The sun glowered down at the small procession of men climbing up the narrow mountain track. Jagged Brown stone and cloudless blue sky surrounded them, one to either side of their narrow path.

There were four men in the column. All accept the last had midnight black skin and broad features, though they were not related.

Sandam led them, his arrogant face was devoid of both perspiration or joy. Second was Jarak, the small, stout man tried to hide his painful limp the best he could, but no one either cared or was fooled. Third came Adnan, the muscled man’s considerable size forced him to adopt an uncomfortable shuffling walk against the side of the unnamed mountain. His hard face was stoic with concentration.

Last in line was Ayaz. He led the group’s small packhorse resolutely. Sandam had tied him to the animal to ensure that Ayaz would not let it fall.

Everyone in the group, except for Ayaz, wore the clothes of nobility, their white collars were upturned, and their cuffs were flowing lace. Sandam was the notably better dressed of the four, his dark red coat had gold stitching instead of silver, and a large golden chain hung from his neck. A fist-sized gem was fitted into a large hoop on the chain. It rested comfortably on his wide chest.

Jarak and Adnan appeared to be in rough shape. Their hair was dishevelled with sweat and their expensive clothes were covered with rock dust. Sandam appeared to be completely unaffected by his surroundings. Not a speck of dirt or bead of sweat marred him.

Ayaz, in contrast, wore simple clothing, a rough wool tunic that was too large for him, and a wide-brimmed straw hat that gave his face some merciful shade. His face was the same light brown of the rock next to him, and his dark green eyes were almond shaped.

His medium height and wiry frame gave the impression that he was simply a young, underfed commoner, which was not too far from the truth.

The group travelled further up the mountain path. Everyone was silent except for Jarak’s pained breaths and the snorting of the packhorse.

Ayaz stared emotionlessly at the ground in front of him, occasionally glancing back at the mule he was attached to. Sandam gave out a humourless chuckle, prompting everyone to look further up the path.

A short distance ahead, Ayaz saw a sharp turn. Throughout the several hours that he had been climbing, this was the first time there had been anything but a predictable small curving along the mountain. The others visibly perked at the sight. All accept for Sandam. Jarak spoke through gritted teeth, “Is that it sir?”

“I believe so,” Sandam replied, “hard to believe that we could go much further up this dammed rock.” Ayaz unconsciously moved his eyes to gaze down at the steep drop below.

Around the base of the mountain, several jagged rocks protruded out of the sand in a haphazard pattern. When the group had first arrived at the mountain those rocks were foreboding giants, now they were but specks.

Apart from the rocks, the mountain stood completely alone in the vast expanse of beige desert that stretched out to the horizon.

The group reached the turn. What awaited them was a small entrance to a dark cavern. The entrance had been carved out of the mountain wall, at the very point the path ended and morphed back into the side of the rough mountain exterior.

The path in front of the entrance had expanded outwards just enough so that the group could stand together comfortably without fear of falling off. Once everybody had reached the platform Sandam gazed around with a visibly disappointed expression on his face. “Well, we probably could have got changed up here.”

“Better safe than sorry, sire,” replied Jarak, he wiped sweat off his forehead with a laced sleeve.

“Indeed,” Sandam looked towards the dark entrance, lips pursed. And muttered something under his breath.

Suddenly, he pointed towards Ayaz. “Hand out the food and drink…” He paused and snapped his fingers several times in frustration.

“Ayaz. Sire.”

“That’s right!” Sandam gestured towards Jarak and Adnan, - the latter of whom was staring blankly at the rock wall, near completely still - “Hand out the amenities Ayaz, they will need them”

Ayaz fetched the water canteen from the mule and passed it over to the two men before drinking from it himself. He then offered some hard bread but both men curtly refused. Ayaz could not tell if they distrusted the food or were too nervous to eat. Ayaz consumed the musty bread regardless.

Sandam began to approach the entrance carefully, trying to peek inside, but the only thing that was visible on the other side was darkness. The darkness almost appeared to be a solid object, for not even a ray of light from the outside seemed to break through the entrance.

Sandman started to nervously finger his necklace, rubbing the large jewel almost desperately. He turned around towards the rest of the group, face a fine blend of determination and apprehension.

He took a resigned breath and began to speak. “We can do nothing waiting out here. Adnan, release the boy from the horse and tie the creature up. Jarak, fetch and light my torch.” he took a brief pause to look at Ayaz “Boy, take my knife and watch out for any baddies that might show up.” Sandam smoothly pulled out a curved dagger from within his ornate coat and threw it, still sheathed, towards Ayaz. The dagger’s golden, gem-encrusted hilt sparkled as it flew gracefully through the air and into Ayaz’s open palms. Its long blade was sheathed snugly in smooth leather. The object was very likely the most valuable thing that Ayaz had ever touched.

Ayaz nodded respectfully towards Sandam - indicating that he would protect the group at all costs- but he had already turned back around towards the entrance. Ayaz gazed at the knife for a few more moments, a small smile at the edges of his mouth, then tucked it into his belt.

