Chapter 171: Stranger (Patreon)

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He’d been trailing them for ten minutes now. It may have been longer, but that was when Serena first noticed his blurred figure. He’d been smart about it, keeping to the shimmering horizon, appearing only for a split second before dipping between the endless dunes of the Red Sands. He stayed far enough away that Serena couldn’t sense him in the aetherfield, yet—

He must have some skill, she thought, to be out here at this time.

If she hadn’t had her head on a swivel, looking for potential wyrmsign, she might not have noticed him at all. At least, not until Amelia and her exceptional perception would have pinged him like an energetic aetherscope. Even though they knew he was there now, he wasn’t easy to track.

He rode a sand-coloured skimmer; its natural camouflage blending it against the backdrop of the desert. His clothes were lightly coloured like their own; white and light blues that gave the eye something to track against the kaleidoscope of oranges and reds.

“What are we doing, Captain?” Finella asked, her voice carrying a hard edge that Serena knew well. It was the focused tone that she had heard a dozen times before a potential battle would begin.

Serena barely needed to think before the landscape answered for her.

“Down there,” she ordered, pointing to where the desert flowed into a narrow valley. Carved centuries ago by ancient waters, it now served as the perfect location to meet their stalker face to face.

Halfway through the valley, she caught sight of the man entering after them. Like her, he seemed to be choosing to ride over hard ground where possible, avoiding the large fields of flat sand that could hide resting wyrms. She urged the group onwards and, picking a spot that gave them a small height advantage, pulled Naji to a stop.

“Move the skimmers away,” she ordered, turning and facing down the valley.

A dozen seconds passed before the man appeared, gliding around a corner atop his skimmer. She could see him more clearly now. A man of the desert, that was for sure. Treki or Hakian. He was darker than Menes, and dressed just as finely. He wore an embroidered travelling tunic, wide trousers, and a wrapped turban. His horns were curled, but swept back more than most Southerners.

Just as Serena could see him, the man could see her too.

He continued towards them, as if their blockade was nothing to him.

“Careful using your aether,” Serena said quietly to the group. “Don’t expose your abilities if you can avoid it.” She didn’t know what this man wanted, but if he were to leave here alive, she would rather the fact that their entire group were capable of second-level aetheric abilities at a minimum was kept secret.

She took out her revolver and aimed it down the valley. After taking a moment to steady her breathing, she pulled the trigger, letting the weapon of war speak twice. The double-crack of the gunshots bounced off the sandstone walls just as the ground in front of the man’s skimmer spurted, throwing two tufts of red sand upwards. The skimmer flared upwards, its twin tails digging into the sand, arresting its momentum and stopping a few dozen metres from the group.

“That’s quite far enough, stranger,” Serena called. She lowered her firearm. The warning shots had served their purpose in forcing some distance. She could get a better grasp of his capabilities now. Judging by the red aura shimmering across his exposed skin, if things escalated, her gun would only supplement her aura, serving as an explosive distraction. The man had talent. Serena’s battle-hardened warrior instincts, enhanced by Amelia’s wards, told her as much. 

A Speaker, perhaps?

He climbed off his skimmer. It was done in a single, smooth motion that suggested he was no stranger to desert travel. He flashed her an angered look, briefly exposing two brilliant yellow eyes before turning his back to her. He began muttering, speaking to his skimmer in a calming voice. He patted the animal, soothing its anxious meeps until its tail stopped sensing.

Once the animal was sufficiently relaxed, he turned around. Gone was the gentle murmuring. The man gestured wildly and began a tirade of furious, belittling insults. At least, Serena assumed they were furious, belittling insults. The man was speaking in Hakian, stringing together sentences so fast she could barely pick out the few words she did know.

She heard the Hakian word for ‘woman’ more than a few times. She kept her cool, forcing her breathing to remain steady. The man wasn’t attacking them physically, despite his brazen verbal assault. Not yet, anyway.

She waited until he drew a breath and called out quickly, “No Hakian, stranger! No Hakian… Imperial only, yes? Imperial…” She scoured her memories, bringing up the Hakian word for Imperial and repeating it a few times. The stranger glared at her, but she held his gaze. From his fine travelling clothes, the man should be sufficiently highborn to have been taught—

“I do not like,” the man began, thick Imperial flowing off his tongue like dark honey, “the way Imperial sounds on my tongue.” With two fingers he reached into his mouth and plucked his tongue, as if pulling off the language of the Empire itself. “You!” he declared suddenly. “Who are you to fire weapon at my Koro?” He gestured to his skimmer, which, by chance or otherwise, let out an angry meep.

