ROLEPLAY

Sentinel is within our reach. We see the lights of a camp a day's walk away. It is a relief and just as terrifying. The situation is tense between Azazor and me. I have a premonition that something is going turn out badly, for one or the other of us.

If I disappear and by chance someone comes to read this journal, it is not the image I want to leave of me and our trip. But I have to admit, I screwed up, big time. Azazor now only talks to me to give me orders, and we've lost trust in each other. He tried to kill me a few days ago. Or to scare me. It worked. He treats me like I'm an orskos. Me!

It's my fault. ney. But I didn't lie, dey! I hid things. Is it a lie not to say anything? He didn't ask me any questions. When he asked me if I was a Trytonist, I said yes. If you ask me, I answer. I don't lie. Yes, let it be known. Give this to the Kuilde and let them come to me, if they dare.
But toub, Azazor, you are as stubborn as I am... Yes, I should have said everything, revealed everything from the beginning. But could you have heard what I had to say? Even before we left, you wanted to do your own thing, you criticized my positions, my friendships. You didn't even bother to listen or to be interested in what I could have given you. And now you have to tell yourself that you bet on the wrong mektoub. But if I disappear and you read this, know that my respect for you is still alive. I wouldn't have gotten this far without you, and you wouldn't have gotten this far without me.
If you had asked the question, "Eeri, do you have a Marauder crystal?" I would have answered yes... Yes, I got a Marauder crystal from Mazé'yum. Without compromising my real name. No, I don't want to join them, especially not those from the New Lands. Even if some of them here have my respect.
Another question you could have asked me, and never did: "Am I the father of Uzykos?" I think the answer is clear enough, and that deep down you already know it. But it's not enough to want the truth, you must be able to accept it. One day you will know it, and you will explode, as you do every time you are interested in something other than your own plans
And dey, I'm not immortal. You forgot, for a crystal to work, you have to be able to activate it. And after ten days of walking, we're just too far away for it to work. If I fall, I die. Just like you. If the distance had nothing to do with it, I could have simply returned to Fairhaven, as if nothing had happened. But this is another truth you don't want to hear. By the time you read this, it will be too late to realize it.

Besides, if the little you told me about what happened at the Wide Puddle is true, so far this crystal has only served to keep me from being totally gobbled up by a big fish. Eeri, dead, guzzled and digested by a prakker. I hope my true ending will be a bit more glorious, I still have that Fyros trait at least.

Tomorrow we'll go to the Marauders, to Sentinel. Hopefully they already know we're coming. I have a feeling that these homins are much more ingenious than we might think, and that they have a quicker means of communication than sending a simple messenger. I will let Azazor speak. Anyway, if I open my mouth he'll find something to pick at. And I promised, a few months ago, when we arrived at the Cloudy Cliff Outpost, to let him what he wants. If it goes wrong, I'll try to make it right by taking out my crystal. However, I have the impression that the dice are cast already and that Azazor knows exactly what he is going to do. And that he won't hesitate to abandon me, as soon as he doesn't need me anymore, or as soon as he feels that will save his ass.

We set up our camp high up on a root. It reduces the access in case of a predator attack. There are few of them, but they are much bigger and more tenacious. There is also less game here than in our country, maybe it's related. From here, we have a view of the desert to the north. To the east, we could already make out, in the daytime, the presence of this mountain range that separates us from the desert of the Old Lands. We are so close to our goal and yet nothing has ever been so uncertain. I never expected that we would want to kill each other. Maybe that's the strength of the homins here. The fact that we don't go crazy knowing that whatever one does, it might be the last time. Although, now that they're expanding their Zinuakeen network here too, it must totally change their their view of things.. This fear must probably only be valid for us, who have just never been used to this feeling. It makes us lose our minds.

I'll keep it short. As soon as we arrived at Sentinel, the Marauders confiscated all our belongings. I am writing this text with a piece of coal on the single leather I managed to hide before arriving here.

We arrived in sight of a kind of giant tower built in a tree also gigantic. It is not like the tower of Fort Beacon in the sense that it is not built in a root but in a real tree of phenomenal dimensions. It's more than a tower in fact, almost a circular city with several floors, with a few dead branches at the top reminding us that we are dealing with, basically, a tree. I have never seen so thick and high a tree. Yet, it seems to be only a part of the original tree. The tree is now probably a dead one because there is no foliage and it looks like it was burned by some ancient fire. Scarce bare branches only remain in addition to the trunk.
So it is inside this huge tree that Sentinel is built. There is a main entrance covered by a canopy and various secondary stairs outside. Halfway up, we can see balconies where homins are stationed, apparently armed with firearms. Above, there are some more floors in what reminded me of the Imperial Palace, a kind of pseudo-dome, there where the top of the tree must have been. 

