Chapters:

Chapters 1 - 3

Chapter 1

“How much the halfie worth?” The bandit scratched at his unkempt beard seemingly at ease. Walker gave his half-brother Vranus a glance. Walker knew his brother had already lost his patience and was looking for any opportunity to split the skulls of the bandits standing before them. The desert was a harsh place for most people to live. Vranus and Walker had spent their entire life wandering these deserts making a name for themselves. The fact that these six men were unaware of the reputation they carried was mildly annoying.

“I’ll ask ya again, how much are ya sellin’ the halfie for?” repeated the obvious leader of the bandits.

“You aren’t very intelligent are you?” Walker asked.

The bandit gripped at his sword, “You tryna die today?”

Walker grinned, “Every day friend, but I’m not so sure the two of us are your idea of fun.”

This time the bandit shifted nervously looking at the man to his left, “Look we just want the halfie. Ya give us the giant, we ain’t botherin’ killin’ either of ya.”

Walker sighed dramatically, “This is what I’m talking about. You aren’t intelligent. Do you think that the six of you could even control one halfie? Does he look like the type of halfie to just do your bidding?”

Walker glanced at his brother. Vranus’ jawline, shaved in intricate tribal patterns, clenched so ferociously that Walker worried he had bitten his tongue in anger. He looked back at the bandits with sad disapproving eyes. These six idiots thought that they could control an eight foot half-giant with muscles so corded it looked unnatural to anyone that hadn’t seen one before.

The bandit had given up all control of his emotions at this point. His sword drawn he pointed it at Walker, “Give us the fuckin’ halfie mate or I’ll have Edrin ‘ere put an arrow in yer chest.”

The man behind him gave a twisted grin, like he longed for the opportunity.

Walker shrugged, “Seems like a fair deal. Vranus, you mind going with these men?” Walker noted the fear in the lead bandit’s eyes at the mention name of the giant before him, but the rest were oblivious. Good. At least one of them had heard of the Bloodthirsty Berserker.

Vranus narrowed his eyes at Walker and strode forward obediantly. He stopped five feet in front of the bandit leader towering over the man by a good two and a half feet. Even with the space between them Vranus held an imposing figure. The bandit nervously griped at the hilt of his unsheathed sword, but gave no sign of backing down, “Shackle him up boys!”

No sooner than the words left the bandit leaders lips, one of Vranus’ giant double bladed axes effortlessly cleaved him from shoulder to stomach.

Vranus stood one giant axe in the lifeless bandit, drawing the other off of his back. He spoke softly the death greeting of giant kin, “Valkar assul.”

In one swift motion he tore the axe out of the bandit and with a vicious side swipe, cut his way through three unaware bandits who were tossed fifteen feet to the side bleeding from their sliced open bellies, blood and gore soaking into the sand staining it a deep shade of crimson. The bandit on Vranus’ left took a stab at him with a dagger. The blade barely pierced the half-giant’s thick skin, who merely looked down at the small wound and swung halfheartedly with his off hand axe cracking painfully into the bandits ribs and embeding itself in his side. Vranus wrenched the giant axe from the lifeless body and looked straight ahead. Edrin, the archer who’d given the sadistic grin earlier, trembled in place with an arrow notched and the inside of his pants leg a sudden dark shad of brown.

Walker watched as his brother planted both of his axes in the ground and whispered, “Run.”

Edrin looked wide eyed in terror at all the carnage around him before doing as commanded. Tossing his bow to the sand he spun around and sprinted as fast as he possibly could into the wide open desert. Vranus planted his axes in the sand and spat into his left hand, rubbing it into his right. Hefting one of the axes out of the sand, he reached back over his head testing its weight. With a loud roar his torso snapped forward and the axe flew from his grasp, flying end over end in an impossibly high arc. Walker watched as the axe flew through the air and began to fall from the sky.

“Forty crasks you miss,” said Walker.

“Better pay up then,” Vranus said, extending his hand out to the side.

The axe fell rapidly and with a sickening thunk-audbile even at this distance-landed in between the shoulder blades of the fleeing bandit. Walker grunted and put his entire pouch of coins in his brothers palm, “I owe you thirty.”

Vranus let out a deep booming laugh, “You’re the worst gambler I have ever met.”

Walker snorted, “Or I was hoping to have a brother who took pity on me and shared his wealth a bit.”

“Eh, you owe me anyway,” Vranus stuffed the coin pouch in his belt and jogged off to retrieve his axe.

Walker searched about the carnage looking for anything of value. This far from the nearest oasis these bandits had to have something worth picking off their corpses. Rummaging through their packs he found a handful of crasks which he stuffed into his belt and three water skins. Nothing else piqued his interest. He took a swig of the water before pulling his keffiyeh over his head and sitting in the sand waiting for his brother to return.

Vranus came hustling back both axes across his back in an X, looking at a small bit of parchment in his off hand. He tossed Walker a coin purse similar to the one he had just given him. Walker shook it a bit listening to quiet clink of coins before stuffing it into his belt.

“That’s considerably less than I gave you,” Walker said.

“You owe me,” Vranus smiled, his big teeth showing. The three vertical line tattoo’s beneath both of his eyes wrinkling a bit as he did.

Walker rolled his eyes, “What’ve you got there?”

Vranus took the parchment and handed it to Walker, “Looks like a map of some kind.”

