1
“Who are you?”
A young boy’s voice drifted through the darkness, soft as a breath of wind. It stirred him from the formless void in which he had been suspended.
He tried to answer and ask where he was, but his body would not obey him. The words remained trapped deep inside him, shapeless and silent.
“Are you lost?” the voice asked, closer now, and curious.
His eyes finally opened to a blaze of green-blue light that seared his vision. For a moment, he could see nothing but blinding brightness.
Slowly, a shadow took shape above him, bending over his body. Its features were swallowed by the glare of the sky behind it.
Pain flooded his body all at once as air forced its way into his lungs, raw and unfamiliar, as though he were breathing for the first time.
“Arlon, come back right now!” an adult voice called out, sharp with urgency.
The blurred shadow above him sharpened into the face of a boy who looked about twelve years old. He had gray skin, white hair, and a respirator mask covering his mouth and nose.
“I found a man lying here!” the boy shouted over his shoulder. “He’s not wearing a mask, and he’s still alive!”
Heavy steps pounded across the ground—sand, or perhaps salt, he couldn’t tell—closing in.
“Step away from him!” the adult commanded. But the boy didn’t move. He crouched beside him instead.
At last, he found his voice, fragile and unfamiliar: “I… I don’t know who I am…”
A tall figure stepped into his field of view beside the boy, looming over him. It was a man, his face hidden behind a mask, his body wrapped in a brown cape. He carried a long staff and a heavy bag slung over his back. The man on the ground gasped, his throat dry.
“How can you breathe here without a mask?” the tall man asked, his voice stern.
“Give me… water…”
The tall man took a flask from his hip and handed it to the boy.
“Don’t waste a drop,” he said.
The boy opened it and let a few drops fall into the man’s mouth.
“What should we do with him?” he said.
“Help me get him up. We’ll put him on top of Helmu.”
They dragged him from the ground and hoisted him face down onto the back of a foul-smelling, six-foot-tall quadruped. The creature growled but did not flinch; it was massive and powerful, clearly accustomed to bearing heavy loads. The tall man lifted his bag and secured it on the creature’s back beside the man’s prone body.
“Where do you think he’s from?” the boy asked.
“Don’t know, don’t care. We’ll trade him for some grubits. Come on, Helmu!”
The beast lurched into motion, guided by the rope in the tall man’s hand. Pressed against its coarse, rank fur, the man swayed with each step, his face scraping lightly against its hide, unable to move a single muscle.
“Please… take me off this creature… I… can’t stand the smell…” he rasped, struggling for breath.
But they ignored him.
“He doesn’t look like a Munrak,” the boy said.
“He does to me. Lying out here without a mask and still breathing?” The tall man cast a brief glance at the body slung over the creature’s back. “We might even have to crack his skull with a rock and leave him for the Midday Sun.”
After a long walk across the vast, salty waste, beneath the pale light of dawn, he could hear the distant murmur of a crowded settlement. Pressed against the beast’s back, he saw rudimentary barracks rising among the rusted ruins of what appeared to be a long-abandoned industrial facility.
He felt dizzy, and a tingling began at the tips of his fingers and toes. The animal stopped walking. Struggling to lift his head, he saw the tall man stretching out his hands toward another figure. Behind them stood a cage containing two figures who appeared to be human.
“I see you’re bringing one of those Munrak savages,” said the trader. “What condition is he in?”
“Go ahead and take a look.”
The trader came closer, gripping the man’s head by the hair and lifting it. His breath hissed through his mask, and his eyes were completely black.
“This is no Munrak. Look at his skin.”
The tall man leaned closer, examining him.
“He is like you and me, but with softer skin, much softer, and unburnt. Does he speak our tongue?”
“He does,” the boy said.
“Shut up!” his elder snapped. He turned to the slave trader. “I’ve only heard him mumble nonsense.”
“You’ve heard him ask for water,” the boy argued.
The man suddenly grabbed the slave trader’s hand.
“Who are you, and what is this damned place?” he said, his voice bursting with sudden rage.
The slave trader and the tall man stared at him with a mix of astonishment and amusement. He himself was surprised by his ability to move, even slightly, after the void in which he had been trapped until now.
“I’ll return the question to you,” the slave trader replied. “If you are neither a Munrak nor a Ba’haali, yet speak our tongue, then who are you? Or better yet—what are you?”
“I…”
He released the slave trader’s hand.
“I don’t know…”
The slaver turned to the tall man.
“I’ll give you ten grubits for him.”
“Only ten? I could have left him in the waste.”
“And yet, you didn’t.”
The tall man hesitated for a moment, then he nodded.
“Fine. He’s yours.”
The man could not move. He wished he could throw himself off the beast and run, or at least fight them. A strange warmth spread across his back. Everything around them grew brighter, hotter.
The slave trader and the tall man lowered their heads; their shadows lay short beneath them.
“Alright. I’ll buy him this afternoon, after midday.”
The settlement stirred into motion. Vendors hastily gathered their goods while buyers mounted their beasts without a word.
The air was filled with the sharp, insistent sound of bells. Helmu growled as Arlon grabbed the rope.
“Let’s go find shelter,” he said, pulling the rope and leading Helmu toward a group of people already entering an underground refuge through a hole in the ground. “Merek, what are you waiting for?” he shouted back to the tall man.
Merek had remained behind, shaking hands with the slave trader.
“Go ahead, I’ll join you!” he shouted.
Arlon kept moving, following the crowd streaming into the shelter. The bells had stopped. The heat intensified, rising from the ground in wavering currents. The man atop Helmu felt the beast’s fur growing hotter by the second.
A dreadful roar erupted in the distance. The crowd remained loud at first, until the sound grew nearer, louder, more ferocious. Arlon slowed and listened as unease spread and voices began to fall silent.
To the east, a line of dark specks flickered within the mirage. They grew larger as the roar swelled.
Unease turned to panic.
“Munraks!” someone cried.
The specks resolved into riders mounted on wheeled engines.
