Icarus Awakens

Oh no. Oh no. Oh, this is bad, this is very bad! Mmm, so good. But so bad. Khiat pressed her back against the wall, what was technically now lunch in her hands. The village was busying itself with processing the bounty of monster bodies, though the sesel she’d found earlier was reserved for her.

Outside there were celebrations and feasting. No noise reached her because they were trying not to be too loud to not wake the nearby sleepers. They didn’t know what had gone terribly wrong. She was an Assassin. How could she be an Assassin if she’d rejected being a Rogue? It was wrong. She knew something in her was wrong.

Another bite and the wrongness of it all went away for a moment. Fresh, and made with some of the few spices her village had. A reward and the reason she’d gotten good with the bow in the first place. The hunters always got the better cuts. She could still be one, right? Who cared that her class was Assassin, all that mattered was what she did! That’s what the human with the glowing crossbow had said, and he should know better than anyone in her village.

If that was the case, why were her parents so worried? Her mother was fully withdrawn into her carapace, and though her father had a long cut from where he’d a second too slow to stop that monster’s blades, he didn’t seem to notice his pain. The three of them were just sitting in silence as if a huge monster was right above them.

There was no turning back. She was marked as a killer of mortals. A terror. Other classes had powers that could hurt people, yes, but there’d never been an evil one in any stories she’d heard as a child. Even Rogues weren’t painted in a bad light. Assassins and Tyrants, though, were spoken of as a pair. Two dark sides of the Octyrrum’s power. She was one of them.

Had it been the bow? Would she have gotten something else if she hadn’t pushed that point, or was this just inevitable? The sound of sand shifting made her look up from the mostly finished roast sesel. Someone was slowly coming through the entrance. Uncle Phyl.

The dusker immediately misread the room. “Brother, is this not a fine night!” He hoisted his meal, one of the large legs of the monsters, and then paused as he registered the pained expression on Xtalo’s face. “Your wound! We, we should ask the Blessed if they have a healer among them.”

“Leave them be.” Xtalo’s voice lacked none of its strength. “I will be fine. Don’t repay what they have done by disturbing their rest.”

Achia extended herself half a meter upwards. Her mother didn’t quite match Phyl’s height in confrontation but made it clear he was intruding on something. That was a sign her uncle couldn’t miss. “What’s wrong? My brother, you are injured, but the village feasts! We have our champion. She struck down ten of the monsters. Was that light her power?”

“Phyl, there is something we need to discuss. Go above and-”

“I’m an Assassin,” Khiat said numbly, not looking up but seeing her uncle’s feet take a few steps back. She knew it was stupid to tell him, but it was better than false praise.

“L-little Khiat, don’t joke like that. Of course you aren’t. How, how do we even know for sure?” Phyl’s self-assuredness was thrown. “I’m sure you aren’t. Maybe you’re just a Rogue if that’s what, uh, what you feel, uh.” Phyl trailed off, out of his depth.

“I’m not a Rogue.” I wish I was. I thought it couldn’t get worse.

Xtalo weighed what Phyl could do with uncertainty against the hope the truth would shut him up, and decided. “One of the Blessed was able to identify her.”

Phyl clicked and threw his head back in disbelief. For a moment, Khiat’s eyes were drawn to a spot on his neck for no apparent reason, but it quickly passed. “They’re lying.”

“No, I don’t think he was.” Xtalo shook his head. “It doesn’t matter. He had no reason to lie, and after Khiat heard she knew.”

“But that would mean-”

“Yes.” Khiat let them talk, half-listening. She’d go to sleep if she could but it was too early in the night. All three were taking pains to discuss something without explicitly saying what it was. Something in the past. Khiat knew there were stories she was only just old enough to hear about. The bad things that weren’t monsters or her.

“What are we going to do?” Achia asked as Khiat started listening again. “Do you think we can hide her here?”

“For a little while, maybe.” Phyl was sobered now, accepting. “If that one doesn’t sell the information the first chance he has, maybe a year.”

“The city has a Fate, they’ll find out sooner. Ah, here it is.” Xtalo put down the small chest he’d lifted with one hand and retrieved rolled up parchment. It was their map, the village’s map that was used monthly whenever people went to Aughal. The city wasn’t hard to miss in the distance now, but that changed with the new moon or whenever there was a sandstorm.

