<span style="font-style: italic"><span style="color: #8080FF">Everything is… so quiet…</span></span><br/><br/>Rajah was enveloped in silence. In all of his years, it had never been this quiet, this peaceful. He couldn’t hear any noises, but he felt their presence. Instead of listening, he felt the quiet chirp of crickets, the fatigued trotting of Emira. It felt somehow omniscient, godly, to resonate on such a spiritual level. His heart slowed to a minimal beat against his chest. Is this what Radu felt like, right before he died? This calm, transcendental state?<br/><br/>A sharp, burning sensation erupted in Rajah’s chest and he jerked his head out of the water, sputtering and gasping for air. He was still alive, he decided as his hands pushed back the long black tresses that had gotten wet and matted against his face. He had never intended to drown himself, that time or any of the other four times he’d done that since Radu died. It was more of a wake up call every few days. If he didn’t drown, it was a sign that the gods and his people wanted him to keep pressing forward. If he<span style="font-style: italic">did</span>drown, well… he didn’t know. He hadn’t gotten that far yet.<br/><br/>An odd mix of defeat and determination settled into his bones and gave him the strength to pull himself out of the pond and get dressed. Maybe today would be the day. His people had waited weeks, bordering a month, for him to bring help.<span style="font-style: italic"><span style="color: #8080FF">Please, let today be the day,</span></span>he prayed as he mounted his horse. It hurt, being in the saddle. Weeks of nonstop riding had taken a heavy toll on his entire body. His thighs quivered violently as Emira took a steady trot, but it was his ass and back that were taking the brunt of the damage. The backs and insides of his legs were raw from constant friction. Every part of his body groaned and protested the sudden continuation of their abuse. But yesterday was not the day, and neither was the day before that, so Rajah wouldn’t rest.<br/><br/><span style="font-style: italic"><span style="color: #8080FF">Please,</span></span>Rajah prayed again, his knuckles whitening around Emira’s reins.<span style="font-style: italic"><span style="color: #8080FF">Let today be the day.</span></span><br/><br/>The sun beat down mercilessly on Rajah’s shoulders. His thick hair was still wet when he set out so that had saved him for a few hours at best, but then after a while even his hair started to feel hot on his back. He didn’t want to die like this - alone, starving and exhausted in the middle of a foreign land. His stomach growled viciously to confirm the fact that he was starving. When was the last time he’d eaten? He couldn’t remember.<br/><br/>“You need to take better care of yourself, brother.”<br/><br/>Rajah’s head whipped to the right, then to the left, then all the way around in the saddle as he looked for Radu. That was his voice, he knew it!<span style="color: #8080FF">“Radu!”</span>he called out, his voice cracking and sending painful reverberations up his dry and cracked throat. Emira whickered and huffed in protest of the rapid movement on her back, but Rajah coaxed her around and around and around in a circle.<br/><br/>And then it hit him.<br/><br/>Radu wasn’t there, he<span style="font-style: italic">couldn’t</span>be there. He was dead. Reality crashed down heavily on Rajah. He suddenly had trouble keeping his eyes open, everything just felt so<span style="font-style: italic">heavy</span>. With a clenched jaw, Rajah took Emira around and urged her forward. His stomach was revolting and he felt nauseous. It felt like he was leaving Radu for a second time, and it certainly hadn’t gotten any easier.<br/><br/>The hours were beginning to blend together as they did every day. The sun had piqued now, looming above him and torturing him as if it had been too benevolent before. Rajah tipped his horse skin bladder straight up, relishing the feeling of water running between his cracked lips. Eventually though, the water stopped coming. He held the bladder at armslength, turning it on its head, prompting a single drop of water to slide down the skin and catch at the lip. He was out of water.<br/><br/>The skin slipped from his hand, landing on his leg first before falling to the ground. Emira trotted on, ignorant of her rider’s sobs of protest above her. Rajah slowly leaned forward until his chest was resting against the horse’s neck, his arms dangling down limply to either side. He was going to die. Out of all of the times he’d tried to drown himself, he’d never meant to die. Rajah had always believed that he wanted to breathe as he died, the thought being surrounded by water and not being able to breathe terrified him. He never imagined he would be even more distressed by the opposite. If he had the strength, he would have smirked at the irony.<br/><br/>“What are you doing, Rajah?”<br/><br/>Rajah kept his eyes closed. It was only a cruel trick of a dying mind. Radu wasn’t there.<br/><br/>“<span style="font-style: italic">Hey.