Diago, Aylah, and Thatch were breathing heavily. Thatch’s eyes looked bleary and tired. Aylah fell to one knee, panting. Diago, though tired, sore, and reeling from his encounter with not one but two ghosts, took the earliest moment to limp his way to Saama’s side. Her longer webbed limb was in bad shape, but she was otherwise unharmed. Her eye flitted open, When she saw Diago, she tried to sit up, but moaned in pain when she tried to move.

  “Easy, easy,” Diago said, gently resting his hand on her head.

  He examined her and was unsure what the matter was. Desperate, he used the helm to see if it could also help him with something like this. It could. As soon as he activated the power of the Helm, Diago quickly found that the webbed limb on her left side had been dislocated at the shoulder. Diago winced having experienced the same injury only moments ago. He still ached from it and now that the adrenaline from his fight was fading his shoulder and back began to throb. In his condition, he wouldn’t be able to reset the limb without help. He groaned as he turned around. Aylah was upright but dazed. Thatch was leaning against an exposed root for support.

  “Thatch, could you help me with this?”

  The weaver looked up with a pain in his eyes, but when he saw Saama and Diago, he shook himself and walked over.

  “It’s dislocated. Pull on it that direction when I tell you, please.”

  Thatch murmured a reply and then made his way to where Diago had motioned.

  Diago leaned over Saama’s head and whispered,

  “I’m sorry, but this is going to hurt. I promise it will feel better in a moment.”

  Saama met his eyes and wheezed weakly. She understood. She craned her neck forward and used her powerful jaw to rip out a sliver of tree root to bite on. She then met Diago’s eyes and grunted. Diago rested his hand on her head and then moved to her shoulder. He nodded to Thatch who pulled, while he pressed in the appropriate angle on her joint. Saama growled in pain as her bone slid back into place in her shoulder. Seconds later and gentle and consistent wheeze came from her. Diago hugged her neck, ignoring the pain in his own shoulder and back, he was too pleased that she was okay.

  Thatch lay on his back with his eyes closed, “Well…that was all terrible”

  Diago couldn’t help but laugh. The relief in the finale of their struggle was potent.

  They had won. They had traveled to and through dangerous places and survived. They had searched for and found the Helm of the Ariochmar. They had fought and defeated the Firstborn, a powerful and dangerous enemy.

  To hear Thatch sum it up in such minimalist, yet accurate, terms was something Diago couldn’t help but enjoy. It started as a chuckle and steadily grew. Thatch and Aylah noticed and began to chuckle as well. In moments, Thatch, Diago, and even Aylah were all laughing even though it brought various aches and pains to the forefront of some limbs and ribs. When it finally subsided, Thatch asked

  “So what now?”

  “Now, you come with me or die where you stand!” Came a commanding voice from the edge of the forest.

  They all turned to see a man standing in the clearing, bedecked in thin leather armor. Over his left shoulder rested a fine, sand colored cloak that had two strips of green lining its bottom edge. The cloak was the indicator that this was a RaanSaris of the Honor Guard, the highest rank in Tunaan’s finest set of warriors. He held two particularly long daggers that curved slightly at the end.

  “A Gaanin specialist?” Thought Diago, referring to the fighting style that came with the daggers in the imposing man’s grip. It was a peculiar specialty for someone of his rank as it was typically a weapon used by lower ranks that were set aside for espionage.

  Behind him stood an entourage of soldiers of various weapons specializations. Bows and arrows, pikes and spears, javelins, maces, swords, and even one with a Kurigan. Two rode on talards

  “What next!?” Diago thought with primal frustration as the reality of this new obstacle set in.

  Just when they thought they might have some relief from their struggles. It would seem the intrepid who claim a calling are doomed to challenges even in the most inconvenient of times.

  They hadn’t responded to the Raan-Saris’ command, a fact that had not gone unnoticed by any in the clearing. Silently, Diago appraised their situation and knew that Aylah and Thatch were doing the same. All of them were asking the same question, “Can we make it out of here?”