As we came within sight of the tree, Marauders came up from behind us and made us lower our weapons. They asked us what clan we were from. I told them the truth. That I was a patriot of the Empire in the New Lands, that I had come as a researcher to study the Road of Oflovak and the land of our ancestors, that I owed this Marauder armor to O'Tello, the head of the Cloudy Cliff Diplomatic Outpost, and that we had just returned from a delivery mission to build a Zinuakeen, mission to make us up for the misappropriation of some jerky. In short, the truth, raw and unvarnished. I didn't say anything about Eeri. She didn't even say anything, leaving me to speak all along.

They then separated us and I was questioned by two homins. I repeated what I had said. When they asked me who Eeri was, I told them that she was a Tryker citizen who was accompanying me. They then explicitly asked me if she was a Marauder. I told them I didn't think so. They told me about the Marauder crystal found in her belongings. I explained that I didn't know about this crystal until a month ago and that Eeri had lied to me. She had sworn that the crystal did not mean that she was a Maraud'. I told them that she had probably stolen it from someone or that one of her contacts had given it to her. At their insistence, I gave them the name Mayé'zum or Mazé'yum. I don't remember exactly. A shady guy from the New Lands an I don't know which Maraud' clan. They then took me to a kind of cell where I waited for several hours.

A homin came for me and I was questioned again. This time there was a Fyros of obviously higher rank. I was asked about my intentions. I had to repeat what I was doing here, that I wanted to go to the other side of the ridge. Thinking that I was dealing with the real leader of the Sentinel this time, I added that my goal was also to establish a first contact with the Marauders so that when I returned to the New Lands, we could exchange knowledge. To make my request credible, I had to tell them that I was an akenakos and a student at the Imperial Academy. I also offered them my services as a butcher in order to pay for my stay here, that if they could contact the Diplomatic Outpost, they would learn that I excelled in this art and that they would not regret it. The Fyros noted all this and had me escorted back to the cell where I am waiting without food for a while now. So I take the opportunity to write this. And I don't know where Eeri is. Let her deal with her lies. 

Day after my arrival D+1

I finally was allowed to get my stuff back. They went through all my writings and those of Eeri. According to the Fyros, whose name I still don't have, I seem to them quite honest about my intentions. What is not the case of the homina who accompanies me. He wouldn't tell me more and I don't care. They can hang her, it's not my concern anymore.
So the Marauders agree to host me for a week in exchange for a job in the kitchen. I have had my Marauder armor confiscated and my weapons will be returned to me when I leave. So I put back on my Fyros armor. It's not so bad after all, even if I would have liked to bring back a Maraud' armor in the New Lands. The Fyros is waiting for the orders of his superiors to know if he should make me turn back or if they agree to let me continue my way to the Old Lands. 

D+2
I was able to talk to a Maraud' who works in the kitchen with me. He explained to me that The Citadel is not really a city such as one imagines it. It is in fact more of a fractured part of the great root ridge that surrounds the desert of the Old Lands and that forms a kind of maze. There are crevices everywhere that the Marauders travel on a regular basis. You should rather imagine an agglomeration of small temporary camps built and dismantled in response to the kitins moves. The Old Lands are literally teeming with kitins. The strategy for containing them is to let part of them enter the maze and get lost in it, for then kill them or get them out again. Forget about the idea of a big wall that the kitins would crash into. The constant battle of the Marauders against the kitins is mostly hide-and-seek. The Maraud' who told me this can't tell me much more than that, alas. The cult of secrecy is quite prevalent here, and people are suspicious of me. I understand them. We are also very suspicious of them in our land. It's only as a fair return. 

D+5
The Marauders agreed to accompany me to a first Citadel encampment in three days. From there, I will receive further instructions on how to move around The Citadel until I get out. They would not tell me more at this time. I was asked with a smile if I like climbing. I have a feeling I'm not going to like it...

D+6
One of the Marauds who had taken me into the cell on the first day came up to me today and threw a batch of papers on my bunk. He said that I should be interested, that these were Eeri's writings and that I could keep them because they had already made a copy. When I asked him about her fate, he couldn't answer me. But it seems that she won't be coming out any time soon. Too bad for her. All she had to do was listen to me and play it fair.
I started to read, and I have to admit, at least in writing, that I feel a little guilty for having been so tyrannical. The toub is secretive and has a major issue with trust, but her intentions were good. I should finish reading tonight.

