Darmo's Last Mistake

With the plan set to seek out Gesh in the Weird, we make ready to sail back upriver to Ace Hovel.

Shen Po handles the task of finding us passage while the rest of us eat breakfast. When he returns—our breakfast long since finished—he reports he was able to negotiate a ride back to Ace Hovel.
On a boat full of Julius missionaries.
I roll my eyes. Luban and Mordax groan. Of course he has his own missionaries. We debate walking back instead—it's only a day or two longer to walk than to be on the boat. "I've already paid for our passage," Shen Po says as he sits. "We leave in three days." He begins eating his cold meal. Everyone heaves a resigned sigh.

---

Before I find a way to spend my time waiting for departure, I use the Eyes of Julius again, trying to pin down exactly how it works. I step outside the inn and call forth the power. I turn my thoughts to the slivers, their stony composition, how they seem to all fit together. I feel the ones we have, back inside. And I also feel an intense sensation of vertigo. I wobble and close my eyes. So, it's up with Julius then. Was he wearing it when we talked? Where else would he even keep it?
I rub my eyes to try and get the last of the swirling to stop while I debate seeking out Aemillius. It'd be nice to see him again. But if you get too attached, then what? Good point. I am leaving soon. It's probably best to leave things as they are. I spot Wander stride out of the inn. "Hey Wander," I call to her. "Where are you off to?" She shrugs. Well, this will likely be enjoyable. I join her.

---

I wake before dawn on the Pentus, wanting to make sure I have time to eat a full meal before the agony of traveling on a boat full of The Immortal King Julius's missionaries. Once everyone else is ready, we head to the docks.  
Several days of trying to tune out the missionaries with my own humming and feigned focus on anything else pass by terribly slow. But waking late at night to shouts and panic isn't the distraction I want.
My eyes snap open. I roll to my side and spring up to my feet. It's dark—the moon just barely illuminating the the vaguely humanoid creatures on deck. Well, not illuminating so much as outlining the dark, shadowy shapes, each with five...arms.
"Viske!" I utter, whipping my saber from its sheath and pointing it at one of the shadow figures. The figure staggers, but doesn't retreat. I pull out Temporal Claw with my left hand and take a few steps back, examining the creature's reaction. Its mouth hangs open, wider than I thought possible.
And its eyes. Its dark eyes remain plastered open.
And I don't think that's a result of my spell.
I hear Mordax's grunt from behind me, then the scrape of his feet on the wooden planks. There's some behind me, too, then. The creature in front of me lunges forward, arms grasping. I crouch, and weave under and past its grasp. I slice across its emaciated back, spin on my toes to bring my other saber across its side as it turns, and dance back from it.
The creature comes at me again but I hop to the left, putting my back to the mast. I make two quick thrusts with both sabers at the same time, leaving symmetrical punctures on its chest. No blood—or any liquid—seeps out.
"Kill them all! Don't let any of them escape!" Mordax yells. I turn sideways to avoid the stabbing appendages coming at me on either side. These things don't seem like they're trying to escape. I whip Temporal Claw up across the creature's chest, and then horizontally—just a little lower than its neck. I slip under its spiked appendages embedded in the mast and backpedal, keeping the mast to my left.
And then—as it follows me—I notice the slick wetness on its bony cheeks. Tears. Unsettled, I step back just in time to avoid its swinging arms. They slam into the mast as fresh tears trickle down its face. And then Mordax's naginata slashes up the side of its neck and face. It falls on its back, dead.

---

The next few nights to port are filled with light sleeping and alert watches. We arrive at the Ace Hovel docks soon into my early morning watch. There's no reason to immediately disembark, so I continue to stand watch until dawn blushes on the horizon.
As I gather my things and wake the others, Shen Po stands at attention looking at the town. I look to see what's made him tense. Walking down the main street to the docks is a tall man, dressed in an orange robe. Shen Po steps off the ship first, Mordax following closely. I hoist my bag onto my back and follow.
With a closer look, the man is most definitely a monk, though a bit overweight. He points a finger at each of us, counting with a small smile on his face.
"Yes?" Shen Po inquires.
"Well, you see, I'm not completely certain that you are the group that Darmo keeps railing on about, but you seem to be—"
"We restarted the river," Luban interjects.
The man's smile broadens. "I heard about that! Admirable task," his smile drops a bit. "I've also heard from conversations that you all are not great friends of Darmo."
"We had a difference of opinion on how best to help his people," Shen Po replies stiffly.
The monk's brows rise. "Ah, well, he seems to have chosen the worst possible result then. He sent them to our monastery."
"The one near the end of the world that people die trying to get to?" Luban spits out.
"Yes! I see you're familiar with it!" The man's ill-kept teeth show as he smiles again.
"Wh—wait," I say, worry blossoming. "Have they already left?"
"Most of them have, yes. Darmo is still here though."
Of course he is. I roll my eyes. That man is no leader. A leader would be guiding his people to their destination, not sending them off blind. Mordax seems to be thinking the same. "Can I kill him now?" He asks Shen Po.
Shen Po puts up a silencing hand. "Did he believe they could get help at your monastery? Were they able to receive help?"
The portly monk nods. "Yes, he did believe they could get help, but they would have to make it there first. A few did indeed make it and informed us that others would arrive." He bows his head. "These other have not arrived, nor did I see them on my way here. I was dispatched to prevent this rash measure. Unfortunately, it seems my arrival is too late."
Shen Po closes his eyes tight. "Why would Darmo believe this is what's best?"
The monk shrugs. "I do not know. He only told me it was the will of the The Dreamkeeper. And he has grown increasingly hostile, talking more and more of you lately. Since he will not listen to me, perhaps you will have better luck stopping him from systematically sending people to their deaths. The chances of making it to the monastery unless you know the way are very slim," he says solemnly.
My heart races. Was Myuon already sent? Have I lost my only way to try and reach Arslan? We go talk to Darmo, leaving Alto to eat breakfast with the monk.