</span>” Imaginary-Radu was more insistent this time, and Rajah flinched as the punch to his arm sent pain up and down his side. ...a punch? Rajah’s brows knitted together in confusion, and he took a moment to register what had happened before he bolted upright in his saddle. Radu sat atop his horse, hands on his hips and looking as cocky as ever. Rajah could have kissed him. “Get up. Do you think you get to quit because you’re tired? Do you think that there aren’t people waiting for you to get back?”<br/><br/>Rajah blinked.<span style="color: #8080FF">“Radu, I… -”</span><br/><br/>“- I don’t want to hear it. You have people<span style="font-style: italic">relying</span>on you. If you fail, they will die.” It was starting to become hard to see through the tears. His eyes stung horribly, but he couldn’t tear his vision away from Radu’s expression as it changed from callous to good-natured. “I know. Race me there,” Radu insisted, turning his horse in an aboutface. “Race me to Lebidan. I know you can’t stand to lose to me.”<br/><br/>Rajah couldn’t have protested if he’d tried; Radu was off, his horse kicking up clouds of dust in his wake. His eyes widened, his lungs inflating to a painful extent as he watched Radu slip through his fingers again. With a swift kick to Emira’s sides, Rajah was right behind him in pursuit. “Radu, wait!” he cried out, leaning forward and reaching out desperately, fingers twitching toward Radu’s braid. The bells in his friends hair seemed to grow louder and louder until they were eventually all Rajah could hear. He couldn’t even hear himself when he called out Radu’s name, though he certainly felt the pain in his throat. One more desperate reach, he was almost there…<br/><br/>The sky was alarmingly blue, he realized suddenly, now that he was looking straight up at it. He could see himself getting lost looking at it. It was so beautiful and peaceful, and much when he was submerged in water, Rajah couldn’t hear a thing. He could feel footsteps reverberating through the ground he was laying on. His head lulled just slightly to the side as a shadow washed over him. A silhouette stood above his dying body, dark black against an increasingly white background. He closed his eyes then.<span style="font-style: italic">I’ll be with you soon, brother.</span><br/><br/>-------------------------------<br/><br/><span style="font-weight: bold">“Wait, what?” The man was a Lebi, and one who was no stranger to battle, based on the dents in his armor. Still, he looked nervous, although Haman wasn’t sure why, as he leaned down over him, glaring with his lone eye.<br/><br/>“I-I said there’s a rider, Sir. He’s coming from the East, and the scouts have reported that he’s a Plainsman.”<br/><br/><span style="font-style: italic">Strange.</span><br/><br/>“And where is this Plainsman headed?”<br/><br/>“Here, Sir. They say he was at a full gallop, too. Should we raise an ala-“<br/><br/>“No, I will handle it. Thank you,” Haman said, patting the man gently on a shoulder, sending him flying sideways into a group of Maidens. They caught him, stopping him shy of the ground with smiles on their faces as he sputtered a hasty apology to them. Haman missed what else was said, however, as he used his long strides to quickly exit the camp, heading out to where this mysterious rider would be arriving, assuming he stayed true to his course.<br/><br/>The very existence of this man was a mystery, but it wasn’t Haman’s place to know the ‘why’. He needed to control the situation, whatever it was, and leave the rest to his betters. It was the way he did things, and while many would have found issue with such an existence, Haman held no such resentment in his massive frame. He only knew his duty, to lord and land. And his loyalty to Linden was trumped only by his loyalty for Prince Barth, for whom he would gladly lay down his life.  <br/><br/>Two others joined him, Lindenians like himself, as he trudged out in the open space south of the camp; they were wordless as they walked, but all three of them were staring at the same thing. A cloud of dust approached, with dark shapes at their center. Eventually a rider came into focus, and they watched as the man reached out in front of him, grasping at empty air. Even as the horse beneath him released a whinny of protest, the man tumbled off of it, landing hard on the ground.<br/><br/>Haman quickened his pace, reaching the Plainsman in time to see him staring vacantly up at the sky.<br/><br/>He looked like a corpse, or at least very close to one. His countenance was drawn, his skin was dry and cracked, his lips even more so, and his eyes were glazed over. The braids for which the people of the Plains were known had seen better days, and there was something about his appearance that made it clear he hadn’t eaten in days. He looked like a man at the very end of his rope, which of course was hardly a new sight for Haman of Thalshen. “Dehydration, exhaustion, and probably a few other things that might kill a man,” Haman said quietly, even as he pointed one of his fellows towards the horse. “Have her fed and watered, with lots of grass underfoot. And brush her down, thoroughly. Plains horses don’t get that tired, not unless they’ve galloped half the length of Soluunar. This man has come a long way, and fast.”