What had seemed like a small piece of paper in his brother’s hand was in fact quite large in Walker’s hands. Roughly drawn across the paper in charcoal was a picture of a landmark. In the foreground an oasis drawn in the manner of a sprawling octopus laid before the foot of a mountain with a tiny x drawn at the peak.

“This looks like a treasure map,” Walker said, handing it back to his brother.

Vranus waved it away, “I don’t want it. I go where you go brother, you know that.”

Walker stood and handed one of the extra waterskins to Vranus, “Then you know we’re following this map.”

“You want to go back and talk with Miss Jade then?” Vranus asked arching a huge brow.

Walker frowned, “Why do you insist on calling her that? She’s your sister too.”

Vranus shrugged and took a swig from the water skin and spat it out, “Fucking warm piss is what that is.”

Walker laughed, “Have a lot of experience drinking piss? We’ll make camp tonight at Iskul’s Pass and we’ll be in Yuthul by tomorrow evening. You can have all the iced water you want when we get there. For now it’s better than dying of dehydration.”

Vranus gave him an odd look, “We’re going back? We just came from there, and if you don’t remember we pissed off quite a few people on our way out.”

“All the more reason I doubt the’ll be expecting us to return so soon,” Walker replied.

“All the more likely they’ll recognize us instantly,” Vranus grunted.

Walker chuckled, “Maybe you brother, but they don’t call me The Mask for nothing.”

“They call you that because you wore a mask while you fucked the Queen of Yuthul.”

“That doesn’t make my statement any less true,” Walker grinned.

Vranus let out a booming laugh slapping Walker across the back. The blow was heavy enough to send Walker tumbling forward into the sand, causing Vranus to laugh even harder. Walker was sure his sour expression hadn’t helped calm the giant either.

After subsiding his laugh to a chuckle, Vranus reached out a hand to Walker, “On your feet, Mask.”

Walker clasped the underside of his brothers tree branch sized wrist and pulled himself up, “It’s The Mask. That’s a very important distinction.”

Vranus chuckled and motioned for his brother to lead the way. Walker dusted sand out of his keffiyeh before taking one last look at the map. Setting foot inside Yuthul where the price on his head would tempt even the most pious man, would probably be one of the biggest mistakes he’d ever make, but it was the last safe haven before crossing the Dragon Sands to get to the place depicted on the map. The Kraken Oasis, a place run by men calling themselves The Desert Kings. Another maw of sharp teeth Walker would be throwing himself and his brother into, their sister could be quite unbearable. He didn’t want to go back home, but as insufferable Jade could be she’d be the most help he’d get finding the x on this map. He sighed and folded the map back into his belt.

“One step at a time, Walker. One step at a time.”

/ o / o /

Y Y

/\ /\

The trek to Iskul’s Pass went quickly for the brothers, given that the pair had just recently crossed this section of the desert on their way to Koloh before being ambushed by the bandits. They arrived sometime into the night with the moon halfway to its zenith. The sand slowly began to be dotted with rocks as they drew closer to the pass. The sand eventually gave way to a pathway made up of broken shale littering the canyon floor. Easily traversable by a person on foot, and not easily traversable for caravans. Forcing bandits to find their money elsewhere, making it a safe haven for most travelers if they were willing to deal with the giant eagles or rock worms that popped up from time to time.

Walker stood at the edge of the pass looking down into the valley. Nothing but barren rock sprawled before him. The pass could easily fit four hundred men standing side to side comfortably, but despite the size of the pass Walker couldn’t shake the uncomfortable feeling he got looking into it. The pass swooped low leaving the walls six hundred feet up at it’s lowest point, and given the history of the place he couldn’t help but feel he was walking into a tomb.

Vranus stepped up beside him, “You know, we deal with this every time we pass through here.”

“Shut up,” Walker snapped.

His brother wasn’t wrong though. For whatever reason Walker couldn’t shake the feeling of being trapped, despite the open sky above and the ample amount of room to maneuver through the pass. He took a deep breath and trudged forward Vranus in tow. Walker knew his brother would keep an eye out for anything suspicious. He took out the map and examined it one more time in the moonlight, looking for anything he may have missed. After squinting in the dark he found no new clues. This left him wondering if the map was even worth following. The treasure could be lost or buried. Or even worse, it could be gone.

Walker folded the map and tucked it under his gauntlet. He looked about inspected the rocks as they descended, most were a dark brown-red color with a few black speckled ones dotted in. Vranus’ heavy footsteps echoed throughout the valley and he wanted to berate him for being so loud, but knew there wasn’t much a half-giant his size could do about it.

The moon shone directly down on them from above as they made their way to the lowest point of the valley. The land flattened out still covered in rocks. Walker walked forward in the moonlight in a haze, his fear of the valley subsided just enough to allow him to think of other things. His mind rested on Alzulil, the Queen of Yuthul. Most people had cheered when they heard of the masked man who had fornicated with the queen of a vicious king. Proud that someone had stuck it to the tyrant. Those very same people demonized the queen for being an unvirtuous whore only using her husband’s power to fuel her lust.

Walker knew better. He had met her while he and Vranus had worked for the King eradicating the rebels within his city. She had been captured by the rebels who were ready to execute her on the spot, but Walker had saved her stepping in at the last moment to free her from their grasp and leave them lying in their own blood. Even in that moment Alzulil had been beautiful. Her dark tear stained face framed by her curly black hair, even covered in blood had been a sight to behold.