---

We arrive at the refugee camp. I run to Myuon's tent and throw open the flap.
No one's there.
No.
No!
I storm away and search the eastern horizon. My heart beats in my tight throat. Where? Please tell me I'm not too late. Where? Where? Oh winds, please—there! I spot a barely visible speck against the light of dawn. Mildred shouts about fresh wagon tracks. I turn on my heels to gather everyone. We need to follow immediately. That wagon could be Myuon's.
I almost stumble over Shen Po as he steps out a tent. "No one. They're all empty."
"That wagon," I point. "We need to go after it. Now." The others slowly gather around.
Shen Po exhales a deep breath. "We should double check the town. Maybe Darmo is there."
Suddenly, movement from behind Shen Po catches my eye. Darmo steps out of a tent. What? "I thought you said no one was here," Mordax says. Shen Po gives a confused look, then follows my gaze.
Darmo stares at us, smirking yet anger lingering right under his cocky face. "Darmo Sans!" Shen Po bellows. Darmo doesn't react. "I believe we should speak." Shen Po marches toward Darmo. Mordax follows closely. I keep my distance, even as the others creep a bit closer.
"Save your airs," Darmo waves a dismissive hand.
"Why have you been sending your people to the monastery despite the warning from the monk?" Shen Po demands.
"It's somewhere safe that they can stay permanently."
"It is not someplace safe," Shen Po closes the distance, now just out of an arm's reach from Darmo. I creep closer, hands falling to my hilts. "Your people are dying along the road. They will die at the monastery. That place is not safe."
Darmo's expression narrows. "The alternative is that they die here, as Ace sits in his house and does nothing."
Shen Po clenches a fist. "I spoke with the Immortal King Julius. He has agreed to bring your people under his protection. Or, if you prefer, I can speak with the Khan and see about—"
"Your offers are too late," Darmo shrugs. My grip tightens.
"Were your people not safe here?" Shen Po throws his arms out.
"They'll be safe there as well. But they were dying here."
"To what?" Mordax asks.
Darmo's gaze passes over us. "Hunger. Starvation. Neglect."
"And what did you do for them?!" Shen Po shouts.
"I found them somewhere safe," Darmo's barks back.
"No! You found them a deathtrap!"
"How can you tell me that a place inhabited by monks is less safe than this literal hole in the ground?"
"Did you not heed the words of the monk that came here to visit?" Shen Po is longer shouting, but his voice is laced with anger.
"I found that words are of very little value lately," Darmo seethes.
Shen Po collects himself. "Darmo Sans, I am going to go get your people and deliver them to safety. We're done here." Shen Po shoves past Darmo.
Darmo doesn't retaliate or say anything further. I let out a breath I didn't realize I'd been holding.
Then Mordax says something quiet to Darmo and in the blink of eye, thrusts his naginata deep into Darmo's stomach. Burning sands! What was Mordax thinking? Mildred rushes past me to heal Darmo.
But there's no blood on Darmo's robes.
No pained or shocked expression on his face. Just a smile from ear to ear.
Darmo's smile turns to a sneer as he grabs Mordax by the shirt. A blood-red light erupts from the ground at Darmo's feet. It grows, the circle spreading below Mordax as well. Shen Po swivels and tries to help Mordax.
The magic circle spreads.
Mildred runs past the threshold, followed by Wander. I freeze. The wagon. We don't have time for this. Luban draws his short sword and goes to rush Darmo. I look to the eastern horizon. Myuon. Arslan.
I tear my eyes away, draw my sabers, and run past the edge of the circle.
And the world rips away from me.