I was thrown aside and lost consciousness. Yes. They’d believe that, wouldn’t they?

Peng had been running for more than a while through the thick and dense foliage of the Sklaveni forests. Hell, the sky was already orange with dusk’s first advance.

While before, he’d been fleeing, he was now trying to find his way back. He’d fled west, and had been heading back for some time now. His companions weren’t anywhere to be found, so this situation had unfortunately devolved into a fit of aimless wandering.

They must’ve continued on without him. Why wouldn’t they? And why did he continue to search for them? He should just head east on his own.

“You ask good questions.”

Peng stopped in his tracks and looked around wildly for the source of the voice.

“It is the duty of every good engineer to ask good questions, wouldn’t you agree?”

“Sh-show yourself!” Peng raised his spear, looking frantically through the trees.

“But questions are only good if you haven’t already assumed the answer.”

A figure stepped out of the shadows. Peng aimed his spear at them.

It was a man, but...also not. The setting sun gleamed off metal lining that was seemingly embedded into his skin. Skin made of...wood? Segmenting lines ran throughout the man’s face and arms, making him look like an ultra-realistic marionette. Ignoring all that, though, he looked like a middle-aged Nikan man.

“Who are you?” Peng demanded, tightening his grip on his weapon to prevent the slipping of his sweating palms.

“You already know.” The figure spoke in Nikan.

“The Fool Carpenter.” Peng didn’t say the words actively. They just came out of his mouth.

“It’s been a long time since you’ve called to me.”

Peng shook his head, “What the hell is going on? What are you talking about?”

“Ah, see, those are good questions.” The Fool Carpenter said, “So I’ll give you an answer this time. I’m your Shedim.”

Peng scoffed. When the Carpenter maintained this guise of seriousness, he furrowed his brow, “I don’t have the Plague.”

“Don’t call it a plague, please.” the Carpenter sighed, “You have Scars, though. On your head. Under your hair.”

“H-How is this happening, how can you speak?”

The wooden man cracked his neck, eliciting rusty squeaks rather than actual cracking. “I was sealed off thanks to some magical bullshit the Nikan use on their citizens. I think I finally managed to break it. And I can speak because we’ve been bonded for a hell of a long time. It takes time to learn language, you know.”

Peng shook his head and focused his inquiry. “Regardless of whether that’s true-which, I highly doubt-why are you here?”

“Your allies are in danger.” the Carpenter said.

“They aren’t my allies.” Peng insisted.

“Yet you search for them.”

Peng clicked his tongue “It’s not like I want to. They’ve either gone and gotten themselves killed or left without me. But I’m not exactly able to just up and leave. I’m not a survivalist.”

The Carpenter shook his head, “It’s the same shit with you. Over and over and over. The guild, the university, the Adept’s Association, the army and now this. You know the Nikan wouldn’t kill people as powerful as them without trying to get some personal glory out of a capture.”

Peng gritted his teeth, “Say neither of my two predictions came to pass and they were just captured. What do you want me to do, huh? Fling myself into a battle I can’t win?” And stop acting like you know me, arrogant prick. He didn’t say that last part out loud.

“You can’t win because you expect failure!” the Carpenter’s voice boomed, “Put aside your own self-fulfilling doomsday prophecies. You can fight. I have no doubt about that. It just takes work that you keep excusing yourself from.”

“That lack of forethought must be why they call you the Fool. Besides, even if your showing up suddenly gives me magic powers, it’s not like I’ll suddenly become better at fighting. I’m no Bane Knight.”

“Then what are you good at?”

Peng thought for a moment and muttered, “Well building, obviously.”

The Fool Carpenter gestured as though what Peng said was completely idiotic. “Then build. You’ve trained yourself to be the greatest of artists, scientists and architects all in one. So use that for once. You’re surrounded by materials and inspiration. The world is yours to shape.”

The Fool Carpenter dissolved into saw dust, being carried off with the wind. Peng turned to watch it for a moment before shaking his head. So he’d had a Shedim all this time? He scoffed before turning his focus to other things. Like finding his way out of this forest.

But no matter how many times Peng tried to start a line of thought to solve his issue, his mind kept going back to his former companions.

For once in my life I want to abandon a topic… Peng muttered in his head. And my mind suddenly decides it no longer has commitment issues. Gods...

“You fucking....” Peng snapped at himself. “You wanna run this fool’s errand? Fine. Run it, moron.”

The floodgate opened and Peng’s thoughts started to race.

Peng needed information first. He needed to locate the victor of that skirmish and assess what exactly happened. If they were captured, then perhaps he could offer some assistance. After he confirmed that they were alive, Peng needed to experiment. The Fool, despite his irritating words, heavily implied that he could make use of some kind of Shedemic power. Peng needed to test the bounds and limits of his potential abilities.

