6.54 K (2/2)

—-

Trey Atwood was sitting in a parlor. Or maybe a tea room? It was a place to speak in, to relax—but in a refined way. A salon, although he doubted Flos referred to it as such.

It was a waiting room, really. As Flos and the Quarass spoke in private, her entourage was settled in Reim’s palace. The people of Germina were quiet, surly, even, but they’d been at odds with Reim just months prior. It was more incredible that they were willing to come here peacefully at all.

But they loved their Quarass. She was like a god to them, although that concept was foreign to the people of this world. Still, that was how Trey understood it. He and Teres were sitting with two of the people who’d come with Germina. Flos had insisted and apparently they were meant to talk.

“Ah. Er, well, I’m pleased to meet you. I’m Trey. Trey Atwood. And this is Teres.”

Trey looked at the two guests sitting across from him. The two Germinan guests stared back. They were an odd pair. One was a boy, barely fourteen, maybe, with a scar on one cheek and a another down his leg. He looked like a street kid, for all he wore fancy riding gear. And the other was a woman in her thirties, clearly noble. Pretty, too. She bowed her head slightly.

“I am Highborn Vaitsha Zectiou. I have pledged to be the Quarass’ companion.”

“Oh? Er—is that an honorary title?”

Vaitsha frowned.

“It is the most honorary. I have sworn to guide the Quarass and protect her until my death. May my blood spill on the sands before hers.”

“Ah.”

Trey missed home. People didn’t usually lead with that as an opening line. But he bowed and nodded.

“The Quarass lives. Um…his Majesty is one of the three, then, isn’t he?”

Vaitsha and the boy stiffened. They glanced at each other and Vaitsha nodded.

“That is true. He has sworn to shed his blood before hers. So—yes. May it come to pass.”

There was a lot to unpack there and Trey wasn’t about to touch it with a ten-foot pole or his magical staff. He decided to sip from his tea cup. He saw Vaitsha do the same after a moment. And then cough.

“Are you okay?”

“I am…well. Thank you.”

She looked…pale. Paler than the young boy standing next to her. As Trey watched, Vaitsha set down her tea cup and sipped from a little vial. He noticed her hands were gloved. Perhaps she was unwell? Sick?

Trey didn’t ask. He looked around, desperately, for help. But Teres was talking with the other two guests in the waiting room. He wanted to throw something at the back of her head. But instead, Trey turned to the boy.

“And you are?”

The street boy looked up defiantly as he tried to drink from his cup like Vaitsha.

“I am Khalid, who has no other name. I serve the Quarass as well, as her protector and dagger! She lives forever!”

“She lives forever.”

The two Germinans nodded. Trey looked around desperately. At last, Teres saw his look and came over.

“Hello. I’m Teres. We’ve met. This is Nawal and Calac.”

She introduced the other two young people in the room. Teres smiled at Nawalishifra. The [Blacksmith] looked very uncomfortable as she bowed and murmured a greeting behind her veil. The other young man bowed stiffly.

“My greetings to you, Highborn Vaitsha and Khalid. May the Quarass live forever.”

He turned and bowed slightly to Trey.

“Lord Atwood. Lady Atwood tells me you are the pupil of Lady Gazi.”

“Oh. Yes. Um, we haven’t met. Pleased to meet you.”

Trey stood up and offered a hand. Calac took it. He had a strong, callused grip. He nodded to Trey, stepped back, and proceeded to sit and sip from his tea cup without saying anything for the rest of the conversation.

Calac was Venith’s son, maybe a year younger than Trey and Teres, but taller, muscled—more like an athlete than the twins. He knew how to use a sword, and he was a [Lord]—he’d been trained to fight and lead soldiers since he was a child. He was also in disgrace with his father, and clearly resented being lumped together with the guests in this room.

Trey still remembered Calac trying to attack Flos before the King of Destruction’s duel with Venith. He’d seemed to be headstrong and eager to prove himself in the few times they’d met. He had a problem with Venith, his father, but Trey couldn’t fault him there. Venith would be a hard father to impress.

Teres stared at Vaitsha and Khalid as silence took over again. Trey gestured and Nawal, after a moment’s hesitation, sat on their couch. On the end, far enough away from Trey that there was no chance of them even bumping elbows. She was very quiet. Uncharacteristically nervous given her usual pithy language. Teres spoke into the silence after a few very painful second.

“So uh, how’s Germina?”

“Germina rebuilds. The people of Ger have their Quarass again. She is changing Germina, as we are allied to Reim.”

The answer came quickly from Vaitsha. Teres nodded.

“Great.”

“Hi Nawal.”

Trey whispered to Nawalishifra. She looked at him, scowled behind her veil, and then bowed.

“Lord Atwood. You did not tell me you were a lord, you, Trey Atwood.”

He raised his hands.

“I’m not! Calac just said that.”

Nawal shook her head. She was staring at him as if he were a…goat. With sharp teeth.

“You have the King of Destruction’s ear. That alone makes you the same level as a [Lord] or even a [Prince]. You are important, more so than you told me. You did not tell me you were his personal servants, trusted friends who spoke to him as equals.”

“Well, not as equals—”

“You two ride with the King of Destruction?”

Khalid interrupted, staring at Trey and Teres. The young man hesitated.

“…Sometimes?”

“And he grants you the privilege of addressing him? You two?”

Vaitsha blinked. Calac looked up silently and nodded. Teres looked at Trey.

“He lets everyone address him as equals, right Trey?”

“Right. It’s not…”

The two twins trailed off. Nawali was looking around. Calac shook his head. Vaitsha spoke slowly.

“The King of Destruction keeps few by his side. Informality or not, he named you as his two trusted friends. Then, you are much like his vassals. His Seven. A [Lord] would do well to bow before you. I am Highborn of Ger, and thus lower in station.”

She bowed deeply. Then Vaitsha gave Khalid a significant look. The young boy sat up, looking alarmed, then copied Vaitsha’s bow. He gave Trey a look of deep suspicion and clamped his lips shut.

Trey sighed. He was happy to talk to Nawali—when they weren’t in the company of others. She seemed wary of the Germinans, and of Calac for that matter. Teres was shifting, about to ask something else that would probably get them in hot water. Calac was scowling and the two Germinans looked at everyone as if they were potential enemies. It was almost a relief when a [Servant] came to summon Teres and Trey out of that room.

“The King of Destruction wishes to see you.”

The two twins stood up. Nawal gave Trey a narrow-eyed look and he flushed, searching for an excuse. But there really wasn’t one, so he hurried out of the room. In the silence that followed, Nawal twitched her veil. Calac sipped some tea and scowled. Khalid and Vaitsha waited. After a while, she coughed.

—-

Trey and Teres entered the room where Flos and the Quarass were sitting. They came in slowly, aware of the Quarass’ presence. When Trey saw the small girl sitting across from the King of Destruction, he nearly laughed. Until she looked up and stared at him. Then he stared into her old eyes, shuddered, and remembered.

