Khongira was a dry and cold land of grass, wild horses, and wind. Though the sun shined bright every day, Shahla constantly shivered. Then again, it wasn’t as though Qahtan experienced winter, much less the Al-Kubra Bedouins.

The cold, however, was the least of Shahla’s ailments. The land was barren, save for rivers and streams that criss-crossed the flatlands. There were no trees to seek shelter from the elements or build fires with. Their heat at night came solely from Lokapele melting a small mound of earth.

As far as Shahla could tell, there was no food on the steppe aside from horses and sheep, all of which were too fast for any of them or kept domesticated by tribes nowhere near them.

For the last five days, they’d subsisted on nothing but tea made from wild millets and seeds. They saw a herd of horses one time, causing Shahla’s stomach to growl. Najeem had tried to catch and kill one for her, but only got a swift kick to the chest for his effort.

Since then, they had seen nothing horse-like. But they kept going on the promise of making it to Borhae, the one and only city in all of Khongira. From there, they could stock up on supplies with their remaining collective five pounds of gold and silver.

Shahla fell in their marching order next to Najeem. He was cradling his wrist, the injury still hidden by his bracer.

“Najeem, you’ve still got that? You shouldn’t be hiding it.”

“No ‘Good afternoon’ or ‘how are you, Najeem’?” The Asasiyun muttered.

“I’m too hungry for small talk.” Shahla muttered.

“My wrist is fine. And, no, I won’t be uncovering it.” Najeem insisted. After he realized Shahla thought he still felt humiliated by the defeat, he added, “My bracers are fur-lined.”

“Ugh…” Shahla groaned, “How does anyone live out here? It’s hell.”

“It’d be better if we had something to take our minds off the walking.” Najeem sighed, “Unfortunately, Captain Conscientious here won’t let us forget.” He gestured to Seang at the head of the pack.

“Only five more miles to go! Let’s move it!” the nun commanded.

Kameko visibly rolled her eyes.

Shahla thought to herself for a moment, “Take our minds off it? Oh! Lokapele!” Shahla caused the somber-looking Aotearoan to jump with a start at her lively tone, “Lokapele, do you think you could sing us a song? Or a poem?”

Lokapele furrowed her brow, reeling back from her, “I have written no songs in months.”

Shahla frowned, “But you’re always writing songs…”

Lokapele scoffed, “Who the hell has time to write songs anymore? Maybe wait a hundred years after this war ends and you’ll hear songs.”

With that, Lokapele pushed ahead in the group, leaving Shahla feeling disheartened.

“Bah. Everyone’s down on themselves and everyone else right now.” Najeem muttered, “Well, except you, I guess. Everyone still likes you for some reason.”

Shahla shook her head. “Not when I do stupid things like that. I didn’t consider that she wasn’t in the mood for any kind of singing.”

“Yeah, but you’re still the last one to ever make someone dislike you. I’d say that’s pretty impressive.”

Shahla shook her head. “No one’s angry with me because I’m not brave enough to make anyone angry with me. I can’t stand up for myself except on rare conditions.”

“Well, maybe that’s what we need right now.” Najeem huffed, “Though of course, I could never help myself from getting into an argument.”

Shahla let out a giggle, “I’ve seen you argue for things you don’t even believe in!”

“Most of the time, it’s fun.” Najeem grinned.

As if the world was trying to prove him wrong, Kameko asked Vai for the umpteenth time, “Are you sure we’re going the right way?”

“How the fuck is that even a question, you bird brained bitch?” Vai snapped, “You keep asking me that, even when the gods damned sun is plain in the sky! I’ve studied way finding for all my life. I think I have an inkling of an idea of where I’m going.”

Kameko scoffed, “Way finding? You mean that thing your sea scum filled ass does when you hold your hand up to the sky pretending to know what you’re doing?”

Shahla sighed. Not again.

“I do know what I’m doing!” Vai growled. “Way finding has helped my people navigate the open ocean before your squinty-eyed brethren could even find a tree to make a boat out of!”

