It was Yamal’s idea to finally halt, and though he’d made the decision partially out of fear, even upon reflection, he could not find fault with it. Despite the dire consequences it’d brought upon them.
Those tunnels were a labyrinth. Delving recklessly into them might’ve kept them hidden, yes, but it’d also have gotten them lost. They nearly were lost as it was.
He’d convinced the Silent One to stop, and they backtracked to a known passage, then hidden until the Children finished snooping.
Yamal had hoped to sneak by after they’d left. That way, they could monitor the flow of guards and simply follow after them.
What he hadn’t anticipated was the zeal with which the guards protected that entrance to the labyrinth.
They’d posted two dozen zealots, priests, and who-knew-else at the only exit.
And so, they’d waited for Maiya to wake up. A day had passed. Then two. Their situation grew dire with every hour. Neither had brought with them supplies, but Maiya, ever the careful planner, thankfully had. She’d packed a sizeable waterskin and some emergency rations, along with magic orbs. Many, many orbs, in fact.
Yamal’s merchant eyes had widened with each one they found. After having witnessed them all, he was almost sure they’d fall out of their sockets.
There was so much wealth on Maiya, in fact, that Yamal didn’t doubt she was richer than everyone within a hundred miles—combined.
The woman grew more and more mysterious with each passing day, and even the ever-placid Silent One couldn’t hide his surprise.
Unfortunately, no amount of wealth would’ve gotten them past their predicament. They’d given Maiya almost all the water they could, and though they’d carefully rationed her snacks, dehydration began to take hold.
Unable to endure any longer, they’d given in and surrendered to the cult.
The Children of Ash didn’t have a jail, per se, so Yamal and the Silent One were allowed to wander. Just that their days of being a part of the organization were over. For Maiya, as well. They’d all been excommunicated, but as the perpetrator of the crime, Maiya was to be executed.
No amount of lying and pretending that Yamal or the Silent One had been the one to touch the strange tree convinced them. It seemed everyone who ever did died immediately.
Which brought them to their current predicament—the priests refused to accept that Maiya was still alive. A simple test of her pulse would prove it, of course, but these weren’t rational human beings. They were the craziest, most twisted group of people ever to roam the Known World. Reason had no power here.
Yamal clutched his hair. He stood around a dusty old table with the Silent One in one of the many abandoned buildings in the Village of Bahurai.
“We cannot stop them once their ‘ceremony’ has started,” Yamal spat.
As was customary for the Children, Maiya’s cremation—no, execution—was to be a ritual.
The Silent One scribbled a sentence in his notebook. ‘We find where they’re keeping her. Take her back.’
Yamal shook his head. “I considered that already. It’d be good if we could find her, but I suspect they’re keeping her in that labyrinth. You know as well as I that there is no returning to that place. And even if she’s not inside, they could be hiding her in any one of the houses around here. It’d take far too long to search them all. We have only a few short hours.”
The Silent One stared at Yamal in expectation.
“Our only opportunity is when they take her from wherever they’re keeping her to the ceremony, but before the actual ceremony begins. She’ll no doubt be under heavy guard, but convoys are at their most vulnerable while moving.”
The Silent One raised a brow.
“I used to be a merchant. It’s been several years now, but merchants are always regularly attacked while traveling. Much easier to defeat a few guards on the move than it is to break into a storehouse inside a city. Usually. Still, we’ll need to get past the guards. Think you can knock them out?”
His tall friend nodded.
Yamal sighed.
“What a mess. Who would’ve thought I’d be the brigand, plotting a raid on a convoy? Life truly takes us to some strange places, doesn’t it?”
The Silent One chuckled silently, which was the biggest physical reaction Yamal had seen the man give him.
Maiya, you owe us for this. And I, at least, intend to collect in full.
The moment arrived. Yamal had initially feared the Children would make this a private, unannounced ritual. If that happened, there would have been no chance of saving Maiya.
Thankfully, the Children of Ash were not ones for subtlety. With much fanfare, priests marched through the streets of Bahurai. It reminded Yamal of a parade, yet instead of flower throwers, they poured blood. They were followed by yet other priests and a few Sisters of Gray, who all wore dark, hooded robes.
Finally, the procession bearing Maiya arrived. They’d bound her wrists and ankles to a thick bough and carried her horizontally, with one man hoisting the bough over his shoulder at the front, with another at the rear.
“Well, we found them,” Yamal murmured to the Silent One. “That’s the good news. The bad news is… How in the realms are we going to escape with her in this throng?”
It wasn’t the guards that worried him. Most were far enough away that Yamal and the Silent One could reasonably escape before they could react. The crowd of Initiates that thronged around the group was another story. Even if the mob didn’t actively try and stop them, their presence alone would slow them down.
The procession marched steadily to a pyre that had been erected in the center of the village. As per cult tradition, it, too, had been soaked in blood, and also oil. So very much oil. It would light quickly, and once lit, there would be no putting it out.
Yamal’s frustration grew with each step they took.
She’s right there! Why do you always hesitate in times like these?
Yet, the feat looked impossible. What was the point of sacrificing their lives if it didn’t even help Maiya? No reward was worth his life!
The Silent One witnessed the spectacle with his typical lack of emotion.
Does nothing faze him? Just who is this man?
If someone were to open the man’s head, Yamal suspected they might find steel instead of flesh. He’d encountered no one his entire life with such composure. Well, perhaps excepting Maiya.
The procession finally arrived at the pyre, and Maiya’s bough was raised vertically. She hung from her wrist bindings, and her raised position meant all who’d gathered could witness the horror that was about to unfold. The dreaded torches arrived—no less than a dozen—and the pyre lit.
It took only moments to spread like a ring, heating the fuel rapidly. The fire grew hotter as the wood began to burn, and Yamal knew it was over.
I’m sorry, Maiya. I’m sorry we couldn’t—!
The Silent One moved. He pushed through the crowd with quick, efficient motions, which parted like water before him. Next thing Yamal knew, he was following in the large man’s wake.