She was the Quarass born again. He slipped into the room behind Teres and bowed. Teres did not.

“You wanted to see us, Flos?”

The Quarass’ gaze flicked sharply to Teres’ face. Trey winced, but Teres refused to address Flos by his title. Nor did the King of Destruction insist. Indeed, he smiled and gestured to two more chairs that had been set out.

“Yes indeed! Come in and sit, Trey, Teres. Have you greeted the Quarass’ companions?”

“Highborn Vaitsha and Khalid? Yeah. We met them.”

“Excellent. I hope you will become their friends. They fulfill a similar role to the Quarass as you two have with me.”

Trey bit his lip and Teres coughed. The Quarass was looking from Flos to them, and especially at Teres. Trey recalled that Teres had helped set up the scenario in which she was reborn. He looked at the King of Destruction.

“Your Majesty, um, what happened at Tiqr? Has the siege ended?”

Flos’ face froze for a second, and then he sighed.

“It has fallen. But Nsiia lives.”

“Oh! That’s…good?”

The twins looked at each other, worried. Flos sighed.

“Yes. I suppose it is the best I could have wished for. Nsiia asked me that I might help her end Tiqr, in death and destruction. But I could not. So Tiqr falls and she is captive. But she lives. That is the cost of my peace so far.”

“You could have helped her, though. Right?”

Teres frowned at Flos. The King of Destruction looked up and stared at her.

“No, Teres. I swore an oath. I will not make war without cause and Tiqr was not mine when it was attacked.”

“But she asked…?”

Flos shook his head.

“That was what Nsiia asked herself. But I cannot dance about my oath, Teres. Or play with words like some ambassador or diplomat, Trey, Teres. I hold the honor of Reim, my people, my kingdom, upon my actions. That is what it means to give my word.”

“Okay then. I was just asking.”

Teres fell silent. Flos smiled slightly, and sat back. He looked tired and murmured as he looked into the drags of his cup.

“Yes. It is done. Nsiia lives. As a captive of Illivere, but better to live, than…yes, better to live, and in Illivere’s lands. I will return Tiqr. I swear it.”

He shook his head.

“Enough of that. It is done, and I have dwelled on it far too long. Trey, Teres, I have summoned you to speak to the Quarass. Teres, you have met her before.”

“Yeah. Hello.”

Teres lifted a hand. She tried to meet the Quarass’ eyes, but hesitated as the Quarass stared at her. Trey saw the gaze flick to him. Old eyes in a young face. He froze, and then bowed, belatedly. Teres did not.

“Your Majesty, forgive me. I’m Trey Atwood. And this is Teres. My sister.”

The Quarass inclined her head.

“King Reimarch has informed me of your natures.”

“You mean…”

Teres shot a glance at Flos, looking alarmed. He smiled.

“I’ve told the Quarass about your world. Would one of you mind showing her your phone? I believe that will satisfy her doubt.”

“Flos!”

Both Teres and Trey shot up. The King of Destruction waved a hand.

“Sit. It’s hardly a secret, is it. There are at least a few dozen of you running about.”

“But it’s a secret! Isn’t it dangerous to…”

Teres looked at the Quarass, biting her tongue. Flos shook his head.

“The Quarass is Reim’s ally, Teres. She has sworn it. Moreover, I require her trust and aid with Khelt. Come, bring out your phones, one of you. She does not believe you two are from another world, yet.”

“It is an astounding claim. Have you proof of this?”

The Quarass looked at Flos as Trey dug in one pocket. The King of Destruction laughed.

“I saw them appear in my throne room, Quarass. They were dressed outlandishly, and they had no idea who I was or even of magic! And this—ah, thank you, Trey. This is a trinket from their world. Give it to the Quarass.”

He watched as Trey gingerly offered the Quarass his smartphone. She stared at the lit screen, and then at Trey.

“Um, it’s a device, your majesty. It turns on when you hit this button and—”

Flos held up a hand and Trey fell silent. The Quarass took the iPhone from Trey and stared at it. She blinked at the screen, held up a hand—looked at Flos.

“It’s quite safe. You tap on the screen to make the functions active, like an artifact. Don’t squeeze it too hard or it breaks.”

“I see.”

Gingerly, the Quarass ran her finger over the screen, staring at the locked screen. Trey opened his mouth and Flos waved him to silence. The Quarass blinked as she tapped one of the buttons. Then she turned the iPhone over, regarding the smooth screen, the back, the buttons. She tapped the power button and blinked as the screen turned black. When it turned back on she stared at it and raised her head.

Flos was grinning, clearly delighted by her reaction. The Quarass met his eyes and then looked at Trey. She hesitated—her eyes flickered, and she shook her head.

“Impossible. I have never seen a device like this. Not in any lifetime. I see the truth in your words, King of Destruction.”

“Just from the phone? You haven’t even seen what it can do.”

Flos was disappointed by the Quarass’ ready acceptance. She shook her head, tapping on Trey’s smartphone gingerly.

“I need no further proof than this. This—this is a strange material. What is it?”

She was referring to the screen and casing. Trey blinked.

“Plastic. And the screen is glass, and, uhm, metal, your Majesty. It’s just…”

He trailed off. ‘Just’? How did you make plastic, anyways? How hard was it to make? Probably…very hard. The Quarass was staring at the casing of the screen.

“It has never been made. I have seen metal, but this is not. Weaker than metal, I think.”

“Much weaker. It cracks if you press too hard. But show her the rest of the phone!”

“I will. Um, your Majesty? Er—”

“Quarass. Address her as Quarass, Trey. She has no other name than that.”

Flos nodded at the young girl. Trey hesitated as he stood up. She handed the phone back, staring at him. He leaned over, unlocking his phone.

“My apologies, Quarass. It has uh—”

“Show her the photo. No, the video! Not the bird.”

Flos was enjoying himself to no end. Trey shot him a look as he opened up the camera app. The Quarass blinked as she stared at the screen and listened to Trey’s explanation. Her eyes flicked to Teres. She watched Trey take a picture, took the phone, and copied him. She blinked at the slightly off-focus image. Then she lowered the phone.

“I see. Everything you have said is true, then. Or so it seems.”

“I have told you no lies, Quarass. Isn’t it extraordinary?”

“Yes.”

The flat reply made Trey think the Quarass was anything but pleased. She was staring at him as if he were a monster, and—Trey glanced at Teres. She raised her eyebrows and the twins shared a thought.

What had Flos told her about their world? Was this a good thing? Neither voiced the thought aloud, though. The Quarass handed Trey back his iPhone and watched as he put it in his pants. Flos rubbed his hands together happily.

“I must have the twins show you the other amazing things they can do with it. But later. You agree, then, Quarass? Even Fetohep might be persuaded if you pressed him thusly. As for Germina…what say you?”