Keeping one eye on the man, Serena exchanged a glance with Finella. She turned her head the other way to see that Amelia had reestablished her Kanaxai disguise as Lia Liona. As wise and as sensible as her girlfriend had become, Serena wasn’t sure whether this man would be fooled for long. Her experience with Speaker Asrar made her aware that desert people had a talent for seeing through the arts of the demonic god of trickery and illusion.

“Who are you,” she said slowly, facing the man, “to complain about how I use my weapon?” She moved the gun subtly, just enough to remind the man that it was there. His confidence had already made her suspect who he might be, and his next words confirmed it.

“Killing a Sayyid’s animal is met with death,” the man said, his expression darkening.

“And which Sayyid are you?” Serena asked.

“Bah!” The man turned again and patted Koro. He muttered something in a frustrated tone before shaking his head and turning around. “You have fired your weapon at Koro, animal of me, Sayyid Mansong Diarra! Now you hold your weapons still!” He sucked in the air between his teeth, making a sound that must have been some kind of Southern tut.

Mansong Diarra? Serena frowned, digging through her memories, chasing the sensation of familiarity the name ignited within her. Sayyid Diarra? Speaker Diarra? She’d read the name in one of Intelligence’s briefings before they set sail from Asamaywa. He was mentioned only briefly. He was—

“Sayyid Diarra,” she said. “Your Lord-Superior is Sayyid Sira Bo, yes? The Greatlord of Hakim? You are… Highlord, yes?”

Her words earned her another sharp intake of air. “The Tasalsul does not use your Imperial titles,” Diarra said. “We are all Sayyid. Now”—his yellow eyes glinted dangerously—“you still hold your weapon. Use it or put it away!”

For a moment, a small part of Serena’s mind wondered what would happen if she shot him then and there. It would be unlikely to do anything, but it would give her a sense of satisfaction at what she was quickly realising was going to be another problematic Southerner. He reminded her of Secretary Maramba.

Am I going to need to collect another arm? she thought bitterly.

With a tiny twinge of regret, she holstered her revolver.

“Why are you following us?” she asked.

“You are trespassing!” Diarra practically shouted. “These are sacred sands, not for you to travel through! If you want crystal, go there”—he gestured westwards—“if you are hunting, go there”—he gestured eastwards—“but that way is sacred!” He pointed down the valley. “It is dangerous land, with dangerous people. It is not a place for a gang of foreign women to play with skimmers! Leave immediately!” He glared at them as if expecting them to obey.

“Dangerous people?” she asked. “What do you mean?”

“It is not safe for women,” Diarra said, ignoring her question. “Why are you here? This is not a travel route. What is your destination?” He narrowed his eyes, his eyes looking at them with suspicion. He flared his aether, bringing it to the cusp of orange.

Serena sensed her group tense in response.

Still, she kept her calm. Despite the potential for aggression, they weren’t doing anything illegal. Strange, maybe, especially to the sensibilities of Southerners, but nothing illegal. The South didn’t have the same restrictions on desert travel as the East did regarding Wilderness expeditions.

“I am… Sayyidah Halen,” she said. “Lord under Greatlord Oshiro of Asamaywa. I am charged with traversing the Salaban Bowl as a training deployment for these Imperial officers.” She gestured at the group. “You understand, yes? I am a Captain. This is military training? Military…” she trailed off, finding the Hakian word for military—one of the few she knew.

Whether Sayyid Diarra believed her seemed not to matter.

“I care not,” he said dismissively. “Sayyidah or not, you will leave this place. Saladin the Mighty is hunting those that threaten the Tasalsul. Your interference is not welcome!”

“Saladin’s here…?” Finella muttered quietly.

Serena glanced at the Northerner before turning to Diarra. “The Southern Overlord is nearby?” she asked. “Who does he hunt?”

Surprisingly, the Hakian Sayyid answered promptly.

“We hunt the Jugu!” he declared, looking at them expectantly.

Neither Serena nor anyone else in their group said anything. The confusion on their faces must have been clear, because Diarre clicked his tongue and said, “You… the Imperial word. Jugu… it is… Darkblades! Yes. Saladin hunts the Darkblades.”

