Chapter V

“So let me get this straight,” I snapped, pacing around the small space in our tent. “You were practicing your abilities out in the open, and when Travyn came out to squeeze the snake he saw you and started to sound an alert?”

Hym nodded, his face still white.

“And you killed him. With his britches down.”

“I know what you’re thinking Pytyr, so don’t even try to say it.”

“Oh trust me, Hym. You may know what I’m thinking, but I have no idea what in the world you were thinking!”

“He was about to summon Cyphus! What was I supposed to do, let him?”

“Of course not, but you don’t just kill a fresh recruit! You hold him in the sand until you can get me, or Jems, or Jone to come and help talk him out of it. You don’t just kill a man!”

Hym’s retort was cut off by the tent flap being pushed aside.

“What in the world is going on in here?” Jems hissed as he stepped inside, followed closely by Jone and Maryk. He stopped when he saw our faces. “No… Hym, don’t tell me…” 

Hym just looked away.

Jems slammed his hand onto the cot in anger. “Damn it, Hym, what were you thinking?

“You’re not the first to ask,” I growled, looking back over.

“Is it really so hard to understand?” Hym gestured helplessly. “The punishment for being a Duster is instant death, no questions asked. I was just trying to stay alive!”

“Lire’s sakes, Hym, but you didn’t have to kill him!”

“I know!” Hym yelled, standing up quickly with his fists clenched. “I know! But you know what it’s like to have to make a decision in the face of death. Has every single decision you’ve ever made in battle been the best one?”

Jems’s face softened slightly, and he sighed. “Look, we understand why you did it. But in those kinds of situations, especially knowing what’s at stake, you have to think clearly! You have so much to lose, you can’t afford to put yourself in any more danger than you already were.”

Hym sighed, sat back down, and put his head in his hands.

“Still, mate,” Maryk said slowly. “How did Simun escape? Did you let him out?”

“Yes,” Hym said, looking back up at us. “I let him out so a Duster’s killing could at least be explained.” Maryk nodded thoughtfully.

“At least that’s something that makes sense. Did he say anything to you?”

“I don’t know,” a familiar voice said from under Hym’s bed. A head poked out from under it, proud and fierce. “Why don’t you ask him yourself?”

All of our heads turned, not to Simun, but to Hym.

“You kept him in here?” I would have shouted if it wouldn’t have brought everyone in the vicinity running to investigate. “Hym, I was the one who was drinking last night. I was supposed to be the one who couldn’t think straight.”

“Don’t blame him, mercenary,” Simun growled, crawling out and brushing himself off. “I only just came here.”

“How?”

Simun gave me a look I’d come to expect- like I was a child intruding on an adult conversation. “I can tunnel over short distances through the sand. It was child’s play to make it under Hym’s tent. I just hid under the bed until you showed up.”

“Why?” Jems said, his voice shaking slightly. “Why did you come back? You’re endangering us all. If you’re found…”

“Don’t worry, I’m much better at hiding in a camp than in the open desert. As for why I came back… Well, let’s just say I couldn’t leave the man who gave me my life back.”

“You don’t owe me anything, Simun,” Hym said. “Just leave, before you get caught.”

“I can’t leave you, your Honor.” Hym gasped, while the rest of us just confused. “I can’t leave a Pontyff, just as you couldn’t.”

If there were ever a prolonged astounded silence, it was that one.

“Hym,” I said cautiously. “What in Lire’s name is he talking about?”

“I don’t know.” Hym shook his head. “Simun, I’m not a Pontyff.”

“Your mother never told you, did she?” Simun said quietly “Who you are?”

“Simun, if you have something to say, just say it. Enough of the subtleties.”

“It’s not my place to tell all, but I can tell you this- you were born to be a Pontyff of the Jitdons, and it is high time you lived up to your position.”

Hym looked stunned, almost as much as the rest of us were, and none were more so than I was. I knew that Hym was special, and I had some suspicions about his lineage, but I had never guessed that he was born to be a Pontyff.  

“What kept you from guessing?”

