Cruxia woke up abruptly; her heart was beating rapidly in her chest. The nightmare was vivid; it had almost felt real. What she had seen... What she had been forced to live through again...
But she didn't get the time to process what had haunted her mind. She quickly realised she was lying in bed but was not alone. A woman was bent over her, a familiar one. Black hair with blonde tips, blue eyes and a beautiful face.
Celeste muttered something in her native language. The sudden waking up of the Yxal startled her and made her freeze in her movement. Cruxia didn't miss the surprised look on Celeste's face, assuming hers must be similar. She didn't miss that the Anxoyal's nightgown hung a bit lower than it was supposed to be either, and since the Anxoyal was bent over her, Cruxia was able to see part of her cleavage. But that was not everything Cruxia's brain processed within the blink of an eye.
Celeste was grasping Cruxia's left wrist; her hand was clenching the bracelet's gemstone. She was more than just surprised to see her above her since she had never expected her to be able to get rid of the handcuffs.
The Tenarian woman seemed too shocked to do anything, so Cruxia wanted to take advantage of that. But she underestimated how quick Celeste could pull herself together. She tried to grab the arm, grasping her wrist but realised that her other arm was tied to the right bedpost. She couldn't move it close enough to Celeste to stop her from pinning her upper body down.
Celeste sat on Cruxia's upper thighs, preventing her from lifting her upper body. The Yxal might be physically stronger than her, but Celeste was in a better position. She straddled her and pinned her down, staring into her yellow eyes.
"I told you to not do anything stupid!" Cruxia hissed. Her gaze fell on her right hand, noticing that her thumb was slightly swollen. She could only guess that Celeste had broken her thumb to pull her hand out of the handcuff.
"Well, you leave me no choice but to escape. You may not be as cruel as your brethren, but I do not want to find out what this clan will do to me to get the information they desire," Celeste replied.
"You will never escape Jeekalan alive," Cruxia spat. "I'm your only chance of survival."
"I would rather try my odds and die if I fail than remain a slave to your people."
Cruxia tried to roll her back, move her shoulders or do anything else that might give her some space, but the woman topping her was in complete control. Celeste didn't allow the Yxal to get up. Since she only needed to pin down one arm, she could use her other hand to try to open Cruxia's clenched fist, where she suspected the gemstone to be.
It was impossible to open the Yxal's hands, even though Celeste used both hands. Cruxia didn't want to give her the gemstone by any means. She tried to make the Yxal open her hand but without success. Cruxia was clenching the gemstone as if she were trying to crush it.
Celeste's attention, which previously only rested on the taller woman, shifted when the clearing of one's throat reached her ears. "I hope I am not interrupting," a voice said in Tenarian. A voice unfamiliar to both women. But when they turned to look at the voice's owner, they spotted a familiar face. Chesa's voice sounded so different when she spoke Tenarian instead of Dragda. It was the first time either woman heard her speak a language that was not her native language.
"You two look quite busy; I didn't want to interrupt the fun you were having; I'm just asking you to turn it down a bit. I'm trying to finally get some sleep," a broad grin could be seen on Chesa's face. Cruxia had no doubt their struggling looked suspicious from Chesa's position.
"I knew from the moment I saw her that something was going on between the two of you, but I didn't expect you to be into bondage," Chesa said to Cruxia in Dragda.
"This is not what it looks like," Cruxia replied, not knowing why she was justifying herself before her aunt instead of asking for her help.
Chesa just grinned at her niece, saying nothing in response.
"Would you help me out a little?" Cruxia asked. She immediately asked herself why she didn't formulate the question more precisely.
As expected, she earned a soft chuckle from her aunt. "Help you out with what? Satisfying your girl? I'm certain you are capable enough to archive that on your own."
Cruxia would have rolled her eyes if she hadn't felt so stressed. But she wasn't in the mood since she was struggling with the woman on top of her.