<br/><br/>The soldier he’d indicated scurried over to the animal, which didn’t seem bothered by the attentions of a stranger - exhaustion did that sort of thing, even to the most unruly of beasts - and the other remained by his side, looking down at the Plainsman who’d reached their doorstep seemingly just in time to succumb to death. “Will he live? Should we call for a wagon?” he asked, just as the man closed his eyes, seemingly in acceptance of his fate.<br/><br/>“He will live,” Haman said simply, kneeling down beside him, “and he will need no wagon.” A moment later he was straightening up with the Plainsman draped over his shoulder like a rug. “Find the God, Yorinth, and tell him he is needed. Urgently.”</span><br/><br/>-----------------------------------------------<br/><br/>He was flying. That’s what it felt like anyway, swaying back and forth like he was on Emira’s back. The thought of riding made him happy, but right now the actual movement just made him feel nauseous. His limbs dangled lifelessly next to him but they bore no weight; he couldn’t feel them at all. It should have terrified him that he couldn’t feel his arms or legs, but it had a strange soothing effect.<br/><br/>“Peace, Rajah.” His eyes squinted against the light of the sun, but he eventually found the strength to open them. Emira trotted alongside him, bereft of a rider or any worldly cares. The iron pines of Linden stood sentinel over sleepy plains, ever stagnant and yet constantly moving toward them. “Calm down. We are almost to Linden; there’s no harm in a few hours of sleep.” That’s right. They had been travelling to Linden that day and he’d fallen asleep. He knew he was supposed to say something right then… what was it? Maybe if he didn’t say it, they could just stay like this and no one else would have to die.<br/><br/>In the back of his mind, of course Rajah knew what this was. His mother had always told him that right before you die, you see your most precious memories play right before eyes. The small hints of a smile slowly fell away. This wasn’t real, he decided as he swung one leg over, looking at the ground pass beneath him. When he jumped off of the horse, he watched himself fall. He saw Radu ride away, disappearing into thin wisps and dissipating completely. This was for his people, and if that meant leaving Radu behind now, then he would do it.<br/><br/>Seconds after seconds passed before Rajah realized he was still falling. Maybe this hadn’t been the best idea. His lungs filled with fire and deflated as he gathered up the courage to look down. It was black beneath him, he noticed to his horror. He looked up, around, everywhere. Where was the trail, the iron pines, the sky? Everything was dark and empty, void of light though Rajah could still make out himself as if the sun were still shining down on him. And he could make out…<br/><br/><span style="font-style: italic"><span style="color: #8080FF">What is that?</span></span><br/><br/>A small white speck in the vast nothing crept toward him. Rajah leaned closer, squinted his eyes against the darkness to focus. He couldn’t make out what it was, but it was definitely getting closer, and closer, and closer still until out of nowhere, the Nothing was illuminated and the pure white was upon him, and he didn’t run from it.<br/><br/>When Rajah woke, it was violently and not without hyperventilating. He sat straight up in bed, clutching at his chest through the fine sheen of sweat that covered it. Every part of him hurt, he noted suddenly. He breathed in and out rapidly, each breath harder to take in than the first. He brought his legs up and bit through the pain as he buried his face into his lap, his nails digging at his chest - his lungs burned so<span style="font-style: italic">much</span>. It subsided after a few moments, but in those few moments he felt like he was dying.<br/><br/>A small shuffle from the other side of the room prompted his head to turn, uncurling from around himself as he looked to the room’s other occupant. He stared at the man’s expression, his garb, his demeanor, trying to find some semblance of him being another mirage. He could find none.<br/><br/>There were many things he wanted to say. Many men had died around him, he’d lost his brother, he was sore and fatigued and hungry and this was the first man that he had seen in two weeks. Out of all the things he could say, only one question immediately came to mind.<span style="color: #8080FF">“Where am I?”<br/></span><br/><span style="color: #FFFF00">“You are currently in a tent, in an army camp located roughly sixty miles south of Lebidan’s capital city. You were seen galloping towards our position, before being found very close to death out beyond the camp’s limits. If not for the presence of an Elder God, we would not have been able to save you. There’s water in the bowl near your bed, if you’re thirsty. And bread, if you wish to eat.”