  The answer was clear.

  No.

  None of them were in a position to push back against a platoon of the Honor Guard. They had neither the numbers nor the energy to fight with any chance of survival. Diago, thought about using the Helm, but something told him even if he did, the situation would end just the same.

  The Raan-Saris must have seen their deliberation. He motioned ever so slightly with his head and in seconds they were encompassed by various edges of weapons pointed their way. Two of the soldiers held down Saama, who moaned as they kept her pinned by the head. She was too exhausted to fight back. They were surrounded, exhausted, and out of options.

  They conceded and raised their hands in frustrated defeat.

  “What do you want from us?” Asked Thatch defiantly.

  A large warrior walked up to him and slapped him in the face.

  “Rilnaan!” Yelled the Raan-Saris, “That’s enough.”

  The man named Rilnaan, a man with a mace on his hip that looked quite fitting against his massive build, stepped back in mock respect, “My apologies Sandrin. I didn’t like his tone is all”

  Sandrin stalked forward and punched the mace specialist so hard that he stumbled back into the Demon Tree, “I wasn’t too fond of yours. Now get back in formation or I will use you as a scabbard”

  The man’s voice made it clear that it was no idle threat. His word felt absolute, but there was something about him that gave Diago a sense of curiosity. There was a subtle tone underlying the man’s voice that almost made it seem like he didn’t like that he had to be this way. Sandrin caught Diago’s eye, held it a moment, then turned to answer Thatch’s question,

  “We are under the order of Haarkim Jashhira, chief advisor to the king, to bring you before him. As to his desires? You can ask him directly when we reach his camp”

  Sandrin turned around and began walking toward the forest. He nodded to his team and they began wrangling the poor wounded travelers, finding no resistance, but only because non of them had the strength left to do so. Saama was thankfully able to rely on her smaller forelegs to walk though that seemed to pain her a little as well.

  “Sandrin!” Called out one of the soldiers, “Look at this”

  Sandrin turned to find one of his soldiers examining the body of Finch and holding the knife of Diago’s Kurigan they had taken from Thatch. Sandrin walked over and took the Kurigan from his subordinate, not caring about the body. As soon as he took the knife of the Kurigan, a strange look fell upon his face. He looked around the group of captors and saw that Diago had the other pieces, the hook and bludgeoner, strapped to his waist.

  “A Thief,” he said with a condemning overtone.

  “I am not a thief!” Diago cried

  Aylah coughed and gave Diago a look.

  “I-..am not always a thief! It doesn’t matter. I didn’t steal that!”

  Sandrin’s face was blank yet stern, “Then where did you get a specialty weapon of the Honor Guard?”

  “From my dad, Sulien. It was a gift” Diago said, hoping that his adopted father’s name still carried weight among the Guard.

  Sandrin remained unmoved by the plea, but the stillness was not so imposing. He didn’t reply, he merely kept the Kurigan in his hand and walked on toward the forest. As he walked closer to the tree line, he spoke,

  “Move out before the beasts return and we all become food for a jynx!”

  Saama was tied up and muzzled and drug along by talards. Diago, Aylah, and Thatch were stripped of all weaponry and then bound by ropes. Frustrated, exhausted, angry, and spent, they were all taken away from the canopy of the Demon Tree to face yet another challenge.

  “Kneel!” Demanded the voice coming from the pompous mouth on a throne-like chair in the center of an ornate tent.

  Diago, Aylah, and Thatch had been dragged through the forest and into a flat. They had been walking for almost a day. Footsore now added to their list of pains, they all looked on the brink of collapse. Thankfully, at the command of Sandrin, the soldiers had supplied them with some water. Though the water was accepted with great relief, with every groan from Saama, every wince from Aylah, and every abuse of Thatch, Diago was growing to despise this group of men. The Honor Guard, a sect he held a high respect for. He was glad at least that the Helm could change its shape, none of the soldiers seemed to think his metal circlet was of any particular value, and left it with him.