Several months of secrecy followed, where Walker would sneak into the palace to meet with her. He’d even kept the secret from Vranus, who hadn’t know until they’d been caught. During a masquerade party the King threw in the brothers honor for completing their contract, Walker took Alzulil up to her chambers to make love. However, a drunken King Evoln had stumbled into his wife’s chambers ready to do the same. Upon finding his wife penetrated by another man he had called for the guards.

Walker narrowly escaped running through the party naked with nothing but his mask to cover his features. Several months passed and the investigation for The Mask revealed him as the culprit putting not only himself, but Vranus in an uncommon situation. Stay and obey the mercenary laws of a contract or abandon the city and be branded outlaws. Weighing their options the two decided obeying some archaic dogma only to lose their heads at the end of it all wasn’t worth it. Now they were no better than bandits on the roads. Albeit better trained bandits, but bandits none the less.

He just hoped Alzulil would be okay. King Evoln wasn’t known for his mercy.

Walker stumbled backward as a giant hand snatched him about his arm and yanked him behind a boulder. He spun as his brother let go of his shoulder, “What’s going on?”

It would have been comical to watch Vranus try to make himself as small as possible to fit behind the boulder if Walker knew his brother didn’t have a reason for it. Instead of answering he pointed a meaty fore finger back in the direction they had been walking. Walker hunkered down to the edge of the boulder and peeked around. Four men leading camels along the rocky ground were coming their way. The one at the front carried a torch lighting the way for the others. From this distance Walker could make out the turquoise and gold cloaks they wore, marking them as a part of King Evoln’s Jackels. More specifically his police force.

Walker cursed under his breath. They were looking for him and at this point in the canyon the walls had swooped inward narrowing the passage to one hundred feet across at the widest point. If Walker had been alone he could have easily maneuvered in the smaller passageway and hid as they passed, but the chances they wouldn’t notice the giant ducking behind boulders would be a gamble, and not a very good one at that. He turned to his brother, “I’m turning myself in.”

Vranus shook his head and started to tug an axe off of his back. Indicating he wanted to fight.

“It won’t do us any good walking into Yuthul covered in blood. Like you said they’ll recognize you for sure, especially if you’re standing next to a small man like your his bodyguard covered in gore. What’s another roaming halfie in the expanse of Yuthul though?”

Vranus grimaced. Walker could tell he didn’t like the idea. His brother was by no means simple minded, but his solutions were always the most direct and they usually involved violence.

Walker glanced back around the corner. The soldiers were getting close, “Listen brother. It’ll be fine. I’ll give myself up, but if they start beating the shit out of me to bad. You take that axe, and you come rescue me. Got it?”

Vranus nodded and extended his arm. Walker clasped it about the wrist the best he could, giving his brother a curt nod, before stepping out from behind the boulder. The soldiers were fifteen feet away now.

The guard carrying the torch jumped drawing his sword, “Halt! Who goes there?”

“You don’t recognize The Mask of Yuthul?” Walker made no move to draw his weapons as the rest of the soldiers stepped forward into the light drawing their swords as well.

“You’ve made a poor choice to show your face to us,” said the guard farthest on the left.

“Quiet Uriel,” said the man carrying the torch, “Where’s the halfie?”

“I killed him,” Walker replied.

“You killed a halfie? On your own?” asked the torch bearer.

Walker arched an eyebrow his way, while dancing a tiny green flame across his knuckles, “You’ve never killed a halfie? It’s amazing what a few sword thrusts to the back followed up by a little fire can do.”

All five men took a step back falling into a crouch, slipping shields from their backs and stepping closer together in a locked formation their shields held front of them, as if they expected him to hurl a ball of flame at them. They looked like they had trained to fight mages before. Of course they had, King Evoln was known for his distrust of magic. He’d had all arcane texts purged from his city, as well as any practitioners when he became king.

“You don’t want this fight, mercenary,” said the torch bearer.

“You’re right I don’t,” Walker waved his hand in the air causing them to jump a bit. They relaxed as they saw the flame dissipate in an instant.

“Then what do you want?”

“To be taken in,” Walker replied.

“Bullshit!” shouted the one that had been named Uriel.

“Uriel if I hear one more word outta you, I swear you’ll camel will be riding you home,” said the now obvious sergeant of the group.

Uriel didn’t make another peep, but instead kept his gaze locked on Walker. His eyes burning as green as the flame Walker had just been toying with.

“We’re going to need more than your word, oathbreaker,” said the sergeant.

Walker rolled his eyes, he was sure that had been meant as an insult to him, but it was hardly the worst thing he ever been called, “Look I’m out of rations and water. That was another reason I killed the halfie. Do you know how much it takes to feed a giant? They practically have to live in an oasis to get enough water. I’m out of rations. While I don’t like the idea of going to die in a jail cell, I don’t have much of a choice at this point. Anything to extend my life longer, gives me a better chance at survival. Plus if I thought I could have killed all five of you I would have tried.”

The sergeant glared at him, “Fine. Men shackle him up, but if I see you even look like you’re going to stab one of my men in the back-”

“Yes, yes. You’ll flay me alive and watch the carrion birds pick at my intestines while I still live. This isn’t new to me sergeant,” Walker stepped forward arms extended waiting to be clasped in irons. Instead the man on the left charged forward slamming his shield into Walker’s stomach, bowling him over. Then proceeded to beat him with the pommel of his sword. So taken aback by the assault Walker did nothing to defend himself but lay there and take each blow.

