out, no?”
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“It is a long and sad tale, Lightbringer,” Obsidian Blade said. “Our animosity for the Bloodsplatter Clan—and for Outsiders in particular—is not baseless. Many cycles ago, they were one of the strongest clans. The ghouls possessed dominance of the Underworld and guarded the Lakarot fiercely. We understood duty more than the sanguine, draugrs, or other lesser undead. So we shared freely of Her Blood, never hoarding or denying access.”
The lich continued to coat Mara-Lin-Jaid’s skin with the Blood as Terry listened to Obsidian Blade’s tale.
“The culmination of our duty and honor was to spend a rotation of time guarding the Lakarot as a clan. Each of the major powers took this honor more seriously than anything in our culture.” The ghoul hesitated, a rare show of reticence in the leader. Terry perked up, clinging to every word. “The Bloodsplatter Clan were in charge of that honor when a powerful Outsider arrived. In their arrogance—or perhaps I am unfair, maybe it was simple naiveté—they allowed the Outsider to witness the Lakarot. When the Outsider later absconded with it, the Bloodsplatter Clan were disgraced and openly attacked. Confusion reigned for many cycles and when all was settled, the sanguine had taken control of what remained of the Blood.”
A wave of fury emanated from Obsidian Blade, startling Terry before he realized it wasn’t directed at him.
“They hoard the Blood jealously, forcing us to beg for allotments simply to maintain our numbers. You see, those such as Whirling Bone hate the Bloodsplatter Clan because he believes their arrogance is the reason for our current disgrace. We are too few now to challenge them for possession of the Blood—”
Mara-Lin-Jaid shot up into a sit, a wild gasp echoing from her throat.
“It’s okay,” Terry said quickly, crouching at her side.
[Terry]: You’re okay, Mara-Lin-Jaid! You’re safe.
[Al’Ruzan, third of his name]: Jaid! Thank the gods.
But there was something off in her eyes, a frantic look that refused to settle. Terry put a hand on her shoulder, willing her to calm down.
Her voice echoed out, alien and incomprehensible.
[Terry]: I don’t understand. Repeat it in System chat.
She started up once more in her own language, then shook her head as if in a daze.
[Mara-Lin-Jaid]: We’ve been betrayed!
Her eyes darted up to Obsidian Blade, then the lich at her side. She scuttled away from them on her hands and knees, coming around Terry.
[Terry]: They healed you, they’re our friends.
He turned to see her eyes studying the two undead in the dark and realized she couldn’t see. With a flex of aura, he enhanced her vision.
She flinched in response, then seemed to settle incrementally.
[Mara-Lin-Jaid]: Not them, the other one! He’s leading sanguine to us right now!
[Al’Ruzan, third of his name]: What is happening? We are under attack? Come to me, Jaid!
Terry held her tight, squeezing her shoulders as she suddenly shivered. Her eyes tracked to Terry’s, a fear mingled there with unshakable certainty.
[Mara-Lin-Jaid]: I saw it, Terry. They’re coming. Now!
He bit his lip in thought. Her visions had always felt so convenient, unusable or downright too late to be of help. But the fear in her eyes was impossible to fake.
Turning to Obsidian Blade, he hesitated a moment before speaking. “She says one of your people is leading sanguine to us as we speak.” He studied Obsidian Blade’s aura, wondering if the ghoul leader would automatically take sides against them. But the uncertain flash Terry saw made his heart clench. “You’re not surprised…”
“Whirling Bone has always been a supporter of the sanguine. I think he secretly believes that our people failed the Mother and we should bow down to those more capable of protecting the Blood.” Obsidian Blade glanced toward Mara-Lin-Jaid, a flicker of doubt in his aura. “If what the spawnling says is true, we must hide you. We cannot fight against the sanguine swarms and hope to survive.”
“I can use my powers to teleport us to the bottom layer. Just let me grab my friends!”
When Al’Ruzan was born, the Matrons put a sharpened blade in his newborn hands. A tiny thing, only fit for eating with, yet potentially deadly in the grip of a babe.
That was only the first test of the Dirg’Ghee for those on the martial path—should the child cut themselves, they would be shunted away from martial pursuits.
Should the child do worse…well, death was a fitting finality to such an early failure.
His life had been a series of such tests, most unspoken and unexplained until well after he had passed.
And passed he had.
Ruzan was his sire’s name, and his sire’s name. Heavy with the weight of deeds stretching back hundreds of cycles. It was an honorable name, one that had been given freely, well before he had earned it or done anything of import—other than not slicing his own neck at birth.
