“I say suffering.” Caelric answered after thinking about the question posed.

  He spread his toes in the sand, then curled them back in.

  “I don't think it matters what's behind them doors, I think it matters to them that we ask that question, that we punish ourselves over the possibilities and never know when it's our time to find out the answer. Everything in this bloody trap is so to make us suffer more. One would almost think the creators enjoyed our misery a little too much.

  They call this place Fort Light. I would call this place Fort Unending Torment For Unlucky Bastards. Even rolls right off the tongue.”

  William shook his head. “So you're not one bit curious what they hide in there? You don't see that blue light from beyond the gate and ask yourself ‘what's going on?’” He asked.

  “Of course I do. But that's the point, ain't it? That it ain't the point.” Cealric answered.

  William responded with an exasperated thump of his head against the wall as he leaned back against the mortar.

  Denise, the third individual on the bench, let out a slow chuckle. Caelric eyed the woman.

  “Shared thoughts are a company's livelihood.” Caelric said, as he again spread his toes, feeling the sand running across his skin, finding every crevasse.

  “It's just when you speak sometimes, you really remind me of this boy I used to run with.” Denise answered after a moment's pause, watching Caelric.

  “I do, do I?” Caelric asked, unenthusiastically.

  “Mhm, been dead a long time now, he has. But he had this incredible ability to make people he spoke with pissy, yet he never understood why they became annoyed. Never seen the like, but you scratch that itch no one wants scratched.”

  “Hmph, my father would say the same. But I actually do know why I piss people off. Which means I know when I should run.” He said, then asked, “The sod didn't die because he ran with you, did he?”

  Denise again chuckled.

  “No, not to worry now. He just didn't know when to run,” she answered with a creeping smile.

  “How grand.” Caelric said with moderate conviction.

  In front of them sand whirled, throwing up dust in the courtyard and making the barely standing wooden sheds sway, their simple roofs of cloth catching like sails.

  Who'd have thought the holes in the tarp would be a good thing? For without them, I think the coup would wholly collapse. Or maybe the entire structure would fly away, and we could hide in it to escape this wretched hole ourselves.

  People milled about, doing whatever one could do in a place such as this, which wasn't much.

  Except, in an open spot of coarse sand, a small gathering had formed. Cealric did not know their names, but he recognized their faces well enough as they prepared themselves, saying prayers and kneeling in the sand.

  “Well then.” He said as he got up from the simple bench as a way of announcing his departure.

  “Weren't we supposed to meet here?” William asked as Cealric rose, though it wasn't the question he wanted answered.

  “I'll return when he arrives, not to worry.” Caelric answered.

  The people gathered were spiritsingers. And whenever spiritsingers congregate, the veil was bound to pass.

  Caelric made his way along the edge of the wall that surrounded them and entered a drainage at the base of the stone. It wasn't big, and it sure wasn't comfortable, but at least he wasn't out in the open.

  He leaned back the best he could and eyed the spiritsingers gathered down in the sand, all the while letting a finger run along the scarred skin around his left eye.

  Oh, you who sing for the deceased, if only I were as deluded as you are.

  He closed his right eye, trying to perceive through his left, injured eye. All he could see were shades of light from it.

  It was an old wound, though he did try to look through it once in a while. Not that he actually thought he ever would see clearly from it again, but he couldn't help but wish.

  And with that, the veil filled the sky above, turning day into twilight. Caelric pressed himself further into his dwelling.

  What the veil was, exactly, was the topic of many debates, and Caelric had been part of quite a few of said speculations. It was a large swath of sweeping darkness that blotted out the sun momentarily. It also made a song-like noise, like that of a bird trying to mimic people singing. So what was it? And why did it appear as it did? That was the question everyone asked, and some answered with guesses.

  For the spiritsingers, the answer to the question was spirits. Veiling spirits wandering the great vault of the heavens.

  Is that why it's called the veil? No, spiritsingers certainly don't have that sort of influence.

  And as the spiritsingers answered the grave tune with their own haunting melody, a commune was formed.

  To Caelric, however, the celestial phenomenon was more of a nuisance than anything, as he couldn't stand the song.

  It settles in my spine with icy talons and sends shivers through my nerves, making them twitch and contract in a most disagreeable fashion.

  Having a cover helped the unpleasant sensation, and the more robust, the better.