"Whatever you think we are doing, that's not what is happening. Celeste is trying to take the gemstone out of my hand and flee. You have to pull her off me," Cruxia hissed, immediately regretting the tone she had just spoken in.
Chesa tilted her head, crossing her arms before her chest as she leaned against the door frame. "Why should I?" A big, provocative grin could be seen on her crimson lips.
Cruxia's eyes widened. "You must be joking."
Chesa chuckled. "No, I'm not doing that. I told you that you are responsible for your prisoner. I just agreed to take you in and speak to the warlords on your behalf. The rest is on you."
"You only gave me one pair of handcuffs. How am I supposed to restrain her properly?"
"Be creative," the older woman replied.
"Are you helping me now or not?" Cruxia asked, almost pleadingly.
Chesa just chuckled and left the room, closing the door behind her.
---
He followed the fresh footprints in the wet ground, cursing quietly as he realised the mud would eventually dry and stick to his armoured boots and legs. He would have to clean them again. He hated doing that.
"Why in all goddamn places did he have to flee to this forsaken shit hole?" he muttered as he continued to walk along the footprints. It would get dark soon, meaning finding his target would get much more complicated. He knew his target was near, but he didn't want to shout for him, not knowing who else was in the area. It was not unlikely that Yxals were patrolling this place. Or other creatures. Creatures that were worse than Yxals, if that was even possible, he thought to himself.
He didn't need to wait long to figure out that there were indeed creatures roaming this area. He had hoped to avoid any conflict. But it seemed he had no choice but to defend himself.
He quickly identified the four creatures circling around him. Their tall upper bodies, short legs and ugly faces were unmistakable. He was surrounded by Mordeurs. Two of them had obsidian-coloured skin; the largest one was red, and the smallest of them was walnut coloured. Their claws were much sharper than the primitive weapons they carried. Nevertheless, they chose to use them against him.
There was no way to talk his way out of it. The Mordeur tongue was unintelligible and impossible to learn for outsiders. He wasn't even sure if those creatures were intelligent enough to teach their language, if it could be considered such, to anyone.
He drew his swords from the sheaths hanging from his belt, turned his hands a few rounds and moved his shoulders to loosen his tense body. He was not looking for a fight, but he had no choice. Fight or die.
The first obsidian-coloured one sprinted towards him, not caring that the armoured warrior was much taller than it. Its brethren quickly followed, and they didn't stop when he beheaded the first one with a swift swing. Before its miserable head met the muddy ground, he had already executed his next move, jumping to the side to avoid all three remaining Mordeurs. They flew past him, landing in the mud one by one.
The red one didn't have the time to get up as the warrior's sword was hurtled towards it. A clean cut split the creature's head into two unequal halves. The next creature approached him before its brethren's dead body hit the ground, but the Tenarian warrior eliminated the creature just like the ones before it.
Only one was remaining. It snarled in anger; its pitch-black eyes were narrowed, appearing even smaller than they were. The Tenarian was wondering what it must think at this very moment. Did it understand what had just happened? Did it care about its fallen brethren? Did it want to avenge them?
So many questions. He was only certain about one thing. He couldn't find out what the vile creature was thinking. It lunged at him, but he didn't dodge. Instead, he thrust his sword forward, piercing the creature's chest. Awful sounds, which could be painful cries, escaped the creature's maw as it wriggled on the warrior's sword. He swung the other blade, separating the creature's head before it could try anything.
He felt no pity for the creatures he had just slain. They chose their own undoing. They were dumb enough to attack a seasoned warrior of the Vanguard only in a small group.
He believed more Mordeurs lurked somewhere near him. They usually hunted in packs that were more extensive than only four creatures. He was prepared to slay more of these pitiful creatures if he had to.
It started to rain again. It had been bucketing down for quite a while and only stopped about half an hour ago. Now, the miserable weather went on. But that didn't stop him looking for the people he was looking for. He was already prepared to do what he must once he found them. It was necessary for the greater good. That was what Superion had told him. And he believed him. Every single word he said to him. He would follow him to the very end. He trusted the oldest and most experienced Anxoyal with his life.