But the title of ‘Al’ was something entirely else. That title could only be earned through merit extending beyond circumstance of birth or concentrated familial power. It wasn’t simple physical feats that garnered him that title—though a dozen bodies of his former peers spoke to his prowess in that domain.
No, Al meant that he carried himself with dignity, that he encapsulated the four pillars of power and leadership.
Al meant future ruler of the Dirg’Ghee.
And so it was with great shame that he recognized that he had fallen from the path. It had been a gradual thing, a single degree shift that over the years stuck on this world, had seen him step slowly toward indignity and disgrace.
He might have blamed it on the man standing beside him now—Ben—for humiliating him more than once over the years. But he had learned recently that the human was honorable, even selfless, which had only shamed Al’Ruzan more.
He might have then been inclined to cast blame on the lesser castes he’d been forced to share a home with, forced to feed them like children, forced to listen to their incessant prattling as they slowly turned cave-crazy.
But he had been their leader and it was his failure to follow the four pillars that had resulted in their discontent—and his own.
In a deep, distant part of his soul, he might have blamed Mara-Lin-Jaid for softening him. For making him weak.
For making him fall in love—for a fall it was.
He had been convinced that her tenderness and the others’ weaknesses had pulled him down from the ideals of the four pillars. They had caused his fall.
It was only now, standing side-by-side with Ben, preparing to fight off the sanguine that threatened him—but more importantly, Mara-Lin-Jaid—did he recognize the truth.
He could not have fallen from the four pillars, for he had never truly adhered to them.
Honor, Bravery, Selflessness, Strength.
The four pillars were in a specific configuration for a reason. In the house of Al, Honor and Strength stood opposite Selflessness and Bravery, with the former two pillars coming first both in study and in practice.
He had thought this was the natural order of the pillars—Honor and Strength stood above Selflessness and Bravery, proving that Honor and Strength were the more important virtues.
But as Mara-Lin-Jaid ran from the Chamber tunnel and into his arms, all the Strength and Honor in the world was as nothing in comparison to her weight pressed against his body.
He’d give his fighting arm for this woman, his legs for this woman. He’d suffer a million cycles beneath the flames of the gods for this woman.
Was that Selflessness? Was that Bravery?
Did it matter?
All around him, ghouls milled frantically, Terry’s shrill human voice squawked in his ears, aura stirred like a great tidal pool.
And none of it touched him.
The only pool he saw were Mara-Lin-Jaid’s eyes. The only sound he heard was her heartbeat pumping in rhythm to his own. The only movement he felt was her hands reaching up to grip his face.
Liquid dripped down her cheeks, something she had once told him spoke of great pain or great happiness.
As they embraced, he somehow realized that it could be both, simultaneously.
Terry abandoned his attempts at rousing Al’Ruzan from Mara-Lin-Jaid’s embrace; there was clearly something happening between them that transcended the surface appearance.
Turning to Ben, he found his uncle’s eyes ice-blue.
“It’ll be heavily guarded,” Ben said.
“Uh-huh.”
“We could use the Fleshripper Clan in our assault.”
“Uh-huh.”
Ben blinked, his face stone still. “You want me to ask or—”
“I’ll do it.”
Terry found Obsidian Blade rallying his forces, preparing to meet the sanguine that Whirling Bone was leading toward them.
“I’m going to open a portal to the Lakarot’s Chamber. We could use your help…”
Obsidian Blade looked back from Silent Death, his eyes expressionless. Then, he sent a flash of aura to his subordinate, and turned fully toward Terry.
“If we divert too much of our forces, they will know we have bypassed them and will return in force. They move fast—faster than we possibly can.”
Terry furrowed his brow, not quite understanding.
“How? I mean, I’ve seen ghouls move and you’re not exactly slow.”
Obsidian Blade turned and sent another pulse of aura out, and the bulk of his army jogged off with Silent Death, while ten ghouls stayed behind.
“The sanguine have excavated the Lakarot’s Chamber into a wide-open space. Their wings will give them the flier’s advantage. Likewise, the tunnels leading from this layer to the first are wide enough for them to travel through the air. As soon as they recognize my absence, their leaders will call for a retreat.”
Ben stepped forward. “Then we move fast. Once we restore the Lakarot, nothing else matters.”
Obsidian Blade agreed with a flash of aura, but Terry felt himself wondering if in their haste to sacrifice themselves, they were missing a better strategy.
Hesitantly, he pushed his own aura forward, cautious but insistent.
“If it comes to it, I won’t falter in giving my life to save your world.” He met Obsidian Blade’s eyes, feeling his magic stir sympathetically. “But if you’ll indulge me, I think I have a better plan…”
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