Vice-Captain Kamael's Perspective
The morning air tasted of heat and dust as Vaen and I ascended the creaky plank ramp at the end of Darahem City's south gates. My shoulders tensed with the weight of my pack—rations, water skins, and my sword. Vaen walked beside me, blindfold still tied, his sword buckled to his hip, calm as a statue.
I stared at him, thudding my heart. Dammit, I couldn't help it. Every time I looked at him, the burning sting in my chest came back—like sandpaper over an injury. He did not talk much, but the way he walked—every step calculated, purposeful—made me need to kill him.
Yu Rael had given me curt instructions: "Take Vaen to the mountains of the Knowledge Cultivator. And here I stood: tasked with guiding him through the dreaded wastes that ringed the base of the Ashen Spire mountains.
"Watch your step," I warned, walking on a splintered wooden boardwalk strung across a narrow crevice. The boardwalk groaned under us. "Don't need you to die before you even get to meet the old man."
Vaen nodded in brief acknowledgement. "Got it."
I raised an eyebrow.
---
We flew with our flying swords at sunrise—a of jade-hued blades with runes' seal inscriptions. As early Golden Core practitioners, we could attach our Qi to the swords and soar above the sand dunes. Vaen didn't bat an eye. Silently, he stood on his sword, and it carried him away like a leaf on a gust of wind. I followed, my heart thudding, as we soared above the desert's burning plains.
Underneath us, caravans of scorpion-rider and peddler merchants straggled along like ants crossing the dunes. The sky above sparkled gold. It left me dizzy—altitude and the vision of Vaen as a silhouette against the sun rising. What was it about him that caused my chest to hurt?
On our flight to the east, I decided to test him.
I slowed my sword's Qi slightly, gauging his reaction. Vaen fell a fraction. He continued, and my speed was not broken.
"Not bad," I muttered. "But you shouldn't get lax. Not out here."
Vaen remained silent. Only that vacant expression stared back at me, and I seethed with humiliation. Great, blush in front of your crush's love—real smooth, Karael.
---
We reached a rocky oasis at noon. There was a narrow ribbon of spring between sandstone outcrops. I drank two mouthfuls of water, and then passed some on to Vaen. He drank silently, his drenched black blindfold.
I pulled out a small set of carving tools that Yu Rael had given me. "In case you feel like making a break for it," I joked. "You can track, can't you? If you abandon me, I'll carve your name into every grain of sand until you surrender."
Vaen chuckled—a rich, real chuckle because we'd gotten away from the camp. "I won't flee."
I studied that thin smile. Something about it made my pulse spike. Damn him.
After a quick meal, we resumed our flight.
---
The dunes yielded to fragmented rocks, and the swelter of the sun-whipped desert yielded to a chill wind. Hollow shells passed us by—remnants of ancient bloodline clan members that had tried to defy this particular Knowledge Cultivator years ago. Their remains rotted like feculent bones, half-buried by sand that drifted along. Vaen seemed unaware, his stride as unyielding on shattered rocks as on the flying sword.
A surge of jealousy brewed in me . He moved as if he belonged here among the ruins of old. As if the desert shared its secrets with him.
There was some risk I took, however—my little evasive turns in the air, the minute bursts of air I employed to jar him off course. He never lagged behind. My path is corrected and tracked by every complaint. My fists clenched, drops of sweat trickling down my spine.
"Leave me alone," I growled to myself.
The wind just picked up, howling through canyon crevices and cackling at me.
---
We were close enough now to catch sight of the great gray face of the Knowledge Cultivator's mountain. Its high ridges still stayed covered with snow, even in the desert warmth below. Vaen approached closer, guiding his sword down to a rocky outcropping, feet on solid ground at last.
I dropped alongside him, laying my sword aside with a heavy clunk. The chill bit at my skin. I wrapped my arms around me. "We're here," I said to him. "Good place for an old hermit, don't you think?"
Vaen whipped his blindfold around his head, taking in the mountain slope. "He's here?"
I laughed. "Of course he is." I gestured upward. "Come on."
---
The climb was ruthless. Each step crunched over loose rock. The air thinned and vibrated in our lungs. Vaen's breathing remained steady, but my chest felt as if it would fold inward. I scowled at him.
"Mind your step, blind man," I snarled, grabbing at a shattered outcropping. My boots slid. Fear-filled throat, I clung to a soggy spot on the rock. Vaen grabbed me, balancing me with a wary hand on my elbow. I jerked away.
"Watch yourself," I spat out, but my voice shook.
Vaen just nodded. "You'll have to be more careful."
I clenched my teeth and pushed forward. Before long, we arrived at a small cave situated on a ledge—the lair of the Knowledge Cultivator. A wisp of smoke billowed from the roof, and the distant metallic tinkle of tuning bells floated on the air.
Standing at the doorway was the old Qi Scholar. He was tall, with hair as white as snowed silver, and pale white robes bearing flowing runes embroidered upon them. His eyes glinted like pools of moonlight as he examined us.
Vaen bowed very deep. I stood back a good several paces, my heart pounding.
The old man's gaze shifted to me. "The vice-captain of the Dune Reavers," he spoke softly. "I thank you for bringing him."
I blinked. "You know me?"
He nodded only.