The armoured warrior was confident the tracks were made by Tenarian shoes. The form of the outsole was too recognizable. He met three more Mordeurs on his way through the forest he had entered not so long ago. He dispatched them quickly, not bothering to hide their remains. Their corpses should serve as a warning for the remaining creatures wandering through the forest.
He stopped when he realised that the tracks had suddenly ended. He looked around, searching for an explanation. There was no way the person he had been following had just vanished into thin air. The forest was not dense; the distance between the trees was quite comprehensive. That explained why the ground beneath his feet was still muddy. The treetops were not close enough to one another to protect the ground from the merciless rain. The trees were too high and did not have enough large branches for someone without sharp claws to climb up. He could not see from the ground if someone hid in the treetops.
Unless his target had suddenly vanished, there was only one explanation for the ended tracks. His target could have summoned his wings and flown away. The trees were far enough apart from each other to allow an Anxoyal to navigate through. Despite it being possible, he doubted that happened. His gut feeling told him that his target was still in the forest.
His gaze fell on the nearest bush, which he had barely noticed the first time he checked his surroundings. Drops of fresh blood on the leaves immediately caught his eye as he approached. He pricked up his ears, hearing nothing but his breath and the rustling of leaves. But the wind was not toying with the leaves. There was no other explanation other than that there was a creature in the bush.
He didn't hesitate to carefully walk over to the bush, trying to make as few sounds as possible. The soft cracking of small, thin branches and dried leaves could be heard alongside the clanking of his armour. He was not exactly quiet. Nevertheless, he approached the bush carefully, one sword drawn, the other hand extended to brush away branches as soon as he reached the bush.
He didn't need to search the bush for long to spot the creature hiding in it. He pulled the quivering man out, who would have screamed if he hadn't put a hand over his mouth. "Be quiet; there are Mordeurs nearby," the armoured warrior whispered.
"Sergeant Crownwell? Is that you?" the scared silver-haired man asked. The fear in his eyes diminished a lot once he was sure that the man in front of him was no other than his superior. He wore a robe that covered his armour, and a hood was pulled low over his head, but his voice was unmistakable.
"Yes, it is me. Now, keep your voice down. Who knows how many more of these disgusting creatures move through these woods?"
"They have been hunting me; I killed some of them, but with each I killed, more appeared," Marcent replied, looking around paranoidly. Crownwell regarded him from head to toe, noticing Marcent wore shabby clothes and was bleeding from three deep cuts in his left upper arm. He had no doubt a Mordeur's claw was responsible for that wound.
"You got any arrows left?" the Sergeant asked, pointing at the bow Marcent was carrying.
Marcent shook his head. "These creatures didn't allow me to pick up any arrows."
"Do you have another weapon with you?"
Marcent shook his head again. "I only managed to snatch this bow and quiver from a dead Yxal when I fled their settlement."
"How did you manage to escape?" the armoured man asked.
"One of the Yxals opened the doors to our cells and let us go. I don't know why she did it, but I didn't dare to ask. I grabbed my boots on the way out and ran. The settlement was in chaos, and the Yxals were fighting each other. Most of them didn't mind us. The main gate was open and unguarded. They were too busy slaughtering each other to prevent me from escaping," the silver-haired archer explained.
Crownwell regarded the rags Marcent was wearing and then looked at his boots, which had seen better days but were still intact. "What about the others?" Crownwell asked after a few moments of silence.
The expression on the ranger's face almost looked like an apologising one. "Jenez, Marceile, Marjo and Celeste were in the same prison with me. We were in different cells, far enough from each other to be unable to talk. They took Marjo somewhere after a few days but never returned him to his cell."
"You think he is dead?" Crownwell interrupted.
Marcent shrugged. "I don't know, but it wouldn't surprise me if they killed him. The Yxal are brutal and savage creatures."