Aughal wasn’t where Xtalo was thinking though. “A week, maybe ten days. We could get to Threst. Or push to Kallical, another day at most.”

“Absolutely not! Anyone who goes with you will be exiled when they find out you left without approval.”

“Achia,” Xtalo put one hand on the map and extended the other towards her. “What else can we do?”

“What about the Blessed?” Phyl asked quickly with a wary glance at the region’s borders. “They could hide her, surely. Or take her out of the region for us. If it’s just one, we, we, we could say she died in the monster attack and blame them for not keeping them off our backs! If they notice at all.”

“I don’t want to leave!” Khiat spoke up for the first time in minutes. “I know what I am is terrible, but fleeing the region? Father, your life would be over. Forget my class. Just forget it! I won’t advance anymore.”

Xtalo turned and put the hand he’d raised expressively against Phyl against the table. “My Khiat, it is not that simple.”

“Why?”

“Xtalo, we should tell her.”

“No!” Both her parents shouted the word at Phyl. Honestly, it was a surprise the occasional exclamations hadn’t drawn anyone else’s attention yet.

“I know you rarely value my opinion brother, but I am right. Surely, you wouldn’t ask Khiat to do anything unless she understood why? She is an adult now, and a Blessed for that matter!”

“Why can’t I just stay here?” Khiat asked again. “This oasis is small! Nobody cares about us. You said there wouldn’t be a chance for anyone here to live in the city for five years. If I don’t do anything-”

“They’ll still know, Khiat. They have ways of finding out, and I don’t know what they are.” Xtalo collapsed his legs into their shell, the equivalent of a human sitting in a chair as he shifted the burden of his weight to his carapace. “How can I protect you against that? I never dreamed I’d have to!”

“Phyl, if we tell her, she’ll be terrified. She’ll never sleep through the day again!” Achia added.

“What could be worse than what I already know?” Khiat stood up. “This is me now. I can’t change the monster I’ve become. What’s more terrible than that? What, will they try to force me to kill people? I won’t. They can’t make me.” The smallest spark of will entered her voice at the end, something that wasn’t missed by the other three.

Her parents looked at each other. “Xtalo, we can’t.”

“She would learn one way or the other,” Phyl chimed in.

“You’re right. I’m sorry brother, you are right. Khiat, I will do whatever I need to protect you.” Xtalo’s voice was shaking but his eyes were steady. “Know that.”

“We all will.” Achia stood aside, still hesitant but not stopping him.

“If they find out who you are, what you are, they won’t make you do anything. They will kill you like they did the last one.”

…

“Khiat? Achia? They’re awake.” Ytidi’s voice echoed into her room. Khiat opened her eyes and stood in a crouch. Her bedroom wasn’t big enough to accommodate her full height, nor could human beds withstand her weight. Unless they led wealthy lives, duskers normally slept on sand or an assemblage of other cushioning material. It helped support them as they’d otherwise have to lay suspended by their shells, and sleeping fully enclosed was just too uncomfortable.

Her bow and quiver were in the corner, as far away as she could place them. She’d forgotten to tell anyone about the ancestral arrow she’d lost. And she’d forgotten to talk to the Hero! Now wasn’t the time.

The rest of the night had been spent preparing. One way or the other she was leaving the oasis. Maybe not today, maybe not this week, but she was leaving. For a dusker, travel was a dangerous prospect. During half of the journey, she’d be mortally vulnerable. Even the briefest of exposures would risk death.

That meant she had to pack her things and be fitted for travel armor. Duskers could wear armor in addition to their carapace, but like many things made for them it required additional effort. Their shells broke in unique ways, and for travel armor, the thick cloth had to be tailored precisely to each individual. The slightest touch of the sun meant death. Khiat had enough to worry about.

In a way, the horde of monsters that had attacked last night were a boon. Wait, I already knew that. But the village can use their hides for leather too. I’m not going to use it all up at least.

“Khiat, come over here and get your armor on,” Achai called from the main room with the same tone she’d used to tell her dinner was ready in days past. In all honesty, she should have moved out months ago. If only there were somewhere to go. The village didn’t go through the trouble of excavating a new house until a couple was wed.

Hammer, I was thinking about boys just last night. None of that matters anymore.

“Khiat!”

“I’m coming.” She grabbed her bow, quiver, and pack and walked into the central space. There was no door separating it, but privacy was allowed by most of her room curving around the dome to conceal it from the archway. Wood and fabric were too precious to use for modesty’s sake, not that duskers needed that.