“Oh, so you want to play it that way, huh? Well, I’ll tell you what, fat ass, you better take that back before I roast your fucking fingers off so you won’t have anything to ‘measure the stars’ with next time you try to cop a feel on the sky.”

“Listen here, you disrespectful little c-”

“Stop!” Seang snapped. “Could you all act your goddamn age? It’s like I’m leading a line of schoolchildren here. Vai, just because something’s old doesn’t make it infallible. I’ve seen you correct our course several times already. And Kameko, stop distracting him, so he can do his job.”

“You certainly like to act like you’re leading a pack of kids, Captain Condescension.” Kameko shot back.

“Damn, that one’s so much better.” Najeem whispered.

“Shouldn’t we stop them?” Shahla asked.

“I can’t be bothered. Break ‘em up and they’ll just start bickering all over again.”

“Maybe I wouldn’t have to condescend you all if you stopped pushing each other’s buttons and respected my authority!’

“So it’s all about your authority again, huh? I’m gonna say whatever I damn well please. And you’re welcome to try and do what the last tyrant who ruled over me did.”

Seang sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose.

“Guys, can we please stop this? This isn’t getting us anywhere.” Shahla intervened, “If we keep going at each other’s throats and doubting our allies, we’ll never get to Bortae. Vai will get us there. I know he will.”

She thought she heard Shakti scoff, but she ignored it.

“Thank you,” Seang said with a huff.

“Y-you’re not innocent in this, Seang.” Shahla muttered with difficulty.

Seang raised an eyebrow, but sighed, “I...I suppose you’re right.”

Shahla let herself fall back as the three aggressors separated themselves from each other for the time being. Shakti came up from behind her.

“Take my advice when I say let them go at it, Shahla,” Shakti said.

“What?” Shahla asked.

“This group’s cohesion is doomed. Don’t try so hard to keep the fractures from showing. You’ll set yourself up for disappointment.”

“What are you trying to say?”

“You’re only gonna get hurt the closer you get to these people before the whole thing implodes, Shahla. This group has been going downhill ever since Xinhou. And take it from me, you do not want to be around when that all culminates.”

“Be around?” Shahla asked, “Don’t tell me-”

“I have my limits, Shahla. I’m not going to stick around if we end up in any deeper shit.”

“Are you kidding me?” Shahla hissed, “Shakti, you’ve fought a war with us.”

“And I’m not so much a fool as to fall for the sunk cost fallacy.”

“But the Nikan-”

“Will fall like any other empire. Someone will take care of them. It doesn’t have to be us.”

She left Shahla stunned by the pure disregard for the existential threat of the empire from a woman who’d spent months upon months helping them fight.

“Maybe someone will come along and clean the mess up for us.” Shahla murmured, “But that doesn’t mean good people are allowed to just sit back and do nothing on the off chance a hero might arise. Until that person steps up, it has to be us.”

Shakti sighed, “Forget I said anything.” Then she simply left Shahla alone.

How could Shakti possibly be thinking about abandoning them? After all this time? After she’d promised herself to commit?

“Guys!” Kameko called from atop a hill, “I found something!”

Shahla climbed up the hill along with the others and saw what Kameko was pointing to: a caravan of about fifty or so wagons.

“Food…” Najeem muttered.

“Look at the wagons. Nikan sponsored those bastards.” Kameko said, “There’s literally no reason not to attack them.”

“Think we can take all of them, though? There’re a lot of guards.” Seang said.

“There’s a river nearby. Plenty of shadows cast by the wagons themselves. Sun’s out. Moon was full last night.” Kameko said, “I think we’ve got this.”

“Alright. Lokapele, cut them off. Kameko, Vai, and I will handle the guards. The rest of you, get all noncombatants out of their wagons.” Seang ordered.

Everyone cared more about food than they did Seang’s commands, so they obeyed without complaint.