  I suppose there are few places more sheltered than under a giant wall.

  His foot got stuck between the bars of the drainage as he pondered to himself.

  Could be a bit more spacious, though. Does it smell like piss in here?

  Outside his refuge he could hear the faint hum from both the veil and the spiritsingers, far enough away for him to not have to endure the uncomfortableness they both brought.

  And then, just as fast as it came, the darkness again receded to let the light bathe the courtyard.

  And with the returning light, he finally managed to wiggle his foot free.

  Free, yet still imprisoned. At least irony is having fun on my behalf. The wicked hag.

  He exited his hiding hole, his body slowly and painfully unfolding.

  The spiritsingers got up from their kneeling stance and began brushing themselves off from clinging dust and sand.

  "Northerner." Someone called as Caelric stretched.

  He turned to face the caller. It was Dismas. A lanky man with a pointed face, and the man Caelric had been waiting for this morning.

  “You know people piss in that drain, right?” Dismas continued.

  “Yeah, I noticed.”

  But if he had to choose, he’d choose sitting in piss rather than sitting in the open when the veil passed.

  In fact, I would rather suffer the red plague than be forced out into the open during the damned thing.

  A scream sounded down from where the shacks were placed, grabbing the attention of them both.

  Shouts and clatter followed the scream, and then people were running away from the source of the sound.

  “The guards are at it again?” Caelric asked, but it was more of a statement.

  Dismas clapped Caelric on the shoulder.

  “You ready then?” Dismas asked.

  “Well, I suppose I am.”

  They returned to the bench Caelric had left just moments ago, William and Denise still sitting where he’d left them.

  William hadn’t even bothered raising his head, as he still leaned against the wall, eyes closed against the sun.

  Dismas sat down, filling the remainder of the bench, leaving Caelric to stand.

  “So, are we ready to leave this shithole? Head to the north away from all this--” Dismas began, but was interrupted before he could continue, as someone came running towards them.

  The person in question was a man, slipping in the sand, and with panic in his face.

  He was bleeding from a fresh cut above his eyebrow.

  “Please,” the man pleaded, “please help. You are a healer, yes?” He directed at Caelric, his voice thick with tears and accent alike.

  “You must help, please.” He continued pleading.

  “Well, I know some basic--” Caelric began but was interrupted as the man grabbed his wrists, pulling him along.

  Caelric shot a panicked glance at the rest of the group, but they were no help.

  “I’ll fill you in later, healer.” Caelric heard Dismas call after him, dragging the word out to mock him.

  Oh, you bastard.

  “Mind explaining what’s going on, lad?” Caelric asked the man as they pushed through the sand in the direction the man first came running.

  The man's hands were so clammy his grip was slipping as he dragged Caelric forth.

  “Guards came and took a woman and her son. Her daughter tried to defend them and they stomp on her face. She’s very hurt.” Clammy said.

  It was not an uncommon occurrence in Fort Light, the guards punishing and beating the inmates. Nor was it uncommon for them to drag people away.

  “How old is she?” Caelric asked, referring to the person who was injured.

  “I don’t know. Not yet an adult, I think.” Clammy answered.

  Well, I guess it don’t matter non. Just curious if the bastards actually would be so cruel to an innocent child. Of course, to them, no one is really innocent. And especially not us, who would have dared to commit “sins against the flame”.

  Whatever that means.

  They entered a cluster of shelters, packed tightly. They all seem to be somewhat connected, planks tied together with cloth, supporting other structures, just as rickety as the next one.

  The man guided Caelric to one of the shacks.

  Inside, two other people were looming over a third one, lying on the sandy floorboards.

  It didn’t take no genius to figure out who was the hurt one, especially as she gurgled wet breaths through her blood-filled mouth.

  Caelric loomed over her, quickly inspecting the injury.

  She was a young one, just like Clammy had said. And her face was a complete mess.

  He’d thought that maybe the guards had kicked her once or twice to get her off them. But this was bad. Real bad.

  Her entire face was smashed to a bloody pulp.

  Her jaw was broken, her mouth split open in a toothless, red wound, and her eyes were swollen shut. At a closer inspection Caelric found that the side of her skull was cracked open as well.

  Caelric ran his hand through his hair.

  The author's tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

  What am I supposed to do here?

  The girl in question was making gurgled whimpers, but he was not sure she was truly conscious.

  I really hope she isn’t.