"Uriel! Stand down! Stand down!" The blows subsided as the three other soldiers restrained the soldier.

Walker sat up and wiping blood from his eyebrow. His head throbbed and pulsed in pain. The sergeant stood before Uriel fuming, “What the fuck was that soldier? You not know how to follow orders? Are you fucking stupid? Speak up boy!”

Rather than answer his superior he just stared back defiantly, purposely silent.

“Look at this men! We’ve got ourselves a smart ass! I promise you, your father will hear all about this and I’ll have you locked into a cell right next to this piece of shit sorcerer!” The sergeant pointed at Walker and motioned his men to get him to his feet.

Walker groaned, “You know sergeant he didn’t disobey orders. You never told him not to beat the shit out of me.”

The sergeant whirled on him, “Shut it shit stain! Or I’ll have you carrying Uriel’s camel as well.”

Walker snorted, “You think you’re intimidating don’t you? I can promise you nothing about you is even memorable.”

The sergeant stepped forward two steps slamming a fist into Walker gut, “I don’t have to bring you back alive.”

Walker gasped for a bit before answering, “If you kill me who will carry my body?”

Another blow glanced across his chin, causing him to bite down on his tongue, “You aren’t very intelligent are you?”

“Apparently not,” Walker answered as he spit out a glob of blood onto the stones.

The sergeant grabbed the top of Walkers hair, pulling his head up to view , “Reist shackle this man and Uriel together. Make sure to stake the sorcerer into the ground when we make camp, we don’t want him running off in the night. Holvor find a suitable place to camp for the night. Gupta execute Uriel’s camel and have him drag it to the camp.”

He dropped Walker’s head as one of the soldiers shackled his arms and legs together. They prodded him in the back with a sword and he walked forward following the sergeant. After a few minutes of trudging in the darkness he risked a glance over his soldier to see an abnormally large shadow stalking in the darkness.

“Eye’s forward sorcerer,” snapped the soldier behind him.

This plan was by far the biggest gamble he’d ever taken, and for what? A treasure map? He shook his head to himself, he knew damn well this wasn’t about the promise of treasure.  That had been a convenient excuse to give his brother. This was for something far more important to him than a handful of crasks. This was about her, and the promise he had made.

This was about Alzulil.

Chapter 2

Vranus watched from atop a dune as the soldiers leading Walker disappeared through the gates of Yuthul. He’d spent the last three days shadowing the group as best he could while keeping out of sight. The one day journey had been drawn out by having Walker and the soldier that had attacked him take turns dragging a dead camel. The nights had been unseasonably cold for this time of year and Vranus had spent most of them without a fire trying to go unnoticed. He longed to sleep in a warm bed with cold ale with every meal. If there was one thing Vranus had a weakness for it was the comforts of city life. His tongue felt parched just thinking about it.

Bounding down the sand dune he began his trek into the city. He’d have to hope that he wasn’t easily recognized. He needed to save his brother and there wasn’t a feasible way to do that from outside the city. If even a single guard recognized him he find himself kneeling before an executioner’s block in an instant. Half-giants weren’t given the same treatment as humans. Considered a piece of property rather than a person. Vranus had spent most of his childhood an outcast with Walker putting himself in harm’s way for him on numerous occasions. It had been a burden Walker had chose to bear for him and continued to bear. He doubted he’d ever be able to repay that.

Breaking Walker out of a prison would be a good start though. His first step would have to be going unnoticed in a city where he was considered a hero for quelling the rebellion-or villan depending on how one viewed it. Add in that half-giants always attracted unwanted attention, he practically needed sorcery to get this done. He pulled his keffiyeh up beneath his eyes hiding his tattoos as he approached the city gates.

Small groups of people trickled through the gates.Trying to get through unnoticed would be impossible, not a single one of the people around him were giantkin. He towered over everyone. If he didn’t figure something out. A caravan made its way slowly toward the gates. That would be his best bet. He silently made his way up behind the caravan acting as the rear guard. The mercenaries posted about the caravan didn’t seem to notice him. This close to the city they probably assumed nothing bad would happen.

As the caravan pulled it’s way through the gates one of the city guards hailed the driver halting the wagon. The driver and the guard exchanged words for a time before the driver hopped off the wagon grumbling about ‘random checks.’ As the city guard slowly checked under the wagon, in the wagon and just generally anywhere they thought there might be something hidden. One took note of Vranus, but gave him little more than a cursory glance.

The mercenaries guarding the wagon noticed him then as well but didn’t seem to care. They were about to get paid, no need to run the risk of dealing with a halfie who looked like he could cleave a egredon in half. Mercenary Clans rarely bothered to move unless they were paid. If a halfie wanted to slip in the city unnoticed who were they to tell him no? On the other hand they could demand payment, and that was something he couldn’t afford. All of his money sat within the King’s coffers thanks to Walker’s exploits on their last night in Yuthul. The handful of crasks he had wasn’t going to be enough to grease any palms, especially that of an already well paid mercenary.

Thankfully they didn’t seem to care, or at least didn’t think shaking down half-giant for coin would be worth it. As the caravan made its way through the crowded streets toward the trade district, Vranus peeled off from the group and headed toward the slums where he expected he could find some less conspicuous local help. The locals were in celebration today, but for what he wasn’t entirely sure. The common folk were the least likely to be happy about the quelled rebellion, and that had only been settled a month ago if that.