"Do you know anything about Jenez, Marceile and Celeste?"
"They were released from their cells the same as I was. A female Yxal dragged Celeste with her while Jenez and Marceile rushed out of the prison with me. I thought they were behind me when I reached the gate, but they weren't."
"I assume you don't know about Raven's whereabouts."
Marcent shook his head once again. "Unfortunately, no." A thoughtful look could be seen on his face as he let his gaze wander over their surroundings. He didn't see any Mordeur having come near them in the meantime. "How did you escape, Sergeant? What went wrong with your plan? Why didn't Parcu sound the horn?" Marcent asked when his gaze fell back on his superior.
"Parcu didn't sound the horn because the Yxal got him first. I found him dead on the ground with several daggers in his back," Crownwell replied, ignoring the first question. He noticed Marcent's eyes widen in shock and his mouth open.
"They got him? But how? His dagger was supposed to make him invisible, wasn't it?
"I have no idea what went wrong," the Sergeant lied.
"Do you think the others are still alive?" the silver-haired archer asked worriedly.
Crownwell sighed. "I don't know. I can only hope they are." Another lie. "I don't want to imagine what the Yxals would do to them if they caught them again."
An anxious look crept on Marcent's face. "I don't want to ever be captured by them again...What they did to me...There was this one Yxal with turquoise hair...She was much worse than all the other Yxals who questioned me..."
"You said you couldn't talk much to the others during captivity, right?" Crownwell asked to ensure he had heard it right the first time.
"I shared a cell with Marceile, but the others were too far away to talk. Not to mention, there were always Yxals around us. They didn't allow us to talk much. I could only whisper to Marceile when they walked away from our cell to check on the others."
"I assume Marceile didn't know how Parcu got killed either."
"No, she didn't."
"And you don't know if the others do," Crownwell concluded.
Marcent frowned, an eyebrow was raised. "Yes... I just told you I wasn't able to talk to them. I have no idea what they know."
Crownwell studied Marcent closely, trying to determine if he was speaking the truth. He remembered what Superion had told him. We cannot allow any group member to return and tell the Nine what you did.
He had the impression that Marcent didn't know that he killed Parcu to get the artefact. He was totally clueless. Nevertheless, Crownwell couldn't take any risks. The archer could be lying to him and only pretending to know nothing about Parcu's death. He couldn't be certain Marcent wouldn't tell the Nine all he knew once they returned to Umbral.
He couldn't take any risk. He had to cut all ties leading to him. For his own sake but also for the sake of his family. He didn't like what he had to do, but it was necessary. And he was a dutiful and obedient soldier.
"What are we going to do now? Will we go back to Tenaria or look for the others?"
"I will look for the others. You will not," Crownwell exclaimed.
A look of confusion decorated Marcent's handsome facial features. "What do you..." He wasn't able to finish his sentence as Crownwell put a hand on his shoulder and pulled him towards him, thrusting the sword he had held in his hand the entire time through Marcent's chest. His eyes reflected an unaccustomed coldness as he held Marcent tightly, depriving him of any chance to free himself. He thrust the sword deeper, causing the other man to spit more blood than when he had first stabbed him.
Marcent struggled, but he was not strong enough to free himself. With his tall, slender body, he was usually fast enough to dodge attacks and keep a healthy distance from his enemies. His physique and lack of pronounced muscles were a disadvantage in this situation. He was not strong enough to free himself of Crownwell's tight grasp.
Crownwell watched the light vanish from Marcent's eyes, and his body slackened. He dropped the body once he was certain Marcent was dead. He didn't bother to clean his sword, as he would bloody it sooner or later. He doubted he would find the others without encountering more evil creatures like Mordeurs. He put his sword back in its sheath and walked away without looking back at the man he had just killed.
---
"You gotta be kidding me," Cruxia exclaimed in Dragda when Nyxara entered the room. "Why do you always come at the most unfavourable moments?"