Lokapele lifted a hunk of molten rock out of the ground and kicked it, sending the chunk soaring into the path of the first wagon and spooking the horse.

Kameko transformed into a sparrow and fell on top of the guards, glaive on fire. Seang sent panic throughout everyone with flashes of blinding light while Vai drew the tide of the river out to flood the land and get the wagon wheels stuck in mud.

Shahla’s eyes shot open as white light surged from her. Random caravan guards started dropping like flies, dozing off with the same light in their eyes.

Those she couldn’t put to sleep, she invaded with visions of lunacy and madness as she made her way through the developing fray towards the wagons. Her practice with her abilities had really been paying off.

Najeem opened the first wagon’s tarp flaps, only to be nearly shot in the head by a crossbow. With a dismissive wave of her hand, Shahla put the quivering boy wielding the weapon into a half-asleep trance. She couldn’t put people that scared to sleep, no matter how much energy she exerted.

Najeem took the weapon away as Shakti hopped into the wagon and started grabbing supplies.

Combined, the three of them rounded up at least thirty or forty noncombatants among the caravan. Or at least, what they could capture. A good seventeen wagons escaped and ran away. Many people simply abandoned their goods.

Lokapele, Seang, Kameko and Vai got the guards to drop their weapons. They herded them over to the other hostages.

“So what do we do with them?” Vai asked.

Kameko tightened her grip on her glaive. “These Khongirat guards sold themselves to Nikan like dogs. I think they deserve what we would do to any other Nikan soldier that crossed our path.”

“They’re mercenaries, Kameko, not soldiers.” Seang said.

“Mercenaries who serve under state-sponsored merchants. So soldiers.” Kameko argued.

“I’m with Kameko on this one.” Vai said, “I don’t like it, but if they run and tell a Nikan patrol about us, they’ll start hunting us again.”

“Agreed.” Najeem said coldly.

“These people have their families with them,” Shahla said, “I’m certain they would keep quiet out of gratitude.”

“Yeah, it’d be kinda messed up to just slaughter them all.” Shakti agreed. “How would we be better than the Nikan themselves?”

All of them looked at Lokapele, who looked back at as many of them as she could. “What? I’m the deciding vote?”

Seang nodded.

“Fuck, guys. That’s a lot of pressure.” Lokapele complained. She closed her eyes in contemplation.

Some of the caravan members were figuring out that they were trying to decide what to do and started pleading to them in Nikan and their native languages.

“Bi zui!” Kameko snapped before telling them something in a calmer tone. That got them to quiet down.

“We beg of you, madam.” one man got on his knees and begged in Qahtanad. “We are but humble traders. Take our goods and go.”

“You’re not just traders.” Kameko growled, “You’re the people who live in comfy homes given to you by the empire because you’re good little errand boys for them. Meanwhile, the people in the country and in other provinces starve.”

“Please, just let us-”

“And now here you are, begging for your life like a pathetic coward. And the thing is, you’re not even ashamed. You don’t have the balls to take responsibility for the crimes you were complacent in.” Kameko spat.

“Yes, yes, we are cowards!” the poor man agreed with her, as if it would convince her to let them go.

Shahla saw what was coming as Kameko lifted her glaive. She turned away, but the sound of squelching flesh never came.

Kameko had only lifted her weapon before Seang caught her arm.

“That’s enough.” She said.

Shahla expected Kameko to protest, but she just blinked, then lowered her weapon with a gulp.

“Tell them we’re letting them go.” Lokapele said.

Kameko sighed, then snapped, “Zou! Zou kai!”

The caravaners scrambled to their feet and ran away as fast as they could.

____________________________________________________________________________

Najeem bore through the pain in his wrist as he helped move food, water, and traveling gear from the wagons to the ground.

They could only take a limited amount and it saddened all of them to see so much food go to waste.

In the evening, they started the first proper fire they’d had in weeks and cooked up whatever meats and vegetables hadn’t rotted yet.

Vai and Shakti wrangled a few of the remaining horses for themselves and eventually got one for each of them, cutting their trip down significantly.