Any number of things. My mind was numbed by Hym’s almost thoughtless slaughter of an innocent boy, my own blindness because of our friendship… even the fear of knowing that a Duster had been captured, and that the Jitdons had been revealed to still exist. My mind had been far more occupied with other things.

“Well,” Maryk said, a hint of sarcasm in his voice. “This is certainly far more than I signed up for.”

“You can say that again.” I snorted. “Simun, what are you planning to do here? Because it would be best, possibly for all of us, if all we saw of you was your back as you ran away.”

“I told you, mercenary, that I couldn’t leave a fellow Pontyff. I’m planning on staying here and helping you as much as I can.”

“And how do you propose to do that?” Jems snapped. “The entire camp knows your face. None of them will hesitate to turn you in.”

“Which is why they won’t see me,” Simun replied. He pointed toward his tunnel. “I can create a small living space a little ways away in the sand. I’ll have to hide in it most of the time, but it’ll be worth it to help you.”

“And we certainly appreciate any help you can give us,” Jems cut in, “but you’d best be going now. I want to keep the chances of Cyphus discovering that we have a bloody Duster in our tent to a minimum.” He looked at me. “By the way, Pytyr, Cyphus said he wanted to see you. And it seemed urgent.”

I nodded before stepping out of the tent.

“And that was it?”

What do you mean?

“You just let Hym get away with it?”

What would you want me to do? What even could I do? No matter what he did, he was my friend. I understood why he did what he did, even if there was no way I ever believed it was right. For Lire’s sake, man, who was I to even judge what was right? I wasn’t like I am now- I was a depraved lecher with no thought but to myself and that distant family I provided for. Besides, even though I didn’t know it, there were other things, other people later in life he would provide for.

He raises an eyebrow at me. I give no reply.

Regardless, there was nothing I could do at that moment. Shock and a hangover do not go well together, so all I could do was focus on my upcoming meeting with Cyphus.

“Pytyr!” he said gaily as I walked into his office. “Sit, please. I’m eager to speak with you.”

“What is this about, Chief?” I said. “I don’t recall doing anything wrong.”

“Oh no.” Cyphus shook his head. “You haven’t done anything. I’ve called you in for something else.” He gestured to the chair on the other side of his desk. “Please, sit.”

I did so. 

“Now,” Cyphus said, leaning forward. “You recall that the Pontyff, Simun, escaped early this morning.” I nodded. “And you also recall that he was aided by one of our own?”

“I do remember that, though I can hardly believe it’s true.”

“Neither can I. Which is why I want to appoint you as the head inquisitor for this little… incident.”

“Sir?” I said, taken aback by the generous offer. “Wouldn’t one of the military police be better suited to this kind of undertaking? I… I don’t even know where to begin with an investigation like this.”

“Which is part of the reason I’m appointing you, and not one of the military police.” Cyphus laughed. “They’re too entrenched, too stuck in the old way of doing things. This case requires a fresh pair of eyes. God to dust, man, we’re dealing with Dusters. The Jitdons are supposed to have been dead for centuries, and today I find out that not only are some of them alive, their government is still kicking. I don’t think this is the time for the ‘usual way’ of doing things. You’d be able to choose your own men, of course. A man has to know he is able to work with his underlings.”

“I…” I stumbled over my words. “I… Thank you, Chief. Thank you for this opportunity.”

“Oh,” Cyphus said, standing up quickly. “You aren’t just getting this opportunity.” He nodded at the battered short sword strapped to my hip. “How long have you had that, Pytyr?”

“This old thing?” I looked down at it. “A decade or so, sir. It’s held up rather well.”

“Indeed it has, Pytyr, but I think it’s high time one of my best soldiers got a replacement, especially one befitting a head inquisitor.” He reached under his desk and pulled out a sheathed longsword. It was rather plain, considering it was supposed to be some sort of great gift. The sheath was completely brown, and looked somewhat like mud. I winced, hoping Cyphus wouldn’t see my disdain.

“Thank you, Chief.” I said, taking it in my hands. Strange. The damn thing was warm to the touch.