<br/><br/>Barth tried to speak slowly and clearly, anticipating that the man might have trouble understanding him based on his previous experiences with Plainspeople. Additionally, he wasn’t sure how much of the man’s senses with with him at the moment. Yorinth made it very clear that the man had only barely escaped death’s embrace, and even after he’d been healed the stranger still needed to be given water in small amounts to offset his dehydration.<br/><br/>“You have traveled far, to find us and our war. What brings you here?”</span><br/><br/>Water, that’s a word he understood. Rajah supported his weight on one arm, which seemed to be a bad idea as it threatened to buckle under his weight, as his free hand reached for the water bowl. It felt cool on the back of his throat and it was all he could do to stop himself from taking more than a few sips, instead focusing his attention on what the man said. His mother had always seen the importance of being at least partially fluent in Northern tongue. And he was fluent in it, to an extent, but that part about the Elder God seemed lost on him. First the dead were riding with him, now a God was raising him from the dead?<br/><br/>What brought him here? He knew it was something important? Something about kings and wolves…<span style="color: #8080FF"> “Krinwulf,”</span>he said suddenly, and if it weren’t for the pain shooting through his entire body, Rajah would have jumped out of the bed and resumed his search. That’s right, he was searching for the king of Linden.<span style="color: #8080FF">“I must speak with King Krinwulf.”</span><br/><span style="color: #FFFF00"><br/>Barth's eyes widened when the man mentioned his father. Aside from being quite a coincidence, it seemed strange that the Plainsman would be seeking out the ruler of a nation so far away from the actual nation.<br/><br/><span style="font-style: italic">Or at least, what's left of it,</span> he thought soberly as he examined the man.<br/><br/>He looked much better than he had before, although he was clearly far from recovered. He also looked like he needed a bath, which, coming from Barth, said a great deal.<br/><br/>"There is no King Krinwulf. Not anymore," he answered, noting a delirious kind of enthusiasm in the man's eyes. "Linden is fallen, and all that remains of its people have taken shelter in Lebidan. You are currently in the domain of King Sahir."</span><br/><br/><span style="color: #8080FF">“King Sahir then,”</span>Rajah insisted, his voice as firm and resolute as it could be when it seemed to crack on every other word. Lindenian or Lebi, it did not matter. What Rajah needed was an army, he didn’t care whose it was.<span style="color: #8080FF">“I am coming from the Scorches Plains to speak with a king.” </span><br/><br/><span style="color: #FFFF00">“King Sahir is not at this camp,” Barth replied, wondering all the while what kind of errand this man could possibly be on. He also wondered if he’d perhaps gone insane, no doubt due to the strenuous nature of his journey. “He has departed, headed back to his city, for the battlefield is not his place. He’s not that kind of king.”<br/><br/>Barth moved closer, watching the Plainsman carefully. “If I can help you, I shall, although I am no king. I am Barth Krinwulf, the commander of this army, and I wish to know why you have ventured so far from your home during such a dangerous time.”</span><br/><br/>Rajah didn’t need to hear more.<span style="color: #8080FF"> “It is dangerous time for my people as well.”</span>He spoke slowly in attempts to keep his voice as monotonous as he could. The less stress he put on his throat right now, the better. “<span style="color: #8080FF">The Rapaii have taken the Plains. My people have no food, no water. They kill people every day. They kill my men when we escape.” </span><br/><br/>The thought made him nauseous. His people were dying, including his mother if she hadn’t already been killed after his escape. They were expecting something to be done by now. He had no way of telling them that Linden had fallen, that there<span style="font-style: italic">was</span>no King Krinwulf, that so far everything they’d set out to do had ended in failure. They were still expecting him at any day. If only he could at least tell them that he might have finally found help<br/><br/><span style="color: #FFFF00">“So while the Tutar busy themselves with attacking Linden and Lebidan, the Rapaii have grown,” Barth said quietly, almost as if thinking out loud. “They were a much smaller tribe, when I last saw the Plains. And it seems that they’ve grown bolder as well.”<br/><br/>He turned and walked the length of the tent, stopping near the exit as he peered outside. “You must be one of the Reclaimers, from the way you speak. I of all people know what it’s like to lose your home, and to watch as others kill your loved ones. The Tutar are monsters, yes, but so are these men of whom you speak. Yet… what can I possibly do to help you?”