Interlude 1

Ranjen

The smell of smoke had always made Ranjen feel nauseous. It reminded him of Nazakar, the city in the heart of the Black Sands.

Smoke was oppressive and it invaded his lungs. He wanted to push forwards, past Chief Yakra up to the roof of the tower and be free of the smoke. But he waited, patiently. Yakra commands obedience, you do not disobey Yakra. If Yakra wishes to condemn the pale ones to Vasrak then that is what he will do. He is almost finished. The last remaining pale one was already on his knees, his eyes glazed over and his flesh rotting.

There was a sound of lightning crashing and then Yakra’s blood was spraying out from the back of his head. Their chief fell backward, revealing the kneeling pale one. His hand raised holding what looked to be a small contraption of metal, two bright kazas shining on the sides of it. Ranjen was not Undak—was not an immortal or even one of the chosen. He had little understanding of how the kazas worked but he knew that only a very powerful Undak could have taken down Yakra. Ranjen did not feel fear, but he was practical enough to understand when it was best to flee before a stronger opponent.

The human Undak however did not immediately turn his wrath upon the remaining rak. He remained kneeling then tipped forward, an unreadable expression on his pale alien face. Ranjen clenched his fist around his blade in anticipation of an attack from the enemy Undak but none came. The human fell forward on his face and remained there, unmoving.

Smoke continued to swirl around Ranjen’s face. Stinging at his eyes and filling his nose with its oppression. Yakra is dead. He had never liked Yakra so he was not upset by this. But Yakra was their leader and the strongest among them. His death would throw their clan into chaos as the strongest fought for the right to be chief. Ranjen himself would likely have to kill some of the men in this smokey corridor in the coming days.

“Take the Undak,” Sakas commanded and Ranjen turned around and walked away from the scene. He wouldn’t take orders from Sakas of all people.

“Yakra has fallen,” Ranjen growled, “I’m going back to Joku’ur.” He hadn’t wanted to invade the pale one’s lands in the first place. He’d done it because Yakra had commanded him to. But he’d be damned if Sakas thought he was strong enough to force Ranjen into continuing this foolish attempt.

“The Khandamos will want more blood,” Sakas said. That gave Ranjen pause. He’d never crossed paths with the Khandamos directly. Nor did he ever want to. He glanced back at the humans. The Undak was unconscious now. He could see the rise and fall of his breath along with the other—the Undak Savura’an, the flame finder. Those who could wield fire were rare amongst his people. He could be sold as a slave. But captured humans always made poor slaves. They clung to their will like frost on the sands.

He glanced back at Sakas who gripped his blade in his hand. The bloodlust was still on him, Ranjen could smell it. He glanced about at the others in the corridor. Like him, they were all of Yakra’s bloodsworn. It would be one of them that would come out as the new chief.

Ranjen was faced with a choice. Fight Sakas here and now and claim the title of chief as his own—or submit. The Khandamos would want the blood of these Undak. Sakas would deliver them to him. Or Ranjen could kill Sakas, take these Undak as slaves and sell them to another chief and be done with it. Be done with this absurdity of invading the lands of men.

“The Khandamos can fuck himself,” Ranjen growled and lunged at Sakas.