The Quarass paused for a second, and then her small head nodded. She looked at Flos.

“I agree. And I accede to your request. I will speak to him, then.”

“Excellent! You do me a great favor, Quarass. And we must speak more after your return. But Fetohep does not wait and I believe even Gazi and Mars will tire of his army soon. Let us deal with him, then discuss the matter at length. I will host you in my palace—but first—Mizzi!”

Flos raised his voice. The door opened and a [Servant] bowed.

“Your Majesty?”

“Horses! No, a carriage for the Quarass! Horses for me—and my armor! We ride to the border! Quarass, need you anything before you leave?”

“I will have one of my own drive your carriage, if it pleases you, King of Destruction.”

The Quarass rose, and Flos nodded. He beckoned to the twins. They followed him. Teres frowned at Flos’ back.

“Hold on! Where are we going?”

“To deal with Khelt. Remember the army assailing our borders, Teres? The Quarass and I have reached an agreement. She will help me deal with Fetohep and Khelt. We will ride there. Oh—and Quarass?”

“Yes?”

She stopped as Flos strode for the door. He looked back and stared at the twins for a second. His lips moved as he stared at Teres, and then he shook his head.

“Take Trey with you to meet Fetohep.”

“Wait, what?”

Both Trey and Teres exclaimed. Trey looked at the Quarass as she stared at him, and then turned to Flos. Teres glared at him.

“Why Trey and not me? Wait—what does this Fetohep want?”

“I’ll explain it on the road, Teres. Trey will go with the Quarass. Trey, have Ulyse charge your phone before you leave. You may be Fetohep’s guest for the night.”

“Wait, but why me? Your Majesty, what am I supposed to do?”

Flos was already striding down the corridors, calling for his armor and a mace. [Servants] flooded around him as the Quarass walked beside him. Her people were hurrying towards her, Vaitsha and Khalid staring daggers at Flos. The Quarass snapped.

“I am journeying to Khelt. Send Hedolac to the stables. He will drive the carriage that takes me. No one else will accompany me. You will remain as guests of Reim. Here.”

“Quarass!”

Her subjects protested as one. Vaitsha, Khalid—all of them gave Flos a look of deep suspicion as he grinned, donning his armor in the corridor with the help of some servants. The Quarass raised a hand, instantly silencing them.

“I have agreed to do so to aid Reim. Our allies. I will be in no danger in Khelt.”

“Even so, Quarass, let us accompany you—”

Vaitsha protested, and Khalid stepped forwards as the other Germinans nodded. The Quarass held up a finger and all of her subjects stopped. It was impressive; even Flos couldn’t silence his vassals like that.

“No. None of you are necessary to negotiate with Fetohep. He would see bodyguards as an insult likewise. Vaitsha and Khalid, you two lack the formality King Fetohep demands. You will all stay in Reim. Offer no disrespect.”

And that was that. The Germinans looked like they wanted to protest, but one look from their Quarass had them bowing. They still followed her as Flos strode down the corridor.

“Armor for Teres as well. Hm. Chainmail. And a helmet. Trey needs nothing.”

“Flos! Why is Trey going with the Quarass?”

“Because I think he might be useful to her.”

“And not me?”

Trey felt like Teres was missing the point here. At Flos’ words, all of Germina’s subjects gave him a death-glare, some of them putting their hands on their hilts. He didn’t want to go with the Quarass and her scary gaze, much less alone! But Flos just shook his head as he saw a man rush up with a selection of maces.

“That one. No—wait. Let me try the heft of this one. Yes, this one! Teres, for all your endearing qualities I find so helpful, you are a poor [Diplomat]. Mars is better. Trey, on the other hand, has a talent for it. He may well serve you, Quarass. And he has the phone.”

“You believe he is necessary?”

The Quarass looked dubiously at Trey. Flos laughed and clapped Trey on the shoulder. Trey nearly fell down.

“He is! Believe me, he will make the difference. We ride for Khelt’s border! Teres, stop fussing. You will accompany me. Khelt is a boring place. And Fetohep would enjoy you as much as he enjoys my company. Actually…no. No, as much as I’d enjoy the scene, you come with me. You have the sword Orthenon gave you? Good!”

They were out of the palace now, and Trey saw a carriage was already waiting. They weren’t too common in Reim, given the lack of roads, but Flos had demanded one and so it had appeared. It wasn’t particularly royal and some of Germina’s subjects looked aghast at their Queen riding in it. It was serviceable, though, and Flos nodded as he saw his own warhorse waiting. He turned to the Quarass.

“I will ride with you to the border. If only to deal with Fetohep’s nuisances. Shall we?”

“Very well. My subjects. I will return tomorrow.”

The Quarass dealt with the final protest as Teres mounted up. She looked at Trey as he hovered by the carriage.

“You’re going to Khelt, I guess, Trey.”

“I don’t know why.”

“He does. I’ll get it out of him. You just behave. Be careful of her. And don’t tell her too much!”

Teres jerked her head at Flos, and then glared at the Quarass. Trey nodded lamely. They reached up and clasped hands for a moment. Then the Quarass was turning to Trey.

“Come then.”

She stepped into the carriage as the driver, one of her subjects, helped her inside. He gave Trey no such help and in fact gave Trey a look that managed to communicate that if he did anything that made the Quarass so much as frown, Trey was dead. The young man hunched his shoulders as he sidled into the carriage. The Quarass was already sitting. Flos laughed and pointed.

“On to Khelt! Teres, with me!”

He had a bodyguard of a few dozen [Riders]. They set out at once and Trey saw the carriage begin moving. Instantly, a bit of dust stung his eyes. He heard the Quarass cough and hastily closed the leather coverlet. Glass had not been added to this coach and so now the carriage was dark, but for the outline of light around the doors and windows.

In the darkness, there was a little girl with a voice and eyes as old as time. She stared at him, unblinking. Trey was reminded of a horror movie. If she screamed, he’d jump out the window.

It was going to be a long ride. After a minute of silence, Trey had to break the silence. He bowed awkwardly from his seat.

“Um. I’m Trey, your—uh, Quarass.”

“Yes. King Reimarch has told me of you and your sister. Trey Atwood.”

He shuddered. The Quarass’ tone was emotionless, impossible to read. Her face was so still. She stared at him for a longer moment and then her eyes flicked to his pocket, where he had put his phone.

“The King of Destruction has told me how you met him. You awakened Flos Reimarch.”

“Um.”

Trey was starting to realize that was a very bad piece of information for anyone to know. He raised a hand lamely.

“By accident. It was just—we just appeared in front of him.”

“Yes. Tell me more of your world, Trey Atwood.”

“What? Oh, it’s not—”

“Do not lie to me. Flos Reimarch has told me of the advancements of your world. Earth. Tell me more.”