Nyxara raised a brow as she regarded the scene in front of her. Cruxia was sitting right next to the Tenarian woman; both were wearing nothing but their nightgowns, which had gotten more damaged since the last time Nyxara had seen them. They weren't free of holes and slits. Cruxia was in the middle of either binding or unbinding the light-brown-skinned woman's right hand to the bedpost. Nyxara couldn't tell since she had just walked into the middle of the action.
"You two should get dressed," Nyxara told them in Tenarian. Her accent was much worse than Cruxia's; it was hard to understand her, but Cruxia and Celeste still did. "The warlords agreed to hear you out."
"Finally," Cruxia replied. "I have been waiting for it for almost a week." She undid the last of Celeste's handcuffs and got up from the bed, allowing her to get up.
Celeste's gaze fell on the clothes to her right. It was a roughspun brown tunic that had more in common with a sack than with a tailored piece of clothing. The trousers were made of the same material. Her clothes were shabby, while Cruxia wore a simple black linen shirt and trousers made of wool and dyed dark brown.
Celeste waited until Nyxara left the room and removed her nightgown, not caring if Cruxia was looking. The other woman, who had already dressed before freeing Celeste from her restraints, observed her. The Anxoyal might have behaved ever since the incident in the middle of the night, but Cruxia still didn't trust her. She always kept an eye on her, watching her every move so as not to give her another opportunity to overwhelm her. The damaged headboard of her bed was reminder enough.
Once Celeste was done, Cruxia approached her with a new pair of handcuffs. Unlike those tied to Celeste's bed posts, this pair was connected to a chain. "Is the chain really necessary?" Celeste asked.
"You are my prisoner. You walking behind me unchained wouldn't give the warlords that impression."
"With these, I look more like your slave than your prisoner."
"You want to live, don't you? Either you do as I say, or I will leave your fate to the warlords. If you do as I say, I make sure you stay alive. How does that sound to you?"
"I would remain your prisoner for the rest of my life," Celeste pointed out. The expression on her face told Cruxia that she was not exactly happy.
"Better living as my prisoner than not living at all," Cruxia replied.
"It's a matter of perspective. I know people who would rather die than live as a prisoner or slave."
"And are you such a person?" Cruxia asked. One of her brows raised as she stared into the other woman's eyes, searching for any hints.
That was a good question for Celeste. A question she had often asked herself in the past days. A question she had found no answer to so far. Back when they left Tenaria to travel to the Yxal lands, she would have rather died than live as a prisoner if she ever fell into enemy hands.
Back then, she had not expected to get caught under the leadership of a veteran like Sergeant Crownwell. She had lived in captivity for months in Narvashok, where the living conditions had been much worse than in Jeekalan. Nowadays, she no longer has to live in a cell. She had a bed and got two to three meals daily, which even tasted good. She was allowed to bath regularly and was allowed to wear decent clothes.
She was not able to move freely or be alone in general. The light-purple-haired Yxal was always with her, watching her every move. At least Cruxia was no longer as mean to her as she was to her back in Narvashok. But she was not too friendly either. They didn't talk much, but at least the pink-skinned woman didn't block out all attempts at conversation.
Celeste had managed to gain some information about Cruxia. None that would improve her current situation, but at least some that helped her understand how clans such as the Deathchanter clan worked and what their members were like.
From what Cruxia had told her, Celeste had the impression that the members of the Deathchanter clan were much nicer and more open to outsiders than the other clans. The fact that they were trading with other races reinforced that impression. Not to mention that Chesa and her partners didn't mistreat her so far.
Cruxia wrapped the chain around her left wrist, slightly pulling on it. "I hope you will cooperate. Don't make me drag you through the streets," she said to the Tenarian woman.
"It's not that I have much of a choice," Celeste replied as she got up.
"I'm glad we came to an agreement," Cruxia responded and approached the door, leaving the room immediately. She escorted Celeste outside the house, where her aunt and uncle were already waiting for her.
