To his surprise, the burning sun did not tire Celeres as much as he expected. That first day in the desert had been one long run, fleeing ahead of the arrival of Prince Emhyr, but as the sun set, he still felt strong enough to continue long into the night. A gradual lightheadedness that caused him to stumble several times finally convinced him to collapse for the night. He pulled out a blanket, one of the few items in the pack, and curled up to sleep.

            The dawn crept over the nightglow in the east and crested, turning the sky blue and hiding the wandering stars. The light slid across Celeres’ face, towing him back to consciousness. He rose and rummaged through his backpack to get breakfast and examine all of its contents. There were unsettling few. Most of it was waterskins and hard rations, enough to get him across the desert if he was quick and careful. The only other items were the blanket, a dagger, a bladder of blood, and a vial of what turned out to be salt. It hardly seemed enough for a human to put up a fight against the legendary sand spiders of the Samcar Desert. Celeres could only hope the bugs were as scattered as the monsters in Yudoko territory.

            If Arva had been there, he could have told the young man of the predators of the region, the sand spiders, had been created during the Shard War by one of the proxies that had also changed the creatures of the north-out arm. Here, spiders had been badly distorted by the magic, growing to gargantuan proportions and laying waste to the surrounding countryside. Magically tied to the land of their birth, the giant bugs were ultimately limited in scope. By the time they were done, an ancient forest and acres of rich meadows were reduced to a blasted, bare land that gradually accumulated sand. The persistent survival of the spiders robbed the land of any water that fell on it, keeping the land a desert.

            Which is why Celeres found it such a shock to be rained on during the second day of his journey. The water poured down for hours before wind pushed away the clouds, turning the ground into a soggy mess. Wet and miserable, the young man slogged through, the sand clumping on his boots with every step. Still, the land drained quickly, and when he finally settled down for the night, the ground was bone dry.

            The third day was much like the first, brutally hot but surprisingly comfortable for Celeres. The night was cold, but the blanket held off the worst of it. Unfortunately, it did nothing to ward off the spider.

            While he slept undisturbed, one of the nearby dunes shifted. The sand slid away, revealing a spider whose body hovered eight feet in the air, suspended by strong, gangling legs. It had abandoned hair and exoskeleton for a dusty gray skin that clung to its body, sharply delineating every roll and twist of its muscles. It moseyed over to where Celeres lay, sniffed him briefly, then turned its attention to his backpack. It ripped through the cloth, scattering the contents as it punctured the skins for their water.

            That woke Celeres. The looming shape of the spider shot adrenaline through him, and he jumped up, ready to flee. Then the reality of trying to survive the desert kicked in, and he attacked instead. His dagger plunged into a leg. The blood spurted out, hitting him in the face and blinding him.

            The spider squealed and twirled around to face its attacker. Celeres waved his dagger vaguely to hold it off, but the monster was far too canny to be stymied by the feeble efforts of a half-blind opponent. It darted in and chomped down on his left forearm, raised to ward off a strike. Pain shot through him.

            Unfortunately for the spider, the precious seconds it took to inject venom into its victim also held it in place for a counterstrike. Like lightning, Celeres’ dagger crashed down on its head. The impact crushed its skull, and the blade slashed through its brain, killing it.

            The human ripped his arm from its mouth, dizzy from the pain. His forearm felt like it was on fire, in a far worse way than the hirudin bite had. Desperate, he slashed at the puncture marks his skin. Blood and ichor oozed out, encouraging him to massage the muscles to push out more. Unfortunately, he could also feel the motion push the flames deeper into his flesh and the pounding of his heart starting to pull the fire through him.

            While he worked to expel the venom, Celeres licked his lips, catching the intoxicating taste of the spider’s blood. With a chill, he recalled what he had become and realized he might be able to survive this. He hurried to his ruined backpack and searched through the scattered supplies. Most of it had been trampled, but he found the bladder of blood intact. He gulped it down. A refreshing cool spread through him, fighting the heat of the poison. Still, the heat only slowed, it did not reverse. He glared at the spider in disgust and then in a dim hope.