The Quarass’ eyes were trying to burrow into Trey’s head through his skull. He gulped, remembering Teres’ words.

“It’s—we have a few things that—”

“Do not attempt to hide the truth.”

“I’m not—”

“Lies. You are attempting to hide the truth. Speak with honesty or I will know.”

The little Quarass stared at Trey. He wilted under that thousand-year-stare. There was nowhere to run. And he felt like if he jumped out the window, the Quarass would just stop the carriage and make her driver put him back in. He gave up and did his best.

“Well, it’s called Earth and it has no magic…um, it’s really a lot like this world, and not like it at the same time. You see, in my world…”

The Quarass listened to Trey’s explanation of what Earth was. There was so much to say, from the fact that they had no magic, to the technological advancements, the nations—she just listened, not gasping or interrupting like Flos would every two seconds. It was unnatural. The only time she stopped him was when Trey tried to hide something—somehow she could see it in him.

“Enough. Tell me of your weapons.”

“Weapons? I don’t—”

“The weapons that destroy cities. The weapons that fire for miles. Like crossbows, but a thousand times better. The King of Destruction has trusted me with the knowledge. Tell me.”

What was Flos thinking? Was he thinking? Trey had to believe so. He tried to obfuscate, but the Quarass dragged the words out of him. He couldn’t not tell her, and Trey began to worry she was doing something to him. After he began chattering about nuclear weapons and radiation, he was certain. He couldn’t stop.

“I see. Enough. How many nations fill your world? How large are the armies?”

“Well, there’s a million soldiers in China’s army, it’s the largest—”

What was scariest was the way the Quarass seemed to believe every word coming out of Trey’s mouth. And that she believed it, and still, hearing of nuclear weapons, of planets and people landing on the moon, she didn’t react. Trey was certain it was a mask, a poker face, but he couldn’t see past it.

She didn’t even flinch when he told her about the population of Earth. Her eyes never left Trey’s face. He guessed she was trying to tell if he was lying about anything. She made him tell her about nations, history, and then technology like his phone. The carriage’s dark interior lit up as he showed her some pictures from Earth.

That was when he saw the child come out. The Quarass leaned forwards, staring at the foreign pictures, and then demanded to play the game Flos had talked about. Trey didn’t have Flappy Bird, but he had other apps. For half an hour he watched her play Candy Crush and shatter his high-scores like Gazi had with Teres. He saw her smile, and then glance up at him and school her face to expressionless again.

She was a child at times. It leaked out of her when she was unguarded. But other times she was the ruler, stone-faced, piercing eyes. But after a while, she began to relax a bit in Trey’s presence and he in hers.

She wasn’t very haughty. From hearing about Queen Calliope of Hellios and her son from Teres, Trey had expected the Quarass to be at least a bit arrogant. Or spoiled, even, being a child. But the Quarass seemed content for him to ask her questions.

“Um, so you’re the Quarass of Germina. The old one—”

“Died. Yes. Do you know what a Quarass is, Trey Atwood?”

“Not entirely. Teres told me about how you were…summoned?”

“Reborn.”

“Right. And Flos—King Reimarch—he told me the Quarasses all share the same memory. You remember all the old Quarass’ lives. And you rule a Shield Kingdom.”

“Germina. One of four remaining. This is all correct.”

“So you remember…everything?”

“Yes.”

She waited. Trey hesitated.

“Like, everything or just…”

The Quarass sighed slightly. She stared at Trey and pointed to his side.

“You have an aura of magic about you. You are a practicing [Mage]. Do you carry a magical item?”

“I have a training wand Gazi lent me—”

“Give it to me.”

Trey did. The Quarass inspected the wand dismissively. Then she pointed it.

“I have never cast a spell in this body. But my fifth predecessor before me was a [Mage] of some talent. In times past I have been far greater. In one, I was even considered as a possible [Archmage]. The memory of each spell rests within me. [Light].”

A shimmering orb of soft yellow light filled the carriage. Trey gasped; it was a beautiful glow, far better than the light from this phone. The Quarass nodded.

“That is a simple spell. This is a Tier 5 spell. [Pestilence’s Touch].”

She pointed the wand at him. Trey shouted in horror, but it was too late. The wand’s tip pressed into his chest.

“What are—”

He jerked backwards. The Quarass lowered the wand. There was a sound from the front.

“Quarass?”

“Silence. I am well.”

“Yes, Quarass.”

The little girl offered the wand back to Trey. He was feeling himself frantically. Was he hot? What had she—he stopped as she smiled at him.

“You are not affected. I could not cast the spell.”

“That wasn’t right!”

Trey snatched the wand back. The Quarass sat back, looking pleased with herself as he edged away from her.

“Listen to me, Trey Atwood. My knowledge is vast, but my ability to use it is limited. I know magics of old. Spells from previous lifetimes. But I have very little magic as of now. Often, Quarasses are selected for their talents. But my body is weak. I remember fighting, but I cannot lift a sword properly. Once, I slew monsters. I can remember it. But do you think I could kill even a single adult with this?”

She raised an arm, gesturing to her young body. Trey shook his head. The Quarass went on, bitterly.

“I remember men and women and even beasts Quarasses before me have taken as lovers. I know how to seduce, or kill in cold blood. I remember how to shoot an arrow a mile and strike an ant sitting upon a cactus’ spines. But that is but memory. The knowledge of my body is gone. And wisdom is only part memory.”

She tapped one cheek lightly. Trey nodded. The Quarass sighed.

“I am Quarass of Germina. My duty is to hold the Shield Kingdoms against their foe, to ensure Germina endures. But I am not invincible. Far from it. Until I level, until I grow, I am weak and I will do what must be done so I and Germina survive. That is best suited by allying with the King of Destruction, regardless of the past. So. We are allies. You will answer more of my questions now.”

Trey did, shakily. The Quarass let him ask his own questions as well. He was curious about Germina, having not visited it except when Flos’ army had invaded. She looked pleased at his curiosity. And then Trey asked a question that made her pause.

“Um, your companion. Highborn Vaitsha. Is she okay? She looked sick. She was drinking something when she met. Does she need medicine?”

The Quarass blinked at Trey and he’d wondered if he’d finally managed to offend her. But all she did was shake her head, tapping one lip and studying him.

“Interesting. You noticed that? Reimarch was correct. You may serve indeed. And you are correct. Vaitsha is sick. But she will live. She is sick, but by her own will. She is changing her class.”

“What? How?”

The girl shrugged.

“She is ingesting poison. Hence the gloves and vial.”

“Poison?”

“Just enough to live. Not enough to kill. She drinks poison and antidote each day, in greater quantities of each. If she lives—and I have taught her of poisons and ensured that she has the antidotes she needs—she will change her class. And her blood shall become poison and she will be Germina’s viper, a fitting servant.”

“But—what? That’s horrible!”

Trey looked at the Quarass, shocked. She just stared at him.

