The journey home was uneventful.


    Most zombies had the good sense to avoid Bokor. The reason we lived in a fortress wasn’t to protect ourselves from the zombies. It was to protect ourselves from humans.


    More Bokor died at the hands of humans than to zombies or Touched. There was something about the power we had that drove humans to imprison us. Plus, they really didn’t like having to pay us to handle their zombie problems. Behind our walls, there was little that could reach us. It was one of the safest places on the planet.


    The fortress was on an island in the middle of the largest lake in the southern kingdom. Every little bit of protection helped keep our daily lives easier and it was one less thing that we had to worry about. Apprentices stood watch on top of the turrets, bows in hand with watch glass nearby. It was their job to alert the guard if anyone or anything tried to cross our watery borders.


    The bridge itself was an impressive structure. Almost half a mile long, it was wide enough for three wagons and it had a walkway underneath that only the Bokor were allowed to use.


    The guard station at the base of the bridge was staffed by a pair of Bokor and their apprentices. These masters were old enough that they didn’t go on missions anymore, but they were more than capable of dealing with the day-to-day filtering through the gate.


    This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.


    “Master Bran!” The old master in front of the guard house next to the gate got out of his chair.


    “Master Trine,” my master bowed his head. I already had my head lowered. It was disrespectful to look at a master before you were acknowledged. Cleaning out the harvesting rooms is not a job I was eager to do again.


    “Enough of the pleasantries,” Master Trine’s voice was full of hunger. “You’re back earlier than expected.


    We straightened up. I thought it was weird that my master bowed to some of the older masters, but not others. I had asked him about it before, but he just said that I’d understand him when I was a master.


    “It was a simple mission,” Master Bran nodded at the gate, “but we have been walking for a while.


    “Of course!” Master Trine snapped his fingers and the gate began cranking open.


    Master Trine stepped forward and lowered his voice, “Did you get many?”


    My master slung the bag off of his shoulder and opened it for the older master to see. Master Trine’s eyes lit up when he saw the five hearts inside.


    “So many!” Master Trine motioned for one of the apprentices to come over. The boy winced as he ran over. He was new, about six years younger than me. The Bokor started training apprentices when they were about twelve. Before that, well, there wasn’t much of a life before getting taken by a master.


    The apprentice took the bag and ran off through the gate. I could tell by the look on his face that he was scared. I didn’t blame him. The Bokor gave the younger apprentices the more dangerous jobs. It was how they weeded out the ones that wouldn’t make it.


    “That one’s probably a dud,” Master Trine remarked as we watched the boy leave. He looked over at me, “What about yours? Isn’t he supposed to start his missions soon?”