Serena took a slow breath. “Then all the more reason for us to lend a hand,” she said. “Darkblades are enemies of all Lords, Sayyids, and Sayyidahs. We are—”

“It is not for discussion!” Diarra declared. “It is time for you to leave! That is an order!”

Seven Hells and Six Heavens, Serena thought. I’d rather duel Katalin again than deal with Southerners for a second longer.

“With respect,” Serena began carefully. “We are not in Hakim. We are not in your domain. We are not under your orders nor the orders of Greatlord Sira Bo. Unless the Southern Overlord himself, who has dominion over the Southern Terra-Firma, orders me to leave, I have no obligation to obey your command, Sayyid Diarra.”

Diarra looked at her for a long time. He muttered something in Hakian before wiping away sweat from under his turban. “Foreigners,” he muttered. “Always very clever with words. Coming here and doing what they like… so be it…” He met her with cold eyes, his aether increasing. “We do not follow rank and titles as you do, Sayyidah Halen. Not in the desert. If you will not leave, I will make you.” His aetheric convection rapidly accelerated, his aura bursting into yellow. He wasn’t done there. Serena could sense the man’s aether coalescing inside him, folding and twisting.

Into a Word.

Before she could react, someone else in the group responded first.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” came Amelia’s voice. 

At her words, everyone turned their attention to the disguised human saint.

“You’re not the only Speaker here, Sayyid Diarra,” Amelia continued, a small smile on her face. “Ogun, is it? As fun as that’ll be…” Amelia took a step forward. When her foot touched the sand, a surge of aether burst forth, freezing the sand underneath for a dozen metres. “It won’t be enough. The Tasalsul is ranked by power, is it not? Shall we have a discussion about your position, then?”

Just as she finished her question, Amelia’s aether suddenly became more perceivable. It took a moment for Serena to realise what her girlfriend had done; she’d loosened some of her wards, allowing Diarra—and everyone else—to sense the primed Word within her. It was loud and vibrant, declaring to the world its unspoken form.

Marzanna.

At least she’s kept it First-Word, Serena thought. For now. She appreciated her girlfriend's growing control of her demigod powers; Amelia’s Kanaxai glamours remained stable even now.

“Sayyid Diarra,” Serena said. She let her aura manifest into yellow, boldly folding it into Narean, enough that the Southerner would recognise the potential within her. “I would advise against making a mistake.” She placed a hand on the hilt of her firejade sword. As if on cue, Finella and Mel pushed their auras to brilliant orange, while Hinako hurriedly prepared her formations.

The wind chose that moment to pick up, pulling a ball of desert weed free from the sandstone wall, bouncing it across the sand between them. Through the corner of her eye Serena watched it collide with the other wall, bouncing against it as if trying fruitlessly to climb out of the valley and escape the danger.

The Southern demon looked at them, slowly, one by one. He chewed his lips, intermittently taking in a sharp intake of air. He seemed more annoyed than worried, but no matter how brazen his Southern confidence, the prospect of fighting Marzanna, Narean, and three others capable of orange aura and second-circle magic was a calculation that had a clear answer to all but the most Korvus-minded Speakers.

And Sayyid Diarra, as arrogant as he may be, was no Korvus.

“A threat,” he said, practically spitting the words out. “Foreign power from foreign women. What has the world come to, to send such people into our desert?!” He twisted around, running a hand over Koro. “This is not the end of this,” he said. Without reducing his aether, he climbed aboard his skimmer. “Pyrinn’s sands bring death to foreigners, woman! Leave before it claims you too!”

“I’ll keep it in mind,” Serena muttered.

With one final glare and one final hiss of protest, the Southern demon rode his skimmer away from them. Even once he was out of sight, they were all quiet for a dozen seconds.

Until Finella spoke.

“You know Marzanna!?” the Northerner gasped, practically grabbing Amelia by the shoulders. “How!? I mean, what is that now? Aseco, Taranis, As—”

“Officer Bright!” snapped Serena. “A Speaker’s Word or Words are theirs to share as they please. Not for you to gossip about!”

“I know, I know,” Finella said quickly. She glanced at Hinako and Mel before whispering, not so quietly, to Amelia, “You’re not the Empress in disguise, are you?”

