Malay
As the shadows loomed closer, it was apparent that they were riders.
The man in the lead had a garb of faded red and black sack-like robe.
He rode some breed of Felician horse, tall and bulky with a white mane on a shining obsidian body.
When the troupe reached us, Sir Ravis hailed them and shot a warning with the formation coming together.
A man with crooked teeth and a grimy face by the leader leaned towards him and whispered something.
"Can I ask, what business you gentlemen have in this area?" Sir Ravis shouted.
"I'm here to string your mama up, mind lending a hand here?" the grimy one shouted back.
The crooks behind him snickered.
Some of the soldiers stomped in fury and launched their own descriptive profanities.
It was clear that these were brigands and marauders banded together in the wake of the Night of Calamities.
Every time the Night of Calamities ends, all the major and minor forces, organizations, and noble houses turtle up to work on their own territories.
The imperial legions also become busy with clearing major trading and travel routes, and important locations for the Empire to function as the behemoth organism it was.
The leader of the crooks raised his hand, and the snickers died down behind him.
"I am Yondir of Moloni.
We're nothing but scavengers in the wake of chaos, like-minded men banded for survival.
Nothing wrong with it, my lord."
"And we take your word for it?" Rolan shouted back.
"By the looks of your markings, you seem to be from them newcomers, right?
You don't seem to be imperial legions.
This is not your lord's domain, young friend," Yondir said with a lackadaisical wave and amusement.
Sir Ravis waved Rolan down when he was about to shout something.
"You're right, Mister Yondir, nothing wrong with banding for survival.
Hollow One knows we need strength to breathe.
Then I suppose you'll be on your way?"
"Why, yes, of course.
We're not soldiers and knights like my lord to eke out a way through this.
We'll jump a couple of imperial survival bunkers until we find some settlement."
Saying that, Yondir immediately gave a signal.
The men were surprisingly orderly despite their bedraggled looks.
Yondir shouted a farewell, and in moments I could see his back getting smaller through the fog on the glass window.
The camp held a tense air even after the bandits had left for a while.
I left the window and leaned back.
"A dream again?" Ghost suddenly asked in my mind.
"Mhm," I nodded and tried getting comfortable.
"The prince, the child, or the conqueror?"
"The conqueror," I answered, not without some annoyance.
Every time I tried to talk about my dreams with this ghost, the ghost would ask me to stop.
He even went as far as screaming and coming out once when he tried to tell the full dream.
But he'll always ask for some details.
With frustration, I closed my eyes so I won't have to talk to the ghost in my head.
This ghost made its home in my head a few years back—way before I had the courage to walk out of the Temple of Knives and slit the throats of holy fools.
No one knows about this ghost, no one alive at least.
When I found out I had a ghost living in my head, I almost jumped out of my skin and immediately ran to Dobbon.
We hid at the dormer roof, talking about it till the prayer bells.
Dobbon, my friend, my family, long dead for the crime of having a soul and love.
I felt a weakness in me that neither the Scourge nor the temple had taught me to deal with—a scorched and barren feeling around me like a haze.
I fell into a slumber, dreamless this one: no bloody conqueror, no golden prince, no shaking leaf of a child on the rooftops of gold.
When I woke up, the night was rich, and velvety shadows moved beneath the starry night.
I missed the wilds and the Scourge, and Aritsa.
But what can a knife do but plunge for blood?
What destiny does a tool hold beyond its use?
A little more than two years I spent with the Scourge and Aritsa, training and preparing for what was to come.
Training not only in magical theory for the Imperial College of Aegis, but also trained in the Way of Zenith, or simply the Way.
I never believed in the cause.
Ronik said I didn't need to.
I wanted to kill a high priest, and that's what they prepared me for.
Am I someone more than I trained for?
More than I sacrificed for?
More than I was told to be?
I don't know.
Answers died with Dobbon.
Questions die on gallows, and in briberies, and in a quiet street where guards are what people need to guard from.
So I let it all go.
There was no sleep for me now, so I stared in the deeps of the night and saw a light bob up in the shadows of a tree.
I tried watching it closely, but the window glass was foggy and latched from outside.
The light suddenly scurried up the tree and disappeared.
I watched it for a while, but there was no movement.
Come morning, the camp was bustling for the move, and I walked to the tree.
But there was nothing there.
"Could I have been imagining things? Shadows, maybe?" I sighed and walked back.
The march, fraught with danger and tiresome agitation, carried on towards the Aegis.
The shadows of the nights were cut apart and grim soldiers posted guards.
I saw the lights scurrying up the trees, and was increasingly sure that they were eyes of some creature, but every morning was an exercise in futility.
Pale and dry days were mashed together with groans and grunts of a long march, and the murk of nights was endured by chanting the name of the Holy Seven.
One of these days, an agitating screech rang through the crossing, and the soldiers swept their spears to comb through the surroundings.
It's unwise to let a wolaesk escape because they mostly hunt in hordes, and if they survive, they'll just join another one and maybe more and lead it back to you.
So the perimeter that Sir Ravis set up kept tightening as Rolan led a few youngsters to quickly dispatch the ghastly weasels.
It seemed to be a scouting band rather than a horde.
They were dealt with quickly.
Right when the men were about to let their guard down, a light flashed behind one of the dirtways leading east, and everyone tensed up because they mostly had their backs to that side.
If it was an ambush, it was going to cost them.
I tried forming three patterns of Ajna for better visibility.
And what I saw had me struck dumb.