  They eventually came upon an encampment that was placed within a stone formation. There were tents strewn about of varying sizes, soldiers bustling about. Some of the members of the camp were not soldiers at all, they almost looked like-

  “Keep moving!” Shouted Sandrin, shaking Diago from his thoughts

  The butt of a spear was jammed against Diago’s back, right where he had recently received a fresh wound. He cried out as he stumbled forward and continued walking. He had tried to communicate with Aylah, but she couldn’t reply. At one time Diago tried to catch Thatch’s attention, but Thatch simply shook his head. Whatever the Firstborn had done to him had shaken him.

  Being shaken was a feeling Diago understood. Everything had happened so quickly…to him it seemed that ever since that fade showed up it had been a rapid downhill from there. The Armor. His parents. The Firstborn. Thatch…Aylah.

  He shook himself. He hadn’t seen Eeshak since that first encounter and the looming thought of meeting him again hung over Diago like a pressing weight. The thought of it filled him with equal amounts of curiosity and dread.

  They continued toward the center of the camp, passing a singular wooden structure that contrasted with canvas counterparts. It was a small structure, but when they passed, there was a stairway that lead downward into the earth.

  “A mine shaft?” Diago thought to himself. It slowly began to dawn on him that the people Trig saw meet the other miners must have come from this camp…but if that mine “belonged” to Saarsken then…

  “I said kneel!” The voice repeated the voice

  The man on the chair rose. He wore a thin purple jerkin and dark brown breeches.

  Covering that was an ornate cloak covered in the markings of a royal courtier. Jewels bedecked his hands and neck. He was not of a grand stature and his belly was not what one would call thin, but he still held the air of command. Although, his air of command felt more like a command pedantically inflicted upon others, rather than a command honorably bestowed.

  Spears butts rapped the legs of the captives and they were forced to the ground. Saama was left whining outside.

  “That’s better. Now, where is it?” Asked Haarkim, angry as he was portly.

  “What are you talking about?” Replied Thatch.

  A new voice entered from behind. A familiar and sinister one,

  “I think you know very well, my foolish friend.”

  A truly imposing figure passed in front of them to find itself standing beside Haarkim. Sandrin shifted and placed a hand on one of his sheathed daggers,

  “Sir, what is he doing here?” He said, at the ready.

  “Saarsken is my guest Sandrin,” huffed Haarkim

  “Stand down pet,” sneered Saarsken.

  Sandrin’s face fell to a frown, but he disengaged.

  You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.

  “There’s a good boy” Saarsken jabbed with a patronizing glint in his eye, “Now, where is the Helm?”

  Aylah, Diago, and Thatch all glanced at each other. How could they know what was down there? Why was Saarsken with the King’s chief advisor? What was going on? Instead of letting these questions permeate the air, left unsaid, Thatch spoke,

  “What is going on? What Helm?”

  Thatch was hoping that the second question would be a good misdirect.

  Saarsken laughed, “What helm? The one that Demon was guarding. The one that is no longer there. I am amazed you were able to take it. You should be dead.”

  “Enough! I demand to know where it is!” Haarkim cried

  “What do you want it for?” Asked Aylah curious at the man’s vehemence.

  “Power, my dear Onterrin. Power,” was Saarsken’s quick reply, “one cannot overthrow a whole monarchy without it.”

  Sandrin stiffened. Haarkim shot a glare at Saarsken, “Saarsken! We agreed on discretion!”

  Saarsken gave a courteous, and yet somehow disrespectful, bow, “With all due respect-” He then slapped the portly man so hard that he stumbled back toward his chair, “That is all the respect you are due! We agreed that I would fund and provide personnel for your little coup and that I would be well compensated for doing so. I am not beholden to you, you overweight krull! It’s quite the opposite”

  For the first time, Sandrin displayed emotion, but only for a moment. Diago was quite sure that he alone witnessed the fierce rage that surged through the warrior.