“Maybe,” Amelia replied with a wink. “Better be on your best behaviour, Officer Bright.” Amelia changed the tone of her voice at the end of her sentence, mocking the regal way of speaking that Serena had seen actors use so many times in the theatre. “My, my, if you keep interrogating your Empress in such a manner, I’ll have to rub your face in sand!” Amelia flashed Serena a grin.

“Enough, all of you,” Serena said, resisting the urge to roll her eyes. “Let’s not dally any longer. You heard what Sayyid Diarra said: ‘We hunt the Jugu’. I don’t know if the Southern Overlord is nearby, but I’d rather not find out. If Diarra was acting as a scout for Saladin’s party, best we continue as quickly as possible. Make ready, all of you!”

They quickly brushed down their skimmers and checked their tack. Their week of lighthouse training had paid off. None of the skimmers had thrown out even a meep of complaint at the amount of aether suddenly being cycled and convected. Things might have changed should it have come to an actual battle, but for now Naji and his colleagues had performed spectacularly.

In the future, should she bump into someone planning to traverse the desert, she would be sure to recommend Noor the Skimmerman.

It wasn’t long before they reached the end of the valley and resumed their progress. It took an hour of head-swivelling before Serena was confident Diarra hadn’t followed them. After another hour she found herself able to relax somewhat. Perhaps it was because the Red Moon was getting smaller by the hour, or because they’d grown used to the sweltering heat, but the night air felt almost cool, especially when their skimmers glided down a tall sand dune, cooling their sweat as they picked up speed.

They stopped for a short break, eating biscuits and drinking water. The skimmers, perhaps taking inspiration from their riders, began to burrow into the sand. At first Serena thought they were just nesting, but once the sound of crunching reached her ears, she realised they were foraging. They possessed an uncanny ability to uncover hidden rocknuts and other desert treats.

“How do they know where to look?” Amelia asked.

“Smell or aetheric sensing, I would assume,” Serena said. “I’m glad they’re eating, though. This is the first time they’ve had anything other than water since we left. I was getting worried Noor would be unhappy.”

Amelia laughed softly. “We wouldn’t want to make Noor unhappy.”

“No, we wouldn’t.”

“I hope he doesn’t get in trouble for renting us the skimmers,” Amelia said. “He was so nice and friendly, unlike our recent new acquaintance.” She clenched her fists. “Ah, he was so rude, wasn’t he? All that threatening and arrogance. Reminded me of that so-called Lord Jin! Next time I see Sayyid Diarra, I ought to give him a good slap! At least Menes is charming when he prattles on about women!”

Serena chuckled. It was strange to think how much Menes had grown on her, given the circumstance of their first meeting.

“Who’s this so-called Lord Jin?” Finella asked from the side.

“Someone who got a good slap,” Amelia answered casually.

“Ah.” Finella looked like she wanted to ask more, but a glare from Serena was enough to shut her down. Still, it wasn’t enough to stop more questions from other members of the group.

“Will you be safe?” Mel asked. “About, you know…”

“What do you mean?” Amelia asked.

“Sayyid Diarra is the desert equivalent of a Highlord,” Mel said, glancing at Serena. “Imperial saint you may be, I don’t know if his Lord-Superior or the Southern Overlord will care. No… wouldn’t that annoy them even more? I’m worried if they find out about this, they’ll take offence to an Eastern Lord-Prospect threatening them.”

“Threaten?” Amelia blinked innocently. “Why, I just gave him some good-hearted friendly advice!” She crossed her arms and huffed. “Hrmph! If anything, they should be thanking me, shouldn’t they? After all, I stopped the Tasalsul from losing a Highlord!”

Serena resisted a smile.

“I mean…” Mel looked like she was struggling finding the words. Eventually, she ended on, “It was bolder than I expected. You’ve changed. In a good way, I mean. You’re more… focused. I don’t know how to put it.”

“Am I?” Amelia placed a finger on her chin, humming. “Well, it makes sense. I’ve realised a few things in Ishaq. Come to a few decisions.”

“Such as?” Mel asked.

“Such as deciding that rude Sayyids need good advice followed by a good slap, if needed!”

Serena laughed. She couldn’t stop herself.

“If things escalate, Officer Mori,” she began, “then we’ll handle it. Until then, don’t get your horns twisted.”

