…and the Conqueror summoned the Angels. They swooped down on his enemies and destroyed the Firantes to the last. No one knew what happened next. Were they exiled back into the Calm Hell of Trayx or…

Extract of War Stories.

He did not move anymore. Frozen to the core. He did not know how much time had passed since the creature left. Only that the hazy rays of the northern sun had come and gone. He did not know if it was the large snowflakes or the night that had darkened the sky. Daylight was coming back for the second time now.

He was hungry and painfully thirsty. Still, nothing would make him move.

He did not pay attention to the spicy odour in the air.

An eternity passed once more. Then, something broke the silence.

Snow falling? Tumbling rocks? An animal?

The creature coming back?

Nothing. He listened more carefully. Had he imagined it or not?

An instant later, the noise came back.

Not a noise, a voice! Coming from an adult, but how could he be sure?

This, strangely, convinced him to stand up, even though the gurgling of his stomach and the cold seeping through his core had not.

He left the cavern, to be blinded by the light of the outside world. He blinked a few times, then went down the slope. His tracks and the beast’s were gone, covered by a new layer of snow.

It was not hard for him to find his old campsite.

Of the massacre, only bloody hints remained. Dark brown spots in the snow. A hand. A doll.

He stopped in front of the doll. It was eviscerated, an eye, truthfully an old button, was hanging by a thread on its left cheek. It was covered in blood.

He began walking again.

Not a voice, multiple ones! Getting closer and closer. He hoped with all his heart they were not coming from other monsters.

First, he saw the chariots. The vehicles were unknown to him, like little houses on wheels, pulled by strange animals.

Then he saw them. They did not, too busy arguing. He stopped moving forwards when he saw the two men visibly quarrelling. One of them was armed, a visible sword hanging from his half-scabbard.

“I told you already! I cannot continue protecting you! Have you seen what’s left? Nothing! Not a single body! We have to fall back.” The tallest of the two men, wearing a silver armour rusted in some places, was talking vehemently to an older man, himself wearing long beautiful robes slightly too large for him even though he wasn’t exactly thin.

“What proof do you have that turning around will be less dangerous?” He answered. “I paid you for this journey, and you are obligated to follow your contract! The things that did this could be behind us, for all we know, sleeping in those damned caves!”

As if to prove his point, he aimed a finger towards the devastated encampment.

Towards him.

He hesitated. Should he flee?

He was so cold though…

Another guard, wearing fur-covered armour, that had stayed discreet during the fight, looked towards the pointed direction. He was the one who saw him first.

“A Firante!” He exclaimed in horror, unsheathing his sword.

The guard with the silver armour immediately reacted. He looked at the campsite, one arm on his sword’s pommel and one disappearing behind his back.

He also saw him, and was also horrified, but for another reason.

“Jiorgio, put your sword back.” His voice was full of authority and left little doubt on who was in command here. Still, it trembled under the emotion.

The one named Jiorgio did not obey, he only looked at his superior in surprise. It did not look like he was used to hearing him talk like this.

“But, Sergeant…?”

The man with the silver armour did not let him finish.

“It is not…” He seemed to hesitate, like struck by a terrible certainty, before pulling himself together. “It is a survivor. It is a child.”

A long silence followed. Everyone was looking at him in stupefaction.

He had lost the option to flee, even though he was far from capable of doing that in his current state.

He was not far away from them, thirty feet or so.

The man with the silver armour was the first to react. He turned around and shouted.

“Everyone! You can relax!” Then: “Ra’fa, I need you here!”

People emerged from behind the strange chariots, and a woman came closer to them.

She was impressively large, as much by her height as by her weight. She was wearing weird white clothing.

She did not realize the child was there at first, her gaze fixed upon the one who had called her. “Marke?”

The man in silver armour immediately began ordering her around. “Boil some water and wash the boy, give him food and water. Also, give him new clothes, burn the ones he wears now.”

“Marke, I am not your maid do not order me around. And what do you mean b…” She stopped when she finally looked towards the child. She did not hide her shock. “By Holy Ja! What kind of hell did you come out from you poor soul?!”

He looked behind him, as if to check if it was truly not possible to leave.

She kneeled and extended her hand. “Come here boy, do not be afraid.” Her voice was soothing and tender. She moved slowly towards him, knees deep in snow, as if to appease a terrorized animal.

