Deus Necros

“The Sun Temple thanks you for your visit priestess, I hope you have recovered enough and that your journey is blessed.” The priest’s voice carried the calm coolness of shaded stone, a practiced gentleness that made the courtyard feel a measure quieter.

“Thank you, priest Uthman, we’ll be heading to the capital as soon as possible.” She inclined her head with the composed grace she had held since the gates, though the faint color at her cheeks betrayed that she was eager to be in motion again.

“Please don’t do the same thing you did when coming to Gulim. Take a ship, a few of them are currently docked and without business, and they’ll take you anywhere for just your blessed presence.” He said. His hands folded into sleeves that scratched by design, a reminder of service over comfort.

“I was thinking the same,” she replied, and turned to her left. The Guard Knight, still stiff from convalescence and a little embarrassed to have needed the cots and poultices of the Sun, said, “Thank you for your care, I’d been a goner if it wasn’t for your healing.” His voice had the rasp of a fever that had finally broken.

“You should thank the people that brought you here,” the priest said, “We’re only doing what is required of us.” The words were simple and absolute. He did not accept gratitude that belonged to others.

The knight nodded and turned to Ludwig. “I’ll have to personally request a reward from his highness for your efforts.” Old habits made him search for ceremony even when the sand clung to his greaves.

“That won’t be needed, all I need is a meeting with the man,” Ludwig said. He watched the priest’s eyes in case the name of the king stirred some hidden warning. The priest only blinked.

“That can be arranged,” the knight said as he turned toward the gate, “But now we need to leave this city, some rumors are getting a bit out of hand,” he said. His mouth tightened in a way that confessed he had heard too many of them already.

“So I’ve heard,” Ludwig said. Things that begin as whispers have a way of growing teeth in cities. He had felt them tug at his sleeve even inside holy walls.

In the past couple of days, not even the nuns in the holy temple could refrain from spreading some pretty wild rumors, enough to make the priestess’s face turn red every time she heard the word rumor. She had learned to keep walking when an acolyte’s voice dropped to a conspiratorial hush. She had learned to stop correcting them because correction never outruns invention.

“I’ll have that damn merchant’s skin flayed and put to dry!” The words snapped out of her before she could catch them. They tasted of grit and impatience.

“Anger is the brother of foolishness, please do not succumb to it.” The priest said. He did not smile. He placed the sentence between them like a bowl of water that anyone could drink from.

“I’ll take your words to heart,” the priestess said as they moved out of the temple. The decision steadied her step. She wore resolve the way she wore her linen, close and practical.

Just outside it, as expected, several people were more occupied with staring at the trio than their business, enough staring that some pickpockets were having a field day. Fingers that would normally be watched slipped into belts and purses without reprimand. The market learned quickly when attention turned away.

Ludwig did not even blame the couple that took a few hefty pouches from staring merchants. After all if they minded their own businesses they would have kept their gold. He kept his own lantern low at his hip and his mask still. A handful of children shadowed them for a dozen steps before losing interest to a hawker’s bell.

The group headed toward the docks. Docks here were not in water, but for Sand Ships similar to the one that picked up Ludwig from the frontier to the forgotten temple of the moon. Masts carried prayer cloths instead of gulls. Ropes creaked with the dry music of hemp on wood. The smell was hot pitch and old spice instead of brine.

Once they arrived, they found a couple ships, not even a quarter of the size of the ship Ludwig had ridden on first. One of them was busy loading some cargo, men carrying crates whose seams leaked cumin and dried figs. Another was empty and seemed to be patiently waiting for a customer, its shadow line clean on the sand like a promise not yet taken.

The Guard Knight moved first and stood in front of a man who was using the shade of a date tree as protection while he napped. A small kick on the man’s chair was enough to jolt him up. He squinted at the knight while covering his eyes from the sun’s glare and asked, “What is it? Rather too hot to be wearing that much metal…” His hat slid back to show a scalp browned to leather.

“It’s part of the Guard Knight’s duty to always be armed and armored.” The answer was as automatic as the buckles on his cuirass.

The moment the man heard the word Guard Knight, he stood up faster than the time it took for his hat to drop to the ground. “What do I owe the pleasure of this meeting?” His voice found its manners at once. He nudged the fallen hat aside with a boot as if the ground were not worthy of it.