Mel glanced at Amelia before nodding. “Yes, Captain,” she said. She opened her mouth to say something, but her eyes widened instead, her attention captured by something to the side. “Sand's moving,” Mel said suddenly, pointing. “Over there.”

Serena followed Mel’s finger. It wasn’t wyrmsign; the movement was much too small to be a wyrm. Still, something was moving under the sand. It took a moment to come to the surface before Serena found herself recognising the scaly creature.

“It’s a windlizard,” she said. “They’re not dangerous. Not to us, at least.” The lizard was about a metre long, with colourful frills on its neck and spine. It looked at them, its tongue popping out in a very snake-like manner. Seeing they weren’t a threat or food, it turned and plodded away. “We have a stuffed one on the bridge,” Serena said, watching it leave. “Anathor talks through it.”

“He’s quite the fan of animals, isn’t he?” Amelia asked. She plopped down and held a bottle towards Serena. “Speaking of animals, look at this,” she said. “It’s the bottle Diego gave me. He said it was from a distant realm.”

That got everyone's attention. Items from other realms weren’t an everyday occurrence, after all.

Of course, other than Serena none of them knew that Amelia herself was from another realm.

“Is that… a bat?” Finella asked.

“I think so,” Amelia said. “But you see these two moons, or I thought they were moons. They might be suns; see how they have rays coming from them? Maybe one’s a sun, and one’s a moon; I don’t know. But look here, the bottle must have had a label at one point. You can see the trace of yellow on one and silver on the other.”

“Weird bat,” Mel said. “Look, it has fangs.”

“Huh,” Amelia murmured, tilting the bottle. “So it does.”

“If the Formless was telling the truth,” Serena said, “there are places in Centralis you could get it verified. There are collectors who would treasure such an item. It could be worth a Lord’s ransom. Especially if unopened.”

At her words, Amelia grinned.

“I was going to drink it once we were done here,” she said. “As a celebration.”

“Expensive drink,” Serena said, smiling.

“I would share it, of course,” Amelia continued, wiggling the bottle. “Think how divine mead from another realm must taste? Once we’re finished and back with the rest of the crew… my special treat, alright?”

Amelia's offer sent morale to upper-sky. Serena didn’t know if her girlfriend did it on purpose, but by dangling a future reward that was physically tangible, she’d given everyone something to get them through whatever lay ahead.

The skimmers soon finished their foraging. After a round of last-minute checks and plotting the final course on her map, Serena ordered them all to leave. Within an hour, they were close to the destination the mysterious pendulum had pointed to.

“Once we crest this dune, we should see our destination,” Serena said. She urged Naji onwards, the mighty skimmer growling as he intensified his lift organ’s fight against gravity. She topped the rise shortly before the rest of the group caught up.

For a moment they could do nothing but look.

“Moons,” Finella muttered. “They’re still feasting here?”

The dune spread out below them into a sand flat. Only it wasn’t still. Dozens of wyrms were there, churning up the sand. Had they not had their fill? They were writhing, drawing the group’s gaze to their monstrous forms. Serena forced herself to look further, beyond them. She wasn’t the only one to spot what lay beyond the wyrm field.

“Ruins!” Finella called out.

“Ancient ruins!” Amelia echoed excitedly.

Beyond the wyrms and sand was what looked at first to be another mesa environment. Only, carved in and amongst the sandstone structures were too many hard edges. Through the shimmering horizon, the distinctive shape of buildings stood out, framing the half-destroyed remnants of an ancient civilisation.

The Temple of Pyrinn, Serena thought. Is it here?

“It’s all solid ground past the wyrms,” Serena said. “We just need to bide our time and—”

“There’s someone out there!” Mel shouted.

At her words, everyone focused on the writhing field. Mel was right. The wyrms weren’t feasting. They were chasing. A lone figure skimmed through the chaos. Only… it wasn’t a skimmer they were riding. They operated a windrunner—a sand ship. They were deftly operating the single sail, gliding across the sand with practised efficiency, dodging the wyrms.

“They’re going for solid ground,” Finella said quietly. “I don’t think… I don’t think they’ll make it.”

Serena had to agree. Without help, the individual's fate was sealed. The wyrms were coming in too thick and too fast. There were only so many dodges that they could do before they would make a mistake. Without help—

“I’m helping!” Amelia shouted, snapping Barq’s reins. “Stay here!” Without waiting another second, Amelia surged forward, her skimmer letting out what must be his version of a battle-cry.