  He controlled it quickly and shot a look down at Diago. The knife of Diago’s Kurigan fell at his feet with a dull thud.

  No one seemed to notice other than Aylah and Thatch. Diago quickly shuffled on his knees to cover the blade. Saarsken must have heard the shuffling and looked over, though he did not seem to notice anything amiss. He continued,

  “It's no use hiding why we are here. Most of these men are mine anyway. Most,” He cast a threatening glare at Sandrin, “I do believe some of your own men have already seen my point of view. Seems that the Honor Guard honors payment over duty.” Saarsken waited for a reply, but received none, so he pressed further, “What do you say Sandrin Raan-Saris? We all know that change is inevitable, so why not join it? Why not create it? Why not enforce it?”

  “That’s treason!” Cried Thatch

  “That’s Tunaan!” Replied Saarsken, “How do you think the king got his power? He lied, cheated, bribed, and killed for it! That’s why I love this country. Money and power are the real rulers of Tunaan. Whoever holds that, sits on the throne, the ultimate symbol of power.” Saarsken turned again to Sandrin, “When I first met our fat chief advisor to the king here, he had found me trying to steal Tarrin from a mine the king had forbidden miners to work in. What a curious thing that he would be in that same mine, wouldn’t you say?”

  Haarkim might have spoken to defend himself, but a glare from Saarsken was more than enough to silence him. Saarsken continued,

  “Instead of seeing a criminal, our noble chief advisor saw an opportunity. For months now we have planned and gathered supplies and men all in preparation for the king’s downfall.” Saarsken there his arms out as if to embrace an unseen ideal, “This is your kingdom, Sandrin Raan-Saris. A country of liars and cheats. ‘Honor Guard’? Please, this country is as short on honor as it is intelligence.”

  Sandrin kept a straight face through Saarsken’s speech, and continued with the same expression as he spoke, “What of this Helm you speak of?”

  Diago tried his best not to feel his head for the piece of the Ariochmar that rested on his brow. Thankfully he resisted the urge to draw any attention toward it. The Helm was not the only thing on his mind (ha ha). All this talk of Tunaan’s inner workings was causing Diago to second-guess his fidelity to the kingdom. If all this was true, he wanted no part of it. At least he understood now why the fades had called him and his friends when they did…a little later and this maniac might have had the power to take over an entire kingdom.

  Saarsken was invigorated by the interest Sandrin had shown in his plans, “The key to our victory you mean?” Saarsken walked over and pinched Haarkim’s cheek and wiggled it like he was a toddler, “It was our dear Haarkim here that told me the king had closed the mine because of the Helm. He told me that the king lost the Helm to an Earth Siren not long after the war began. He chased it to this mine, but lost too many men trying to reclaim the Helm. Eventually, he lost track of the foul creature. The foolish king gave up on a priceless treasure. When some of Haarkim’s men discovered the traces of an Earth Siren, Haarkim had his one and only good idea: Take the Helm and use it to claim the throne. He bumped into me while I was trying to claim the Tarrin, utterly unaware of what the cave truly held.” Sandrin ingested this information quietly, “stop being so indirect. Do you mean to say that this Helm you are mentioning is a part of the Ariochmar?”

  All but Saarsken and the three captives shifted uncomfortably, the ban on that subject was a kingdom-wide rule. However, Sandrin was not the type to beat around the bush. Saarsken nodded with a wild grin, confirming the Raan-saris’ suspicion.

  Sandrin nodded, “Well then, I know where it is”

  A bolt of fear shot through Diago and the rest. Had Sandrin seen Diago use the

  Helm? Why would he give them up when he had just-?

  “I saw these three stow something under a rock near the Demon Tree. I didn’t think much of it, but with what you are saying, that must have been what you are looking for”

  It took everything within them not to show their relief in their bodies or faces. However, as Diago watched Saarsken’s face it was clear…He didn’t believe Sandrin.