“We need a ride to the capital.” The guard said as he turned. “I have the priestess with me. This is an urgent mission.”

The man looked at his ship and back at the trio. He measured weight and weather, then counted the coins he thought might follow. “Can you even drive this?”

“No, so you’ll be coming with us.”

“Ah…” the man could not help but sulk. His afternoon nap fled and took with it the lazy pride of doing nothing very well.

“You’ll be rewarded handsomely. This isn’t a seizure of property.” The knight kept his tone even. He was too used to command to sweeten it more than necessary.

“I see… but the roads aren’t safe right now…” he said. His eyes flicked to the dunes where the wind drew and erased lines that looked like tracks.

“Are you worried about the sand worms?” Ludwig asked. He remembered the way the earth had opened like a throat.

“How did you know?” the captain said. Suspicion and hope leaned together in his voice.

“Had an encounter with a few batches… but it should be fine,” Ludwig said. He kept the details out of it. Descriptions of teeth do not comfort men who must cross their territory.

“That’s the same thing Marik said, and now he’s worm shit. Not many small ships travel through the desert right now…” The captain rubbed the heel of his palm on his jaw. He spoke the name as if he had shared more than one wine with it.

“I don’t know who Marik is, but I suppose he also had a small ship like yours…” Ludwig let the man keep his sorrow in the shape of a warning.

“Small, yes, as fast? Definitely not…” The captain’s mouth tilted toward pride again. He looked at the rudder and the line of the hull as if those were the answers to every doubt. He looked at the knight and said, “There is one small thing I have to ask before we go.”

“I already know about your engine,” the Guard Knight said, “I can smell the illegal fuel from here… so don’t worry, just get us there as fast as you can.” The knight’s nostrils flared. A thin tang of distilled something sat under the usual pitch and oil.

“Ah then, please follow me,” the man immediately rushed toward his docked ship and jumped on. He moved with the quickness of someone who remembered what competence felt like. He latched onto a netted stair of ropes and went up in three pulls. Once he got onto it, he threw over a gangplank toward the group. The plank thudded into place with a sound that satisfied.

“Let’s get going then.” He replied jubilantly. The prospect of coin and a story to tell had returned his cheer.

“He looks rather happy…” Ludwig muttered to the priestess. He watched the way the captain touched the wheel first, like a man greeting a friend he trusted to keep a secret.

“Of course, he’ll be rewarded if he takes us there safely… and being rewarded by the king is something to take pride in, it might even be enough for him to upgrade his ship to a larger vessel.” She kept her voice low as the deck took their weight. Her gaze measured the rigging and the sails as if they were parts of a ritual.

“I see, but what’s that about an illegal engine?” Ludwig asked. The word illegal tasted interesting in a place where survival often set the law.

“You don’t need to ask, I’ll just show you,” the man said as he grabbed the wheel. “BUCKLE UP!” he said. The order flew bright and loud across the deck.

After some roiling engine sounds, the ship began moving. Slow at first, and throttling enough that it felt like it was about to stop in place. The hull shivered a little as if uncertain that forward was worth the effort. The first breath of wind pressed the sail and then changed its mind.

The buckle up was far too anticlimactic. Ludwig had an awkward look on his face as he saw the captain holding on to dear life while the ship was moving at a snail’s pace. The priestess arched a brow and set her feet near the rail.

The Knight however already grabbed the priestess and had one hand on the railing, as if readying for something. He looked at the dunes ahead as if they were a door he could persuade.

Ludwig did not feel like the ship was going to go any faster if it kept throttling, but something deep inside him told him that it might not be the worst thing in the world if he simply leaned forward, just in case. He let his weight tilt and bent his knees to welcome a change that had not yet arrived. The lantern at his hip ticked once like a clock that knew the punchline.

Just as Ludwig did so, the throttling engine released a smooth noise, and the ship simply blasted through the sand like a meteor. The deck snapped from languid to alive. Lines sang. The mast hummed. Heat peeled back from their faces as the bow bit and the dunes parted, and for a long clean moment the world was nothing but speed and a ribbon of pale gold unspooling under their feet.