“It will change her class. She has a poor one at the moment, a mundane class. This will give her unique Skills. Power that she needs. That I need.”

“But she’s eating poison! She looked ill! Does it hurt?”

“Most certainly.”

“Then why—”

The Quarass narrowed her eyes. Trey shut up.

“I offered her a choice. For Germina, she accepted. She took the poison of her own will, knowing the agony it would cause her. That was her decision. By what right do you deny her right to choose?”

“I just—it seems wrong. Are you doing that to Khalid, too?”

Trey remembered the fierce young boy. The Quarass shook her head.

“Khalid is young. A boy. Unlike me, his classes are difficult to level at such a young age. He will take far longer, but he has begun training with the [First Warriors]. In time he will reveal to me what class he is most suited for. And he will be a champion like no other.”

“You’re shaping him into what you want him to be.”

It was an accusation. The Quarass lifted her shoulders.

“Should I not? Germina lives only through its Quarass. Without me, my country has nothing to set it apart from others, and far less than most. But Germina must endure. To survive, the rulers of Ger would lie with snakes and grasp at stalks of dust.”

Trey was silent at that. He shifted uncomfortably. The Quarass’ voice and the way she spoke reminded him of Flos. It was a ruler’s perspective. He tried to think of what Teres would say. Then he thought of something else and looked up.

“His Majesty helped make you the Quarass, didn’t he?”

“Yes. Although he did not find me. My [Councilor of State] did. He might have chosen better, but he was the least of my inner circle. Perhaps it is well that he chose me. My previous incarnation was a fool.”

She spoke so coldly. Trey looked at her.

“Couldn’t he have found someone older? It seems so…”

He paused.

“Cruel. I know it’s for the good of Germina. But was it the best for you? For Vaitsha?”

The Quarass was silent. She looked at Trey, and he saw a flicker of something. When she replied, it was more slowly. And she sat back against the seat of the carriage.

“I was chosen because I looked like the last Quarass. I would not have chosen myself. But fate gives little choices. Now I am Quarass. Perhaps it is a cruel destiny. Perhaps Vaitsha suffers at the cost of herself so Germina may gain. This is true, Trey Atwood.”

The girl paused. And for a moment she stared past him, at the floating ball of warm light. She reached for it, and cupped it in her hands. Then she tossed it and let it hover in the air between them. The Quarass looked at Trey and shook her head.

“However, I choose to be her. I chose to be Quarass of Germina and give myself for Germina. I could flee. I have fled in eighty seven lifetimes, some brief, some long and old. I will not. I am no coward.”

And that was all. Trey bowed slightly, and the Quarass nodded. They said nothing more for a while, until a fist hammered on the side of the coach. Trey jumped and the Quarass looked up. The window was jerked aside and both blinked in the sudden sunlight. Flos’ face and voice echoed through the carriage.

“Trey! Quarass! We’re nearly at the border! Open the door!”

Trey looked at the Quarass. She nodded and he opened the door, seeing the ground rush past. The Quarass ordered her driver to keep the carriage steady; Flos was riding alongside them.

He was beaming as he rode on horseback. Trey saw Flos was wearing sheets of metal—plate armor, save for his head. And his horse was similarly barded. He was riding quickly next to the carriage, but they were both moving far faster—the [King]’s Skill, [Rapid March], was moving them at nearly double the speed they’d normally be going.

“Your Majesty, shouldn’t we slow down?”

“Why? This is enjoyable! Teres, watch out for the carriage! Don’t talk—you’ll bite your tongue!”

Flos laughed, unconcerned with the very warning he was giving Teres. He rode forwards and pointed ahead.

“Before you head into Khelt, I wanted to show you Khelt’s armies! Don’t be worried; they’re undead, but we have it well in hand!”

Trey saw they were heading towards a valley of sorts—no, a dried-up river, a natural fortification that marked Reim’s borders. Flos waved ahead of them; Trey saw something in the distance.

“Gazi and Mars are holding off Khelt’s warriors! Teres and I will join them! Teres, don’t be alarmed!”

He nodded at Teres as she rode up beside him. Teres looked amused as she shouted back.

“We fought zombies before! They’re not scary; just disgusting! How dangerous can an army—”

Her teeth clapped together as she came down hard on the saddle. Trey winced. Flos sighed.

“Healing potion! You didn’t bite your tongue off; don’t worry! You have to learn not to do that. And as for zombies—there!”

He pointed ahead. Trey leaned out the carriage door slightly. His eyes widened in horror.

An army was holding their ground on one side of the dried valley. Reim’s army, led by Mars and Gazi, were locked in combat with Khelt’s soldiers. Trey saw the Serpent Hunters, slashing and whirling, their poison-coated blades hacking apart their foes. Parasol Stroll had the high ground and were literally blasting apart Khelt’s troops as their color parasols spun, aiding the [Mages] casting spells. The regular army held a line, using the height and loose soil to push back the army.

But Khelt’s [Soldiers] kept on coming. A line of them charged down the valley. Trey saw them now, as the carriage rolled to a stop. He saw dried flesh, gaping mouths with few teeth. Sunken sockets.

Zombies. Thousands of them. Twenty thousand—no, less, from all the fighting. Armed in broken and battered armor. They were emaciated, skin dried by Chandrar’s arid climate. Some were worn down to yellowed bone, but most still had dark, leathery flesh. Like mummies, in fact, minus the bandages. But that wasn’t the scary part.

A new wave of Khelt’s soldiers were charging at Reim’s defenders. Charging, not shuffling or groaning. They sprinted across the ground, ancient and rusted weapons, raised. Screaming.

“Uh.”

Trey made a squeaking sound. Teres halted, gulping down a mouthful of healing potion. The sound that Khelt’s soldiers made echoed through the air, raising goose bumps on Trey’s arms. Flos grinned as he lifted the mace he’d brought and pulled out a helmet.

“Zombies don’t run in your world, Trey? They do in this one! And Fetohep can make them sprint.”

“Are they—that’s a message?”

“The only one Khelt sends.”

The King of Destruction laughed. The wave of Khelt’s troops hit Reim’s [Soldiers]. They bounced off the walls of shields and clawed at the defenders, but Trey could see Gazi and Mars leading the [Soldiers], hacking apart the zombies with ease. But there were so many!

And yet, Flos just looked excited. He pointed as his bodyguard formed up around him. Teres was spitting blood, and her own sword was in her hands. Trey stared at Flos. The King of Destruction waved at him and the Quarass.

“We’ll deal with Fetohep’s message. Teres, stick with me! You’ll level today—try not to get bitten! Trey, follow the Quarass’ lead! I will see you tomorrow! Now, with me!”

He roared and surged forwards on his horse, catching everyone off-guard. His bodyguard and Teres pelted after him, and Trey’s sister wasn’t even able to say something after him. Ahead, Reim’s army had spotted their [King]. They roared as he raced towards their embattled lines.