            Puncturing its gray skin with his dagger did not create another fountain of blood. Indeed, without the pressure of a beating heart behind it, the blood that leaked out was not even a trickle. Still, the young man knew the blood was there, so he cut out a hunk of muscle and sucked on it. The flesh was hot and wet and gave him what he wanted. He swallowed it, hoping that would work just as well, and cut another chunk. When his belly was heavy with the raw meat, he sucked what blood he could from each new piece and spat it out onto the ground. By dawn, his arm felt sore, but the young hirudin thought he might survive.

            He gathered what rations he could and tied them up in the blanket using a strap from the backpack. Another held a scrap of cloth on his forearm to cover the wound. The waterskins were shredded, but Celeres hoped it might rain again to fill the bladder and keep him alive long enough to finish crossing the desert.

            He was wounded, tired, and worried, but the light of the rising sun gave him the energy to keep going. Overlooked during his scavenging, the marble from the groundling’s lot remained behind, gleaming in sun.

            Unfortunately, the rains did not come, and Celeres could feel his count of the days slipping away. With time, the lack of water sent his mind wandering, leaving him to stagger forward aimlessly across the sand. Despite the heat of the days, the nights were worse. The moonless nights seemed to cut right through him, draining him of strength.

            Through his haze he moved forward, avoiding the spiders by sheer luck. There were other incidents, largely hallucinations of lakes of water or rivers of blood that slipped away at his approach. The only other event happened two days from Nguyen.

            Even as befuddled as he was, Celeres knew what he was seeing was rather unlikely. In a valley between two dunes sat a small man in a red cloak. A blood-red staff lay at his feet. Orange hair capped the red skin of his skull, making him look like a lick of flame caught in mid-flicker. His eyes caught the yellow-skinned Celeres at the crest of the sand and held him for several minutes. When the man failed to disappear, Celeres stumbled over to him to investigate.

            “Help!” Celeres gasped, collapsing before the red man.

            The man examined the young hirudin and reach out to finger the red stone hanging from his neck. “Have you walked far?” he asked.

            Celeres nodded weakly.

            “And you flee from troubles.” It was a statement, not a question.

            The young hirudin looked at him quizzically.

            “And what will you give up to escape those troubles? Your labor? Your family? Your freedom?”

            The wind kicked up for a moment, tugging the men’s clothes and flicking dust across their skin.

            The red man leaned close. “Are you willing to risk your life, Celeres of Tagerden? Over and over until death takes you beyond time? Is what threatens you that bad?”

            Celeres closed his eyes and swallowed dryly. “Yes,” he whispered.

            “Prove it,” the red man said. He gracefully threw aside his cloak and set six red glass bowls on the ground. He pulled out a waterskin and started to fill them with a small amount of water. Celeres reached out to take the first as the man finished. The red man’s hand shot out, liquid fast, and slapped the hirudin away.

            “Wait,” the strange man commanded.

            Celeres closed his eyes, dizzy with thirst. And like an explosion in his head, he knew what would happen next. He tried to hold on, disorientated by the vivid details of the déjà vu.

            “A blood knight serves the Emperor,” the red man lectured, “but to expect the loyalty from the criminals in their ranks would be the height of foolishness. This water will seal you to the throne of the Zonne Empire. Their will becomes yours with the first sip. You will obey them, or you will die.”

            The red man put away the waterskin and watched Celeres. The hirudin made no move towards the water. The red man smiled wanly.

            He said, “What the throne offers you here is both a blessing and a curse. Your eternal loyalty for amnesty for your crimes. You drink from one bowl, each of which carries an additional blessing or curse. One let’s you see more than you could. Another offers an illness that will plague you for the rest of your days. The third grants strength beyond a human’s. The forth will bring your true love. The fifth ensures you long life despite the risks of knighthood. The six simply offers death.

            “Choose.”

            “You aren’t human, are you?” Celeres asked, the words clumsy off his parched tongue. The truth of his vision rested on what the red man said.

            Like an echo of the hirudin’s knowledge, the man raised an eyebrow and smiled. “No. No, actually, I’m not.”

            Celeres nodded and braced himself. He would never have the knowledge to judge this death, to know if it was deserved. Those paths would never open for him. But without committing himself here, he cast the future for all into grave doubt.

            The hirudin reach out for a bowl, ignoring the red man’s scrutiny as he made his selection. After seeming to settle for a bowl in the back, Celeres threw aside the pretense and grabbed the blood-red staff off the ground. The red man tried to take it from him, but Celeres could almost match his speed and slammed the staff into the man’s belly.