Along the way he admired the beauty that was Yuthul. Despite having spent months in the city it still amazed him at the planning that must have went into the organization of the sandstone cobbled streets. Yutul had been built with defense in mind, large walls surrounded the city proper in a perfect square. Each street ran the length of the city parallel to its corresponding wall intersected by dozens of other streets marked on each corner with a sign denouncing the street crossings, until it reached the edge where another never ending street outlined the entirety of the city, known as Square Street. Not as creative as the rest of the street names but definitely an apt description.

The majority of buildings were smooth tan sandstone giving the entire city a utilitarian look in design. Not as flashy as some cityscapes, but definitely well organized with fair portions of building space handed out among the people. Conversely that made the building tithes a set price and a poor shopkeeper may not be able to afford his tithe each month. So bigger shop owners would buy out their property and use it for storage, or keep the shop open but ask for goods each month in return instead. It opened Yuthul for an interesting dynamic for trade that Vranus had never seen anywhere else, though he easily saw the flaws within the system.

He continued his walk down Kinthul Street, the sea of people making way for him not wanting to be caught underfoot. Half-giants were generally viewed as clumsy wandering beasts and were given a wide berth wherever they walked. Despite being convenient, it bothered Vranus to his core. His people were still viewed as subservient outliers in a society that had recently relinquished its grasp of their chains twenty years ago. Treated equal among the masses but still viewed with hesitation and fear. With good reason too, his people had become outlaws in many places, roving barbaric nomads in others. They were distrusted by many still because of his peoples nature to fight anything that stood in their path to freedom and control of their own destiny.

A paradox if he had ever heard one.

He turned left where Hunjikal Way intersected with Kinthul Street, heading south. For the most part Hunjikal Way kept up its appearances until he had traveled nearly three miles down the way. The sandstone bricks in the street began to display long jagged cracks in the stone work, with large chunks of bricks missing entirely. The buildings slowly shifted from pristine smooth sandstone to chipped stonework with windows boarded up. The farther south Vranus walked the more barren the streets became. Where they were once filled with bustling people, now if Vranus saw a person it was briefly and usually behind boarded windows. Being a half-giant had its perks, going unnoticed wasn’t one of them.

More and more buildings began to show the pockmarks of the dragons fire acid he and Walker had helped ignite throughout this district. As he drew closer to the center of the district he noted barricades that had been left intact after King Evoln pulled his troops out of the area. Vranus shook his head. He may have been a part of quelling this rebellion, but these people needed to be treated with equality if King Evoln wanted to earn their trust back. He doubted that Evoln even cared about the wellbeing of these people. He had been the type to burn a bridge at the slightest hint of an insult.

While the war may have been brutal Vranus didn’t hold any ill being toward these people. They had wanted nothing more than to be free from a tyrant, but they had been ill prepared for a rebellion. Vranus sided with the people in his heart, but he and his brother had chosen the money. Ideals weren’t worth dying on a dune for and to be honest neither was a handful of crasks, but it did make it a helluva lot more comfortable. Besides there hadn’t been a guarantee that King Evoln would win, just an opportunity to be paid.

Vranus passed another barricade of spiked wooden stakes and took in the surroundings. This had been where the majority of the dragon fire acid had been concentrated. Six blocks of buildings melted down to the base stones. Some places even exposed gaps in the sewage pipes where the fire acid had burned through. He doubted the Dead Sisterhood would do anything to fix them for King Evoln, despite the disadvantage it wrought on their activities. It did however provide Vranus-and others-with front door access to the Sisterhoods network.

Vranus made his way to the center of the district. It took him longer than he expected due to the change of layout since the fires, none of the familiar landmarks to point his way. Eventually he found the building he was looking for, or at the very least what was left of it. He ducked beneath a still standing doorframe entering what he knew to be the headquarters of the Dead Sisterhood. Where once had been a great mansion with lavish furnishings covering the sandstone halls was now no more than a wall to the north and east with piles of ashe littered about. A few low walls stood scattered about the insides of the building, revealing the skeletons of a few rooms that had once been in the mansion. In the back corner near where the north and east walls met was a massive hole leading into the sewers. Vranus stood before the hole looking down into the abyss. Nothing but darkness stared back at him, but the smell of sewage wafted up from the hole and he guessed this had been where the secret entrance to the tunnel network had once been.

Looking about to make sure he wasn’t being watched Vranus dropped down into the hole. His feet thundered against the stonework as he landed shaking loose rubble down on his head. Looking up he realized he was barely a foot below the opening, it was well within arms length. He brushed away the dirt as it landed on his shoulder and took a deep breath. The smell of shit and urine was faint here, probably due to the tunnels disuse since the destruction of the district. He crouched low and stalked forward hoping his eyes would adjust before too long. He had no way of knowing which way to go to find the Sisterhood, and they were likely to stab him in the dark for just being here.

He felt his way along the wall, moving slowly he came to a corner where he could make out more details from the light pouring in from another hole in the tunnel. To his left it ran along for several feet before disappearing in the darkness. The right side was illuminated from the light pouring in from the hole melted into the stone. He doubted the Sisterhood would be anywhere near the light of day if they could help it. Hopping down into the waterway he made his way down the left tunnel. As he traversed the waterways of the sewer he could hear his boots slapping on wet sandstone. There seemed to be more use of the sewers down this way and the smell began to rise as he continued, as did the water. He could feel it soaking into the sides of his boots. He grunted in disgust. It wasn’t the first time he’d been covered in shit, but he certainly didn’t enjoy the idea.