“It and a few like it just came in from Halivar,” Cyphus said. “Brand new technology.”

“How so?” I raised an eyebrow. 

“Pull it out.”

I grabbed the hilt and pulled it slightly out of its sheath. To my puzzlement, it was the exact same color and sheen as the sheath and hilt.

“What is it?” I asked, turning it over in the light. I put a finger on it. Yes, it was just as warm. 

“Mud that has been put through a long and lengthy process to become what it is now.” Cyphus grinned. “It’s not quite as good as a Duster, but with a bit of know-how and a bond to the blade you can morph it into different shapes.”

“A bond?” I asked. None of this was making any sense.

“Yes. The Alchemysts told me that with an incantation of sorts the blade will bond to you and respond to your touch, almost like sand does when a Duster commands it to.”

“Incredible.” I had a thought. “Is there a name for this? The Alchemysts couldn’t just keep calling it ‘new technology’.”

“Of course not.” Cyphus bellowed a laugh. “I believe they called it ‘Earthbound’.”

The name spurred something in the back of my mind, something that seemed important. But I was too entranced with the weapon to really pay any heed to it.

He pauses, likely because he notices my look of distaste. 

If you need to say something, say it.

“You were entranced by Earthbound?”

Who wouldn’t have been? We didn’t know what it was made from back then, what abominations created it. To me, it was simply an exquisite piece of workmanship that had been given to me by my chief. It was nothing short of extraordinary. He holds up a hand. Before you ask, I will answer. At the time, I didn’t remember what Ayndre had told me. As much as I loved and cared for my brother, I fully believed that he was nothing short of insane. And so, while I heard what he said, I never paid much attention to it.

“It’s extraordinary, chief,” I said quietly, sheathing the sword once more and holding it in my lap. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome, Pytyr.” He stood and held out his hand. “And thank you for accepting this position.”

“Of course, Cyphus.” A thought occurred to me. “Chief, if I could ask a small favor…”

“Of course, Pytyr.” Cyphus smiled. “Within reason.”

“My cousin recently became a recruit,” I said, beginning to weave one of the many lies I would have to keep close. “And I was wondering if I could take him into our unit for training. I’d much prefer it than leaving him to the whims of men like Jikle or Bhruhn.” 

“That can be arranged. I’m not the kindest man, yes, but I’m not so heartless to let family be separated.”

“Thank you, Chief.” I stood quickly. “I’d better return to my unit, let them know our responsibilities.” I help up the Earthbound sword, the first sign of my fall. “Thank you for this.”

“Use it well, Pytyr. Make me proud.”

I nodded and stepped out the door.

“What was your story about the cousin for?”

Strange. I thought it would be obvious. He takes a sip of ale. I was trying to make it so Simun didn’t have to hide under Hym’s bed for the foreseeable future. If he were part of our unit, he would be able to blend in and even help us with the slaves. 

“Wouldn’t any of the other men recognize him? I mean, he attacked Cyphus in the middle of all of them.”

There was a simple solution to that- and I had figured it out quickly. Upon returning to my tent, I drew my sword and advanced on Simun.

“What in the bloody name of Lire are you doing?” he spluttered, standing and backing away from me as fast as he could. “Have you lost your mind?”

“Have you lost yours?” I hissed. To soften the situation a little, I dropped my sword slightly and stopped moving. “What did you think, Pontyff? That you could just waltz into the mercenary camp that is hunting you at this very moment?”

“I’ve spent my entire life hiding from the slave masters in the Ring.” His eyes never left my sword. “I can do it for a bit longer.

“Do you really believe that?” I needed to be delicate if I was going to convince him of my plan. “Do you really think you can hide forever? Cyphus is hunting you with all the strength he can muster, and you really think you can keep one step ahead of him? And, Lire to dust, even if you could, why would you want to?”

“And what do you suggest, mercenary?” Simun’s voice bit through the air. “What do you want me to do? Walk over to Cyphus’s quarters, poke my head in the doorway and apologize for being evil? Expect him to invite me in for tea?” He rolled his eyes and folded his arms. “My options are limited at this moment.”