Well, worst case scenario, he’d make sure he escaped with his life. If nothing else, he was sure he could live in the Khongirat colonies unnoticed.

He didn’t know where this new...well, he couldn’t quite call it determination. He didn’t know where this certainty came from that everything was going to work out fine. He still knew he was risking everything, no matter what he said. But the feeling he had deeper than his own thoughts was undeniable.

Something in him allowed him to take this risk, a chance he would normally never even glance a second time at.

He was a builder. So he would build.

But he also had picked up a thing or two from Ruhak when it came to strategy. Assuming the Nikan forces won, the nearest port city where a Nikan junk could dock would be...Dimale. The same place they were going anyway. So logically, there shouldn’t have been any change in their route.

Peng waited until nightfall to really pick up his pace and start following the path Taya and the others had mapped out. This would be his chance to catch up with them.

With just that path and the full moon, he found them an hour or so after sunset.

The glow of fires gave away their position through the forest. Peng dared to step closer as the conversation among the Bane Knights rose in volume.

He saw Taya. She was conscious and unbound. They likely couldn’t tie her up even if they wanted to. One of the Bane Knights appeared to have an unconscious Cecile with him. They were threatening her to keep Taya in line.

That meant they wanted Taya as a captive at least. And so long as that was the case, they couldn’t kill anyone else. Peng couldn’t blame them. Taya could earn a man a nice position in the government or even a few titles.

Peng let himself sigh quietly in relief before he retreated. He’d need to start drawing up plans for a weapon.

___________________________________________________________________

The next morning was spent by Peng following the prince and his entourage of Banebenders until they settled for a midday break.

He’d have a few hours before they decided to move again.

He found a clearing far enough to be out of earshot even if he yelled. Well, hopefully he wouldn’t need to yell. He exhaled, forcing the coldness out of his body and manifesting the Fool Carpenter.

Peng tied his shoulder-length black hair up in the back, “I’ve decided to help them. Not because you told me to. I want to. But in order to do that, I need to learn how to use my abilities. And you’re going to help me, since you seem to be quite fond of conversation.”

The Carpenter scoffed, “You’re supposed to figure it out yourself.”

“Well, too bad. Now tell me. What can I do?” Peng asked.

The Shedim sighed, “Fine. I guess. Your ability allows you to telekinetically move anything and make anything so long as it is within the bounds of physics. However, it constantly draws on your stamina. All commands you give to objects have to be for the sake of creating a larger machine or structure in your mind.”

Peng raised his eyebrows. “So I can only use it to make machines?”

“No. You can command a stone to chip in the right way to make a spear. You can carve out a shelter into a cliff face. But you can’t cut a lock open or melt a metal door unless you make it into something else.” The Carpenter said, “And really the only thing it’s good for is being able to multitask without tools and being much faster than you would be in real life.”

“So it’s like having a team of invisible workers.”

“That’s a rather apt way to put it, actually.” the Carpenter muttered.

Peng closed his eyes and focused, fabricating an image in his mind of the tree in front of him. He imagined the bark peeling off and a plank separating itself from the wood.

The scraping of wood on wood confirmed that the power was doing as he wished. He opened his eyes to find a wooden plank set before him.

His focus switched to the ground.

He commanded the metals in the dirt to coalesce and form nails. The particles of iron hidden on the ground obeyed.

“Simple enough.” Peng said.

“Simple my ass.” the Carpenter scoffed, “It’s only simple because you were taught about how all the science works by your government.”

Peng looked pointedly at the Carpenter, willing him to vanish into saw dust.

“Right. I need a weapon. Something better than a knife on a stick.” He muttered to himself.

Preferably, something to match Shedemic power. He’d like to make a hand cannon, but he couldn’t scrounge up enough sulfur this way in a lifetime for a single shot’s worth of blackpowder. And there was no guarantee he could find enough metal either.

With only wood, stone, dirt and clay plus sparing amounts of metal for fastenings, Peng had to come up with a weapon to neutralize six Bane Knights in black steel armor and two royals. The prospect of the challenge terrified him just as much as it brought excitement.

____________________________________________________________________

Najeem wished he had something to smoke before this. He scorned himself for his overly tense muscles as he hid among the overhanging rope-trees, looking down on the temple. Such anticipation made an Asasiyun jumpy and thus, sloppy.

It was a wide misconception that the Asasiyun relied on smoking hashish for their combat prowess. It was likely a deeper set desire some people had to believe that a magic drug could make them great.

Either way, it gave birth to the term Hashashin, which most Asasiyun, including him, took as a grave insult.

But he did smoke. That was a personal issue. He’d trained for fifteen odd years since he was taken as a child to become the killer he was. Hashish just helped relax his muscles.

His turban was wrapped around his face like a concealing mask, partially out of spite for that woman and partially out of functionality. He didn’t want to kill anyone, but he would if he had to and he didn’t want anyone seeing his face.