  “Now or never,” Diago thought to himself as he slowly positioned his hands near his knees where the knife was. Aylah and Thatch saw and readied themselves as well.

  Finally, Saarsken spoke to Sandrin, “I assure you, you will not regret siding with me,” he declared with pomp.

  “With ‘us’, you mean!” Haarkim protested

  Saarsken slapped Haarkim again, “Shut up, you marionette! As I said,” Saarsekn turned again to Sandrin, “you won't regret siding with me, but you will sincerely regret lying to me if I find out that you have”

  Saarsken put as much sinister vibrato into his threat as he was able, but all it achieved was a scoff from Diago, “That’s a pretty big ‘if’. It’s not like you were ever any good at finding out lies anyway. Widdle Saarsken needed help to be smart. But now? Poor baby is as perceptive as a cactus.”

  Saarsken shot a glare in reply to Diago’s audacious grin. He then smiled, though his eyes still spoke murder, “Ahh The Shadow of Tunaan,” Saarsken sat on his haunches in front of Diago, “I think Wrayden would love to kill you again. But first,” The ornery Race-master then took hold of Diago’s already ripped collar and brought him in close before slapping him across the face leaving a cut on the boy’s cheek from one of his rings, “Don’t think I’ve forgotten about that bludgeoner you threw at my head! I’ll take a finger for every day I had a headache! I swear I will-”

  To Diago’s horror, Saarsken cut himself off when he saw the circlet on Diago’s head. He wasn’t sure if Saarsken knew or just suspected that the circlet was the helm by another shape, but he wouldn’t get the chance to find out. Primarily, because Diago leaned his head back and sent it straight for Saarsken’s.

  A cry of pain preceded the angry man’s fall backward. Diago was staggered by his own pain, but he recovered quickly took hold of the knife, and cut Aylah and Thatch’s bonds.

  The men in the tent were a torrent of confusion. Two of the Honor Guards turned on each other and began fighting, one keeping the other from getting closer to the captive. Haarkim hid behind his chair. A commotion began outside the tent as well.

  Saarsken looked up with a bloody nose that was bent out of shape. A guttural cry bellowed forth from the man’s throat and he rushed Diago with a blind fury. Diago was still struggling with his bonds and did not see him coming. However, Saarsken was stopped in his tracks by Sandrin who grabbed him by the waist and tackled him to the ground. This was all the time Diago needed.

  Saarsken and Sandrin rolled on the ground for a moment vying for dominance over the other, but Saarsken managed to land an underhanded blow…more like an under-belted blow. Saarsken managed to pin Sandrin to the dirt.

  “I told you that you would regret lying to me”…is what Saarsken would have said if Diago hadn’t hit him so hard in the head with the pommel of his knife. Saarsken went limp. Sandrin rolled him off himself.

  “You alright?” Diago asked

  Sandrin managed to stand a little, but was still bent over. He held up a hand, indicating that he would be alright in a moment. Diago walked over and patted him on the shoulder,

  “Deep breaths,” He said soothingly

  “DIAGO! We need to go now!” Aylah yelled at him already halfway outside the tent. Thatch followed quickly after.

  “We gotta go,” Diago said

  Sandrin stood and nodded. The two followed after Aylah and Thatch.

  Once outside the tent, Diago saw a small group of warriors fending off a large group of assorted bandits, miners, and guards. Aylah and Thatch were only just finished untying Saama.

  Sandrin took stock of their environment and saw which men were still on his side.

  It took only a second before he yelled, “Parr, to me!”

  A bald and beardless man rushed to his captain. He was heavier set, but sturdy, and carried a large sack on his back. Sandrin reached in and grabbed Aylah’s bow, quiver, and dagger, a rope of some kind, and a small spherical object. He tossed the object into the fray and a cloud of sand erupted.

  “Scatter!” Sandrin yelled to his men, “This way!” Sandrin yelled, taking off to the

  left.