D+8 

I joined a small convoy towards The Citadel and we left early this morning. The further we go, the more gigantic the ridge seems. Next to it, the cliffs of Scorched Corridor seem ridiculous. Will I really have to climb all this...? And... I saw Eeri. From a distance. Chained to a toub and well guarded. She is part of our convoy, in the back. Of course, I am forbidden to approach her. According to a Maraud', she is going to meet an important person of The Citadel and I don't have to know where. "Akilia?" I asked. He growled in answer. So not Akilia. And clearly, this one is not in odor of sanctity here either. We are told on and on in the New Lands of Akilia being the leader of the Marauders, but after what O'Tello said, and that growl, I begin to believe that here exist power struggles too, between the pro-Akilia and the others...


D+9
That's it, we arrived. During the last hours of walking, I did not dare to look at the top of the ridge, for fear of being nauseous. There, the winds were particularly violent, but we finally managed to sneak in a small notch to finally reach a first rough camp inside the cliff. The Marauders seemed to be used to this trip. According to one of them, most of the camps are troglodyte and temporary. There are a few permanent camps here and there that are extremely well hidden and defended, but almost all of them are shifting, depending on the movement of kitins and the tactics adopted to neutralize them. Again, these cliffs remind me of those of Scorched Corridor. A real maze of caves, canyons and crevasses. But so much bigger... We leave in one hour. The time to write this. 

As a result I know how I'm going to get to the Old Lands. By the top. I was told about climbing, this will be the case. From a place in the Citadel, I will be able to use a set of ropes, ladders and other footbridges to climb up the ridge. Once at the top, I was advised, if I want to join Coriolis, to follow more or less the edge of the cliff, depending on the presence of kitins. They are less numerous at the top, but still present. So, it will probably be necessary to make some detours. But I will have not to go down under any circumstances. They told me that anyway, once I'm up there, I'll understand why. 

Cela fait des heures que je grimpe. Maintenant que je peux enfin me poser, il faut que je revienne sur cette soirée avec les Maraudeurs, la dernière avant mon escalade. Ce fut un choc, on peut le dire. Le groupe que j’accompagnais jusqu’ici devait se rendre dans l’un de ces campements semi-permanent dont on m’avait parlé. On m’y invitait donc à partager un repas et à y dormir avant mon départ le lendemain.

On s’était réuni dans une sorte de grotte particulièrement gigantesque à laquelle on accédait après le parcours de nombreux tunnels dans la falaise. L'entrée dans la grotte se faisait par un étroit tunnel après l'escalade d'un tumulus bloquant l'entrée. On m'avait expliqué que jadis l'entrée était beaucoup plus grande mais un éboulement avait été déclenché volontairement pour en bloquer l'entrée lors d'une bataille épique contre les kitins. C'est en me racontant cette bataille que j'entendais pour la seconde fois, après Barmie Dingle, parler des Flamboyants. Contrairement à ce que j'avais cru, il n'y avait pas que les kipestas à porter ce nom de flamboyant. En fait, on donnait ce nom à toute la nouvelle génération de kitins rouges apparus dans le désert, le terme de dragon rouge étant spécifiquement employé pour désigner ces kipestas géants, car leur feu était particulièrement destructeur et leur abdomen hérissé d'épines. Lors de cette bataille, de nombreux Maraudeurs avaient alors péris en tentant de défendre l'entrée de la grotte où s'était réfugié nombre d'entre eux. Depuis, cette grotte était devenu un symbole pour beaucoup. Les Flamboyants avaient continué de proliférer, rendant quasi inaccessible l'accès au désert. Ceux-ci étaient d'ailleurs, d'après les Maraudeurs, traqués et visés en priorité par la Karavan.

A l’intérieur de la grotte était installé un immense campement visiblement bien moins rustique que les précédents. Il y avait une sorte d’infirmerie dans une tente, un coin cuisine avec de quoi cuisiner pour un régiment entier, une étable pleine de mektoubs, des centaines de lits creusés dans les parois et même des sortes de bacs remplis d’eau pour se laver. Ici et là, quelques appareils et outils me rappelèrent que les Maraudeurs maitrisaient une technologie assez évoluée, liées d'une manière ou d'une autre aux Puissances.