  The fact that she was still alive was a miracle in itself.

  “There's nothing to be done here.” Caelric said.

  “What?” Clammy asked with both confusion and anger.

  “She's gone.”

  “No, she breathes, see?”

  “Well yes, she's alive, but she's gone. I can't do anything here.”

  Caelric could see Clammy was about to object, so Caelric continued.

  “She's hurt. Bad. And I haven’t got the skill nor the tools to aid her here. No one could in this place, if anywhere. She would need weeks, if not months, of attention to heal her. We ain't even got warm water to clean her with here.”

  Clammy stared blankly at Caelric, then at the girl on the floor, then back at Caelric, putting his hand to his mouth.

  Do you taste the salt?

  “Then what do we do?” Clammy asked, after a long while of silence, only interrupted by the awful whimpers of the girl on the floor, trying to breathe.

  “If I were her,” Caelric began, “my wish would be that of a quick end.”

  The man's eyes turned distant.

  “Or we leave her for the guards do deal with. Leave her with the people who caused this mess. It won't be good, and who knows what they would do to her. But it won't be in our hands.” Caelric continued.

  “I can't.” Clammy said, almost whispering the words, “I can't kill a child.”

  “The guards did this. The guards killed her.” Caelric answered, though he wasn't especially keen on ending the poor girl's life either, even if it was a wretched one.

  “Please, I can't.” Clammy continued pleading, as if Caelric was trying to force the man.

  “I can't.”

  They ended up giving her to the guards.

  Even if death would’ve almost surely been the more merciful choice for the girl, Caelric did not want to choose for someone else. Certainly not when he did not know the young one to begin with.

  He’d bandaged her up with dirty cloth strips ripped from the roof of the shack, and then they had placed her in the sand next to one of the gates the guards entered the courtyard from.

  Just in time as food was served.

  In Fort Light, they only served food once per day. The servings were too small to be filling, and what the food actually consisted of was always an enigma.

  “Something between shit and pus.” Dismas had tastefully put it.

  And with that, Caelric had decided he didn't want to investigate any further into the ingredients used.

  Some things are better left unknown.

  Caelric was exhausted. And he certainly wasn’t hungry. But he had to eat.

  He stood in a long, slow-crawling line.

  And as if the whole ordeal he’d suffered wasn’t enough, he was neatly placed just in line of sight of where they had left the girl.

  She was still baking in the sun, painting the sand red around her, her face all covered with soaked fabric.

  He was close enough to see her chest rise and fall with shallow breaths.

  Caelric was feeling sick, he had for a while now, but he just couldn’t take his eyes off the brutal sight.

  An hour later and he actually got his serving for the day, just as the sun was setting behind the walls. As he made his way around to where they had left the girl, he could finally see she was gone. Just a blackened stain remained.

  He turned around to notice a pair of big, yellow eyes staring at him from beyond the shacks, out in the gloom.

  Unblinking, they followed Caelric.

  He stared back, uncertainly.

  Then the owner of the eyes took a step forward, revealing itself.

  It was a Sanlin, a creature the size of a dog but much lankier, having long legs, small horns, a broad flat nose, and big eyes.

  Quick little bastards too.

  Caelric had seen quite a few of them here in Fort Light.

  Though, they had the luxury of coming and going, unlike the other inhabitants of this prison.

  They easily climbed the steep wall, avoiding the patrolling guards.

  Not that the guards would bother chasing the buggers.

  The beasts then came down to the courtyard, mocking those who were imprisoned in this hell. Or at least, it seemed that way to Caelric.

  The only joy the critters brought was that of seeing some hungry inmate wasting energy trying to catch one for a second dinner.

  “What are you looking at, huh? Think I could've done something different? No one could help that girl.” Caelric muttered at the animal.

  It responded with an indifferent stare.

  “I tried my best.” Caelric continued, trying to convince himself more than the beast he was arguing with. Or rather to.

  Then realization hit him.

  “Oh, you're probably just interested in my food, aren’t you?” He sighed, then stirred the slop with a dirty finger.

  Maybe the dirt will help with the taste?

  “Trust me, you don’t want this.” He said.

  He then cleared his throat and started past the group of shacks, wanting to put distance between him and the spot of bloody sand.

  He trudged through the courtyard, finding the small lean-to shelter he usually slept in, then he collapsed onto the hard planks.

