Ashborn Primordial

Chapter 299: Leaps of Faith (Three)

“Unstrap the weapons and armor,” Gunin shouted at Lagen. “Hurry!”

“Huh? Which ones?”

“All of them!”

Lagen whipped his head around to the chaotic cloud of ash dust that was rapidly approaching. It was followed by another, larger cloud. One that was far more orderly.

It didn’t take the demon much to put two and two together. “On it,” Lagen said, rushing to the nearest Ash’va.

Gunin hardly heard the demon, he was too busy pulling out knots and dropping clasps. Though he knew not how, the Chitran army was in hot pursuit, with only a buffer of a hundred paces between them and the prisoners.

While Gunin found that somewhat odd—there ought to have been no gap at all between the more mobile kothi troops and the prisoners—he was far too busy to care. Lacking even the time to set the pieces of armament down, he hurled them away from the Ash’va as fast as he could.

The army wouldn’t have time to choose their weapons or don their armor. They’d simply have to grab what they could and keep running. Even that may take too long.

As he worked, a question rose at the back of the kothi’s mind.

Where are they running to?

There was nothing this way, save Praya Parul, and that was simply much too far to run. Especially when they were being pursued by the Chitran Garrison. There were only open fields, covered in ash… and precious little of anything else.

Running would be suicide. They didn’t have a hope of outrunning the superior troops. Nor did they hold an advantage fighting a Chitran army in open space, where they could utilize their Bloodline Arts to the fullest.

A faint voice at the back of Gunin’s mind proposed a possible explanation, but it was swiftly squashed before Gunin could properly register it. Some thoughts were just simply too dangerous to acknowledge, after all.

Gunin was still working to unclasp the last armor when Neel suddenly landed in a cloud of soot, ranging ahead of the approaching group.

“You’ve begun unstrapping the gear,” he said quickly. “Good. The troops will stop only to pick up what they can. Then we run.”

“What of the Ash’va?” Gunin asked.

“Leave them behind!” Vir shouted, already preparing to jump back to the group, who were now about a hundred paces away. Gunin had never understood how the demon could soar so far with a single bound.

“Are you certain?” Gunin asked. “Should we not take one or two with us?”

Vir turned. “We head for the Ash. They will not survive there.”

And then he was gone, his signature plume of ash expanding behind him.

Gunin stood for a moment, his body frozen.

“The Ash,” Gunin deadpanned. “He did say the Ash, didn’t he? It wasn’t my imagination?”

“Bold plan,” Lagen said. “Daring.”

He was smiling. The demon was actually smiling at this insane prospect.

“Do you have a death wish?” Gunin cried, finally spurring his body to move again. The prisoners would be upon them in less than a minute, and yet, he found it impossible to muster the same energy he’d had only moments prior.

“With that mysterious monster of a demon guiding us? I imagine we’ll do just fine,” Lagen replied, clearly unfazed. Of course he would be—he was a Warrior. The Ash would strengthen him, allowing him to test his mettle.

Stolen story; please report.

For Gunin, it’d be nothing but a nightmare. A terrible, painful nightmare—assuming he even survived the prana poisoning. There was a reason his parents had banished him as a failure, after all. His ability to use his tattoos was simply incomparable to other demons. His body just didn’t respond as well to prana as it should.

No, Gunin knew that if he stepped through that Boundary, he would die, and no amount of Panav healing arts would save him.

Which was why his legs took him, step by step, away from the Ash’va. Away from the prisoners who mobbed talwars and armor like their life depended on it. Theirs certainly did. The gear Neel had returned with could spell the difference between survival and doom on the other side of the Boundary.

Suddenly feeling unsteady, Gunin lowered himself and sat upon the ash, hugging his knees.

What now? What fate lies in store for me?

If he didn’t follow, Gunin would be left behind. On his own, with neither supplies nor direction, he’d perish. Even if he had both, he’d still likely die. He’d never been good with surviving in the wild. Maybe, if he made it to a Panav town, he might be able to start anew—he’d always been good with people. Getting there, however, was another matter entirely.

It was hopeless. To go was to die. To stay was to die. Was there truly no other way?