Ahead of him someone laughed in the darkness.

Vranus stopped, the moisture of the sewage squelching between his toes. He held himself still waiting to hear the sound again. After a long pause no sound came from anything other than the trickle of water up ahead. He waited a little longer to be sure and then began sneaking forward again. He hoped the Sisterhood were as blind as he was in the darkness, but he doubted it would matter much. Even in the darkness it was easy to spot a half-giant. You just had to listen for the heavy footfalls and sloshing of sewage to know exactly where he stood. He suspected the Sisterhood would see him before he saw them, but that didn’t mean he wanted to give them any more forewarning than they would already be getting.

He crept forward taking his steps hesitantly. Every movement he made, made him grit his teeth. The sloshing sound of sewage felt amplified by the clinking of his axes against his leather war skirt. No matter how he tried to move he made noise. If he didn’t make noise the handles of his axes did, if they didn’t the buckles on his harness did. The Sisterhood knew exactly where he stood. If they didn’t they had to be dead.

The laughter echoed throughout the tunnels again coming from his left. He turned toward the noise and waited for a minute. He could see a faint flicker of light coming down the walkways. Slowly the flicker bloomed into view revealing two hooded figures bearing a torch. Neither had seemed to notice him yet. Vranus didn’t bother trying to hide. His best bet would be to lay face first in the shit and pretend to be dead. He wasn’t about to do that. Besides he wanted to meet with the Sisterhood. He just hoped they were willing to talk.

The two figures were chatting back and forth, loudly joking about their previous night’s conquests, before they noticed the giant man standing shin deep in shit. Both drew their khopeshes and readied for a fight, but made no move toward Vranus.

“You’re in the wrong part of the world halfie. We’ve got several contracts on your head,” said a female voice behind him in the shadows.

Vranus stood still, he wasn’t sure how one had slipped by without him noticing, “So you know who I am?”

“Everyone knows of Vranus the Berserk. Vranus the Bloodthirsty,” said the voice this time it came from his right.

“Impressive footwork. I’m willing to bet you’re with the Sisterhood,” he slid his hand down to the shortsword at his belt. The sword felt like a dagger in his palm, but it would be sharp enough to impale one of these women.

“I wouldn’t if i were you,” said the voice.

The two women on the walkways shuffled forward.

Vranus kept his hand on the sword, “I’m not here to fight. I’m here to talk.”

One of the women on the walkway scoffed, “Just like you came to talk before?”

Vranus winced, “That was different. I was being paid.”

“And if we kill you it would be the same. The price on your head is quite high,” said the voice.

Vranus shrugged, “True, but if you know my reputation you know that if any of you get paid it won’t be all of you. Take me to your lead sister, or whatever she’s called, and we can strike a deal.”

The woman in the shadows stepped out from behind him causing him to jump. It took all of his willpower not to drive the jambia through her heart as she spoke, “Umbra does not wish to strike a deal with the Berserker.”

Vranus arched an eyebrow, “You presume to know your master’s bidding?”

“She is not our master! We are not half-giant scum. We are free women,” she snapped.

Vranus shrugged, “Sounds like your master to me. She tells you what to do and you do it. Now take me to her.”

Again the woman snapped, but this time he spotted the glint of a jambia drawn the the torchlight, “Do not tell me what to do ogre.”

Vranus crouched before her and leaned in. She took a step back trying to keep space between them, still he towered over her as he spoke, “I’m not telling you. I’m threatening you little girl. The fact that you’re even still breathing after that slur should show you my true intentions. Try my patience further though it’s worked out for others before. I’m even willing to bet thirty-four crasks I crush your head with my bare hand before either of them two react.”

He gestured to the two women brandishing their khopeshes his way. Neither were making aggressive movements, Vranus could tell neither really wanted to test their limits. The ringleader cowered before him suddenly realizing only now how exposed she had left herself. She quickly hopped back three paces to what she thought to be a safe distance. Vranus knew it would take him one stride to cover the distance, but he let her think she was safe.

“You’ll need to tell us why you want to speak with Umbra, before we take you to her. You may not be worth her time,” said the ringleader, acting as if she had been in control the entire time.

“For your sake you better hope I’m worth her time,” Vranus growled back. His patience wore thin, he wanted nothing more than reach out and crush this woman’s skull and try to reason with the next Dead Sister he met.

The woman took another step away, but maintained her confident facade, “I wouldn’t suggest making threats if you want our help. We can take you to Umbra, but you’ll have to do it on our terms.”

Vranus leapt out of his crouch, clearing the distance between him and the woman. His right hand shout out and grabbed her by the waist, his entire hand encircling her. He lifted to eye level, “Listen bitch. Do you think the other two sisters here will be more or less demanding once I crush your rib cage in?”

He squeezed slightly causing her to gasp a bit. He could see the fear clearly now. Her eyes were looking for anyway out of his grasp. The sweat on her brow matting the lock of brown hair peeking out from beneath the mask, she hadn’t expected him to close the distance so quickly and now she expected to die. Vranus had seen the look all too many times.

“We’ll take her to you. Promise. No need to kill me. Honest,” She struggled to find words between gasps.