            Carefully avoiding the bowls, Celeres scrambled up and dashed off to the side. The red man chased after him, a blur across the sand. As he neared, Celeres skidded to a stop and thrust back the staff, landing a solid hit on his opponent. A brief sweep of the wood forced the stranger off his feet.

            The red man was up again in an instant, facing off against the hirudin. They closed, trading jabs. Their motions tore the air, both moving faster than humanly possible. The red man had a clear advantage in speed, but still guided by his vision, Celeres had the staff in a position to block the strikes.

            Celeres rushed forward, forcing the man back. Then the hirudin pulled back and scrambled up one of the dunes. The red man leapt up into the air to catch him, but Celeres twirled and swung the staff into his side. The red man landed hard on the sand and tumbled down.

            “Traitor!” the red man hissed.

            “This is the way it will be,” Celeres announced.

            “Do you truly think you can defy On. Zonneshin? Especially when his gift courses through your blood?”

            “I am also a child of the moon, who opposes his chosen course. Time will determine which truly rules me.”

            “The stone you wear will kill you if you try to leave without completing the pact.”

            Celeres displayed a small smile. “Yes. Let us finish this.” The hirudin pulled the dagger from his belt and tossed it to the red man.

            Sneering, he picked it up. “Fine then,” he said and disappeared.

            An instant later, the red man had reappeared behind Celeres. The hirudin did not quite turn fast enough to stop the attack. The staff thudded into the red man as the dagger slipped into Celeres left triceps.

            Fast and furious, the combatants exchanged attack and parries. Celeres’ foreknowledge stymied the red man at every turn but left him unable to take the offense. A brief pause in their exchanges gave the hirudin the break he needed. While the red man was out of range, the hirudin dragged the staff across the fresh blood leaking from his arm. Alarmed, the red man leapt at him, but he was too late.

            Celeres fended the red man off while the staff turned ice cold in his grip. He slapped the dagger, shattering the metal with an explosion from the staff. The hirudin drove one end of the wood into the red man’s chest. The explosion threw the man back across several dunes. He did not get up.

            Celeres clutched his head, still dizzy from the foreknowledge. He considered the six bowls of water on the ground, still intact. He knew that the poisons among them outweighed the gifts.

            “Time carries all such things with it,” he said and felt the sense of déjà vu release its grip.

            The bowls may have been too risky, but that did nothing to ease his parched throat. He hiked over to the red man’s corpse and searched for the waterskin. The liquid had an odd bitter taste to it. From the way the stone around his neck buzzed while he drank, he guessed it was a side effect of whatever completed the oath of the blood knights. The hirudin briefly regretted finishing the oath, but the need to survive overwhelmed that.

            Recapping the half-empty skin, Celeres judged that he was ready to move on. On impulse, he took the cloak from the red man and hooked it around his neck. He set out, marching forward with the assistance of the blood-colored staff.

            Taking his cue from Zonneshin’s flight across the sky, he walked almost directly to Nguyen. He slowed as he neared it two days after meeting the red man. Like a cold lump in his stomach, he could feel a familiar presence in the city. He entertained the notion of risking the restriction on leaving the desert at another point, but a pulse from his necklace at the thought forced him on to the meeting.

            A few more presences came to his awareness as he approached, although they were far less distinct. One of these and a companion met him outside of town. A gold mask and a red-skinned woman in a gray robe sat astride their mounts, watching as he stumbled along. Celeres watched them right back, puzzling over their identities. Then he recalled the initial presence he felt in Nguyen and the pieces fell into place. The gold mask was Colonel Rafe, whom he met with Prince Emhyr months ago. That meant the woman must be the Cheldean who had been with them. Dimly, he recalled her name as Katchen. Celeres could sense that the Colonel was a hirudin, but the woman was not.

            When he had come close, the Colonel urged his antelope forward to meet him. “Blood knight,” Colonel Rafe said, “it is good to see you’ve survived your trek. The difficulty of that journey is often underplayed, but I am well aware of the risks. May I offer you this? I believe you probably need it.” He held out a stoppered bladder.