His thoughts ran amok in an endless circle. They were broken by a crash as a black form fell from the sky paces away, kicking up a cloud of ash.

Gunin shielded his eyes from the dust, though he didn’t need to see to know the newcomer’s identity—there was only one among them capable of such movement.

“You should be with them, leading them,” Gunin said.

“And you should be following. You don’t plan to join us. Do you?”

Gunin looked up into their leader’s eyes. “Can you honestly say I will survive there? I am no warrior. I lack the durability needed to survive there.”

Gunin braced himself. No doubt Neel would do all he could to convince him otherwise. Perhaps he’d promise that Balagra could heal his wounds, or that Gunin would be useful around camp, even if he couldn’t fight. That he’d be protected.

I don’t want to be protected, like some fragile vase…

It wasn’t just shame that had compelled him to run away from home, after all.

“I know,” Neel said, dropping a rucksack heavily beside Gunin. “You do.”

“Sorry?” Gunin asked, confident he’d misheard. “You’re saying I’ll die if I go there?”

Neel shrugged. “Difficult to say, but it is true that you lack the same prana capacity as the other demons. If you do not wish to come, I will not push you.”

“What, then?” Gunin asked, standing up and dusting off his pants. “I can’t survive alone.”

“Gunin,” Neel said, turning to meet his gaze. He was so young, and yet his every word and action bore such resolve… It was infectious. It was one of the several reasons Gunin had stayed away from the demon in the first place. That was the sort of attitude that got everyone killed.

“Do you believe in the cause I fight for?”

“For the liberation of your clan?” Gunin asked, gulping. “I…”

He paused for a moment, knowing fully well that Neel did not have the time to humor him like this. Neel shouldn’t have even been here in the first place. Every moment away from his people was a moment they were in grave danger.

Which was why Gunin gave the rebel an honest answer. If Neel was risking so much, just for him, it was only fair that he no longer hid behind his petty family squabbles and lies.

“I do,” Gunin said. “What my people did was… was wrong. I wish for a world where we can coexist.”

Neel nodded. “Then take this rucksack. It has enough food and water for a day or two. Circle around us and the army—they’ll follow us all the way to the Boundary. Return to our encampment and don the armor of one of the dead kothis and hide his body. Take his place—the army will return to scout for any injured. When they find you, tail them back to Garrison Atnu.”

“You want me to become a spy.”

“I want you to gather as much information you can. On Garrison Atnu. On the prisoners in the other camps we were forbidden from communicating with. When I return—and I will return—I want to know who among them is sympathetic to our cause.”

“You ask for much,” Gunin said, even as his heart leaped at the opportunity. This was risky, yes, but it had a chance. That was better than what he currently had. A whole lot better.

Neel smiled. “Nothing outside your capabilities,” he said. “Aid me now, and I will remember this later.”

As Neel readied himself to leave, a question slipped out of Gunin’s mouth before he could stop himself.

“Who are you?”

Neel locked eyes with Gunin. “One who everyone thought dead. Who has returned to undo the wrongs that plague his people. I am Vaak—of Ash.”

And with that, Neel—or Vaak, rather—disappeared, leaving Gunin alone, and with more questions than answers.

Vir stood just paces away from the Ash Boundary with the others. The incessant booms of lightning made speaking difficult, but he’d already said his peace.

When he’d announced that they were fleeing into the Ash, they’d taken it better than he’d hoped. Perhaps they realized how hopeless their chances were. Surrendering was obviously not an option. Nor was fleeing with the limited supplies they had on hand.

Not even for a moment did Vir entertain the idea that they followed him out of respect and hope that he might carry them through. No, he hadn’t earned that yet. He was the one who’d landed them in this mess, after all. And while this particular outcome worked in his favor in the long run—it got him an army, and one that was stuck with him for better or for worse—it was by no means the outcome he’d wished for.

There was real risk in what they were about to do. Many would likely perish, and this time, Vir was squarely to blame. Even if fewer died than at the hands of the Chits’ suicide mission to Praya Parul, Vir would still feel responsible.

Which was why the time for lies and deception had passed. When they stepped through, after they’d established a camp, Vir could come clean.

He’d tell them who he truly was.

Vir inhaled deeply and roared.

“Enter!”