Session 1 - From the Ashes

12 Fadeflame 850

Talik was brought to his senses by a dull pain beneath his left shoulder blade. It was so sudden that Talik stopped crying and opened his eyes. When the boy wiped away his tears, he finally saw that he was surrounded by a group of armed men. All of them were dressed in strange clothes with metal parts and held long sticks in their hands. Talik had seen similar people before, accompanying merchants who came to their village, his mother called them guards, and always told him to obey them. However, these looked somehow different, so Talik tried once again to remember what the guards he knew looked like, but another burst of pain in his back forced him to turn around. One of the men, who held the stick as though pointing it at the boy, took a short step and jabbed him, this time, in the chest. Along with the new burst of pain Talik finally understood the words that until then had blended into a single hum:

“One last time I’m asking. Who are you and what are you doing in restricted territory?”

Talik tried to tell them about the sheep, his mother, the light, his leg, but from agitation his story was so incoherent that at some point the man simply stopped listening to the answer, made a gesture with his hand and began climbing up the slope of the crater. The next moment Talik’s arms were twisted behind his back and he was dragged after that man. The boy tried to explain that his leg hurt and he could not walk, but no one was listening to him anymore. At some point Talik could no longer keep moving his legs fast enough and nearly fell, at the same moment he felt someone grab him under the arms and continue dragging him onward. The pain in his leg throbbed harder and harder, but he no longer had the strength to cry.

Black, scorched earth passed before Talik’s eyes. Across it, the metal-trimmed boots of the man walking ahead moved with heavy steps. Any attempt to raise his head and look forward ended with a hard blow to the side and a yank on his hair that forced his head downward, making him continue staring at the black earth and the boots. Short shouts around him mixed with the ringing in his ears, creating an incomprehensible jumble. Several times they dropped him onto the ground, after which for some reason a salty taste appeared in his mouth. Focusing on the taste, Talik missed the moment when the ground before his eyes was replaced by darkness, and a very unpleasant heavy smell struck his nose. Trying to pull away from it brought no result, nor did another attempt to raise his head — all he could still see was darkness. The boy did not immediately understand that some kind of sack had been put over his head. Several times they stopped. At such moments Talik felt as though he was being passed from one pair of hands to another and then the movement continued.

Suddenly Talik felt himself flying somewhere forward. The pain in his leg exploded with new force, making him scream and whimper. 

“Quiet!” —

ordered a voice that made Talik not only fall silent, but at the sound of it the boy wanted to hide somewhere as far away as possible. 

The next moment the heavy smell that made it difficult to breathe disappeared, and the darkness before his eyes was replaced by a stone floor covered with straw that reeked of a cesspit. Rolling onto his back, Talik saw that he was in a small room resembling a cellar: the walls, like the floor, were made of rough stone, a damp stale smell hung in the air, and at the other end a lantern burned dimly, illuminating stone steps that led somewhere upward. Nearby stood a man in metal armor. Talik tried to crawl away, but quickly backed into the wall. The man spat in front of the boy and said:

“Looks like you don’t understand what you’ve gotten yourself into. Fine, I’ll give you time to think.”

Talik really wanted to ask what exactly he was supposed to think about, but the man was already climbing the stairs, taking the lantern with him. A few seconds later the boy was left in darkness. For some time he sat motionless, afraid that he would do something wrong and be beaten again. Time passed, fear gave way to cold, once again reminding him that he had no clothes at all. His body shook, and his teeth chattered on their own. Then hunger joined the cold. The last time the boy had eaten was early in the morning, before he drove the sheep out, and his mother was supposed to bring lunch. The thought of his mother brought another wave of fear — how would she bring him food if he had not told her that he would be sitting here, she did not know where to bring it. Talik was already about to start calling for his mother, but suddenly stopped — that man had told him to behave quietly, and his mother always said that adults had to be obeyed.

Despite the cold and hunger, exhaustion took its toll — without noticing it Talik dozed off. So he missed the moment of the man’s return. It seemed that one moment he was alone in the darkness, curled up on the floor from the cold, and the next — there was quite a lot of light around him, and the same man in metal armor was standing beside him.