When the others had finished their tasks Sandam began walking into the dark entrance, one hand holding up a lit torch and the other holding his necklace. The men followed him in single file, careful to stay close to the light. Ayaz tossed his hat to the ground hastily before he entered.

They walked for what seemed like less than thirty seconds and came to a stop. They all instinctively huddled into a circle, for warmth as much as fear, the air had become stingingly cold.

As Sandman cleared his throat to call out, Ayaz turned his head towards the way they had come. He could see nothing. Not so much as a speck of light. His hand crept slightly closer to the dagger.

Sandam shouted in a clear and demanding voice “Hello? We are here to speak with Wahami.” Nothing happened for a long time, except for a distant rasping sound that made even Adnan frown.

Just as Sandam prepared himself to shout for a second time, a blinding white light exploded out from the abyss. As Ayaz fell to his knees with his arms covering his eyes, Jarak flinched backwards. He tripped over Ayaz’s back and slammed into the ground. Ayaz slowly opened his eyes as they adjusted to the light, which was now reasonable.

What he saw was a decadent room with a chequered ivory and ebony floor with marble walls. Golden ornaments hung masterfully wrought tapestries. Silver furniture in improbable shapes lined the walls. In the centre of the wall that would have been opposite to the entrance was a short corridor. At the end of the corridor was a red lacquered door. Two leather sofas sat expectantly to either side. Adnan and Sandam did not seem to be overly impressed or surprised. They simply looked around themselves warily.

Ayaz looked for the entrance and could not find it.

Jarak was writhing on the floor with his eyes jammed closed in pain when a woman calmly opened the door and walked towards the group. The woman was dressed in an elegant white robe which accentuated her figure. She had golden hair and a conventionally beautiful face. Her face held a disturbing intensity, as if she were studying every minute detail of the men.

“Greetings travellers,” the woman said, her accent was slightly slurred, as if she had not spoken for a very long time, “All are welcome here. Do you hold any weapons?”

Sandam glanced back at Ayaz, “No, we do not.”

“Good. Now follow me.”

The woman began to walk back towards the door when Sandam stopped her. “Wait! I want to be clear. Are you taking me to Wahami?”

“Yes,” the woman’s mouth formed into a charming smile, her eyes did not follow, “Does he need help?”

Jarak was trying to stand up, but his bad leg kept on giving out from under him, sending him sprawling back onto the floor. Sandam flicked his head towards Adnan, who picked him up and draped him over his shoulder. “Also,” Sandam spoke defiantly “you should know that I am Lord Protector Sandam Saraf II, sent here on orders from Sultan Zoeb Hamoon XV of the grand Sultanate of Boran to ask for assistance.”

“For what?” the woman replied questioningly.

“Do you forget yourself woman? I wish to speak to Wahami, not some wench.”

The woman looked Sandam up and down with a cold, calculating gaze. A touch of disdain on her lips. “He will speak to you. Your lackeys can sit there.” She gestured to the sofas. “Now follow.”

Sandam tossed his now useless torch away and followed the woman. The rest of the men followed obediently after Sandam.

When they reached the door, the woman gestured for the men to stop. She opened the door a fraction and turned to Sandam. “Wait here, Lord Protector. Wahami will see you shortly” Ayaz detected more than a slight hint of mockery in her voice.

Adnan tossed Jarak down onto the rightmost sofa. He gave out a pitiful squeak when he slammed onto the soft surface, clutching his leg. Adnan layer down gracefully on the other sofa, giving Ayaz no choice but to sit next to Jarak. Sandam remained standing, glaring balefully at the door.

Before long, the door slowly creaked open. Ayaz could not see inside from where he was sitting. Sandam kissed the jewel on his necklace, said a small prayer, and walked through. The door slammed behind him.

Ayaz could not hear anything from the other side, not even when he pressed his ear gently against the cold wood of the door.

The men waited for many minutes in silence before they began to form a conversation. Adnan was lightly snoring on his improvised bed, so Jarak was the first to talk. He did so in a quiet voice, in obvious discomfort “So… Boy. What do you think of this mess?”

Ayaz looked at Jarak sidelong and gave a small laugh “Well, I’m wondering where the light is coming from. There are no torches. No windows. Nothing, the light is just… around us.”

Jarak gave out a hearty chuckle “Perhaps the designer of this place did not think of that small detail”

“So, is Wahami the designer of this place?”

“Yes.” Jarak grimaced as he moved his swollen leg to a more comfortable position “Do you know of him?”

“Very little. All I know is that he is powerful.” Ayaz gazed at the perplexing space around him, “And can make…this.”

“Wahami is a Guardian. One of several that exist throughout the world.”

“What are Guardians?”

“I’m sure you have heard of some, in stories and myths. They are a group of, ahh, beings that hold extreme power and immunity to age.”