  Not having any other ideas, Diago rushed to keep step with the Raan-Saris, knowing Thatch and Aylah were doing the same. Saama was much slower than normal from her injuries, but she managed to keep up, staying close to Diago. Under the cover of a sand cloud, they managed to weave their way out of the camp to freedom.

  They ran for a long time until they reached a dune lake. They had just crested a particularly large dune when Sandrin called for a stop. Thatch was breathing heavily, Aylah winced from pains in her back, but was otherwise unaffected by the run, Saama hung her head in exhaustion, and Diago wasn’t in much better shape.

  From this dune, one could see the distant outline of the capital Sulaaris. A one hundred and eighty degree turn would reveal a hazy view of the top a black elm tree. All around there were spires of various sizes and shapes and not a forest in sight. All was canyons, crevasses, flats, and dunes.

  The wind shifted and pulled at the sand throwing it in many directions. Sandrin’s cloak flared in response the the breeze. He turned and faced his ex-captives. The Raan-Saris looked over the motley crew and shook his head, “An Onterrin, a

  Weaver, a ragged boy from Tunaan, and a jynx in search of the Armor of Kings…”

  Diago stared at him, “…when you say it like that, it sounds like the start of a bad joke”

  “Or the start of a legend,” Sandrin said with a smile as he pulled out Diago’s missing Kurigan pieces, the bludgeoner, the hook, and a brand new cord to go along with it. This cord was longer than the other one.

  Sandrin looked at Diago with a knowing eye before asking, “I know these markings” Sandrin said, inticating an inscription on each item of the weapon, “You trained with Sulien didn’t you?”

  Diago felt like he had been hit in the gut at the sound of his adopted father’s name.

  It was said with such fondness as well… Diago nodded, “Yes. He’s my father.

  Taught me everything I know”

  “That’s something we have in common” Sandrin replied wistfully, “Your father is a good man. A true Honor Guard.”

  Diago nodded firmly, then a he frowned, “Sandrin…what Saarsken said about

  Tunaan…it’s not true is it? It can’t be.”

  Sandrin shook his head, “I wish I could tell you for sure, but I don’t know myself.” His face soured, “Believe me, it’s something I intend to find out. Your father believes in honor and integrity. He believes in the creed and so do I. To watch my own men turn their backs on it so callously…”

  “What will you do?” Asked Thatch

  Sandrin thought for a few seconds before speaking, “Saarsken was right about change…just not right about how to go about it.”

  Aylah scoffed, “You’d try to change an entire kingdom?”

  Sandrin heard her tone, but rather than look offended he smiled, “Won’t know till I try…someone has to”

  For that no one had any reply. So, instead, Sandrin asked, “what will you do?”

  Thatch, Aylah, and Diago all looked at one another, nodded, and then looked back at Sandrin.

  Thatch spoke, “We press on. We keep searching.”

  Sandrin nodded, expecting the response. Then he cast a respectful glance toward the circlet on Diago’s head, “May I see it?”

  Diago hesitated, but decided that there was no reason to mistrust this man. He removed the circlet. As he did, it reverted to the shape of a gleaming, beautiful Helm of white armor and golden accents.

  “How did you know?” Aylah asked

  “I saw your fight, or the latter part anyway. I didn’t know what it was and I didn’t care, orders were to bring you in…though now I see that those must have been Saarsken’s orders all along…I’m sorry.”

  Diago nodded and placed the Helm back on his head, it became a circlet once more.

  “Well then, I guess I should leave you to it.” Sandrin hesitated, “They’ll likely be after you. They are probably coming this way as we speak. Try to avoid undue attention. Haarkim may be a coward, but he is one of the more powerful people in Tunaan. Saarsken is persistent, he won’t let you go easily.” He turned to leave, but stopped, turned to the group and smiled, “and Diago? I would have promoted you to Raan-gin after watching that fight with the beast, Helm or not. Sulien would be proud. I’m sure he already is.”