<br/><br/>The words pained him to say, but what choice did he have? There were too many lives at risk, and he was responsible for all of them. He couldn’t risk so many to aid others so far away, not when they had need of every single soldier they possessed, and then some. The king would have his head, and his army would revolt. And his people would suffer all the more for it.<br/><br/>“The Tutar have struck us more than once, already, and the last battle could have spelled the end for us if not for luck, and very timely aid,” he said, turning to face the Plainsman once more. “And there are more of them. Many more, within the Ravine, and they will not rest until this world has been rid of all mankind. I cannot risk weakening my army, not when the next strike of the hammer might well be the biggest of all. I… I am sorry,” he finished, and he meant it.</span><br/><br/>Rajah felt like he was dying all over again.<span style="color: #8080FF">“Please,” </span>he said suddenly, his voice rising and sending fire down his throat. He hadn’t come this far, he hadn’t lost this many men to be turned away.<span style="color: #8080FF">“My people would fight for you.”</span>The Plainspeople had every reason to hate the Tutar. They were the ones that pushed them further east, making them into a small cluster of broken people and making it easy for the Rapaii to seize control.<span style="color: #8080FF">“Rapaii are not Tutar. They are not a large army. A small group of soldiers would kill them, and you would have all of our warriors.” </span><br/><br/>His eyes stung with bitterness and grief. He’d come so far and his people were dying as they waited on him and prayed for his success, and Barth Krinwulf had turned him away; the man that bore the name of their supposed savior had condemned them to die.<span style="color: #8080FF">“<span style="font-style: italic">Please.</span>” </span><br/><br/><span style="color: #FFFF00">Barth sighed, scratching his beard uncertainly. His father would have sent the man away, perhaps after extorting some money from him. Sahir would’ve stood firm, putting his own interests first and doing what was best for his throne, as well as his people. But Barth was no king. He knew nothing of political maneuverings, but what he <span style="font-style: italic">did</span> understand was war. The Plainspeople were skilled archers, with some of the most impressive draw-speeds of anyone on Soluunar with their deadly shortbows. If he could only come up with a way to make the benefits outweigh the cost…<br/><br/>“Maybe…” he thought out loud, before moving quickly to the edge of the tent and seizing a sharp looking stone from the ground outside. Then, with his writing utensil in hand, he walked to the center of the space within the tent and started digging into the ground. “Lebidan,” he muttered, as he outlined two circles, one much smaller than the other. “And the camp. And then,” he went on, making am much larger shape far below, “the Ravine.”<br/><br/>To the Ravine’s shape he drew two lines, and to the right of one of the lines he drew a large rectangle. “The Scorched Plains were the first place affected when the Tutar came out of the Ravine. The mountains have a pass on their eastern borders, which they used to filter onto the plains and then eventually work their way up to Linden.” He depicted his former’s home’s location with a small circle some ways above the rectangle, feeling a pang of sadness as he wondered what the place probably looked like in the present. “But now, they only use this way,” he said, indicating the line going straight up from the Ravine towards the camp. “Some rogue warriors and stragglers might occupy the eastern pass, but they would be few in number. Easy to overwhelm.”<br/><br/>He stood up with a groan and stared down at his handiwork, watching the pieces coming together. He was no politician, but he <span style="font-style: italic">was</span> a tactician, and he believed he had something. “We have been content to sit and wait for them, for too long. We let them dictate the battles, and decide when to attack. We settled for defending, always defending… but no more.”<br/><br/>He looked at the Plainsman and grinned, unable to hide his pleasure at having found a way. “The eastern pass would allow us to catch them off guard, and engage them on <span style="font-style: italic">our</span> terms. Draw their attentions back to their homeland, removing from them the luxury of maintaining offensives and nothing else. And the only way we can access that pass… is if the Rapaii are dealt with.”</span><br/><br/>Rajah watched Barth draw patterns and shapes in the earth, finding it a really useful tool to help him translate what Northern he didn’t understand. He felt Barth looking at him and met his eye. It took him a long minute to register what it is that he’d heard, but when he did he replayed it over and over again.<span style="color: #8080FF">“Thank you.” </span>He repeated it one, two, three more times and clasped his hands over his mouth, covering it as his voice cracked on either a sob or laughter.<span style="font-style: italic">I hope you’re watching, Radu.</span>After all of this, the sacrifice, the anguish, the starvation, their people would finally be safe.