It took them almost twenty minutes to bring Val on top of the mound, the animal kept its composure and behaved, a testament to her mellow character. Glen braved the saddle, then stood up on it like acrobats in the circus and grabbed at the edge of the collapsed upper floor with both hands, grinding his teeth at the pain shooting through his injured arm.

“Easy girl,” He said and with a deep breath pulled himself up. Walking around the edges of the collapsed floor he reached an open door-case, drawn to it by light coming in.

I guess, I didn’t need the torch up here, he thought.

“Talk to me lad,” Sir Emerson said, still holding Val’s reins downstairs.

“There’s another hole,” Glen replied looking around the much bigger room. Everything that hadn’t been destroyed, had aged and crumpled to dust. Furniture and walls were in different stages of ruin. There was growth everywhere and a smell of decay. “Something broke through the side wall of the pyramid, kept going and went through the floor below,” He explained as he rummaged about.

“A catapult shot?”

“Probably.”

Glen pulled at the broken pieces of an old ornate chest, looking for anything of interest. People probably went through all this ages ago, he thought. No sign of the creature. But there was little chance for it to have stayed around. The walls had cracked at the point of impact, debris scattered all the way across the other side of the large room, although most of it had fallen through the hole down below. Water coming in probably had pushed even more material down.

It was getting darker. Glen checked the man sized blown up crater and realized he couldn’t see the sky. A strong sound came then, a rumbling booming explosion that shook the place. Then another.

A barrage of lightning strikes arrived soon after, with more thunders following as the skies opened up and rain started pouring down. Water started coming in from the hole and Glen cursed moving away from it. His torch now the only lighting source in the ancient place created strange shadows on the walls, shapes lurked in every crevice.

“I’m coming down!” He yelled hoping Emerson could hear him. Moving anxiously he stumbled over the remnants of an old weapons rack, kicking parts of broken selves away in the process. The torch’s light shown over a well-made sword grip. A Wyvern was carved on the handle, the beast’s head was the pommel, its wings the guard. Glen picked it up curious. It wasn’t a sword after all, he realized. Nor was it broken.

A dagger.

Its blade made of some strange gleaming black glass. A beautiful weapon.

Glen put it in his sword belt, without a second thought.

Rule of the trade number one.

Never leave a place empty handed.

He climbed down using the rope and let out a sigh of relief when his feet finally touched the ground. Val had walked away from the mound and Emerson stood next to her looking frustrated towards the entrance, now lit from the bolts falling outside. It was a downpour of immense proportions.

“I can’t hear anything!” Glen yelled as he approached the knight.

“Nor I,” He retorted.

“Pours it down hard right?” Glen grinned as another thunder boomed outside.

“Take the reins lad,” Sir Emerson replied gruffly.

“What’s gotten in to you?” Glen complained accepting them and watched dumbfounded as the older man rushed towards the entrance. “HEY!”

“I can’t hear Duke,” The knight yelled over his back as he run.

“So what?” Glen threw back. But then he got it.

Ah.

Crap.

Glen moved after the knight, spooked by his manner and the terrible weather. If he hadn’t found the creek upon reaching the shore a couple of days back, this deluge would have probably saved his life. Then again the knight did have water on the horses. Darn old man was edgy as all hells and it rubbed on him.

As if to illustrate the fact, Sir Emerson unsheathed his sword the moment he stepped through the entrance.

“Oh, for the love of Naossis. He’s gone—”

Something zipped next to his right eye, heard the noise too late to do anything but scowl comically, but he stopped talking at once. Sir Emerson appeared again, blown back in through the broken up doorway from either too strong a wind or a kick and collapsed on the rubble covered floor.

Glen started after him to offer assistance, heart beating wild in his chest, all previous feelings of undeserving edginess on the knight’s part forgotten, remembering two strides in to arm himself. He reached for his sword, this being the second time he unsheathed it in anger, but a figure appeared in the bolt illuminated doorframe and the shock made him fumble the whole thing.

The cobalt-blue haired creature cocked his head to the side eyeing him and then took a step forward. Glen recoiled in horror, stumbled as he was hurrying backwards blind and almost went down, all thought of fight forgotten. Thankfully the creature had its bow hang on his shoulder.