Ayaz leaned closer, eager to learn of what Jarak knew. “For example?”

“Well. It is thought that in the far north, there resides a Guardian named Baetha. His abilities are thought to have something to do with nature and life. He is one of the few known Guardians who have had no personal involvement in Boran or the Old Empire.” Jarak touched his forehead in reverence after speaking the last name. “Another is Batar, located in the west. He is said to have unlimited knowledge but doesn’t speak!” Jarak laughed at this “Silly.”

Ayaz smirked along with Jarak “And Wahami?”

Jarak swallowed and looked around the hall cautiously “Well… it is known that Wahami can control the, ahh, spatial reality around him at will. He is extremely powerful and well respected.” Ayaz suspected that Jarak thought he was being listened to. Jarak continued, now visibly reluctant to go on “He has resided in this mountain for many years with no outside contact. But in his last message to the people of Boran, he stated that anyone could call for him if they were in sufficient need.”

“So why don’t the people know that they could call on him themselves? Why have the nobles said that only those of the old blood can contact him?”

“Excuse me?” Jarak brought his attention sharply to Ayaz, “That is none of yo-“

A great boom resounded throughout the room, shaking chunks out of the ceiling and tapestries off their holders. Adnan jerked up out of his slumber and ran to open the red door. Just before his hand touched the silver handle, the door exploded off its hinges towards him. The door was travelling at such a speed that It was not so much as slowed down by the presence of the hulking man, it simply took him with it. The door slammed into the far wall with an echoing crash. The red wood blended with the red chunks of Adnan that were sprayed across the wall and floor.

Sandam lay in the rubble, clearly bewildered, and clearly alive. From Ayaz’s brief assessment, he appeared to be completely unharmed. Sandam clambered up to his feet and spread his hands in placation, “I apologize for the misunderstanding. I am sure we can still come to some agreement.”

“Agreement?” A booming voice shouted, “There is nothing that you could say…” A wrinkled man slowly stepped through the now gaping doorway, his face twisted with hatred “… to stop me from flaying you alive.”

The man turned towards the two men sitting on the sofa. Jarak was pale and still, his hands quivered uncontrollably as he gazed up to the man’s hateful grey eyes. Ayaz was calm, he met the man’s gaze as one would to a respected equal.

“I will deal with you two soon. Wait here.” Jarak nodded rapidly, eager to avoid any more ire from the man, presumably the Guardian Wahami. He continued to do so even as the dark robbed man stalked away from him and towards his master.

Wahami gestured gracefully towards Sandam. Fluid, lifelike tendrils of marble sprouted from the stained wall behind him. They wrapped him slowly, almost gently, but they did not let him budge a hair. Sandam’s eyes widened in panic and he flinched as a tendril touched his face and wrapped his forehead in an iron grip.

“That chain,” Wahami extended his arm towards Sandam. It smoothly morphed into the form of a long, spear-like limb which extended the distance between the two men easily. “I recognise it’s make,” Wahami lifted the chain off of Sandam, causing the blue-eyed man to squeal in primal fear. “Please, please no,” Sandam began to weep helplessly as Wahami lifted the chain clear from his head and retracted his limb so that he could hold it in his other hand.

“This thing is very powerful. The work of a true master.” Wahami gazed at the chain necklace, a wistful smile on his face. The smile twisted into a spiteful grimace “Not made for the likes of you,” he spat the last word and cut into the air with his morphed limb. As if by command, the tendrils began to tighten. Sandam’s body seemed to offer no resistance as it bent and snapped under the pressure. His eyes bulged as his head was slowly crushed. Ayaz diverted his eyes before he could see the inevitable gory aftermath. Jarak stared slack-jawed and pale, he was beyond shaking.

Wahami ordered the tendrils to release the twisted corpse of Sandam and slither back into the wall. Without glancing at the body, he gave the valuable necklace one last appraisal and threw it to the floor. As he began to walk towards the two seated men, Jarak ran forward and prostrated himself at his feet, murmuring a litany of frenzied prayers.

Wahami frowned slightly then pointed a closed fist towards him. Suddenly, Jarak sunk into the floor as if it were a simple body of water. Less than a second passed before Wahami opened his fist, but that was enough time for Jarak to become almost completely submerged. As Wahami’s fist opened, the floor solidified, trapping Jarak in an inescapable prison. His swollen leg was the only limb that was free of the trap, and it kicked feebly as Jarak slowly suffocated to death.

Wahami continued to walk down the hallway towards Ayaz, carefully sidestepping Jarak’s body as he passed. Once he was several steps in front of the Sofa he stopped. He smiled in a way that one would to a close friend down at Ayaz.

“Do you wish to speak with me, friend?” The withered looking man attempted to offer Ayaz a helping hand with his spear-like appendage. Once he realised, the arm morphed back into its regular form, and Ayaz took it.

“I would, thank you.” Ayaz pulled himself up to his feet and smiled back, “I’m Ayaz.”