‘           Celeres took it warily and sipped it. Chilled blood swirled down his tongue, restoring a bit of his strength. When he finished the bladder, he felt almost completely revitalized.

            “Come. You should ride the rest of the way in,” Colonel Rafe said, offering his hand.

            Taking it reluctantly, Celeres pulled himself up behind the Colonel. “Where are we going?” he asked.

            :Prince Emhyr wants to see you before we move on,: the woman called Katchen said inside his head.

            The alien sensation so startled him that Celeres barely worried what fate awaited him at the Prince’s hands.

            The ride through town went briskly enough. Town folk bustled through the streets, ignoring them. More than a few blood knights acknowledged their passing, nodding specifically in greeting to Celeres. Near the harbor, they stopped at an opulent mansion and handed their mounts over to a groom.

            The Prince was waiting for them in a richly appointed sitting room on the top floor of the building. Wearing a slightly chagrined expression, Supreme Commander Vuon sat next to him.

            “Ah, my loose end has returned to the cloth. How have you been, little thread?” Prince Emhyr asked.

            Looking ambivalently at his yellow hands, Celeres said, “I’m alive. That’s worth something I suppose.”

            “And that’s no mean trick. The crossing is nothing short of brutal. I’m surprised you survived, even touched by Zonneshin’s blessing. The green woman with you would have been a much more likely candidate in my opinion,” the Prince said.

            “Blessing. Isn’t that what you claimed would kill me? Even offered me a quick death. Seems like the danger I’ve faced has come from you,” Celeres said, tightening his grip on his staff.

            “And yet you’re still alive. It’s a tough world, and you’ve fended it off. Maybe you are qualified to be a blood knight.”

            Celeres lunged at him, ready to smash in those fine imperial feature with his staff. Instead, a pulse emanated from the necklace, and he collapsed on the floor.

            “Well, he certainly has the usual attitude of one, doesn’t he, Vuon?” Prince Emhyr laughed.

            The Supreme Commander frowned and helped Celeres to his feet. “Your gem won’t let you attack a member of the imperial family. It’s the only way they could trust someone like us,” Vuon said.

            “And this was supposed to protect me from him?” Celeres sneered.

            “Of course,” the Prince said, smiling benignly. “Now that you’ve bound to me, I have no pressing reason to kill you. It was when you were running around loose that you were a problem.”

            “So, now I’m supposed to trust you?”

            “If you think about it for a moment, I think you’ll realize just how little choice you have, little thread.”

            “I’m sorry,” Vuon whispered.

            “Did you send anyone to find out what happened to my friends?” Celeres asked the Commander.

            “I’m afraid not. When His Highness found out that I had sent you to cross the desert, he insisted on coming here to meet you. I couldn’t get away long enough to give the orders. I had to follow his first,” Vuon said, running a finger across the links of the silver chain around his neck.

            “What’s this?” Prince Emhyr asked.

            Compelled by their gems, the blood knights explained to their liege of the unusual circumstances of the young man’s arrival at Bluthafen. With the Prince’s prompting, Celeres explained his involvement with the Cheldeans.

            :This item you sought from the Elder, did it have a name?: Katchen asked.

            The Prince raised an eyebrow at her interruption but said nothing.

            “Arva called it the ‘Nameless Sword.'”

            The woman’s eyes grew sharp, and she settled back in her seat.

            “Well, don’t keep us in the dark, Katchen. Tell us what you’re thinking,” the Prince instructed.

            :That-weapon-is one of the few artifacts to survive intact from the first universe. Furthermore, that sword is what the Destroyer used to initiate the destruction.:

            “Break me,” Colonel Rafe swore breathlessly.

            “Well, that strikes close to home, doesn’t it?” the Prince mused. “Could On. Zonneshin have prompted the Cheldeans to go after it?”

            :The Cheldeans follow no one’s orders but Cheldar’s, and he has expressed his disapproval of Zonneshin’s pursuits.:

            “But my island mage does not share those convictions,” Prince Emhyr asked, his tone teasing.

            :I am not a Cheldean,: Katchen said stiffly.

            “So, there’s a second team out there, probably at Cheldar’s prompting,” the Colonel growled. “What are they up to?”

            “Have they already finished the list? I thought On. Zonneshin said there were still millennia of work to do on it,” Prince Emhyr said.