But among all their revelry and looting, Najeem couldn’t stop himself from asking, “Are you guys sure this is a good idea? What if someone sees the smoke?”

“Lighten up, Najeem.” Seang chuckled, which was a squarely unsettling image. “This caravan was the first human contact we’ve had since entering Khongira. Even if someone saw us, they’d probably be so far away that they wouldn’t get to us until we’re long gone.”

Najeem sighed and bit off a few segments of a beef skewer he’d cooked for himself while the others laughed and joked. Lokapele actually managed to belt out a poem. He’d been noticing that her enthusiasm for it had been declining since Xinhou.

When everyone started rolling out their new, but also used sleeping mats, Seang brought up the question the rest were dreading, “Who’s taking first watch tonight.”

“I’ll cover it.” Najeem said immediately, much to the relief of the rest.

“I’ll go second, then.” Seang said, “And Vai, are you good for last?”

The Aotearoan nodded, “That’s fine.”

Najeem dragged a crate away from the fire and took a seat on it as the others drifted off to sleep. He looked out over the grasslands that seemed to go on forever and the similarly infinite night sky.

For the first time in a while, he felt a pang of homesickness. Not that he had much of a home, being a mamluk. Even so, Prince Ahmed was a good ruler. And he had people-other Asasiyun-who he could talk to. Who understood him because they had gone through the exact things he had.

Prince Ahmed was likely dead now. And if he wasn’t, the poor man was being driven mad by some Nikan torturer. And the Asasiyun probably served prince Hussein in the west now. That was another half of the world away.

Had it really taken this long for him to think of home?

Najeem winced as he rested his chin on his right palm. He untied his bracer and uncovered a rather grotesque bruise. He’d been applying salve to it every night, but it was still a nasty purplish green. Najeem had swiped a refill of healing salve from the caravan to replenish his dwindling supply. He undid the clay jar’s lid and started applying it on his skin. It burned, but only mildly. That just meant this stuff was of higher quality. Probably Qahtan-made.

Najeem rarely enjoyed taking watches when he wasn’t tired. It gave him time to think.

Why do I care so much about hiding this thing? What’s to be embarrassed about? It’s a bruise.

Well, it wasn’t about the bruise. It was about how he’d gotten it. The first rule of being a warrior of any kind is to never underestimate your enemy. And that’s what he had done. Like a complete fool.

But so what? I just have to do better next time.

No! He was an Asasiyun, the most feared warriors in all the realms, matched only by the savage Ashmen in the west. A blunder like that brought shame to all of his rank.

Najeem took a deep breath and tried to calm himself. It was beginning to look like he would either spend the night with regret or with anger. And neither were great in bed.

As the darkness from shadows of the grass coagulated, Najeem cast an icy stare at the humanoid form that rose from them. “I’m guessing you have something to say?”

“I do. But I won’t bother you unless you ask.” Steel looked out at the sky. “Isn’t it beautiful? The canvas of my brethren?”

“What brethren?” Najeem asked, “Other Shedim?”

“No. When the sun stops providing its light, the sky is full of shadows. Even all the lights in the sky are shadows from lights that were once where you see them now, thousands of years ago.”

Najeem frowned, “You don’t make any sense.”

“I don’t have to. I’m a magic ghost.” Steel’s beady white eyes narrowed as though he were smiling at his own quip.

Najeem sighed. He paused for a minute, looking for something to say.

“No need to ease me into any conversation. Just say what’s on your mind.” the Shedim turned to him.

Najeem clicked his tongue. “Someone’s perceptive. Fine...how much do you know about the world?”

“Straight to the big questions, huh? Well, I’m sorry to disappoint, but no more than you do. We’re all the same naked apes and magic ghosts.” Steel mused, “Kings are no less stupid than the average peasant without the education they got with their parents’ prestige.”

“You claim to be on the same level as me and yet you always find time to throw nuggets of wisdom at me. And I’m inclined to pick one up and throw it back.” Najeem muttered.