  First he cleaned the bowl dry of anything edible, then tossed it aside.

  Even though he could barely think, he was so drained, sleep would not come. He stared distantly out into the courtyard, his vision unfocused. What was clear was the mental image he had of the girl’s broken face, and it would not fade.

  Darkness grew as Caelric laid there, unmoving as time passed by, hoping that sleep would take him, but it never did.

  Had he even blinked? He couldn't remember.

  Oh, child, how you defeat me. I call the spiritsingers mad for the requiem they hold. Now I hold you in my mind, a haunting I can't endure.

  Is this because I called you a hag, Irony?

  Then something broke the apparition burdening his mind's eye, as his physical eyes locked onto another pair, as a sanlin watched him from a distance.

  Is that the same one as before?

  “Look, friend, I got nothing to spare.” He said, showing the creature his empty bowl. It eyed the wooden container without much care, then returned its gaze to Caelric.

  For a second, the image had gone from his mind as the sanlin had appeared. Now the echo again returned.

  Caelric nervously rubbed his hands together.

  “I don’t know what to tell you. I did the most I could. I don't need your judgmental presence, as I judge my own presence plenty.” Caelric muttered.

  The creature had the same response as before, a blank stare.

  “You sure feel like a condescending little prick, you know that? You sort of remind me of my father.”

  Again the creature only stared back.

  “Making friends, are we?” Someone asked from Caelric's side, making the sanlin flinch and then retreat.

  It was William, appearing from the shadows.

  Oh, right, the meeting.

  "I'm not sure if it wants to make friends or if it wants to send my soul to hell to burn for all eternity. Or maybe it just wants food.” Caelric responded.

  “To hell, you say? Good thing you don’t believe in it, even if you spend a lot of time talking about it.”

  Caelric scratched his scar before responding. “I believe in hell, my friend. Besides, my belief has nothing to do with whether or not the world tries to righteously chastise me. It happens regardless. Just look at where we are.” He said, seating himself upward so that he could gesture vaguely about.

  “We are at the heart of divine punishment. Man-made, like everything godly.

  Wouldn’t this qualify as hell good enough?” He ended with.

  William shook his head.

  “You are proving my point fine enough.” He said.

  “Well, I think you started it.” Caelric answered. “But,” He then said, “if we were to humour my position for just a moment, a question then falls to you.”

  “What question?”

  “My belief, or rather lack thereof, explains why I would want to leave this place, as I think the concept that is ‘flamesin’ is utter bogus, and don’t feel that my supposed committing of said hogwash constitutes any reason for me being placed here to begin with.”

  Caelric pointed a dirty finger, now with dried crusted slop clinging to it, at William.

  “You, however, don’t think the flamesin to be nonsense, so why would you want to leave? Don’t you believe it to be true that we all are guilty of sinning against the flame? Doesn’t that make our suffering deserved?”

  William responded by covering his face with his hands, then speaking into his palms.

  “This was not why I came here, Caelric.” He said, his tone undoubtedly filled with exasperation.

  I bet not, but the philosophizing keeps me from seeing the girl's bloody face, so you're just gonna have to live with it, lad. Although, maybe I should ease up so that you just don’t simply leave.

  “As in here, Fort Light, or to me specifically?” Caelric then asked.

  William looked like he was ready to start throwing punches.

  It wasn’t the first time he’d seen it.

  But it caused Caelric to slightly ease off.

  “You.” William answered, or rather growled.

  “Then why did you?”

  “Because I'm stupid like that.” William muttered.

  Well, you're smart enough to recognize that.

  Caelric remained silent as he eyed the boy, giving him some space.

  “Have you spoken to Dismas yet?” William asked, his words still soaked with the undertones of annoyance.

  “No, I haven’t.” Caelric answered. “Sounds good, does it? The plan, that is.” He then asked.

  William shrugged.

  “I don’t know. It’s something at least, I suppose.”

  William then picked up some pebbles from the grainy sand and started throwing them at the bowl Caelric had been eating from, the wood making hollow taps as the pebbles bounced off its surface, returning to the sand's embrace.

  “We are going to climb the wall, you and me.” William then said. “We’re going up there as Dismas and Denise cause a distraction down here, then we’re going to jump a guard.”

  Caelric raised his brows in shock.

  “What?” He blurted. “How are we going to do that?”