“I hope you’ve had enough time to think everything over and make the right decision.”

Talik still could not understand whether the man was asking him or simply stating it, but, just in case, he nodded. The boy honestly tried to remember what exactly he was supposed to have been thinking about, so he simply began apologizing again.

“Sir, it’s urgent!” —

A quiet but insistent voice sounded. Talik shifted his gaze toward the stairs. An elderly man stood there in a patched jacket that bore many marks from cuts and burns, and his gray hair stuck out in every direction.

“What is it, Guldar?" —

There was such displeasure in the man’s voice that Talik crawled farther away without even noticing it. The one called Guldar quickly came closer and began telling him something, waving his hands actively as he spoke. Talik managed to hear part of it, but understood almost nothing, because the old man used far too many words whose meanings the boy did not know. When Guldar finished, the man silently picked up the lantern from the floor and went outside together with the old man. Talik was left in darkness again.

How much time had passed, the boy did not know. The cold no longer let go for even a moment, hunger cramped his stomach, and he was so thirsty that Talik could not endure it and began licking drops from the damp walls. He met the next return of the man in metal armor without fear — he simply had no strength left for it. This time he did not set down the lantern, but continued holding it in his left hand. With every step it swayed with an unpleasant creak that made Talik’s teeth ache. The man approached slowly, slowly drew a blade and pressed it against Talik’s throat.

“Your appearance coincided rather interestingly with problems in the security system. So either you’re quite skilled, or you have helpers…”

When the man fell silent, Talik tried once again to tell his story, but at the very first words the blade pressed harder against his neck, and the man continued:

“The one who calls himself Talik, I am Daren Hyde, captain of the Special Unit of the Imperial Guard, — in the name of the Velas’Tir Empire I arrest you for interfering in matters of special interest to the Velas’Tir Empire. You will be sent to the appropriate institution, where you will remain while all circumstances of the case are being established. And may your gods help you.”

The man slowly withdrew the blade and headed for the exit. In his place several guards entered, bringing clothes, food and tying some kind of board to his leg, ordering him not to touch it. Hanging one of the lamps on the wall, the guards left Talik alone.

At first Talik was somewhat confused by what he had been told. Not by the words, but by the way it had been said. When the village elder spoke to him like that, it meant that Talik had done something wrong. However, the smell of food quickly forced all other thoughts aside.

Interlude

Daren Hyde tiredly rubbed his temples and reread the report again. He did not like its contents at all — the facts presented looked like attempts to justify his own incompetence or negligence, although Daren himself did not consider himself negligent, and an incompetent man could not have obtained his position. An ordinary captain of the guard could be someone’s protégé, kept in office not for professional ability. The captain of the Special Unit, however, was held to special standards. But now Daren felt like a novice writing his first report. For almost three months his detachment had been investigating the site of the incident. They surrounded the perimeter, dug through, often literally, the entire territory — and nothing, no witnesses, traces or even any remains, anything that could somehow explain what had happened to the village. What was somewhat irritating, even Daren himself knew neither what kind of village it had been, nor its name. He had seen such secrecy only a few times in his entire service, and that despite the fact that all of their investigations were secret.

And now, almost three months later, a boy appears in the middle of the closed perimeter, naked at that. And his only tracks are already inside the crater, where he broke his leg. The initial interrogation gave nothing either. It had been conducted by a professional in such matters, but even he could not understand — the boy was either a trained spy, or so stupid that he did not even know which village he came from. Daren grimaced at the thought. It was unclear which was worse and harder to explain — a naked professional or a naked idiot in the middle of the perimeter. In any case Daren had no explanations, which created problems for him personally.

The information from Guldar about problems with the security system and a possible breach of the perimeter was like a gift. Now there was at least some explanation, and it did not matter whether the boy was actually connected to it. There had been a perimeter breach and there was a trespasser. That was enough for an arrest and to hand the boy over to “Gareza”, and let them deal with it themselves — this time the extreme secrecy worked in his favor, because now, after the arrest, he no longer had the right to interrogate the suspect.

Having read everything once more, Daren put down a sweeping signature, folded the papers into an envelope, then called his assistant:

“Inform command that we have a trespasser. We need an escort.  And where are the results of the investigation into the perimeter problems?”