“STRIKE IT YOU BLOODY FOOL!” Emerson bellowed from where he’d crashed earlier and Glen, eyes ogling at the approaching menace, didn’t have the wit to answer him. But his instincts worked even if his brain didn’t. Another thunder shook the building, a lighting following so strong it chased the darkness away for a moment and half-blinded them all.

He went for the dagger this time.

The creature hissed seeing his move but Glen had his fingers wrapped at the grip and the blade out instantly. He was much more comfortable with the short blade.

“KILL IT!”

The long eared creature glanced towards the slowly standing up Sir Emerson and Glen moved taking this second chance without a thought. He covered the gap between them, sound of his boots buried in the uproar and struck at the seemingly frozen in place alien creature.

He must’ve screamed during the last portion of his move. Whether it was the cry or not, his opponent jumped back at the last moment. The black blade came down with force, missed his chin for a hair, almost opened that long neck, caught the collar of his leather outfit instead and proceeded to slice open the bindings from neck to belly button.

Managing to miss the skin altogether.

What’s this, a demon of fucking luck?

Luthos?

It was a miracle.

With more to come.

The outfit’s front opened up like a shirt and a pair of mature and shapely female breasts burst out. Glen mouth dropped at the sight and all thought of a follow up attack washed away.

The rainstorm ended at that moment.

This was the third miracle of the day.

The second being…

“It’s a woman,” Glen mumbled at the approaching seething knight.

“I’m female,” The creature replied and he jumped back startled.

“That’s not a woman you fool!” Emerson growled murder in his eyes.

“She speaks common!” Glen told him and he stepped forward to intercept him.

“No she’s not. Move away lad,” Emerson said sword still in hand.

“No, I am not,” She said.

Glen glanced at her exotic and not that scary face. Seeing her with fresh eyes, he admitted this was the most beautiful face he’d ever seen. A tad scary maybe, if he was being honest. But the beautiful part was no exaggeration. She’d closed the front of her outfit with a hand unfortunately.

Then again he’d only whores and the Miller’s daughter to compare her with but still… he raised his hands high and stared back at the frowning knight.

“Let’s take a moment here.”

“Move aside lad,” Emerson repeated slowly as if he was talking to an idiot. “She’s dangerous.”

“No. This is a misunderstanding,” Glen insisted.

“You are walking on Zilan land,” She said. “You should be punished.”

“She tried… to kill us,” Emerson said. “Twice. She kicked me in ‘em fruits!”

Glen snapped his head her way, disregarding the knight. “There. You spoke in common!”

“No. I did not,” The female Zilan replied slowly as if she was addressing an idiot. “You are wielding the Wyvern’s Tongue.”

This was getting weirder than Glen would’ve ever hoped for. Not that being rich from an unlikely score, then betrayed, manage to escape taking a corpse with him and landing in this strange forbidden land wasn’t weird enough. But what followed was over the top. Attacked by an alien native, a beautiful female native that claimed he could understand her because of a blade.

Glen stared at the blade he held in his hand.

“What are you doing lad?” Emerson asked.

“I can understand her,” Glen said.

“Fine then. She surrenders, is that it?”

“Ahm, yea she does.”

“Does what?” She asked.

“You yield.”

“No, I’m not.”

“Well?” Sir Emerson asked looking at them suspiciously.

“We’re good,” Glen replied.

“Lad you need a cuff on the head to set you straight,” The knight said with a grimace. “Tell her to hand over that bow.”

Glen thought about it. The female Zilan was the one that looked at him suspiciously now. Her eyes had the color of molten gold and he realized they glowed lightly in the relative darkness. It was eerie.

“Can you give up the bow as a show of good faith?” He asked with a nervous smile.

“You tried to kill me.”

“You tried first,” He pointed at his bandaged arm.

“Pfft. I missed on purpose,” She said dismissively.

“I wasn’t trying to hurt you myself,” Glen retorted.

“So… you were trying to unclothe me?”

Glen felt his cheeks warm up despite the chilly temperature.

“No,” He tripped over his tongue, feeling the intense glare of Sir Emerson on him. “That happened by accident. But handing over the bow would help put this unfortunate incident behind us.”

“On your word as Knights?”

Glen looked at the older man. “She asks for our word of honor. We won’t harm her.”

Emerson grunted. But he sheathed his sword.

“What did he say?” She asked.

“You have our word. As knights,” Glen said with a broad smile.

“You’re not a knight lad,” Emerson barked cutting his moment short. “So your word means crap.”