Vranus released her waist and dropped her into the sewage, coughing and sputtering for air. He glared at the other two women who slowly sheathed their swords, “Good girls. I wouldn’t want to have to paint the walls with your blood.”

The woman at his feet stood up shaking sewage out of her bracers looking unsettled, but doing her best to not let him see it. After slopping a brown gooey substance off her armor she turned to her two sisters and made hand signals Vranus didn’t understand. The two nodded and ran back down the way they came leaving Vranus in the dark with the one single woman. He reached out to grab her before she moved, but his hand snatched at thin air.

His hand moved to the jambia at his waist readying himself to be attack, but instead the disembodied voice of the women called out a few feet ahead, “You coming?”

“I’m not sure I can trust you in the dark,” he replied still gripping the dagger.

“You can either follow me now or leave. Umbra provides the shadows for us, you must prove you’re worthy of them.”

Vranus grunted, “Didn’t realize I was applying for membership.”

“Definitely not,” she snapped back, “But you are unworthy all the same. Now come.”

There would be no use arguing, he wouldn’t be able to force the issue without seeing her. If he wanted their help he’d have to play their games. It’s something Walker had always been good at, and it’s why Vranus had managed to stay out of trouble so often. His temperamental nature often put his back against a wall and sometimes fighting his way out wasn’t the right answer.

The woman’s footsteps were silent in the darkness giving him the uneasy feeling of being led astray. He couldn’t trust this woman as far as he could throw her, and he was certain he could throw her far. Her voice broke the silence a few times giving him commands of which direction to turn. Vranus listened to the inflection of each word trying to determine what commands were honest and which were misleading. Either she masked it well or she was being honest.

Where is Walker when you need him?

Most of the tunnels here were free of damages that let in the light. Apparently the Sisterhood had made sure to repair enough of the city to hide themselves from prying eyes. Vranus hadnt expected them to have an impact on the well being of the city in any way. Then again the actions of the sisters had been motivated by their selfish need to remain hidden. It didn’t matter to Vranus whether they helped the city or not, King Evoln hadn’t and he ruled the city. As far as Vranus was concerned, Not his sand, not his problem.

After hours of turning down every sewage pipe possible-which felt like it had been intended to mislead him than to actually arrive at their destination-a pair of torches at the end of the tunnel illuminated a doorway set into the side of one of the tunnels. The woman stepped up to the door and ran her finger across the grain in the shape of a triangle, then a circle touching the outer lines of the triangle, followed by a line straight down the middle. The symbol on the door began to writhe with dark black shadowy flame before dissipating. The door swung open revealing a wall of the black flames in the door frame.

The dead sister stepped aside waving him through, “Prove your worth, half-giant.”

Vranus snorted, “I’m not walking in there without seeing what I’m stepping into.”

The woman rolled her eyes, “You’re scared.”

“Think what you want. I’m not stupid enough to step through that. I’ll toss your corpse through the door before I walk through that first.”

“You’ve passed the first test,” she replied and slipped back into the darkness of the tunnel.

Vranus turned to follow the woman once again but this time he was met with another wall of black flame, inches from his face. He staggered back away from the flames only to find his back against a solid stone wall. Looking to his left and right he saw nothing but black flames. He took a moment to gather his wits. No heat emitted from the flames and the wall behind him didn’t feel like an illusion either. He’d seen and experienced plenty of Walker’s illusions they usually had some sort of give to their substance when touched. This wall felt as impassable as the next.

He didn’t like it, but at this he had only one direction to go. He drew an axe from his back and eased it forward through the flames. The flames didn’t part for the metal, they instead engulfed the double bladed head in darkness, flames licking at the haft of his axe. He held it there a moment waiting. Listening. After a minute or two he pulled it back in close. Nothing. The axe hadn’t been damaged in any way. He drew his other axe and stood tall. He didn’t have a lot of options available, his back was literally and figuratively against the wall. He rolled his shoulders stretching out the stiffness. If anything on the other side of the flames wanted him dead they were in for a fight. He hefted both axes and charged forward. In two swift bounds he passed through the flame roaring at the top of his lungs.

Bursting through the wall of flame, Vranus felt his feet slip through into nothingness. He flailed wildly as his form began to fall. He quickly composed himself as he realized he wasn’t falling with the usual fear inducing quickness he was used to. He floated slowly downward surrounded by black flames that danced along his arms, up around his shoulders, ending down at his toes. He realized that he had never really stopped screaming, only that silence enveloped his senses. He could neither make noise, nor hear anything. He managed to slip his axes back into position along his back.

The floating sensation continued to turn his stomach. He could tell which direction was upwards, but only because he knew that he was definitely being drawn downward by something. He tried waving his arms through the flame like he was swimming, but no matter the force he put behind the motion he was still drawn downward. Nothing stopped his descent. Slowly he floated through the sea of dark flames. What seemed like weeks of floating swam by in an instant. He felt his body begin to fatigue, his eyes becoming heavy. Slowly he felt his attention begin to slip. Fighting it as he might he knew he had lost there would be no winning against whatever he had been trapped in. Vranus released his grip on consciousness his vision fading to black. Eyes closed Vranus floated through nothingness, unaware of the world around him.