“We should go!” Finella said quickly, gripping her reins. “We need—”

“No,” Serena said. She raised a hand, cutting off the group. “You forget Amelia’s talent.” Serena hesitated, watching Amelia race towards the writhing mass of wyrms. “Even if she’s eaten,” Serena continued, “No wyrm could break her wards. Any creature that swallows her will have swallowed a lit bomb.”

If Amelia were to Speak from within the stomach of a wyrm, she would have no reason to modulate the aetheric release. Serena grimaced. It would be a gruesome sight. Although some of her instincts wanted to chase after her to protect her girlfriend, Serena knew she would be fine. Hells, with Amelia so close, even if that individual was eaten, Amelia would be able to heal them before their life was fully extinguished.

“We have our own considerations,” Serena said, pointing at the plateau of solid ground.

“What? Oh,” Finella said. “Who are they?”

Another group had appeared from within the ruins. They were running towards the wyrms. Was the person in trouble one of their group? Who was that person? Who were those people?

“Saladin’s party?” Finella asked cautiously, echoing Serena’s own thoughts. “Or darkblades?”

“If we’re lucky, neither,” Serena said with a grimace. “Let’s go. We’ll slip through and meet them while the wyrms are distracted.” Whatever lay ahead, the quicker they got off the soft dune and onto solid ground, the better.

Without another word, they urged their skimmers forward.

Whether they were going to battle or not, towards friend or foe—

Time would tell.

At some point during Amelia’s approach, her mind wondered if what she was doing was a good idea. No matter how secure and confident she was becoming in her own power, she had to admit that running headfirst into a writhing mass of enormous wyrms to save a complete stranger was… was…

Exactly the kind of thing a demigod saint should be doing!

She only had the faintest sense of where the stranger was. Whoever they were, they weren’t someone with a significant aetherfield signature. Amelia channelled her aether, using Salinas formations to form an impromptu ramp, which Barq surged upwards, giving them the height they needed.

There they were.

They hadn’t seen her yet. They were too busy operating the windrunner, desperately trying to keep their direction constantly changing to dodge the charging wyrms.

Speaking of which, those same wyrms became aware of Amelia the moment she used magic.

The ramp behind her was obliterated by a wyrm diving through it. Barq glided, his lift organ rhythmically drumming, desperately trying to maintain height away from the predators below. But skimmers were called skimmers for a reason. They weren’t capable of sustained flight high in the air.

They came down not far from the stranger, landing directly on a wyrm. Or, at least, landing on the bulge of sand the wyrm created as it burrowed just beneath the surface. Amelia pulled the reins, pulling Barq off, only to have to use more aether to avoid one of the hundreds of diamond-shaped fins that lined the creature's body.

She barely had a moment to stabilise before another wyrm burst out of the sand to the side, its giant maw opening. Amelia froze for a fraction of a second before raising her hand and manifesting a third-circle Marzanna ward. A wall of frozen ice and sand halted the wyrm's attempt at the most delicious meal it could ever have. Instead, it let out a pained wail, the momentum of its massive body carrying it unceremoniously into Amelia’s ward.

It was enough for Amelia to have a moment of breathing room. Enough for her to catch up to the stranger. She caught a glimpse of a covered face and a pair of horns before needing to manifest another ward, this time to stop a wyrm from smashing into the windrunner.

The spellwork drew the attention of not just the surrounding wyrms, driving them into a further frenzy, but that of the stranger as well. Finally, their eyes met.

After seeing Sayyid Diarra’s pure yellow eyes, Amelia was surprised to see a pair of crimson ones looking back at her. They widened in shock, reminding Amelia of how Serena reacted sometimes when she did something amazing and cute.

“Hello!” Amelia called, realising the stranger was a woman.

How mysterious!

The woman looked at her for half a second before a terrifying roar drew her attention. She grappled with the mechanism of the windrunner’s sail, dodging an incoming wyrm. Amelia blocked another wyrm trying to cut them off. Then, through the mass of chaos, the plateau could be seen through the last few wyrms.

Only there was a problem.

There was a cliff. A sheer wall of sandstone that prevented them easy access to the solid ground above. Before Amelia could let the woman know that she could create a ramp for them both, the stranger pointed and yelled, “The crevice!”