He finally looked at her. Then stepped closer himself.

He took her hand.

The one called Ra’fa rose on her feet. “I am going to check if he is hurt. All this blood cannot be his, but maybe…” She informed the sergeant.

“Yes, of course…” He answered. His commanding voice had subsided.

She turned back to the child and took him in her arms. The filth covering him tainted the impeccable white apron she wore, but it did not seem like she cared.

She carried him to the caravans.

The sergeant and the old man looked at each other, then towards what was left of the encampment. It was almost completely buried in snow. Soon, it would be gone entirely.

The sergeant spoke. He seemed less tense.

“You are right, Ka’in, The Canyon of Sables is a damned maze and what did this could be anywhere. Still, I’d like for the merchants to help us with guard duty for the next few nights. More eyes could be useful.”

Ka’in had also lost all desire to shout.

“Of course, Marke, I will pass the word. Women will help us. The children if necessary.” He looked up for a brief instant, he could only see large greyish clouds covering the whole sky. He sighed heavily. “Sometimes, I ask myself what happens inside the gods’ mind.” He whispered to himself. Then he left to re-join the vehicles.

Marke, the sergeant, felt like he had aged a lot this morning. The sight of the destroyed encampment had unsettled him greatly. But seeing the survivor had helped. He had finally realized what had happened, waking him up and grounding him to the cold and harsh reality.

He turned his attention towards Jiorgio, the leather-armoured guard who had still not sheathed his weapon.

The sergeant gave him a stare.

The guard hurriedly put his sword back into its scabbard.

“You obey immediately next time.” Said the sergeant menacingly.

“Yes sergeant! Sorry sergeant!”

The lady in white was carrying him. They were walking next to those strange house-chariots. Those were pulled by white, enormous sorts of deer, larger and taller than normal Broky deer, and way hairier too. They passed women feeding red grass to the animals, and men walking towards the front of the convoy, empty bags in hands. No one was paying any attention to him and Ra’fa. All were focused on their tasks, driven by a determination that was rather uncommon in a desolate place such as the Canyon of Sables.

Ra’fa brought him to the second last vehicle. At the back, thick curtains were used as doors. The carriage was bigger than the others, and two of the woolly animals were pulling it instead of one.

She opened the curtains and laid the child on the ground inside.

It was warm there, almost too much so. A strange metallic instrument was hanging from the ceiling. It danced with the cold air that had followed them inside, letting out a soft jingle, reminiscent of a flowing river. Boiling water was steaming in two large pots, sitting on a metallic grid just over a brown stone oven.

Wood was burning inside.

You could not see the walls of the vehicle from the inside, everything was covered in fur or wool.

Having checked his surroundings, he moved to an empty corner of this obvious cooking carriage. Ra’fa went to take a piece of cloth and a basin of water. She then opened the oven and deposited the basin inside, before coming back to the child.

“Are you hurt?” She asked him.

He stared at her but did not answer.

She insisted, a bit bothered by the expression of the child. “Don’t you understand? Does it hurt anywhere? Aouch?” She rubbed her arm, mimicking pain.

He shook his head left to right.

“Would you hand me the doll over?”

She pointed at what he was holding.

He was stunned; he had no recollection of picking it up.

He let it go, and the doll fell flat on the wooden planks on the ground.

She picked it up and put it inside her apron’s pocket. Then, she began using the makeshift towel to clean up the child’s face. He had the expression of a backed-up animal, but let it happen, nonetheless.

“By Holy Ja, your eyes…” She let the words slip from her mouth, losing herself in the cloudy, grey eyes of the child.

Then realizing the towel was already dirty, she rose, took the basin out of the oven, and picked up more pieces of clothes.

“I am going to undress you now, is that ok?” She asked. She did not wait for him to answer and began removing what seemed to have been thick and beautiful winter clothing. Dry blood became dust under her fingers. She dipped the towels inside the warm water, then continued washing him.

After a few minutes, she let out a little cry of surprise.

“But…? You’re not a little boy, you’re a little girl!”

The survivor seemed to wake up, her grey eyes shining again.

“No! I’m a boy.” She said with a small, scornful voice.