“King of Destruction!”

Flos’ voice was a bellow. He charged straight for the flank of Khelt’s armies as the thousands of zombies turned towards him.

“[Royal Vanguard]! Gazi, Mars, to me!”

His unit of cavalry went through the first five ranks without even slowing. Flos swung his mace in a blur, grinning as he crushed bones and armor. His army surged forwards, and Trey saw Gazi and Mars leaving their positions, cutting towards him.

“He’s going to be surrounded!”

“Not so. Khelt’s army poses little threat to men in armor. Least of all the King of Destruction.”

The Quarass watched with detached amusement, watching the battle and Trey’s face. Flos had cut straight through his army and into his own lines. Trey saw him leap from his saddle, turn to Gazi and Mars—and then the three of them charged forwards by themselves! On foot!

“He’s off his horse!”

“A smart move. Losing a horse to a spear would be a waste against Khelt.”

“Smart? But what if—”

Mars charged left, covering Flos’ flank as Gazi ran with her [King]. Flos was hammering Khelt’s [Soldiers] down with each swing, a shield in his other hand. The undead were like toys in front of his strength, but they were everywhere, and armor or not, he was surrounded. Trey watched, on pins and needles. Then he heard a shout.

Mars, the [Vanguard], one of the King’s Seven, raised a sword. It was glowing, bright yellow, enchanted with some magic. She turned as a wall of undead charged towards her [King]. Trey heard her voice even from where the carriage sat.

“[Grand Slash]!”

The undead around her disappeared. Trey didn’t see the actual swing; it was too fast. He did see body parts, and armor raining down across Khelt’s army. He gaped. Mars pivoted, charged forwards and rammed into another group of Khelt’s soldiers ahead of her.

“[Grand Slash]!”

She did it again! Another pocket just disappeared, and Reim’s army poured into the gap. Gazi was swinging her claymore around, effortlessly slicing through everything she cut, heedless of the weapons bouncing off her armor. She only protected her face as Flos kept carving forwards. And Mars wasn’t done.

“[Grand Slash], [Grand Slash]—”

Hundreds of zombies just disappeared. She was holding off an entire wing of the army on her own. Trey gaped. He’d seen Mars sparring in the training grounds, but he’d never seen this. He turned and saw even the carriage driver was gaping. The Quarass wasn’t. She looked amused.

“Have you never seen Mars the Illusionist do battle?”

“I—no! I mean, she’s fought before, but I was always busy—”

He’d seen Mars kill a [Geomancer] in battle, but she hadn’t used that Skill. She hadn’t had to. She’d just charged through everything; her armor was impenetrable as far as Trey had seen. The Quarass shook her head, indicating Mars.

“[Six-fold Grand Slash]. She may use it six times for every time a lesser [Warrior] would. This army she could destroy herself if she had time. This army is but a nuisance in front of Reim’s might, even weakened. That is not what makes Khelt deadly.”

“Then what—”

“Watch.”

Trey turned back to see Flos and his army mopping up the last of the zombies. They kept fighting, even when it was only a handful left, Trey had to admit. But they had been crushed without a single casualty on Reim’s side, as far as Trey could tell. Some were using potions, but—Trey paused.

There was a mass of bodies coming from the horizon. Past Reim’s borders, past some invisible line, the earth was stirring. Trey saw the earth erupt, undead forms tear themselves free of the soil, rising, rising—and running straight for Reim’s border. Trey looked towards Khelt and paled.

“Is that…?”

A second army, twenty thousand strong, was sprinting straight towards Reim’s borders. Only now did Trey realize that the valley was practically strewn with bodies. How long had Reim’s soldiers been fighting? Since this morning? The Quarass nodded as Flos and his soldiers reset their formation.

“Khelt’s armies are endless and undying. They are made up of every one of Khelt’s own that has ever died. The King of Destruction could fight this battle day and night and Fetohep would not cease. It looks as though four such armies have already fallen to his vassals. We will continue on before they tire.”

She clicked her fingers and the driver uneasily moved the carriage forwards. Trey gulped, but the Quarass pointed impatiently.

“Towards the undead.”

“Quarass?”

She turned her head to look at the Germinan man. Slowly, without saying a word. He flinched and moved the carriage forwards, slowly at first. The twenty thousand Kheltian [Soldiers] were coming right at them. Trey yelped and closed the carriage door. But the Quarass just leaned out of hers. She raised her voice at the mass of screaming undead charging towards them, weapons drawn—

“Fetohep. I seek an audience on behalf of Reim.”

The undead split at the last second, streaming past the carriage as the horses reared. The Quarass sat back as Trey and the driver both froze. Then the undead were gone and Flos was laughing as he led a second charge into their ranks. The Quarass looked at Trey, smiling at his white face. And then she clicked her fingers at the driver.

“Keep moving. Khelt’s capital is yet hours away. Follow the road. It is paved.”

“Yes, Quarass.”

The carriage kept moving. It passed from Reim’s dusty land into—well, more of the same. Trey expected the earth to darken, perhaps the sky to cloud over. But Khelt looked much like Reim. At least for the moment. The border was uninhabited, but nevertheless, Trey felt a chill as their carriage rolled forwards.

The Quarass closed the carriage door. She looked at Trey and calmly sat back.

“Now we are in Khelt’s lands. The King of Destruction has sent you with me to impress King Fetohep.”

“I don’t think I can. I’m not impressive! I don’t know why Flos wanted me to come!”

Trey clutched at his stomach. It was suddenly hurting a lot. The Quarass studied him.

“I see some reason to it. But if he has not educated you as to Khelt’s nature, I will do so. Khelt is a necrocracy, one of two remaining in this world. Perhaps one, depending on your definition of the word. They are an ancient kingdom whose borders are seldom questioned.”

“I can see why.”

The Quarass nodded.

“They are not a Shield Kingdom. Germina is older. Nevertheless, Khelt is powerful, as you can see. Fetohep is latest of a line of their rulers. He is six hundred years old.”

“Six hundred—”

The Quarass waved away the number as Trey’s eyes bulged.

“He is younger than me. I warn you, make no insult to his appearance. Nor to Khelt.”

“Do you think I will?”

Trey was deeply worried. The Quarass considered the question.

“By your ignorance, you may, but ignorance is different from disrespect. Fetohep will accept ignorance. But he will take offense should you malign his kingdom or people in any way. As for formalities—I will make excuses for you. Treat Fetohep with the utmost respect. You may address him as ‘King Fetohep’, or his ‘Eternal Majesty’. Again, make no comment about his appearance. Do you know how to bow?”

“Um—”

“Stand up.”

Trey did, gingerly, in the carriage. The Quarass pursued her lips.

“Show me your bow.”