  “Dismas got a hold of some rope and a hook that we can use for the climb. He also has clubs hidden away.”

  Of course he managed to get some weapons in this hellhole, the villain.

  “Now, we’ll get one of them each.” William began explaining calmly.

  “You mean one club each?” Caelric interjected. He was not calm.

  “Yes, exactly. Now, when we get up there, and this is very important,” William emphasized, holding Caelric in a stern gaze, “when we get up on that wall, we’ll try to find a guard separated from the rest as quickly as we can. And when we do, we jump him. We jump him and we swing the clubs ‘til the bastard’s not moving anymore, then swing some more. Problem is they’re armored and we aren’t. So we’ll rely on having the surprise and get him to the ground and not let him up. But you’ll have to be with me, you understand?”

  Caelric did understand, but he didn’t like it. He didn't like the risk, he really didn't like the violence. And a part of him didn't like having the young brat William ordering him what and how to do what needed doing.

  William grabbed his wrists and locked eyes with Caelric. “If you can't do this, speak with Dismas now. If you can't deliver when we're up there, I will fucking murder you, you understand?” William said, his voice growing into a hiss the further his threat progressed.

  Caelric wasn't good at handling intimidation.

  Normally, when situations turned that kind of tense, he would run, as his nervous disposition caused him to oftentimes worsen the situation even further. He couldn't run now, however, as William held his wrists in a tight grip. He began trying to jerk them loose with little avail.

  “Tell me you fucking understand.” William demanded, growling in Caelric’s face.

  That caused him instead to turn to panic as Caelric, a full-grown man, spat the younger William right in his eye.

  This caused William to promptly loosen his grip, and in turn, let Caelric quickly rise to his feet, flee a couple of steps, and crash straight into one of the other lean-to shelters in this spot.

  The shelter collapsed with Caelric's weight as he folded himself over the structure.

  Luckily, none of the other few shelters here had been occupied, including this one.

  Unluckily, however, he didn't manage to catch himself as he fell over the improvised building, connecting headfirst with the sand.

  He rolled onto his back, dazed and hurting.

  William was quickly on top of him, shouting his displeasure. Caelric didn't hear much, though.

  William then kicked Caelric, hard, right on his ribs, jolting him awake as breath left his body and pain filled it.

  William continued to spit back at Caelric before leaving him where he lay in the sand, gasping for air.

  When the pain turned more manageable, and he'd made sure nothing was broken, well, he thought nothing was broken, he slowly crawled his way back to the shelter.

  He then put his head against the hard wood and closed his eyes.

  He supposed he was to blame for this particular blunder.

  Oh, how our fears lead us into the maw of the beast. Is that irony showing her sharp teeth again?

  Something disturbed the sand close to his face. He turned to stare right into the muzzle of a sanlin. The sanlin.

  Caelric flinched, causing him to then wheeze as pain shot from his bruised rib.

  The creature just stood there, close enough that Caelric could touch him.

  It stared with the same blank expression as before.

  According to a few of the southerners here he'd spoken to about the subject of sanlins, they all agreed that the creatures were a harmless pest.

  “Like pigeons.” Dismas had described them. “Big, nervous, red-maned pigeons.”

  Caelric shoved the still empty bowl towards the creature, in the hopes that it would finally lose interest.

  The sudden movement caused the creature to jump back, then cautiously creep forward again, sniffing at the empty container.

  Utterly unimpressed with the dish, it then promptly returned its gaze to Caelric.

  “I told you.” Caelric said, and leaned his head back, closing his eyes.

  Still the animal did not leave.

  And closing his eyes did not help much in making him comfortable, since he could still feel the animal’s stare upon him.

  And as he took a gander to confirm his suspicion, he found the sanlin right beside him, still staring.

  “Shoo.” Caelric tried, tiredly, waving his right hand to fend off the beast.

  It again retreated slightly, only to inch forward to where it stood.

  I need to leave this place, and that is soon.

  Caelric again closed his eyes, but this time he committed even less to the activity as the thing creeped even closer. Close enough that he could hear the creature was quietly wheezing as it breathed. Close enough he could feel the thing’s breath on his face, warm and sour.

  He opened his eyes and needed not even shift his head this time to meet the sanlins gaze, as it loomed above him.

  “Dismas was right, right? You're not violent creatures, are you?”

  A blank stare was its answer.