Amelia followed the finger to see that there was indeed a crevice in the cliff-face. It was nearby, placed as if on purpose to entice them to enter. Well, a hole in the rock had served her fine before, and she could always burrow upwards once inside anyway.

“Okay!” Amelia yelled. “I’ll block!”

With a few desperate turns, meeps from Barq, and hurried wards, they fought through the final hundred metres. Amelia let the stranger and her windrunner enter first. It wasn’t a clean entry. The single sail clipped the sandstone, snapping off and throwing the woman high into the air and deep into the cave. 

Amelia wrapped the stranger in a ward and twisted Barq so he entered the thin opening diagonally. It was the only way to fit his finspan through the thin gap.

She’d hoped the wyrms would avoid trying to come after them, but she was immediately proven wrong. The result was chaos and destruction. The sandstone entrance collapsed as thousands of tonnes of desert predator slammed into it. That wasn’t the only thing that collapsed. Just as the woman, now warded by Amelia’s magic, hit the cave floor, it too collapsed, sending the three of them tumbling into the darkness below.

The stranger let out a panicked yell.

Barq meeped.

Amelia focused.

With her enhanced perception, she could see the bottom racing to greet them. She shielded Barq, twisting them both midair so the skimmer was the right way up. Barq's lift organ helped arrest their momentum, but it did nothing to slow the descent of the stranger. The woman slammed into the sandy ground. Amelia was worried that, even with the ward, the collision would harm her. She threw out a quick healing spell, doing her best to hide the golden light in the chaos of dust and sand. She cut the spell off as quickly as she could, satisfied to see the woman standing shakily on her feet.

After verifying there were no chunks of rock and sandstone about to fall on their heads, Amelia cut the ward from the woman as well. Serena was always going on about aether users hiding their abilities, so Amelia thought she would continue her act as Lia Liona.

She took a moment to make sure her Kanaxai glamours were solid before calming Barq down, waiting for the dust to settle.

“Sssh, sshh…” she whispered, patting the annoyed skimmer. She kept an eye on the woman. She was fixing her clothing, ensuring her face remained covered. That was suspicious in and of itself. Amelia thought she saw a glimmer of black hair before it was hastily covered up.

“Are you okay?” Amelia said. She kept her aether ready, but her instincts told her this woman wasn’t a threat. There were no telltale distortions in the aetherfield that would indicate a concealed black crystal either. Not that all darkblades carried them, of course.

Still, her instincts told her that the woman wasn’t dangerous.

“I’m… fine,” the woman said slowly. She raised her right arm and clenched her fist. “For a moment… I thought it was broken.” She looked down. “The floor must have softened the impact.” The woman looked at her, two brilliant crimson eyes shining, almost glowing in the dark. “And who might you be?”

“I’m—” Amelia cut herself off. “You first,” she said, gesturing to the woman. “Who are you?”

“Oh?” The woman swallowed, glancing to the side. “You can call—I mean… Devaren,” the woman said, nodding. “The name's Devaren. Faye Devaren.” She reached up and coughed into her hand politely. “Warrant Officer Faye Devaren. In the command of Admiral Collins." Pleased to meet you.” She held out her hand.

“Pleased to meet you!” Amelia chirped, stepping forward. “I’m Lia. Lia Liona!”

They shook hands.

Amelia felt some guilt over telling a lie.

But she didn’t feel too bad.

Because this woman had just lied, as well.

Of that, Amelia was sure.

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Hi everyone, here's your chapter!

Eeeeeee!

That's how I felt after finally reaching the Sakamoto incident wall the way back in C32 or so. Right now, we're experiencing scenes/events that have been in my head for more than a year, and in some cases, since the first few chapters of the series! I hope you all enjoy what's to come, and accept this nice chunky 5.5k chapter as an apology for taking a long time! I've been ill!

But not just that!

I spent some time building an official website for the series, which you can find at ameliathornheart.com! While I plan to add more content to it, it is mostly just a landing page/marketing/seo page for the series for now. Still, it feels nice to put it together :)

Thank you all for your support!

And thank you again to those who have been rating/reviewing Book One on Amazon. It's really made a huge difference. As I type, we're #51 in Military Fantasy and #70 in LGBTQ+ Fantasy! That's amazing for a series that isn't on KU! Thank you all so much!

Til next time!