He tried, but the carriage was cramped and bumpy. The Quarass still made him do it and shook her head when she saw his posture. Orthenon had begun teaching Trey and Teres how to behave properly, but Flos had insisted they had more important things to do.

“Bow to this height. Move your feet so. Back leg there. Front leg—there. Hand—”

She was exacting, but a good teacher. Another facet of her memories, Trey guessed. He had memorized the bow to her satisfaction and a few other diplomatic subtleties by the time the carriage approached Khelt’s capital. The Quarass pursed her lips, but she sighed as the carriage slowed.

“You will not offend Fetohep unduly. Now, we approach the palace. Driver, slow. Open the windows of the carriage, Trey. See Khelt.”

He did. By now, the carriage had moved into Khelt and Trey—gasped.

The dusty landscape had gone. The arid climate that he had associated with Reim for so long suddenly turned into one of greenery. There were plants, trees blooming across Khelt’s land! A forest in the desert!

And that wasn’t all. Trey saw people along the road, staring at the carriage as it rolled through their home. They passed through a village—but what a village! The buildings were carved stone, painted without signs of wear or flaking, and paved streets, without a single stone missing! The people of Khelt were dressed in fine clothing—as fine as Flos’ own [Servants], and Trey was certain they were common folk.

They stared at the carriage, a bit uneasily, but mostly with curiosity. But that wasn’t what caught Trey’s eye.

It was the health of Khelt’s people. Not one looked emaciated, or sick. In fact, among the men and women and children as the carriage passed through the first town, Trey saw something he’d failed to notice since coming from earth:

Some of Khelt’s people were a bit pudgy. As in, they had excess fat. Trey had seen fat people of course since coming to this world, but they were a rarity; most people had little excess fat, and indeed, a life without the sugar of home had helped Trey lose ten pounds already. But Khelt?

It looked rich. The streets weren’t asphalt, and not all the windows were glass, but everything was so maintained and fresh. Nothing looked old or in need of repairs. The streets were fantastically maintained. Indeed, Khelt had roads, even extending outside of the capital!

And then Trey saw the farms. The carriage passed by a river and Trey saw a vast field, as large as any from his world. Plants were in full bloom—some wheat-type plant by the look of it, but more reddish. They were being harvested. And Trey felt a chill as he saw the thin, bony figures in the fields, wielding scythes. He leaned back from the window.

“Undead.”

They were tilling the fields. Skeletons, hundreds of them, carrying baskets, harvesting the crops. And they weren’t the only ones. Trey saw a skeletal horse pulling a plough, and then more skeletons, sowing the ground. Watering it. Working tirelessly. They didn’t even glance up as the carriage rolled on past.

The horses caught scent of the undead and became skittish. The driver tried to calm them, but his eyes were as wide as Trey’s. Both of them looked to the Quarass. She just shook her head.

“Move onwards.”

“They’re undead! The workers! Quarass—they’re—”

“Yes. I said Khelt was a necrocracy, did I not?”

She stared at him. Trey closed his mouth and gulped. Then he looked back at the fields. He was scared at first. But then, as the carriage kept moving and the horses grew used to the scent, he became fascinated.

The undead were so—mechanical! They moved tirelessly, their arms never slowing. They were efficient too—the fields were vast enough to trouble a combine tractor or whatever farmers used in Trey’s world, but there were enough undead to handle it! And there were fields upon fields! Not just undead sowing to crops either; Trey saw one group planting trees while another team felled a tree. They were quarrying stone, replacing broken stones in the road, harvesting—

“It’s so efficient. Why doesn’t everyone do this?”

The Quarass looked highly amused as Trey looked around. And intrigued; Trey saw that while his fear had faded, the Germinan driver was still shuddering each time a skeleton passed by the carriage. The Quarass replied calmly, staring at a team of skeletons marching down the road.

“Because the undead crave death. Khelt holds theirs by their [King]; but other undead may well seize control of them. [Necromancers] have implemented systems such as these before. But Khelt is one of the few places where such practices endure. People fear death magic, sometimes rightly. Accidents can turn into catastrophe if the undead are loosed. Many still remember the Necromancer, Az’kerash. He tried to make the same on his land of Terandria, until he was named monster.”

“But—”

Trey’s objections trailed off. He understood fearing the undead. Their eyes glowed with pale light. And for all they meekly went about their tasks, there was something unsettling about them. These weren’t toy skeletons. They were actual bone. Dead bodies. And the ghostly flames burning in their eye sockets were as distant as the Quarass’ own gaze.

Even so, Trey was impressed. And as the carriage continued into the heart of Khelt, he saw more wonders of the nation of death. Life, for one thing. Trey saw his first playground in this world; a wooden fortress, filled with swinging rope bridges, a slide—even swings! No roundabouts or monkey bars, but a playground nonetheless! There were children playing on it, laughing and stopping to stare at the carriage Trey rode in. They pointed, and then waved at him and the Quarass. Some were barely younger than her!

“That’s a playground! From my world! I’ve never seen one here!”

“No. In other nations, children are apprenticed at their age. Or they help their families. In Khelt, they do not.”

“Where are their parents?”

The Quarass shrugged.

“Attending to their work or pleasures. The children are safe.”

“But if one falls—”

The Quarass looked at Trey reprovingly.

“Trey Atwood, you are no fool. The children are safer than we. If they but scream, they will be protected, their injuries bandaged. This is Khelt. And Fetohep’s reach touches all of his land. His people are buried everywhere.”

She pointed at the soil. Trey saw the driver shudder and felt another chill himself. But the playground called to Trey. The laughing children. He stared at it until it was gone.

And then they came to the capital, and Trey saw the stone facades rising from the earth, the green dancing amid the shadows cast by overhanging buildings. There were walls, but only to block the sand. The capital of Khelt had no fortifications like Reim or every other city Trey had seen. He passed by a carved image of a [King], a proud statue of a man. Then one of a [Queen]. Then a series of sculptures, each one of a member of royalty.

They stood, lining the entrance to the city, staring down at Trey and the Quarass. Past them was a city that would have fit into an older European town. And it would have been a tourist destination too; the buildings were tall, beautifully kept, made in an art style that Trey couldn’t place, but reminded him of…he paused.

Venetian architecture? Maybe, a bit, if you mixed it in with Beaux-Arts, and a bit of the Tudor revival elements and some experimental modernistic work here and there. That was what Trey would have concluded if he’d had the architectural knowhow to describe the buildings. It was varied, and much was made of stone; the people of Khelt had no need to worry about the cost of manpower when it had come to building their homes.

And they had forever to improve on them. Trey looked up and saw a new style of art as he passed through the exterior of the city into the true heart. And he realized.

Oh. The architecture was Kheltian. And it swept over him, a city designed to provide shade in the sun, but also filter the light, so that each building seemed towering and inviting by turns. Here, the stern facades said. Step here, beckoned some entrances. Here, the city whispered.

Here we are eternal.