"Seems we can finally go now," the words escaped Theodar's mouth, whose left half was sewn together. He was tall, a few inches shorter than Cruxia, and even skinnier than the late members of the Gore-Eater Clan. His face was anything but beautiful. His eyes were sunken, glowing with a faint, eerie light, like smouldering embers. He had a big, crooked and pierced nose and small ears.
Cruxia simply nodded, not saying anything as she followed her aunt and uncle through the streets until they came to their destination.
The building was by far the largest one in Jeekalan. Like the other buildings, it was made of stone. Although the building hosted the three ruling warlords, its outsides were not extraordinarily decorated. The inside was held simple as well. They found that out once the guards allowed them to enter.
There were dozens of statues in the entrance hall of the Sanctuary of the Nine in Umbral. Celeste had somehow expected that there would be at least a few in this building, but there were none. Not in this hall, the corridors that followed, and not even the room they had just arrived in.
The room was unnecessarily big, considering nothing but three stone seats facing each other stood in the middle. The room's entrance was guarded by two Yxals, and so was each seat. There were eight guards inside the room. But they were not the only creatures awaiting them.
A Yxal sat in each of the seats on the left and right; the third Yxal was standing in front of the middle seat. Like all the other members of the Deathchanter Clan, they were pretty muscular and about the same height as Celeste but about a head shorter than Cruxia.
So far, the appearance of all clan members hasn't really lived up to its name. Celeste had expected pale, thin creatures that were either tattooed or wore warpaint and hid their faces beneath the hoods of long robes. They didn't live up to her expectations. Not that it mattered to her how they looked like. She didn't care about that at all.
The gazes of the warlords immediately fell on Celeste and rested on her for nearly a minute before they wandered to her captors. The one in the middle was a woman who brushed a strand of grey hair out of her face before speaking to Cruxia's aunt in their native language. A neutral expression decorated Celeste's face as she closely regarded the two women, now standing much closer.
She shifted her gaze to Cruxia, who was also regarding them; she even noticed the tense expression on the light-purple-haired woman's face. So far, she had only seen such an expression on her face when she had fought her or when Cruxia had talked to the guards at the settlement's gate. Celeste had no idea what they were discussing, but she was sure it was severe. Otherwise, Cruxia wouldn't be so tense. Cruxia had told her they would meet the warlords to discuss their permission to stay with the clan.
Celeste did nothing but shift her gaze from face to face, trying to get information from the Yxals' facial expressions. She hasn't gotten any useful information so far. The two other warlords, both male and looking almost identical, had joined the conversation, and so had Cruxia and Theodar.
The discussion had started calmly, but it had erupted quickly. Disbelief could be seen on Chesa's face, while anger was reflected by Cruxia's. Theodar was not angry but didn't look pleased either. The conversation didn't seem to go as Cruxia and her relatives had hoped for.
Her aunt and uncle got upset but tried to remain as calm as possible while Cruxia's anger rose. She was speaking much louder, her eyes were narrowed, and she was clenching her fists tightly. Her jaw was clenched tightly when she wasn't talking, and her shoulders were raised.
Celeste still hadn't decided what outcome she was hoping for. Inside Jeekalan, she was safe from the eastern clans but wouldn't have much opportunity to escape her captor and flee to Tenaria. If the warlords cast them out, she might have the chance to get the gemstone somehow, free herself from the magic-suppressing bracelet and fly back to Tenaria. She had to keep in mind that it was not guaranteed that she would get the chance to do that. She still hoped Tenarian forces were looking for her and the rest of her group. If they were cast out, her people might find her.
She hadn't expected the outcome of that discussion. Neither had the three Yxal that went with her. Cruxia struggled hard and even put up a fight but, without a weapon, was unable to fight off the guards who grabbed her and dragged her away. Neither could Celeste withstand the guards who did the same with her. They couldn't prevent the guards from pulling them away.