“Not if you listen to me.” I sighed. “I got permission from Cyphus to let you into our unit. Or, at least, he thinks that I’m bringing my cousin in. We just have to make sure you’re unrecognizable.”

“Unrecognizable…” Simun trailed off and looked at me with a mixture of fear and respect. 

“What is he suggesting?” Hym said, looking between the two of us. “What’s going on?”

“If we can scar Simun’s face, cut his hair, and get him some new clothes then he can go around acting like my cousin.” I grimaced. “It’ll be painful, for sure, but it’s the best option we have if he wants to be able to help you from anywhere besides under your bed.”

“Are you sure you want to do this?” Hym said, looking at the Pontyff. “You don’t have to.”

“Yes I do.” Simun sighed. “He’s right. I can’t do anything while hiding like a frightened child.” He looked at me pointedly. “My only worry is that he won’t know how to do it right.”

“You don’t have to worry about that,” I grinned. “I know my way around a sword.”

“Then let’s do this now.” He took a deep breath and walked forward a step or two. “Be gentle.”

“Sorry,” I said. “That’s not exactly the point of this.” I stepped forward and slashed my sword down across his face. Blood spurted between his fingers as he instinctively raised his hands to cover his wounds. But true to his character, he didn’t make a single sound. He looks at me and grins widely. You obviously aren’t well acquainted with the finer points of mutilation.

“You could say that.” There’s a catch in my voice as I try to keep from vomiting.

It’s a virtue, really. Normal men shouldn’t have to see or experience what I have. Regardless, this is a true account and I must keep it that way.

“Simun!” Hym cried, reaching for bandages and cloth. He rushed over and slowly peeled Simun’s hands away from his face. “Are you alright?”

“I’m fine,” he grunted. A large gash stretched from his left temple to his chin. “It’s not as bad as it looks.”

“For some reason I don’t believe that.” Hym dabbed at his wounds, pressing the cloth up against his wounds. Simun winced.

“Be careful with that. I may fight with sand, but I’m not made of stone. And I have two sets of wounds here.”

“True.” Hym sighed. “Did we really have to do this?

“Yes,” I said. “Simun wanted to hide, but my way lets him hide in plain sight. He’ll be fine. Give him a haircut before he goes out in public. If Cyphus visits, we’ll just tell him that he found himself on the wrong end of one of the other soldiers. ”

“I’ll also need a new name.” Simun said, wincing again as he held a cloth up to his face. “Things will be a little suspicious if your cousin magically looks somewhat like and has the same name as an escaped Duster.”

“True.” I scratched my beard. “What would you suggest? You’re the one who’s going to have to live with it for the foreseeable future.”

“Zalot,” Simun said quickly. “It was my father’s name.”

“Alright then, Zalot.” I sheathed my sword. “I’m glad we got that over with.”

“What did Cyphus want with you?” Hym said as he dressed Simun’s wounds. “It seemed important.”

“Ah, well,” I laughed as I sat down on the cot. “He wanted me to head the investigation into capturing our Duster friend.”

Simun barked out a laugh. “Part of me wishes that Cyphus truly knew who he appointed, just so I could see the look on his face.”

“I will admit, it was difficult to keep a straight face during the meeting.” We all laughed. “But at least I received a new blade from him.”

“I noticed that.” Hym nodded. “It looks strange. What is it made of?”

“That’s the thing,” I said, standing and drawing the sword. “Cyphus said it was some sort of new technology that mimicked Duster abilities. He called it ‘Earthbound’.”

“Interesting,” Hym said, staring at the blade. “What is it, though?”

“He said it was some sort of alchemic mud.” I shrugged. “I didn’t really pay much attention to the explanation.” The blaring, piercing sound of the alarm bell cut through our conversation.

“Another Reclamation?” I said, surprised. “That’s two days in a row!”

“Regardless,” Jems said as he barged into the tent. “Do you want to be the one that let Hym’s Disciples come in second to the chase?”

I grinned, and sheathed my sword in a quick motion.

“Never.”