“I know my universe. I know how the world works from my perspective and what exactly I wish to do with this existence. On the other hand, I know jack shit about everyone else.” Steel said, “Do you really want wisdom from me? You have met all my past attempts with that perpetually sour face of yours.”

“Hit me with one. I may be more receptive during these trying times.” Najeem shrugged.

Steel nodded slowly, as if he were listening to a slow drumbeat, “Alright. You see all my brethren up in the sky? All the nothing?”

“What about the stars?”

“The stars you see don’t actually exist and...well, we’ll get to that some other time. But everything you see in my domain is an illusion. Everything that’s actually out there is hidden.”

“And you call the illusion beautiful?”

“No. I call what’s hidden by the illusion beautiful. The shadows and lights of the night sky are never seen. But they are still there. Unlike the moon or the attention-demanding sun, they do not need to be seen to exist. And because of that, they are free. No one has expectations from them, save the ones they choose for themselves. They cannot be chased and they cannot be defeated, because we can never reach them.”

“And all this personification of heavenly bodies is for…?”

“It’s a nugget of wisdom. Figure out how to pick it up yourself.” Steel scoffed.

Najeem sat in deep thought for a moment. He’d spent his life studying theology, philosophy and literature alongside his combative training. But whatever metaphor Steel was trying to make, it wasn’t working very well.

“I’m trying to tell you that in order to be alleviated of your regret and anger, you must let go of the shame that anchors it.”

“What shame?” Najeem asked, “I’m rather proud, actually.”

Steel scoffed again, “You think the two are different?”

“They’re opposites. What do you expect me to think?” Najeem huffed.

“Think about the night sky again. I told you they are free. Why is that?”

“Because they can’t be reached. No one can see them, so no one can put expectations on them.” Najeem summarized.

“Precisely. And because they have no expectations weighing them down, they may seek their fullest potential, unhindered by anyone or anything.” Steel explained, “Now let’s presume for a moment that you were ashamed. I’ll play along with your assertion that you are not, but for the sake of argument-which I know you love-let’s consider it.”

“Alright.”

“Why exactly would you be feeling that shame?”

“Likely because I would’ve failed an assignment. Or shown one of my comrades disrespect.”

“All things that are involved in living up to the legendary name of the Asasiyun order.” Steel said, “If that is the source of your ailments, perhaps you should let it go.”

“Well, maybe I want something more from life than decades of mediocrity and failure.”

“Ironically, the only people who don’t fail are the mediocre. There is nothing wrong with failure, Najeem. All the greatest warriors, poets, writers and scholars have experienced more failure than they have success. To expect success from yourself every time and hold yourself to a higher standard than those who you grew up hearing legends about is rather arrogant, don’t you think?”

Najeem sighed. “I’ll give you that. But how am I supposed to become better as an Asasiyun, or even as a person, if I don’t set a high standard for myself?”

“You do not become better when you are bogged down by the expectations of others. It is good to set goals, yes, but if you rigidly set yourself to a high standard, you only learn to hate yourself when you fail. And when you succeed, all you do is pat yourself on the back rather than trying to learn something.”

“Without a standard to live up to, most people lose much of their purpose. The name of the Asasiyun is an honor to live up to and gives me direction of how I should act.”

“I would argue that it’s better to live without purpose or creed and still be looking to make one rather than living according to one that was given to you.” Steel said, “You never chose the Asasiyun order. And thus, if you devote your life to it without having thought about it, it isn’t really your life anymore.”

Najeem’s head fell into his hands, “You’re hurting my brain.”

“Don’t focus on all that. Just know that the standards you try to live up to are what cause you pain. If you wish to choose that pain, you are welcome to. Ask Kameko. Pain is not always a bad thing. But if you didn’t choose that pain, perhaps it would be best for your happiness to simply let go of the pride and shame that comes with it. Both cause you to be a worse man. What we see of the night sky is not actually what the night sky is. But the sky doesn’t care. The sky knows it exists, and that’s all it really needs.”