Instead of the map, the labor of several hours and duskers was placed carefully. Multiple layers of animal and monster hide had been stitched together with strong thread bought from the city. The slightest tear or imperfection and that would be it. “We’ll test it at the entrance when you’re ready. I’ll help with the back.”

“Should we be asking them for help? That man promised he’d keep the secret.” And if I remembered his name, I’d feel better about that.

Achia continued to speak while bringing the armor up for Khiat to step into. “That Crest-damned fool of a brother-in-law will ask them if we don’t. Why did you tell him, Khiat? You’re smarter than that. You know how your uncle is, for the Octyrrum’s sake just look at the first thing he did when you got your class!” Khiat winced as she was about to step forward. “Oh, my Khiat.”

The tremble in her mother’s voice hurt. Everything about this hurt. But her father was waiting, so she reached forward. The armor was constructed so that the front was one solid piece with five limbs stretching out from it. One for the head, one each for the arms and legs. The head was also solid leather, but the places covering her neck and limbs stretched out to cover the gaps in her chitin.

Duskers had gotten good at this kind of craftsmanship over the centuries. Even without the Craftsman class, those trained made reliable travel armor. If they didn’t, then it was a death on their hands. The split sections on her limbs would expand and contract with her, consistently shielding the gaps in her shell. This gave Khiat the ability to adjust her form without fear of exposure.

When it was around her, her mother wrapped the edges of the main piece around her torso and back to the front where it fastened to itself. This was the most sensible way to make this kind of armor. More protection at the front, in case there was trouble on the road. It fit perfectly, a fact Achia spent ten minutes painstakingly checking despite her earlier urgings to be quick.

All that was left to do then was stand in the closed tent that shielded the entrance to their home. Khiat had to crawl, unable to fully retract her height, but made it under the heavy canvas. “Take your time,” Achia said slowly. “Arms and legs in and out. Don’t take a step out there until you’re sure.”

Khiat did as instructed, moving her limbs in various positions. Even when she bent her arms almost into circles, the slight burn from the sunlight screened through the tent grew no warmer on any part of her body. Just like she’d felt when hunting before last dusk, only now she could make full use of her bow and run. “I can’t believe it.” She looked at an arm, at the leather that had been shaded to almost perfectly match her carapace. “Why didn’t I have one of these before?”

“These are only made for people who go to the city. And besides Khiat, what if you had torn a section by dropping an arrow?”

“I don’t drop my arrows!”

“Then why are there only nine in your quiver?” Achia asked pointedly. Khiat didn’t move, worried there’d be an angry lecture. There wasn’t. “Do not worry, my star. I will not be angry with you on what might be the last time I see you for who knows how long. I’m sure it was spent well.”

“This isn’t the last night you’ll see me. I’ll come back when it’s safe, or, or you could come to me.”

“I know, Khiat. I know.”

…

Walking at her full height under the sun was a new experience. Things looked differently during the day. Brighter. She’d grown used to the light but not the perspective. In any other case, Khiat would have been thrilled to have this armor. Possessing a suit in this village was an honor second only to being Blessed.

The emptiness was the same. That was something she liked about hunting just before dusk, waking up and seeing no one but Ytidi on his tower. An air of freedom, not just being allowed to go out on her own but to do so when most of the village was asleep. That was how it was most days.

This day, there was another village’s worth of people standing over the eastern dune. The noise hadn’t reached her insulated room to disturb her rest but filled the outside air. Did he keep his word, or are they talking about me? They aren’t going to try to kill me too, are they?

Her father was there, armored as she was. One of the plans he’d made was leaving immediately alone with her, should the travelers prove untrustworthy. Neither of them expected that, but you could never be sure. Something her father had told her after she’d turned 7 was that the Blessed were only always good in the stories. You could never really know who a stranger was, or what they wanted.

Xtalo was talking with the tall scarred human that led the group. Standing next to him was a Hero. An actual Hero. Khiat brightened despite her poor mood and the odd way her eyes were drawn to the Hero’s neck on occasion. Damn her father’s warnings, they could be trusted. She would get to meet him! Maybe she could actually talk to him, and ask him what his Hero name was. The man from last night hadn’t know, but he had to have one. They all did. Ghrol the Many, Shade of Aughal, the Unburnt Umber. Khiat even knew of the Ironrush Ravager who led the Hunter’s Guild here, though she wasn’t a dusker. She wondered what kind of Hero names a human would have.