Chapter 3

Walker sat hunched in the corner of his dimly lit cell. Each cell had a small slit that allowed the prisoners fresh air and a limited view of the city. A small hay mattress lay in the corner opposite him, the chamber pots were changed daily by guards, all in all this had been his best prison experience. Except that one time he’d broken into an all women’s prison in Illune. The only issue he had with his current status besides being behind bars was the window. The sunlight and fresh air were nice, but it made the days drag by so slowly. The last three days had been torture. He couldn’t even use his magic to entertain himself. King Evoln had made sure magic had no place in this tower.

Looking around Walker noted the guardsman nodding off at the door. He wished he’d been able to hide a pick anywhere on his person, but short of swallowing it and hoping he could find it in his own shit he wouldn’t have been able to get one past the eight pat downs he had received. The amount of security it had taken to keep him in this cell was shameful. He’d escaped many prisons with twice as many guards and three times as many locked doors. Other than the anti magic aura and the pat downs there hadn’t been much barring his escape. Maybe the simplicity of this prison is what kept him here. They made sure nothing got in, put a ward over the entire cell block, and forced him to enjoy his stay with a somewhat comfortable cell.

A large clang of iron had the guard shooting up to attention as the door swung wide. Before the figure stepped into Walker’s view the guard dropped to two knees and prostrated himself before the figure. King Evoln stepped through the doorway flanked by two of his personal Jackels. Evoln wore a thick black braided beard, with gold intertwined throughout the braiding. His wide muscled frame accented by a short open vest he wore on his chest. His deep brown eyes matched his swarthy skin, while his dreadlocked hair was pulled back by a wide piece of turquoise silk cloth. His pants were a poofy white silk, accenting his bootless calloused feet.

He paced his way to stand before Walker’s cell halting his guards a few paces back, “Walker Grimm. We meet once again.”

“King Evoln,” Walker smiled.

Evoln gave him a curious look, “I didn’t expect you to be in such high spirits. Are you enjoying your accommodations?”

Walker grinned wider, “Of course I am. Fresh air, a straw bed, and one and a half meals a day. What’s not to love?”

Evoln nodded, “Good. I’d like to see the happiness drain from your face when I tell you about your lovers fate.”

“I have many lovers, my king. You’ll need to be more specific.”

Evoln chewed on his bottom lip, “Ah, so my wife was just another conquest for you. Then I thank you for sussing out the succubus. She is a vile woman, who disgusts me with her whoring. I doubt you are her first conquest under my nose then. A woman must be loyal to her husband, or face the punishment.”

“What is to be her punishment?” Walker could feel the fear in his chest. Alzulil had just been another conquest to him. What did he care if she died? SHe’d known the risks of their affair. King Evoln wasn’t known for his half measures when dealing with his enemies.

“The same as yours I suppose, with a little more gold and makeup put into the effort. I believe a man must spread his seed among as many women as he can to have the greatest chance of his line to continue for eons to come. Allowing another man to covet my territory for her own selfish pleasure is a betrayal of my legacy. A sin worthy of death”

Walker’s shrugged, trying to seem nonchalant, “Seems fair to me. We both fucked. We both die the same.”

Evoln smiled, “I’m glad you agree. You always were practical, but you won’t be dying the same way. I’ll make sure to give you a front row seat for her beheading. Don’t worry, you won’t actually be on the front row, no need to give you a chance to escape with your magic. It’s an expression that I picked up in my travels. You’ll still be here in this cell, but I’m having a platform built in her honor. It will be called Alzulil’s Folly. She will be the blood that consecrates the axe, and any married woman caught cheating will be brought to the stage to follow in her footsteps. That will be her legacy, dear Grimm. Your legacy will be to rot in this dungeon knowing you killed her.”

Walker snorted, “You’re a fucking monster you know that? Here I was thinking you’d have mercy on my poor soul. Whatever will I do knowing she’s dead?” He did his best to hide a glare. He wanted to reach through the bars of his cell and rip out Evoln’s throat, but knew it would be pointless even if he could manage to do it.

Evoln’s grin widened, exposing his perfect white teeth, “Is that sarcasm? It pains me to know that my wife would forfeit her life for a man who wouldn’t even do the same. I’m glad we had this conversation. I had qualms about killing my own wife despite her treachery, but you’ve cleared my conscience. If there was no love between you two then evil must be dealt with by evil, no? Wishing good upon the evil only enables them to do more evil. I will kill Alzulil, and you will watch. When it is over, we will have another chat. I would love to hear your opinion on the execution. It feels a little grandiose for my tastes, but I believe that those you love deserve the best you can afford.”

King Evoln turned away from him feet slapping against stone as he left chuckling to himself. Walker didn’t even realize he was alone until later that evening when the guard brought him his half portion of food. He wasn’t hungry though. There was nothing he could do. He couldn’t break out of this cell. He didn’t have a way of getting a message to his brother. Alzulil would die, and he wouldn’t be able to do anything. Except watch and hope she received a clean painless death. Given Evoln’s reputation for brutality however, he doubted he would get his wish. His promise would be broken and the risk he took by being taken in by the king’s Jackals had been a stupid gamble.

Vranus had been right, he was a shitty gambler.

Outside the sounds of hammering and sawing caught his ear. Hours passed and darkness fell, but still the carpenters worked. His cell darkened he closed his eyes and tried to rest. Sleep never came for him though, only the image of Alzulil’s caramel skin and pale green eye’s haunted his mind. Her face would forever be ingrained in his mind, and he doubted he’d ever sleep well again.