1. THE MAW


  

  Nia dismounted at the edge of the crater. The Legate grabbed a bundle of papyrus from his pack and snapped his finger at a nearby laborer to take their horses down the dusty hill. Signs of excavation were everywhere as the laborers pushed carts filled with fresh earth from the necropolis. The hill flattened off as they entered the work camp. Discarded tools laid outside rows of wind beaten tents. The kerai laborers frowned at their arrival. Others quickly changed course, not wanting to be around when the beating began. Clavo led the siblings to a collection of purple tents that housed the legionnaires on their monthly rotations from De-Asha.

  The foreman glanced up from his stool, stale bread in hand. Vir had always reminded Nia of a hairless cat. Vir’s leathery skin barely covered his angular hips and jutting ribs. Vir covered his brown eyes and hissed through his overbite. “Legate.”

  “Foreman.” Clavo already sounded agitated. “Let’s take this inside.”Vir pushed himself up and bade them inside his tent. Nia sighed at the welcome temperature difference. Clavo puckered his lips as the foreman offered him wine. “How is progress?”

  “Slow. It’s nearly summer and then men tire quickly.” Vir hissed onto the campstool behind his desk. He took a long sip of his wine.

  “It needs to be ready. All of it.” Clavo clipped. His large hands unrolled the scroll from his side. Nia peered around Clavo’s arms to see a schematic of the necropolis.

  Vir leaned forward in his seat. “The Dunelands counteracts our process, trying to swallow the necropolis itself right into its maw.” Vir huffed wryly. “You know it is an uphill battle.”

  The Legate’s thick lips twisted. “It will be ready should the Emperor choose to make the journey to see it. It must be presentable.” Clavo laid his ringed hand flat on the map. “Now, about our other assignment.”

  “The one you wrote about, yes, yes.” Vir’s beady eyes pinched with displeasure. He took a long swig before answering. “The men have cleared another shaft in the southwest wing as instructed. I’m assuming that is where they come in?”

  “Why couldn’t one of your men do this?” Lero asked the foreman directly from where he leaned against the tent’s post.

  Vir almost appeared apologetic. “Because we don’t want to incur the goddess’ wrath.” Vir shrugged.

  “And you say we are superstitious.” Lero grumbled.

  Clavo turned his bloodshot eye on her brother. “Like it or not boy, your sister has use to the empire.” He barked. “And I would think long and hard before testing my mercy.”

  Lero’s face catapulted into rage. Tension hung thick in the dry air as Lero starred daggers at Clavo. Nia took a small step towards Lero, afraid her brother would snap at Clavo or worse. But her brother had always been better keeping a leash on his anger, and he kicked off the post, heading outside into the sunlight.

  “Go.” Clavo barked. “I don’t have all day.”

  Once Anu-Uro-Set had been a temple necropolis for the goddess Sachmis; located halfway between House Xur and Hourse Uro. It had served as a refuge for those brave enough to journey across the Dunelands, or a final resting place for those who perished. Situated in the basin of a crater of limestone cliffs, Anu-Uro-Set had been carved painstakingly into the bedrock. The complex had been the last holdout against the Conqueror in his decade long war against the Kingdom of Ker. It was here Wyn-Kai the Betrayer had surrendered to the Conqueror.

  Over the decades the halls and porticos of the outer temple had sunk into the shifting sand. The front temple had never been rebuilt after the conflict, the porch a minefield of soot scorched lotus leaf columns. Only the complex’s inner halls and necropolis remained. Nia trailed Clavo as they marched through the camp towards the cliffs. Four identical statues of the seated goddess stood sentry over the entryway. Nia’s eyes trailed to the tall crowns atop the goddess’ mane. The gold had long been pillaged.

  Purple banners swung in the breeze as they entered the cool caves. Ker laborers shuffled out of their way, all from the lower neighborhoods of De-Asha or the surrounding villages. Familiar shame flared through her at the sight. Oh how the mighty have fallen.

  They entered the first of many chambers. The foreman walked past the half-submerged statue of Sachmis. The anthropomorphic goddess sat on her royal seat facing westward. The goddess’ hands were flat against her knees, as if attending court. Her vestments were gone, leaving ancient ruddy paint. Nia clenched and unclenched her left hand, pain radiating up her forearm.

  Vir led them down a wing of the temple Nia was unfamiliar with. They hiked through a confided hallway and waded through spiders and scorpions until they entered a small chamber. Nia’s eyes adjusted to the dim light of the torches. The room was rectangular, the ceiling so low her brother could reach up and touch it. The room appeared to be an annex of some kind. The fresco’s on the opposite wall covered by soot. A few legionnaires stood at attention as they entered.

  Clavo walked towards where they were waiting. He grabbed a torch from a legionnaire and kicked his boot towards the small shaft. “This it?”

  “Yes. This is where we believe the priests were buried.” The foreman answered.

  Clavo eyed the narrow tunnel. “And no one has been down yet?”

  “No sir.” A legionnaire responded.

  Clavo snapped at her brother. “You, be her arms.”

  So that’s why Lero had come. Of course Clavo would have noticed she could barely hold the reins of her horse, much less dig. And while Lero was significantly taller, he still was all thin muscle and sinew. Lero scowled and accepted a basket of tools from the legionnaire. He dropped a torch and it rattled down the shaft with a few thunks. Short then. Lero accepted the rope without a word and went first. Nia followed, her brother having to help ease her to the bottom of the shaft. Nia looked upward as five heads peered down at them. Clavo lifted the corner of his eyepatch. “Start digging.”

  Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

  The siblings spent the next hours chipping through the hardened mud layer to their left. Nia’s injured hand cramped up immediately, rendering her useless. With anger radiating off him so fiercely Nia could nearly smell it, Lero regulated her to handing up baskets of discarded material as he dug. Clavo’s boot kicked dust onto their heads as he grew bored. Flint was handed back down as they burnt through the first torch.

  CLING

  “I heard something.”

  “Brick.” Lero called back up to Clavo. Nia handed back up a basket of obsidian and sand shards that Clavo picked through before discarding.

  “Well?” Vir begged.

  “One second!” Lero shifted out of the crevice he dug carefully and handed Nia the chisel. “She’ll fit better than I can.” Nia got on her stomach and squeezed into the narrow opening. She eased the chisel carefully against the brick wall. Her chest thundered nervously as she released a brick from its ancient mortar. If this wall was supporting the earth above them, they could very easily be crushed to death. Nia continued the delicate process, carefully using the wood Lero handed her to brace the wall until there were three bricks free. Barely enough room for her to shove a torch through. Lero frowned as he passed her the torch.

  An air of anticipation traveled down the shaft.

  Nia stuck the torch through the opening and waved her arm back and forth. Her eyes quickly adjusted to the rows of painted death masks. This must have been the back wall to some of the crypts. The foreman was right, they had found the priests. Nia turned to her side as Lero squeezed in behind her. He peered through the hole, his face crumpling. Her brother opened his mouth.

  My how the mighty have fallen.

  Her fist slammed against the brick, startling Lero. “Damn it! It’s a dead end.” She yelled.

  “WHAT?” She heard Clavo roar. Followed by shuffling and terse words.

  “Are you sure?” Vir called down nervously.

  Nia motioned for Lero to scoot away. She rotated flat on her back and dug her feet to her chest as if she was scooting. She moved the torch back and forth to cast long shadows. She let the pregnant pause build. “No foreman. Whatever this tunnel was, its a dead end.”

  “Lero!” Clavo barked. “Check yourself.”

  Nia made a production of trading places. Lero maneuvered further into the space. “No sir. In fact, it appears the whole room could cave in on us if we go any further.”

  “Stormlord below.” Clavo cursed. Lero helped Nia muscle her way up to the surface. The Legate’s face was bright red. He stared murderously at the foreman. “This was a waste of time.”

  “I followed your instructions.” Vir said quickly. He held up his hands. “I thought this room was it. I swear it.”

  Clavo pivoted his attention to the legionnaires. “Seal this up.” He shoved a finger against Vir’s chest. “Next time, don’t call me out here until you actually have something.”

  “I know what you are up to.”

  Nia’s eyes darted forward to the legate and then back to Lero as their horses approached De-Asha’s gate. “Keep your voice down.”

  “We are far enough back he won’t hear us. I saw you talking to that merchant Nia. What were you thinking? He’s a trafficker!”

  “He’s a treasurer seeker just like the rest of them.” Nia dismissed. “What of it? I can talk to merchants.”

  Her brother’s eyes narrowed. “Admit it. You are going to flee.” Nia pressed a hand against her sternum. She still couldn’t flatten her palm out. Cythe had removed her stitches and her hand now bore an ugly scar that ran index finger to wrist. She exhaled as her brother continued. “I need to know why you did what you did back there?”

  “Why do you care?”

  Lero sighed. His legionnaire armor was covered in a thick layer of dust and sweat. “I need to know if there is good in you.”

  “Good in me. Seriously?” She responded incredulously. Clavo whipped his head around at her raised voice. Nia waited for him to turn back ahead before responding. “It just felt wrong, okay?”

  “Yet you still raid.”

  “What would you have me do? Join the legion?”

  His snarl was instant. “I only have to do that because your mistake left me no choice.” My mistake. Nia’s memory threatened to drag her back to that awful night. Lero’s voice was low and dangerous. “I became a legionnaire to protect you. Cythe bore the legate a son, to protect you. Our own mother kisses his feet, to protect you. “ And oh, how Nia hated the tenderness in his voice. “And you would leave us?”

  “I know full well the danger I’ve put our family in.” Her voice grew watery. “How could I ever stay knowing that?” She turned to Lero, her eyes threatening to brim with tears. “I’m a danger to you.”

  “Baba left us.” Lero’s voice was quiet.

  “Baset exiled him and you know it.”

  Lero shook his head animated. “No. He fled.”

  “I just don’t know how I could stay.” Nia hung her head in shame. If she ever released the aker inside the walls of De-Asha again she would die. Her family would be killed. She was the threat to them. Couldn’t they see that? There was nothing for her in De-Asha. Nothing.

  Lero drew his horse closer. “I need you to understand I will not abandon you or our House.”

  “Well you are a better person than me, brother.” Nia said, thinking of the Peddler. She quickly wiped her eyes as Clavo pulled his massive warhorse up at the gate. A commotion of people were waiting for them. Clavo scowled down at his legionnaires.

  A scout quickly kissed his knuckles. “Legate Clavo. I bare urgent news. Legate Xur, he has been, he has been,--”

  “Spit it out man.” Clavo demanded.

  “Legate Xur is dead. Sir.”

  Nia watched in puzzlement as shock slid over Clavo’s broad face. His bloodshot eye narrowed in on the messenger. “Legate Xur is ancient. Why are you coming to me with this?”

  “The reports are that he was assassinated. Sir.”

  Clavo frowned. “Not a word of this to anyone, understood?”

  “Yes sir!” The scout shouted.

  “I need to alert father.” Clavo whispered under his breath. “Lero, with me.”

  “Lero?” Nia asked.

  “Not now.” Her brother tightened his shoulders and rode after the legate.