  Before Diago could reply, Sandrin disappeared behind the dune heading in the direction of the capital. His words hit Diago like a brick to the heart. He felt tears well up, but resisted them. It wouldn’t do to cry in front of his friends…again.

  Saama must have known though, because she came up behind him and nuzzled his shoulder with a kindly wheeze.

  “Well where to?” asked Thatch

  “Rest,” Diago pleaded

  They might have, then and there, but in the distance a horde of men on Talards crested a dune, heading in their direction.

  Aylah scanned the group, “They haven’t spotted us yet. We need to go.”

  Diago was still a little lost in thought, that is until Thatch came up and nudged his shoulder with a kindly wheeze smile, “You ready big guy?”

  Diago couldn’t help but smile, “Let’s go”

  They took off. First to lose their pursuers. Then to found a place to lay low so that they could rest. It would be a long road, but not any better or worse than what they had already faced.

  Hours passed with the same drum beat of their feet hitting various surfaces of sand and dirt and salt. Their pursuers were on them the whole while, so Aylah had said. That is, until they hit a particularly dry flat and their trail became harder to recognize.

  The sun baked them in their clothing. Their sweat stung their eyes. They took little in the way of breaks. They were grateful for the water they had from Sandrin’s men, but longed for it now more than ever. Aylah was able to manage well because of her Onterrin blood. Diago was in better shape than most and was able to hold his own, though not so well as he would have liked. Thatch and Saama however were not so well suited and needed to take more and more frequent breaks.

  After Aylah said that she could no longer see any pursuers, they slowed the pace and took more frequent rests. However, they pressed on, sometimes running, sometimes walking. They continued this way long into the night and the early morning.

  That’s when Aylah spotted a little village in the distance. She wordlessly directed everyone that way, in hopes that it would provide shelter. It took another painstaking hour before they were finally able to come to a stop. The village was abandoned and run down. The only sign of life was a few krull picking at the bones of some unrecognizable skeletal structure. The krull scurried off when the strangers approached.

  Most of the buildings were rotted and crumbling, though a few were still standing. As soon as they entered the village grounds, they spread out, both to make sure they were alone and to find-

  “Here!” Thatch cried out as well as he could with a parched throat.

  They all rushed toward the sound. They converged on a clearing in the town where there stood the most beautiful sight Diago had seen in days: A well.

  Thatch was already cranking the lever to draw up the bucket. They waited with dry, baited breath as he brought it to the surface.

  “Praise the Great One!” Thatch cried out as he pulled up a full bucket of water.

  They all drank and drank, pulling up bucket after bucket. Saama must have taken four whole buckets on her own. So much was their relief that it almost brought tears. Once done, they all felt a wave of fatigue. For now they were safe. So they all found the closest house that could fit them all.

  They found one near to the well that looked to be a housing for a platoon. Bunks lined the walls. Most were run down and unusable, but there were a few that not only were sturdy, but had bed rolls still on them.

  Overwhelmed by gratitude for their good fortune and utter exhaustion. They all found a bed to use, plopped down, and slept.

  As Diago began to drift, it all began to sink in. They had it! They had the Helm!

  They did it! Well-…not all of it. But part of it and that had to be the worst of it right? There’s no way it could get worse. It just couldn’t…right? Well, they didn’t die trying at least. Yes, there was more to do, but in this moment, Diago, Aylah, Thatch, and Saama all rested in the feat they had accomplished together. And boy did they rest. If a krull had come to try and eat Diago, he wouldn’t have stirred.

  Soundly, every so soundly did they all sleep, all through the day and into the following night.

  That’s when Diago heard a familiar voice,

  “Diago…”

  Diago stirred a little and his eyes flitted half open. Then they shot open as he saw a figure he both dreaded and longed to see. A figure of mist lumbered over Diago, kind eyes resting on him and smile ornamenting and well trimmed beard.

  “Wake up, dear boy,” Said the calming voice of Eeshak, “…we have much to discuss.”