“Are you sure about this, Abyad?” Al’Namir’s voice was hesitant, but clear as a bell as it echoed through the throne room. I nodded my head, my eyes flickering from the King to his brother. They both wore expressions laced with concern, but holding hope. I’d been spending the last two years tracking down that damned Child of Calamity. Two years had also passed since coming home from Zarvan. I was sure I could pin his location, now. The other things that had occurred in that time…I brushed off an invisible speck of dust from my shoulder to compose my thoughts, as if also brushing off the memories of the last two years.


    “I’m most certain, Namir. I’ve done the research: he exists.” I replied. The memory of Itunu helping me as I unearthed the contracts weighed heavily on my mind.


    “Fine.” Namir replied, waving his hand with dismissal.


    “Take the Sixth Battalion with you; where is he now?” He asked.


    “If my hunch is correct, he’s in a cave about 15 kilometers from Shahin’s palace.” I answered.


    “15 kilometers from his palace?!” Namir shouted. His voice resounded through the throne room, and it took everything in me not to jump back at his words. I adjusted my collar, and nodded.


    “Yes, Sir.” I replied.


    “I don’t want but three men from the Sixth Battalion for this reason.”


    “Are you crazy, Abyad?!” Namir exclaimed. “You expect to sit right under Shahin’s nose without any prior announcement, just to find a man you have no proof exists?!”


    I cracked my neck, massaging the knot in my right shoulder from training yesterday.


    “He exists, Namir.” I replied, fighting an eager smile from spreading across my face. The more I thought about it, though, the smile faded. The man’s existence wasn’t proven, but old contracts I’d found in Zarvan’s library were convincing enough. They were all in a dead language I knew nothing about, only able to translate them with Itunu’s help—if Hala were here, she may have been able to decipher them; then again, if Hala were here, I wouldn’t be in search of this supposed Child of Calamity to begin with.


    “He could be our only hope at knowing whether or not Hala is alive.” I persisted, the glimmer leaving my eyes as the worse case scenario was brought to life in my mind’s eye.


    “The boy has never been wrong, Brother.” Asad told Al’Namir.


    I hated that he was correct—and if I was always right, then my intuition was telling me that Otlak was a cesspool of danger; and Al’Hala’s life was ticking down by the minute.


    “Fine,” said the King. “Take three men of your choosing, and come back home safely.”


    “I don’t want to lose anyone else.”


    I nodded once more before turning on my heels. I was going to make haste, and if I couldn’t convince my men to leave today: I’d find three other men to bring with me. I needed soldiers who could battle the shadows themselves, not that I was anticipating on fighting much. The Child of Calamity was a depressing entity, and if my judgement served me correctly then he was all bark and no bite. There were three signatures on a majority of those contracts, the being didn’t work alone.


    In the years since Hala left, I had done far more than turn over a new leaf. I’d tasted the world, seen the peaks of each Kingdom and the valleys hidden beneath them. The cave we were headed towards was one I’d actually ventured into by mistake once at 21, seeking out a berry hidden in the same woods for Otlak’s pharmaceuticals. Why Shahin couldn’t do it, I’d never know—but I didn’t feel anything in that cave, which was the biggest seed of doubt I had. I tore my mind from the incessant voice telling me I was wrong as I made my way through the palace. My eyes narrowed on the training grounds, eager to find the men I was in search of.


    The smell of sweat and pheromones filled my nostrils—a challenge. The men’s cries became clearer as I got closer, and I found myself right in front of my first candidate: A lean man who cackled viciously through crooked teeth as he fought. Buma.


    His opponent was a pudgy man, and he stood little chance against my candidate. The chunky man was too cocky; Buma’s erratic movements were entirely unpredictable, just as the man’s temper. I’d gotten to know him when training at 18; Asad was surprised by my quick reflexes when I finally began taking my training seriously, and he matched me up with the middle-aged man to test how fast I actually was. Naturally, I was beaten to a pulp in the first minute. His boney fists were a force to be reckoned with. Buma danced around the pudgy man, flurrying strikes into his gut and back with such ferocity it almost made me cringe. As the man seemed done for, I cleared my throat.