The three looked at her as she approached, pausing whatever conversation they were having.

“It is Khiat, yes?” The tall man asked.

“Yes.” Her voice was a little muffled behind the leather helmet but she had the lungs to overcome that. “What’s going to happen?”

“I was hoping to hear from you before I decided. Your father was just explaining the region’s history as well as his concerns. I’m truly sorry it has turned out this way for you.”

“What? Oh, thank you,” Khiat looked away from the Hero and nodded politely. She was too excited to be afraid. Something about the man just inspired her.

“What are your thoughts? I can speak as one studied in such matters that a Fate would be able to detect the assignment of a rare class in their region. There’s a power they invariably receive at level 3, Regional Log, that would note it.”

Khiat couldn’t help but notice how stiffly the man was standing. He looked uncomfortable and was completely neglecting his back. Someone could come up from behind and cut his throat, or- Khiat stumbled in place as she realized what she was thinking. The horror was back because of what had come unbidden to her mind. Why had she thought that?

“Khiat!” Her father was at her side and something cold covered her. Ice?

“Is she exposed?” the tall man asked, concerned.

Her father checked the armor as Khiat realized there was ice floating in the air and blocking the sun. The Hero had come forward too with his shield, though not as fast as what had to have been magic. “Everything is still in place. Khiat, are you ok?”

“I d-don’t know.”

“Fear not, we shall protect you,” the Hero said, and Khiat did feel a little better.

“What’s your name?” she asked, voice steadier.

“I am Gadriel Cross, at your service.” It was everything she’d dreamed of. A real Hero. Well, maybe he didn’t have a name, not yet.

“Wow.” Her father’s eyes narrowed as he continued inspecting her.

“She’s fine. Thank you, but I should stress that if she had been exposed, what you’d done would have changed nothing. You must be very careful during the day if you are to protect her.”

“That’s what’s happening?” Khiat was starting to get on board with the idea.

“We have a possible solution, though it is one I don’t have the full details of. Before I go into it further, I would like to make sure you know what you’re getting into. There won’t be any others from your village coming so you’d stick out like a painted Bard. Ahem, sorry.”

Why is he apologizing? “Father wouldn’t be coming?”

She couldn’t read her father’s face behind the helmet but saw him look away. “I’m known to the duskers of the city, and our supply run isn’t for another week. We must minimize suspicion.”

“Won’t me being alone raise suspicion?”

“Fair point,” the tall man said with a ghost of a smile. “There also weren’t any duskers from the region we’re fleeing. We can always say you awakened another class and we’re taking you to the Hunter’s Guild as a favor. There’s risk there, but it’s balanced by one of the powers we possess. It can shield you from any divination powers, supposedly, and should include those used by the Fate.”

“They must be powerful,” her father commented, impressed. “But is it not you? I’d heard you were the strongest of your number.”

“It’s not. Do you remember who I sent to you last night?”

“Him again?” There was a strained pause, and then the tall man burst out laughing. The Hero looked confused and her father sounded the same way. “Are you ok?”

“I’m sorry, I really am.” The tall man recovered. “That’s just a question I’ve asked myself as of late. Ah, you have no idea. Uhm, but yes. If this is something you are interested in, we are willing to take you given the stakes. I just want to be sure you know beforehand what you’re getting into. Gods, as if I could even explain half of it.” That last part was more to himself, probably not meant to be heard.

“Khiat, we have discussed this. If they can shield you from the Fate, it is worth it. Any other way would risk you being identified, if you haven’t already. We have to hope whoever it is dreaming in those Spires is a late sleeper.”

“But if I go with them, what happens to you? The village?”

“We will hardly fall apart without you, but we will miss you.”

“Other matters demand we go to Aughal first, but once that is settled we could help you out of the region,” the tall man offered. “Your family could rejoin you then.”

“You can really do this?” she asked.

“Yes. Not myself, but my, what should I call him,” he sighed. “Friend? Ah, that’s close enough.”

“You would be in good hands,” Gadriel affirmed. Well, that decided it.

“I, I’m sorry all of this happened. If you and father think this is right, then I’ll do it.”

The tall man nodded. “I’ve already run it by the man in question and Daniel’s agreed.”

Daniel! That was his name.