            :There is. So the Cheldeans are up to something else.:

            “It could simply be what the boy claimed. An attempt to rid him of the hirudin taint,” Vuon said.

            The Prince and his companions viewed the Commander skeptically.

            Colonel Rafe said, “Respectfully, Supreme Commander, you do not have a complete picture of what’s going on. While I’m only a reluctant supporter of the current action, even I don’t think the Prince can afford to think this is a coincidence.”

            “He’s right, Commander. And I’m afraid we’ll have to wipe this conversation from your mind before we go. Remind me of that before then.”

            Supreme Commander Vuon blinked and nodded stiffly, “Yes, my liege.”

            “What else can you tell us about this Nameless Sword, Katchen?”

            :It was initially forged from an alloy currently beyond the skill of the humans of this universe. We know that in the first universe, the unusual substance used in the alloy was called the giant’s metal, but we don’t know why. Despite being a sword, it was not made as a weapon. Apparently, the fighting techniques had evolved beyond blades. Instead, it was a novelty piece: an archaic weapon built out of new materials for amusement, to be hung on the wall and discussed.

            :However, it was used to kill. A murder was committed with it became infamous in the surrounding society. It was kept by the authorities for a while before it was stolen and made its way through several different private owners. It eventually went public again in the hands of a dancer who regularly used it as part of her performance. From there, it made its way to the Destroyer.

            :The Destroyer was no one special. A loser really, whose poor grasp of reality impeded his ability to thrive in his society. When the firstborn approached him, he couldn’t tell whether it was an elaborate joke or just wild hallucinations.

            :We know Cheldar orchestrated the destruction, eager to undo his sins. He carefully guarded the secret of how he was to use the Destroyer, largely to ensure he could complete the first List of Ranks before the destruction could happen. It is suspected that the Elohim Tauret may have helped with the arrangements, but that is merely speculation.

            :In any event, something went wrong. The Destroyer failed to reshape the universe exactly as it had been and failed to free the Firstborn. The Firstborn were comatose during the event, and if any Secondborn witnessed it, they have kept the knowledge to themselves. When the Firstborn finally woke, the Destroyer and his tools were gone, and the universe had been twisted beyond recognition.

            :The sword eventually reappeared without the Destroyer, but it was death for anyone to touch it. It resided in a pit in the ground for many years until Zonneshin found a use for it. He covered it in solid light, blunting its strength and allowing mortals to use it as a sword that could penetrate anything. Zonneshin gave it to the dragonslayers who walked the world before the Shard War and even before Zonneshin created the hirudin.:

            “So, it’s been a tool for both Cheldar and Zonneshin? But it’s too early for Cheldar to use it for his original purpose. He must have another use for it,” the Prince said.

            “Could it interfere with our plans?” Colonel Rafe asked.

            :Possibly. It might be able to destroy what’s inside the Isole.:

            “Or else, it could crack open the Isole,” Prince Emhyr said, smiling shrewdly.

            Katchen thought about that. :Probably.:

            “Then we may have found a way for it to serve On. Zonneshin, again. Little thread, do you think your friends will come after you?”

            “Undoubtedly,” Celeres answered.

            “Well, we can’t afford to take the time to turn back for them. The Isole is too important. We’ll just have to make sure they follow us.”

            The Prince got up and placed a hand on Celeres’ shoulder. “Little thread, we’re going to give you a rare honor. You’re going to accompany us on our hunt for Gawlchmai’s little bauble.”

            “Your Highness, he’s just been inducted. We haven’t even trained him yet!” Vuon protested.

            The Prince waved aside the objection. “Colonel Rafe can see to that, Commander. He trained me. He can certainly train my little thread.

            “Now, Commander, we need to make sure you do some things for us before we leave. First, when you leave this room forget the exact details of what we discussed here. Second, make sure little thread is properly outfitted as a blood knight by tomorrow. Third, go back to Bluthafen and make sure his friends have enough information to follow us.”

            Supreme Commander Vuon blinked twice, grimaced, and said, “Yes, Highness.”

            Celeres knew how he felt. His stomach felt like it was trying to eat itself. “Where are we going, Your Highness?” Celeres asked heavily.

            “Where our thief’s trail has led us: into the wilds of the north-out arm.”