‘Let us stop here. This is as far as we must go,’ said Skichip.

  At last, the scouting party stood at the threshold of the land where the Goyk dwelled. In the distance lay Lake Bilbadop, the sole source of water in all Ao’Hanoorat. The air here was clearer and brighter than elsewhere, yet there was little to behold beyond the parched, jagged ground and the somber mountain ranges that hemmed the land on every side.

  In the age when the Goyk held dominion over all Aoringinas, they founded a city beside Lake Bilbadop, which they called Hanerok. It was never meant to be a place of living, but a center of mining and extraction. What they sought was the green crystal Azimad—an essential substance in the making of their empire: its magic and weapons, its tools and forgeholds, its halls of craft, and above all the Kag’Zorad arcane manufactories. Hanerok became a gathering ground for prisoners of war, criminals, and ownan slaves, while officials and soldiers were sent there only in rotation. For all who passed through it, ownan and Goyk alike, Ao’Hanoorat was little more than a dark and wretched prison.

  From a rise jutting above the sands, they lay pressed close and watched from afar through the o’Kiva art. Ramii’s and Hudyn’s eyes were no match for Skichip’s Trueye. All they could make out was a vast, shifting smear of darkness. Skichip told them it was an army, drawn up in numbers beyond reckoning.

  Sweat still beaded on Ramii’s brow, yet it had turned cold. The reason he had asked to form this scouting party, the true purpose that had brought him here, was to find Tlyna.

  ‘I need to see more clearly…’ He swallowed.

  ‘You cannot,’ Skichip said sharply. ‘Going any closer would be extremely dangerous. They could discover us at any moment. What I tell you will have to suffice.’

  ‘I understand, agud’A,’ Ramii said. ‘But something is driving me to go closer. You two stay here. I’ll go on alone.’

  ‘Don’t tell me what to do,’ Hudyn snapped.

  ‘You’ll be captured and killed!’ Skichip said, his voice no longer steady.

  Ramii did not argue further. He crawled on. The other two followed, despite his urging them to stop. The closer they crept, the clearer the mass ahead became. What Ramii and Hudyn witnessed far exceeded anything they had imagined.

  Skichip’s warning was fulfilled soon enough. Beneath the desert sands lurked a pack of ashspawn. One of them suddenly burst forth directly beneath where they lay. Its bristled limbs wrapped around all three at once. From an aperture at the tip of its leg, green smoke spewed forth, billowing upward into the sky.

  ‘Call orokO’!’ Skichip shouted. ‘The Goyk are closing in!’

  This dark land had been laid under an enchantment. Only the conjuring arts of Skichip and Ramii could take effect here. Two Floraminas took shape and tore into the ashspawn’s legs. The moment the three broke free of the snare, they found themselves ringed by approaching troops.

  Two figures dismounted from great, pitch-black beasts. Their station was plainly far from common. This was evident in the grandeur and peculiarity of their armor and attire, and above all in the way they stood at the head of the troop.

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  One of the two spoke up. ‘O Almighty Lord Y’Kar, and O His righteous Eye. Our patience has been rewarded. You have now fallen into our snare.’ A shrill laugh escaped him. His speech resembled that of the ownan, and thus Ramii and Hudyn were able to understand him.

  In the sickly green light, his face came into view, etched with deep, harsh wrinkles. It resembled a rotting wooden mask, carved without mercy by the blade of an enraged carpenter.

  He went on, his voice still high-pitched. ‘You devious savages. You have shown great audacity in trespassing upon this land. You will die; not in the swift manner you so dearly crave. Consider it an honor that you are permitted to behold the August Goykang Host. Your deaths will be neither unjust, nor will they leave you with regret.’

  ‘G’Norol is nothing but a contemptible coward,’ he said, a low growl creeping into his voice. ‘That he would dare divulge confidential matters to such lowly creatures. A disgrace to a High Minister, one who stood in the confidence of Gawaring, no less. Yet in the end, it is to his treachery that we owe the capture of these sneaks. The stratagem to lay this snare was most astute indeed. You have my full commendation, Marshal Goykimar. You—’

  ‘You ugly bastard!’ Hudyn spat the curse, deliberately speaking in the language of the ownan. ‘If you dare, come out and face me one on one. This use of traps is the act of a coward!’

  The old Goyk’s slit, sagging eyes twitched upward. ‘Well now. I had thought you spineless animals incapable of such insults,’ he sneered. ‘How curious. It seems you have grown craftier than before. All the more reason not to let you live a moment longer. You crept up behind us once, did you not remember? We are merely repaying the courtesy.’

  He let out a dry laugh.

  ‘No more words, Chancellor Gumlog. Take them.’

  The one who had spoken advanced. His armor, black as pitch, exuded a grim authority, dominated by a keen-edged helm that concealed his face. He drew a double-bladed sword from his back and gave the command. At once, the ring of soldiers surged inward.

  ‘A’BONI!’ Ramii shouted.

  At the sound of his signal, dense white smoke blasted forth from the rear carapaces of the three armors. Gumlog’s eyes grew heavy, his face twisting with fear.

  ‘What—th-that’s… death-scent…’

  Gumlog swayed, took a few unsteady steps, and fell flat to the earth. The soldiers around them began to succumb as well, collapsing in waves. Those stationed farther out broke ranks and scattered in panic.

  At the heart of the choking haze, only Marshal Goykimar remained. He stood unmoving. His black blade swept outward, and a stream of eldritch green flame burst forth from it.

  ‘Open the Gate!’ Ramii called to Skichip.

  In the same instant, Ramii and Hudyn hurled themselves at Goykimar, spear and longsword in hand, determined to fell him then and there. The Goyk Marshal was forced to draw his blade back. Deprived of its source of flame, the Blazoul demon could not fully feed. It took form nonetheless, its sickly green light paler than before. Ramii’s O’Lynx and Skichip’s Floramina converged upon it in unison.

  Goykimar gave ground as he murmured an incantation. From between the twin blades of his sword burst two grotesque surges of fire.

  Whoom!—Whoom!

  Ramii and Hudyn were both blasted to the ground. They scrambled to tear away the burned plates of armor clinging to them. Ramii fared worse; the flames had seared through to the flesh of both his arms.

  Goykimar swept his gaze over them and made his decision. He advanced toward Ramii, each step deliberate. Ramii lay on the ground, still unable to force himself upright. The Goyk Marshal clenched the hilt of his sword, its point fixed upon Ramii’s heart.

  ‘OrokO’~makaboni!’ Hudyn roared.

  GRAOO!—the O’Mandrill finally answered the call and crashed into Goykimar. His sword was knocked off course, grazing Ramii’s arm. He turned at once to face Hudyn’s beast. Meanwhile, the other two Floraminas could no longer withstand the fire demon and were weakening. In the distance, another detachment of troops was closing in, the blood-draughts already taking hold in their veins.

  ‘The Zon’A has been unsealed!’ Skichip cried out.

  While the O’Mandrill held Goykimar at bay, Hudyn and Skichip darted to Ramii, hauled him to his feet, and threw his arms over their shoulders. Half carrying him between them, the three fled headlong into the Zon’A Gate.

  ~~~