Ra’fa rejoiced internally. If the girl could react like that, she would overcome whatever it was that had happened to her.

“I can assure you, sweetheart, this…” She pointed at the child’s crotch. “…is something that only belongs on little girls. It is strange that you were wearing those clothes though. Pants are obviously for boys!”

The girl’s expression was troubled. Incomprehension had replaced disdain.

Ra’fa assumed the sentences had to have been too complicated.

“I am Ra’fa, I’m this expedition’s cook. What is your name?”

The child seemed to hesitate, before finally answering: “Nay.”

“Nay?” This was the first time the cook heard such a surname.

“Yes, they call me Nay.”

Those words took Ra’fa by surprise. The girl did not have the usual guttural accent so common to the north, but one that could have been heard in court at the capital. She pulled herself together, it was not important right now.

“Right, Nay, are you hungry?”

The child quickly nodded.

“Perfect! Now that you are more or less clean, I will put some meat on those bones of yours. I can see them, and that is not allowed inside my house!”

Nay did not even bother to look at what the large woman brought her. As soon as the bowl of food appeared in front of her, she devoured everything inside, not even taking the time to chew.

“Calm down! You are going to choke!” Ra’fa lifted the food away from the little girl, receiving an almost animalistic growl in return. “Drink this.” She handed her a glass of water.

It was gulped down in one go, and Ra’fa gave the bowl back. The child began eating again but was careful to chew this time.

Ra’fa left the carriage. She came back with clothes in hand as Nay was done with her meal.

“Here, Claire was nice enough to lend us her daughter’s. She must be the same size as you, which is quite lucky.”

Nay looked at the clothes, not reacting.

“Can’t you dress on your own?” The cook stopped to think for a moment, then asked her another question: “By the way, how old are you?”

“Four hundred dews.” The little girl answered without thought.

“Dews? What is that?”

“Dews.” Nay was suddenly quite defensive.

“Doesn’t help me much…”

They looked at each other. The little girl was looking terrorised again. Ra’fa sighed. She knew this conversation was a lost cause.

“Come on, I will help you dress. But if you are the same age as Helia, you will have to learn to do that on your own.”

The clothes were made to handle freezing temperatures and were quite cumbersome. It took Ra’fa some time to put it on her.

“Who’s Hela?”

“Helia” The adult corrected her. “It is, well, was, the only little girl in the caravan. With you, that makes two.”

“I’m not a little girl…” Said Nay while tugging on her new dress.

“Yes sweetheart, you are. You are even a cute one to boot. There are three other children, boys that are six and eight years old, slightly older than you…I think.”

Nay frowned, but curiosity quickly took place as Ra’fa continued.

“Now, you’ll have to follow me. Marke wants to ask you some questions. I would rather you rest, but it is important.” She added quietly: “At least that is what he said…”

“Marke?” Nay asked.

“The strong, good-looking man with the silver armour. He’s a Legio, maybe the last of them, and he’s responsible for the guards and this expedition’s protection.” She answered her with a smile.

Nay had no idea what a Legio could be, but the armoured man she had seen before had been as scary as he had been fascinating to her.

Ra’fa left the carriage, and she quickly followed.

The cold outside was even more horrible now that they had left the warm and cosy vehicle. The clothes that had been lent to her were protecting her adequately, but she could not stop from shivering, nonetheless.

The large cook brought her back to the front of the convoy.

Many people were there already. Mostly men, digging in the snow to recover what they could from Nay’s old encampment.

She could not stop a furious “Hey!” from piercing her lips.

No one listened except the chief of the guards. He was supervising everything, and as he heard her he came closer to them.

No other guard was around.

First, he talked to Ra’fa.

“Thanks.” He simply stated.

“Calm down sergeant! I did not do this for your sake.” She was aggressive for no apparent reason.

He did not seem to care, obviously used to it, and turned around to face Nay.

“Sorry boy…” He noticed her dress. “…girl?”

Something like a shadow of doubt passed through his face. Then something darker.

Nay tensed up.

They stared at each other like two predators gauging one another.

“Marke?” Asked the cook, not understanding what all the fuss was about.