When the assistant was already closing the door, Daren added loudly:

“And tell them the boy is about twenty and skinny as hell. Otherwise their prisoner will slip out of the shackles again.”

13 Fadeflame 850

Early in the morning Talik was shaken awake and dragged outside, where a blacksmith with shackles was already waiting for him. The boy tried to protest only once, for which he received a painful jab in the back with a spear. An attempt to ask for food ended the same way. He no longer dared ask for water.

Soon a wagon drawn by four horses arrived. Several burly men came out of it, dressed similarly to the local guards, but without metal parts on their clothing. Talik was immediately grabbed under the arms and dragged toward the wagon, but during loading there was a delay — the newcomers refused to take Talik. The boy never understood what was wrong and what some splint had to do with it. At some point Talik was simply thrown to the ground, or rather into the mud. The boy’s attempt to crawl even a little to the side ended with the now familiar jab in the back.

Lying face down in the mud, Talik missed the arrival of that man in metal armor, so the loud voice nearby frightened him again:

“Gentlemen, aren’t you getting something mixed up? Are you going to tell me in what condition someone can be transported? What is all this bureaucracy? Or perhaps I, Daren Hyde, personally have to fill out a form so that it finally gets through to you that there are no restrictions? Load him up and get the hell out of here! You’ve gotten lax!”

A few seconds later Talik was already inside. The bars clanged shut behind him and the wagon moved off.

18 Fadeflame 850

The monotonous days of travel blurred together. Twice a day Talik was given food and water, while any questions from him were ignored. At some point the boy noticed a sharp, familiar smell coming from the guards. Uncle Gregosh, the blacksmith, often smelled the same way. Especially in the evenings. And when he smelled like that, it was better not to come near him — Talik remembered that well from his own hide. It was the same here. When the guards began to smell like that, they no longer handed the bowl to Talik, but simply threw it through the bars. Sometimes it overturned, and sometimes it did not reach him at all.

The wagon stopped once again. Talik did not immediately realize that guards he had never seen before had entered. They firmly grabbed him under the arms and carried him toward the exit. There was something unusual in their movements, although Talik could not understand what exactly. Only when they carried him out of the wagon and toward a large gate built directly into the mountain did Talik realize that they were actually carrying him, not simply dragging him. His injured leg did not even touch the ground.

A man met them near the gate. Tall, thin, with unpleasantly deep-set eyes in a narrow face. His gaze made Talik want to turn away. Better yet — to be somewhere as far away as possible. The man quickly looked through the papers handed over by one of the guards, silently looked at Talik once more and headed toward the gate. Talik was carried after him. Beyond the gate there turned out to be a fairly large system of caves and passages, sometimes he saw open sky before plunging into the next cave again. And guards. Very many guards. Some opened doors and bars before them, others silently watched. This time no one forbade Talik from looking around, but wherever he looked, he met the gaze of another guard. At some point they emerged into a large space where quite a lot of buildings were located. Some of them were part of the cliff, some stood separately. At that moment the man turned around and, in a slightly creaky voice, said:

“Process him. House him. After dinner — bring him to me.”

Looking at Talik once more, the man headed toward one of the buildings. Talik, meanwhile, was dragged toward another one, standing somewhat apart from the others and surrounded by an additional fence. There the boy was asked his name and directed to one of the rooms, where, as he was told, he would live from now on. The room was somewhat similar to his own, only here there were bars on the window, and the door was metal. Otherwise the room was not particularly remarkable. A wardrobe, a table, a pair of chairs, a bed. Clothes lay on the bed, which Talik was asked to change into. It was said politely, and somewhat quietly, but the boy immediately felt no desire to argue. After some time a couple of men entered the room who did not look like guards. They wore no armor, and their clothes were similar to what Talik himself had been given. They examined the injured leg, removed the board tied to it and wrapped the leg in something that unexpectedly held it firmly. At the end Talik was given what they called crutches, shown how to use them, and then the men left the room. The next visitors brought food. The guards who had brought Talik stood silently by the door the entire time. Only when Talik finished eating was he grabbed under the arms again and carried to another building.