“I think...I think I get a little about what you’re saying. But I’m still mostly confused.”

“Then perhaps we can have this conversation again after you learn some things.” Steel said, “Oh. And do your job. You have company.”

“What?”

Najeem looked out across the steppe and caught sight of a volley of arrows heading straight for him. Najeem sank into the shadow of the crate he was sitting upon, then re-emerged closer to the camp.

“Everyone get up!” Najeem shouted as the attackers rode up on their horses.

Najeem clashed with one raider, knocking him off his horse, but froze as another grabbed Shakti and pressed the blade of a curved saber to her throat. His opponent knocked him to the ground.

One man on horseback, better equipped than all the rest, shouted at his men in Khongirat. One of his men responded.

“Qahtanad.” The man said in a steady, gravelly voice, “Is this your caravan?”

“It wasn’t until a few hours ago.” Najeem muttered, not daring to move from his position on the ground, given all the glinting arrow tips aimed at him and his allies. “Sorry to say you all are a bit late to be raiding the caravaneers.”

“Why don’t you let go of our friend there and we can work something out?” Seang offered.

The leader of the men narrowed his monolid eyes. “You know, I think I’ll keep the seven of you around for the Qahtanad slave markets. They’ll pay quite a premium for Sea People.”

“I would suggest you reconsider, lest we have to turn to more unsavory methods of securing ourselves.” Seang said.

“You expect me to believe you’ll honor any agreement we make? With a Nikan leash on you?” the leader glared at Kameko. “Bind them.”

The Khongirats advanced towards them, rope in hand.

Shahla’s eyes glowed white, pacifying the man holding Shakti hostage.

“Very well.” Seang unleashed a flash of light. Najeem helped Shakti back over towards them. When the stunned riders were shaking off their temporary blindness, Seang asked, “Are you sure you want to die on this hill?”

Najeem frowned at some raiders. Many had let their plumed helmets fall off to rub their eyes and those that he could see looked incredibly young. No older than sixteen.

“Is there a particular reason you’ve enlisted a bunch of boys to help you rob caravans?” Kameko asked.

“Who are you?” the man muttered.

“My allies and I are independent of any nation, though we do intend to assist Qahtan in its civil war against Prince Ali. What you saw is a sample of the supernatural abilities we possess. We may be small, but we alone raided this caravan. Perhaps you should’ve thought of that.” Seang said.

“And the Nikan?”

“I’m not even Nikan. I’m Yamatese.” Kameko scoffed, “And a captain of the White Tiger rebellion.”

The man frowned, “I thought the White Tiger was dead.”

“I’m all that’s left after the siege of Xinhou.” Kameko said, “Who the hell are you?”

“Orhan Ucar.” The man looked down, uncertain of himself. “What’s this deal you wish to offer?”

“My allies and I need to get to Koinelia as fast as we can. And we have goods that we plundered from this caravan and can’t use.” Seang explained, “We’ll give you all our extra supplies, including food, textile materials, spices, and many other items. In exchange, you take us to Ash-Sham. Or as close as you can get.”

Orhan looked at his raiders, as though gauging their opinion.

“You see, there’s a fundamental problem with that trade.” Orhan said, “I am the Khan of our clan. I cannot simply leave them to guide you across the steppe for who knows how long.”

“But, sir, we need-” one boy started.

“I know, Mochung.” Orhan assured the boy, “But our people cannot move so frequently. Our animals need to graze.”

“How about a small detachment or a guide?” Seang asked.

“We do not have enough people to spare anyone.” Orhan shook his head, “But...I suppose we could offer you a place with us as we make our next migration. I suppose we could head west. But we will only be on the move for about a week.”

Seang narrowed her eyes. “Hm. Acceptable, but I will only offer half of our unused supplies.”

“But you said you didn’t need-”

“I know. But supplies are good bargaining chips out here.” Seang replied, “We’ll accompany your clan.”