The carriage rolled to a stop. Trey looked around; the Quarass was already rising from her seat. She beckoned to him.

“We will go on foot from here. Come. Hedolac, remain with the carriage. You will be directed to follow us later.”

“Yes, Quarass.”

The man’s voice was quavering. Trey looked at the Quarass. There was such a hush in the air. He didn’t know why. Then he realized he hadn’t seen a single soul since entering the city. The girl raised an eyebrow as he stumbled out of the carriage. His legs hurt from not carrying him for so long.

“Um—where is everyone?”

“Waiting, I have no doubt. Fetohep knows we are coming. You will follow me, Trey Atwood. Remember what I have said to you.”

“I will. I mean—what do I do?”

“Speak naturally. Speak honestly. Fetohep enjoys new guests, for all he rarely welcomes them. Remember—”

“Don’t insult him. Or talk about what he looks like.”

“Yes. Now, come.”

She strode forwards. Trey followed her, glancing back at the shivering driver. The street was very broad, and very, very quiet. Ahead of them, Trey could finally see the palace.

“It’s…big.”

The Quarass frowned up at it. It was indeed big. And ostentatious. Khelt’s [Architects] had spared no work on it either. She shook her head.

“I prefer Ger’s palace. Fetohep is vain. He commissioned Drevish the Architect to improve his palace last. Each ruler of Khelt does so. It’s acceptable.”

She walked forwards, and then turned to glare at Trey. He was still trying to take it in.

“It’s amazing.”

“Come.”

She snapped at him, looking irritated at his wonder. Trey started and then hurried after her. They walked past flowering trees, neatly tended to. And Trey wondered where all the people were. He was about to ask—

And then he realized he and the Quarass weren’t alone. There was a sound in the air. Faint, but growing louder. Murmuring. The inescapable rustle of people. A crowd. Trey looked around—

And then they reached a grand plaza in front of the palace. The buildings fell away, and Trey saw Khelt’s people. They filled the vast space, an endless sea of faces, staring at him and the Quarass. He froze. She did not. She kept walking, and Trey saw Khelt’s people.

And its army. At first, they blended with the people. But then they were easily visible, for their stillness.

The dead. Rank upon rank of undead soldiers, standing in perfect formation. Their eyes burned as they stood, forming a double line down the street on either side, in front of Khelt’s people. Trey saw the people kept back from the undead, but without any real fear; they were watching Trey and Quarass with interest. Wariness.

But the undead stared straight ahead, their gazes level. They formed ranks in front of the steps leading up to the palace; these soldiers were all wearing burnished armor, not rusted weapons and ragged bits and pieces. They were also freshly dead, their corpses emaciated, but not yet worn away.

There they stood. And the Quarass stopped, looking down the long hallway of undead bodies. They formed a perfect line, straight up towards the palace. A single figure stood there, shadowed by his citadel. Trey couldn’t see him, but as he hurried after the Quarass, the figure raised a distant hand. And the silence, the rustling of so many bodies, broke.

“Germina.”

The whisper came from the voices of Khelt’s citizens. Hundreds of thousands of voices, from each side, whispering a word. Trey nearly jumped into the Quarass. She looked around her. The figure, distant Fetohep, pointed. And living beings, a small rank of men and women with horns, raised them to their lips around the plaza and blew.

A wailing sound echoed the plaza, as if screaming some word in another language. The sound first terrified, but it picked up in volume and tone, growing louder. Triumphant. The [King], standing upon his palace’s steps raised his hand, palm up. Again, the whisper burst forth. Louder.

“Guardian of Chandrar. Shield Kingdom.”

It wasn’t for him. It was for the Quarass. The girl stood, staring up at the [King]. She was so short the crowd couldn’t even see her past the line of undead [Soldiers]. But then—they bowed.

As one, the undead warriors of Khelt drew their blades. They lifted their swords as they knelt, emaciated flesh and bone kneeling in the street. They bowed their heads. And King Fetohep pointed at her.

“Quarass!”

The word was a shout. And it was jubilant, expectant. Not a threat. Trey saw the [King] lower his hand. And he bowed to her, the girl staring up at him. Surprised. The Quarass had seen a lifetime of glories. But the girl had not. And she turned her head as the people of Khelt bowed with their [King]. He raised his head after a moment and they shouted his name.

“Fetohep!”

And then there was silence. The Quarass looked back at Trey and he saw the hesitation in her eyes. But then she straightened her back.

“Walk with me.”

They moved forwards, through the ranks of kneeling undead. Trey felt lightheaded. Terrified. He stared up at the distant figure, standing in the shadows.

He didn’t even feel himself moving. He only knew he’d suddenly stopped. He’d crossed the plaza; now he and the Quarass looked up at the [King] of Khelt. He was still—Trey squinted. Then he heard Fetohep’s voice. It echoed from the palace steps, clearly audible throughout the plaza.

“Few guests bear welcome in Khelt. Fewer still worthy of respect. One stands before us today. We are Fetohep, [King] of Khelt. We greet the Quarass, may she live forever. The Shield Kingdoms have ever been allies of Khelt. And memory is the shield against folly.”

He pointed again, down at the Quarass. And his voice echoed, his eyes flashed. Burning lights in his…skull. A mouth moved. But—Trey’s eyes widened.

“Tell us, Quarass of Germina! Do the Shield Kingdoms yet stand?”

She called up towards him, a girl, unafraid. A ruler herself.

“Germina still remains. Forever we watch the skies. A shield still holds Chandrar’s sand! Does Khelt stand ready to heed our call?”

Fetohep nodded. Slowly, he descended the stairs. Coming into the light. Trey stared at Fetohep. He should have expected it. The Quarass didn’t blink as Fetohep’s burning, golden gaze found hers. His sockets blazed with a magical light. He spoke slowly. His mouth opened, but no tongue shaped the words.

“Khelt remembers, and Khelt honors the Shield Kingdoms. Nevermore shall our foes set foot upon these sands. So we greet the Quarass of Germina. Dragonbane.”

The word made Trey jerk. He looked at the Quarass. She turned her head. And one of her eyes caught his. And he put the pieces together.

Shield Kingdoms. And Khelt. A necrocracy. Fetohep spoke.

“The Shield Kingdoms stand; let Dragons beware!”

He bowed again. Slightly. The Quarass bowed back. Trey bowed deeply. He heard her mutter as she rose.

“An old greeting. He is one of the few who would remember it.”

And then Fetohep was descending. He looked at Trey. At the Quarass. And he smiled. But then—he was always smiling. His skin was dark. Leathery. Well-preserved, though time and the lack of moisture had worn away at him. He wore rich clothes, which sparkled as they caught the light. Fine silk. And he had a regal manner. The flames that burned in his eyes were like the ones Trey had seen in the other skeleton’s sockets, but more alive. Aware. Trey looked at King Fetohep.

He was most definitely dead.