As fast as it came, Marke’s expression disappeared, replaced by a strange melancholy. He smiled at Ra’fa, then faced the child once again and apologized. “Kiddo. Sorry about the things we take from your people, they do not belong to us, I am aware. Unfortunately, in such an expedition, everything that can be taken, must be taken. It is a matter of survival.”

Ra’fa intervened: “Marke, I do not think she can under…”

“If it is for survival, I shall give you my authorizisation.” Nay cut her mid-sentence.

The adults did not pay any attention to the slip of her tongue. Ra’fa was surprised, once again. The child had understood everything the Legio had said to her, and once more, had responded with a perfect, noble accent.

The sergeant only smiled, not looking surprised in the least. “Thank you. No one shall feel like a Robber of Graves tonight.”

His smile fell to be replaced with seriousness.

“Kiddo, you know what happened?”

She nodded.

“What did it? Can you explain it to me?”

“No” She answered.

“Why not?”

Nay responded with a lesson she had learnt by heart. “We do not talk about the demon, because talking about the demon is summoning it among us.”

Ra’fa shivered. And it was not because of the snow falling once again, nor because of the cold.

Marke changed subjects. “Where are your vehicles? What were you doing here? Are there other survivors?”

“…Uh…I…” Nay was unable to answer all those sudden questions. “I…traveling with my…parents…I can’t remember well…” Her gaze fell on the ground on her left. Nothing but snow was there.

“Don’t worry, it is okay.” Ra’fa tried to comfort her.

“At least tell me how many you were.” The sergeant insisted.

“Marke, Nay is clearly not…”

He cut her off, looking directly at her. “It is important.” He then looked at the child. “Nay, is that it? Tell me, how many were you?”

She seemed to wake up from her dream. The little girl stared at him, then almost proudly said: “Three times as many as you!”

Marke did the maths quickly. Five or six per carriage except the last and before last one. Almost forty people, including the guards. His mind was boiling. She claimed they were a hundred. Maybe more? The number seemed logical considering the size of the encampment and the number of tents, or at least what subsided of them. However, no vehicles had been found, they could not live here. No one could. How did they move around then? By foot was impossible. The Canyon of Sables would have killed them on the spot at the first blizzard.

A cough reminded him Nay and Ra’fa were still there.

He gestured at them to signify they were free to go.

The large woman clearly did not like that but did not add anything. She took the little girl by the hand, leaving without a look back.

“I’ll find you a bed so you can sleep, there is some room in the kitchen where I can put it. Just follow me.” She brought the child back to the end of the convoy.

Marke was not paying any attention to them anymore. He was back into his thoughts.

This girl talking about a single demon. As if one creature could have hunted and killed a hundred people in one night. With no one able to flee except a little girl. No bodies except some gruesome lonesome limbs. Even a Tertia from Kafka would have left more traces. And a Tertia did not cut limbs like that, it tore everything down. Here, the cuts had been so clean they had slashed through flesh and bones alike.

The sergeant had never met any creature capable of killing a hundred alone. Even less so one who took the time to slice its prey like that.

Except maybe this demon.

It all reminded him of the story of his master. He knew it was based on true facts, but also that it came from another era.

But now that he had seen the child’s eyes…

He went to inspect the encampment again. It was the third time now.

He put one knee on the ground. When they had arrived here last evening, the snow was covered in blood and footprints were everywhere, testimony to the panic that had been. Now, almost everything was gone, covered by the new snow that could not stop falling in this damned canyon. Only a few tents were still visible. They were the last clue of what had transpired here. This and the air. You could taste the atrocity that had happened here in it.

His attention was taken by something. He moved towards it, then looked down, he uncovered the snow on top, and pulled out the heavy object he recognized as a large cast-iron cauldron with ease. It had holes on it everywhere. They were all but natural. As if swords had pierced it with unimaginable force.

It made no sense.

He sighed.

He realized he was afraid.

This was not possible. Nothing on its own could do all this. The girl was delirious or lying.

But his instinct was screaming something else. There was enough proof as well.

Something abominable had happened here. An abomination had been here.

He so wanted to believe that this demon was a figment of the imagination of a scared child.

He could not.

“Fear is an old friend…” He said out loud. “But I’ll admit, your advice would be more than welcome right now, master.”

Nothing answered him.

His gaze rose to the mountains. To the mountain pass of the Unbroken Ones.

His expression hardened.