The group had estimated they needed a pound of gold and silver to buy everything to make it to the closest town across the mountains.

With feline prowess, Najeem let himself down the trunk of his tree and landed softly on the edge of the wall surrounding the courtyard. He ran across this edge onto the roof of the temple itself. He swung under the roof’s overhang and flattened himself against the small amount of wallspace between the ground and a window.

He vaulted himself into the window, landing in a pitch black room. As he suspected, there were plenty of religious artifacts and statues made of gold and silver. Najeem grabbed a large square of fabric he’d brought to help him carry everything they needed. Though, in reality they only need a few of these statues. Maybe four at most.

Then Najeem felt a pang of guilt. To the people of this land, this was the equivalent of stealing from a Mosque.

But these relics aren’t actually holy, he tried to justify it. But it didn’t help. Who was to say which of them was right? God himself hadn’t come down to this mortal coil to give Najeem a vision or something. Some people claimed they’d experienced God-given prophecy, but the vast majority were liars and heretics.

But...they needed the money. He wasn’t going to give up his country over a few religious relics.

Najeem grabbed five just to be safe and tied them up in the square of fabric, making a sack.

That was too easy. Najeem thought to himself as he hopped out the window.

“Just as I thought.”

Najeem’s gaze snapped to the side. The woman from before glared at him from one of the other entrances to the temple.

Of course. Najeem had jinxed himself.

“You’re nothing but a low blooded thief.” the woman scoffed, “Merchant? Who was buying that?”

She remembered him, despite his face coverings. Or perhaps because of them.

Najeem set his sack down. He had no choice but to kill her. Drawing his scimitar, he rushed at her. The distance was closed before she could even react. Najeem swung his blade with the utmost precision at her throat.

Then something touched his chest which sent him flying backwards with a flash of light. Pain erupted in his back as he slammed into a tree. His sword had fallen from his grip at some point and laid too far from him to reach.

The woman’s hand appeared to steam with heat. And her leg glowed under her long skirt.

“That precision...I amend my previous statement. Perhaps you aren’t a lowblooded thief, but you’re a thief nevertheless.”

She was like Shahla and Lokapele. How was he supposed to defeat her?

He wasn’t aware of what her abilities were, making any move a potentially fatal risk.

“Surrender yourself.” the woman commanded.

He only had one real option.

He had to defeat her. If he failed, they’d never make it past the border. Qahtan would fall to Ali before they even made it to Koinelia.

Najeem staggered to his feet.

He was an Asasiyun, damnit! Raised from birth to be one of the deadliest warriors South of the White Sea.

“So you’re a fool as well.” she sighed, “Fine. I’ll entertain you.”

Najeem sprinted towards her. In response, she kicked out her foot, which released a bolt of yellow light faster than anything he’d ever seen. But he was able to evade it either way.

He kicked his scimitar into his hands and leapt onto the railing of the deck that ran along the outside of the temple that the woman stood within. Najeem leapt at her, landing on the other side and able to strike from there before she could assess his position.

The sword carved into her side, leaving a deep, possibly fatal gash.

The woman staggered away, looking down in shock at her wound.

Najeem leapt out from the deck, grabbing his sack of treasure and making his escape with several nearly superhuman leaps and bounds.

He ran through the trees, making his way out of the stone district and out of the town, though he stumbled a few times thanks to the minor injuries the woman had inflicted.

He leapt through the foliage blocking off the beach and landed just atop the cave. Najeem swung himself into its entrance. He stumbled as his momentum left, his back exploding with pain.

Lokapele caught him before he collapsed.

“Najeem!” Shahla exclaimed, “Are you alright?”

Najeem weakly nodded, “Had a little run in with the local nun.” he grunted in agony as he was set down, “But we won’t have to worry about her anymore.”

“Wait, a nun? What’d you do to the nun?” Shakti stood, her eyes wide.

“She...She saw my face. Remembered me. I had to deal with her,” Najeem grunted, “Permanently.”

“Najeem. That was-”

A bright light streaked into the cave as though it were day time, but three times brighter, causing everyone to shield their eyes.

“I should’ve known you were involved in this Shakti!”

Najeem’s heart stopped.

How? How was she alive?

“Do you know this woman, Shakti?” Lokapele asked.

Shakti nodded, “I didn’t pick the place we’d rob, Seang.”

“Yet you admit to being involved in a robbery.” The woman, Seang, stepped into the cave, her skin glowing brightly, “All of you turn yourselves over to the authorities and I won’t have to hurt you.”

Shahla, in an uncharacteristic show of resolve, stood with Lokapele. They both stared Seang down. Najeem tried to stop Shahla, but the settling pain of his injuries cut his voice off before he finished forming his sentence.

“No? Fine, then. Let’s do this outside.” Seang said.

All Najeem could do, after having seen what this woman was capable of, was pray.