    “Buma.” I called as he snickered. His laughter stopped immediately upon hearing my voice, and he tensed at the shoulders.


    “Abyad.” He said, his smile wiping off of his face. “I didn’t know you were there…”


    In the blink of an eye, the pudgy man was up and headed towards Buma.


    “You’re coming with me.” I said.


    Buma side-stepped the boulder of a man without looking at him, narrowly avoiding the tackle he was aiming to land. Another chuckle left his lips as the man pummeled to the ground, but he grumbled under his breath as he approached me. The homely, lean soldier stood beside me as we walked a bit further down the pathway.


    “What’s this about?” He asked. I smiled brightly, knowing pleasantries were above him. Support the creativity of authors by visiting Royal Road for this novel and more.


    “I have a mission for you.”


    “More important than trainin’ these newcomers?”


    “Much.”


    Buma crossed his arms, not taking kindly to my jovial demeanor. “Speak up, boy. What’s this about?”


    “We’re going to Otlak.” I announced. His face contorted with confusion as he blocked my path.


    “And what of my family, then?” He snapped.


    “They’ll be fine. You’re going to be paid handsomely. I’m bringing two others, come.” I said, pushing past him. Buma blocked my path once more, his brows furrowed.


    “Al’Namir has become too lenient with you, Abyad. He’s letting you choose men to bring with him?” He asked.


    “He merely approved another of my plans, Buma. The men I want are a part of my plan.”


    His temper grew more erratic as he cocked his fist back. I was prepared for this, too. As his fist went flying towards me, I almost ate it for lunch before blocking it. My hand sent reverberations of pain down my arm, as if cursing me. He was one of few people I still struggled to spar with—and his feelings towards me made it difficult to spar with him often. Our next candidate was a sparring circle away, and my expression was hardened with determination to get to him. Finally, Buma scoffed and retracted his fist. I watched the young man keenly as we approached, impressed by his speed and tact.


    In a breath’s time—a blink’s time, he was capable of moving behind his opponents. He faced a stocky man who seemed above average for a rookie, able to dodge Alfahd’s punches occasionally. I called for Alfahd, and his victory was swift. While he may not have had the most refined fighting skills, that’s what Buma and our third candidate were for. Alfahd was my age, and I met him at 20. He was the closest I’d come to meeting someone as innocent as Fatiha—nearly as oblivious, too. Few questions, and few words, just as terse as the expression he always wore. He smiled at me kindly, letting down the walls he constantly held up, and we exchanged greetings before he fell in line with Buma and I’s steps. On the far end of the training grounds, past the most feared soldiers sparring their paired rookies, was a patronly man who was sinewy. At first glance, he looked harmless—but as soon as he stepped into the sparring ring or onto the battlefield he was a sight to behold. His accuracy was mortifying, well-practiced in hitting a pressure point in a second’s time without fail. The man who taught me how to disarm Namir in the ring. Each rookie that stepped foot into his territory was down in record time, and he took on three opponents in the time it took to reach him.


    “Saerie.” I shouted, cupping my hands around my mouth before we made it to the ring. A new young man had stepped into the ring, and I was in no mood to wait. Saerie pulled his attention from his opponent, focusing on me and frowning. Each line in his face became more pronounced, as his gray hair shifted with the wind. He limped out of the sparring ring, and picked up his cane as his eyes narrowed on me.


    “Ya need somethin’?” He asked.


    “You, Themaz. You’re coming with me!” I said, beaming at him.


    Saerie cringed, and shook his head. He knew better than to argue with me, unlike Buma. Maybe it was the permanently injured leg that humbled him, or maybe it was wisdom. He had more wrinkles than any of us, but his capabilities were still so fine-tuned that his age was unbelievable.