Emerson strapped the white bow the female handed him on the saddle of his horse still waiting at the base of the pyramid structure and Glen went to bring Val down as well, the mare taking the steps tentatively but never tripping once. The Zilan, Glen couldn’t tell how old she was, her skin was a pale white, unmarred by scars or wrinkles, face youthful with rich long hair colored an exotic blue that appeared almost black in the dark.

She could be ten and fifteen or thirty just as easily.

The night chill irritated his wound and he scratched it absentmindedly, stopping when she tapped him lightly on the shoulder. Her words came as an indecipherable song. She pointed at his belt and he remembered to touch the dagger’s handle. Glen felt silly doing it, but it was even more surreal that it actually worked.

Magic, he thought with a shiver.

“Does it bother you?”

Glen stared in her eyes long, got lost in their illuminated radiance and he had to force himself to look away confused.

“I don’t know what it is,” He whispered not wanting Sir Emerson to hear him.

“Your hand,” She said softly.

Of course.

“Aye. Remember your arrow that almost didn’t hurt me?”

“Let me see it.”

“It’s taken care of.”

“Wound needs cleaning,” Her lips split, Glen got a glimpse of many pointed teeth and almost recoiled in fright, but it was a smile. “I can smell it.”

He couldn’t smell a damn thing.

“You’re a brave knight,” She said. “Stop acting afraid.”

“I’m not…” he cleared his throat, glanced towards Sir Emerson tending to their horses and offered her his arm. This time, she laughed. A chuckle.

“Undo the bandages,” She pointed towards the dark forest. “I will get some supplies.”

He pulled the arm back ashamed. Then stared at the blackness. “You want to go do that now?” He asked perturbed.

“Why not?” She frowned lightly. “Oakenfalls as you call it, starts where the road from the palace bends, you see?” Glen couldn’t see a darn thing. “It’s covered in overgrowth now, very useful. Medicinally.”

He nodded unsure, if she was sane.

“You want me to come with you?” Glen wanted nothing of the sort but he had to offer.

“I want you…” She paused as if considering his offer, perhaps finding gallantry where none was there. Glen grinned in the dark. “…to remove the wraps.” She finally repeated slowly.

By old gods and new, she must think me a fool! He thought, hope turning to despair.

Sir Emerson brought him down to earth with a cuff on the head. Glen almost went down on his knees as he caught him unawares.

“Where she’s at lad?” He asked.

“Said she can fix my hand… with medicine.”

“And you let her go?”

“Yes?”

“You are some special kind of idiot,” He grunted as if he could read his earlier thoughts. Now that, was a disturbing possibility, Glen thought rubbing his head. “She’s gonna try to slit our throats, first chance she gets.”

“You should put more faith in people,” Glen murmured.

“Is that so? That what you do lad?” Emerson said gruffly. “Where did you get all that gold?”

Glen frowned.

“I told you.”

“No, you didn’t,” Emerson sniveled. “That was me. But I didn’t ask also before now.”

“My father—”

The knight cut him off with a wave of his hand.

“Nah. Reeves didn’t have that much coin. Too plaguin' honorable for that. At least, I thought he was.” Sir Emerson stared in the darkness surrounding them. “People do many things they ain’t proud of,” He said after a moment. “But they have the right for a clean start.”

Glen thought he wasn’t talking about his ‘father’.

“So why come here?” He asked steering the conversation away.

“Thought I’d make amends for past mistakes,” Sir Emerson said face hidden in the starless night. “Wasn’t meant to be.”

“What wasn’t?”

The older man gave him a side stare. “We make do lad, wit what’s given. And pray it’ll make a difference.”

“Do you know him long?”

Sir Emerson had left them alone by the fire and went to sulk near the horses. Glen glanced his way but couldn’t see more than his shape next to Duke.

“I met him no more than three days ago.” He watched her spreading the reeking ointment over his wound with some trepidation. It felt soothing at least. “Shortly after I met you.”

“Ah. Walking where you didn’t belong.”

“We still don’t. We are still here.”

She cut away the excess salve carefully with a small bone knife, he didn’t know she carried. Working fast, she wrapped a fresh cloth over it and tied it with a string she produced from a pouch. Same string she had fixed her leather bodice with.

“Time brings change,” She said when she finished.

“I suppose.”

“So you are not his squire?”

“I took the spot of the previous one.”

She sat next to him cross-legged and stared at her hands. Her fingers were long and graceful Glen noticed and thinking it was creepy gawking at her all the time, he tried to copy her stance. He found it difficult on the knees, so he settled on a large enough rock instead. It made his arse hurt, but he wasn’t about to go looking for something softer to sit on and look an utter fool in her eyes. So he got the dagger out and held it in the light of the fire pretending to admire the craftsmanship for a while, mostly to keep himself busy and stop staring.

“What happened to him?” She asked, her voice almost a whisper.

“To the squire?”

“Yes.”

“Well, I thought you shot him at first.”

“I didn’t.”

“Aye. So he basically died of a poisoned arrow.”

“I would never use one,” She said sounding offended. “It is an assassin’s way. I’m a warrior.”

Right.

“Well,” Glen didn’t know what to say to that. “I’m a…” thief, his mind added, but he pushed through “…hopefully be a knight someday.”

“Like your father.”

I think he was a butcher?

“Yeah, he was a great knight,” He said instead, feeling ashamed at his deception. He forced himself to continue. “Honorable. Didn’t know him.”

“But he did? The old knight?”

“Aye.”

“Where did he find the gold?”

Glen turned to look at her surprised.

“How do you know?” He asked.

“Interesting,” She said simply. Now she was looking at him.

“What?”

“Not his gold.”

The Zilan pursed her lips like a real woman would. “You are interesting,” She added.

“How do you know about the gold?” Glen insisted.

“It is why you went inside,” She said as if not caring about his question. “Why you found the Wyvern’s Tongue. Gold is your care. Treasure what you seek. And the dagger sensed it and revealed itself.”

“What are you talking about?”

“It is not a pure thing, what you hold. But it is perhaps fitting. Lad, who you want to be a knight.” She reached and stirred the fire a bit.

“My name’s Glen. Not lad.”

“Uhm,” She said simply still playing with the lit stick.

“Short for Glenavon. Same as my father.”

“The dagger will work with that. Build on the lie, it will help you,” She said, a pleased smile on her face. “I will help you, if you wish.”

“Help do what woman?” Glen snapped remembering his nightmare.

“I’m female,” She announced proudly standing up effortlessly. “My mother called me Lithoniela, daughter of Baltoris. The First Crystal of dawn. She said I was hope.”

“There are more like you?” Glen asked.

“Some other time I will tell you,” She replied. “If we have an agreement.”

“I thought we had.”

“That was between him and me,” Lithoniela said. “I will help you out of our lands. Then we will talk, make new agreement.”

“Nah. I don’t think so.”

Glen found himself intrigued by her but also scared. He knew when to take the easy road out of a situation. “I kinda think you’re crazy.”

He cursed himself for saying the last part. You don’t poke a bear. Crafton always said that all women were crazy.

She looked around her untouched from his comment. All Glen could see was the blackness. “Do you know what was under the rumple?” Lithoniela asked.

“An altar?” Glen guessed.

“Pfft. You’ve figured this one out long ago.”

“A throne.”

“Yes. A throne of gold.”

Glen tried to make out the giant silhouette of the pyramid from where they stood but couldn’t. But it was there, he could sense it.

“Ask me Glenavon,” She teased. “Oh, I can smell it from here. You want to know.”

Glen gulped. Leave it, he thought. Don’t bother. Think of the bag. So much coin. Think of the Knighthood. A name for yourself. You don’t need to learn this.

But his mouth moved. Greed too powerful to resist.

“Is it still there?”

Lithoniela sighed. She lowered her head, suddenly looking older. “Not anymore.”

“But you know where it is,” Glen said. “Like you knew about the coins.”

Lithoniela chuckled.

“What?” Glen snapped frustrated not worrying about Sir Emerson hearing him.

“I know about your coins, since you dropped the bag with them remember? And because I spent the night with the horses and checked again. I like animals.” Glen blinked stunned. “And they like me. I’m Lithoniela, a Zilan. Horses will never tell on me.” She paused and watched as he tried to pull himself together. “As for the first part, you already know the answer.”

“You’re wrong,” Glen croaked. And batshit crazy.

“When the time comes Glenavon,’ she said now totally serious. ‘we will make new agreement. I will help you get your heart’s desire and you will help me bring back hope for my people.”