    “Goddamnit…” he grumbled, walking behind the three of us.


    “You still haven’t fully explained it yet.” Buma chuffed. “What the hell are we doing, Abyad?”


    “We’re checking on Al’Hala.” I said simply. The three men froze, and a flashed them another smile. I knew that the moment I’d said anything about her—they may back out.


    I was thoroughly surprised to see each of the men become misty-eyed; shocked to have been given the honor of such a task. Buma buried his emotion with scorn, looking down to the ground for a moment before his eyes snapped back up to mine.


    “Can’t a single envoy do that?!” He asked.


    “We haven’t had an envoy allowed into Shahin’s palace since their wedding.” I confided in the men. They looked at each other with suspicion, and Saerie leaned in to keep the conversation private.


    “Do we know if she’s…alright?” He asked, insinuating the worst as he studied the hand that held his cane.


    I didn’t have an answer for him, and it made my blood simmer. I didn’t like having uncertainty in any of my plans, but I loosed a breath as I replied honestly.


    “We aren’t sure.” I replied, devastation lining my voice.


    “Then how the hell’re we getting in there?” Buma asked, speaking for the group once more.


    “We’re not. I have a lead on someone who can slip in and out without being seen, though.” I replied, my lips pulling back into a mischievous grin. I tried my hardest to hide the doubt nagging at me.


    “A lead…?” Alfahd asked.


    “I don’t know if ya realize this, yet, but we aren’t exactly the kind’a men you take to hunt down a lead.” Saerie said with the ghost of a grimace on his face.


    “I don’t need men of sheer strength, I need men capable of fighting the shadows themselves.” I replied.


    All bark, no bite. All bark, no bite. All bark, no bite.


    I hoped desperately we could do this without using force—the men I’d chosen were fast, not strong when compared to their counterparts. If this Child of Calamity were truly a strong immortal, we’d be screwed, to put it lightly. I just needed men capable of subduing the creature, not killing it. I could do the talking.


    “Huh?” Buma asked, crossing his arms.


    Other soldiers on the sparring grounds looked at me and my men with a hint of curiosity as I walked the men towards the stables. The smell of hay flooded my senses, the air thick with debris from horses shuffling about. I approached two adjoined stalls, eyeing two horses of similar stature—thick and brawny chestnut mares whose performance was impeccable on both land and water. I’d gotten to know them in my time hiding from Asad in the stables, when I wasn’t holing myself up in the library. The reins for the mares were heavy, no bit needed for the complacent horses.


    “We’re after a man of myth, boys. Keep your wits about you.” I explained as I took the horses from their stalls, reins tightly secured.


    I seized a third stall, handing the two horses to Buma and Alfahd, before opening the door and letting an intelligent mare clop out on her own.


    “Grab that thing some reins!” Buma exclaimed. “What the hell do you mean, ‘a man of myth’?!” He asked.


    “You’ll see when we get there—Bak here hardly needs reins, she’s smart enough to go without them.” I chuckled before tossing reins on the horse for the men’s mental wellbeing.


    Saerie watched the horse with an especially intense glare, taking in her sport-build and intense amber eyes.


    “She’s yours.” I said, handing the reins to Saerie. A shudder skittered down his spine as the horse looked at him expectantly,


    “The hell do I get this ‘un for?” He asked abruptly. I shot a sidelong glance at his leg, before bringing the men onwards; keeping the reasoning to myself.


    “I wonder…” I muttered, bringing them back towards the Grand Building.


    After fetching the final horse—Riah—from Namir’s personal stalls, the men looked at me with bewilderment. “Are…we leaving right now?” Alfahd asked. I looked at them with another charming smile, and I really hoped I didn’t have to go back to the sparring grounds for a moment as they looked at each other. Surprisingly, Buma was the first to hop on his horse.


    “The brat hasn’t written home in nine years, it’s time ta figure out why.” He said, plastering a smile over his apparent worry.