En hauteur au niveau des parois, on pouvait voir plusieurs trous reliés entre eux par des passerelles. Il devait donc y avoir d'autres salles derrière les parois et sur plusieurs étages. C’était une véritable petite cité miniature, éclairée à la lumière de gigantesques braseros. L’un des marauds qui nous accompagnaient, probablement un peu trop bavard, m’expliqua qu’il y avait également une armurerie, des laboratoires et une bibliothèque quelque part, cachés dans ce dédale de tunnels menant à la grotte qui, elle, faisait office de hall d'accueil principal.

Mais ce qui m’étonna le plus, ce fut les enfants. J'imaginais jusqu’alors la Citadelle comme un immense champ de bataille, et je trouvais pourtant là des enfants, des vieillards, tout un tas d’homins que je ne m’attendais pas à trouver ici.

Finalement, je compris que cette grotte faisait office de lieux de repos mais aussi de zones de recherche et de points de repli en cas d’attaques massives, comme cela arrivait parfois. Ces rares espaces étaient en réalité les seules zones stationnaires de la Citadelle. Les points névralgiques de cette cité mobile, reconfigurée au grès des défaites et des victoires. Pourtant, rien ne certifiait que les kitins ne réussissent pas à prendre ces endroits, comme cela était déjà arrivé quelques fois. Ainsi, tout était pensé pour pouvoir être déplacé facilement, en témoigneait la forme du mobilier et les nombreux mektoubs équipés comme s'ils étaient sur le départ.

La soirée fut enrichissante, notamment sur le plan culturel. C'est en les voyant rire avec leurs proches, parler de leur dernière journée, s'aider dans les taches quotidiennes, jouer de la musique et danser que je compris définitivement que ces Maraudeurs ne correspondaient pas à l'idée que nous nous en faisons. Leur capacité à se créer des moments de vies, alors qu'a quelques dizaines de kilomètres à l'Est, un essaim gigantesque de kitins menaçaient de fondre sur la Route d'Oflovak, générait en moi des émotions confuses. Du respect, mais aussi un étrange sentiment de fierté. En observant ces Maraudeurs, je me rappelais que les premiers d'entre eux furent des Fyros. Des Fyros qui décidèrent de ne pas fuir face aux kitins, de se battre pour conserver leurs terres, et qui menaient encore aujourd'hui ce combat. J'en arrivais même à éprouver une certaine colère contre l'Empire de l'époque de Cerakos II, ayant abandonné son peuple pour fuir les kitins.

À ma grande surprise, ce soir là, nombreux d'entre eux partagèrent des moments avec moi. Leur convivialité m'étonna. Certes, ils me considéraient comme un étranger, et me firent gentillement comprendre qu'il ne fallait pas insister lorsque je les questionnai sur les liens qui les unissaient aux Puissances et leur demandai si je pouvais consulter la bibliothèque... Pour le reste, ils semblaient heureux de partager cette soirée avec quelqu'un venu d'aussi loin, et me posèrent un certain nombre de questions. Surtout que cette fois-ci, l'étranger n'était pas un Ranger ! J'étais un étranger parmi les étrangers. Je crois aussi qu'ils respectaient beaucoup que j'ai entrepris un voyage aussi dangereux pour mener à bien mes recherches. Comme dans la société fyrosse, le Courage, l'Honneur et la Vérité étaient des concepts forts de la société maraudeur.

Pourtant, plusieurs centaines de kilomètres à l'ouest, Akilia menait une guerre sale contre les nations des Nouvelles Terres, n'hésitant pas à recruter des criminels et à commettre des actes terroristes. Pourquoi tant de différences ? J'osais poser la question à l'un de mes hôtes qui me commanda expressément, à voix basse, de changer de sujet. Un Fyros qui passait près de notre groupe à ce moment là entendit toutefois ma question et se lança dans un monologue vindicatif pour justifier la politique menée par Akilia. Puis, levant la tête vers une passerelle au dessus de lui, il tourna les talons et partit en maugréant. Je levais alors la tête et vit que des gardes s'étaient arrêtés pour nous surveiller. Ainsi, de ce que je pus en voir, à la Citadelle se côtoyaient des pro et des anti Akilia. Probablement même que beaucoup ne prenaient pas partie, à l'image de mes hôtes qui s'empressèrent de changer de sujet, visiblement mal à l'aise.

Un Tryker me dit plus tard, sous le ton de la confidence, que si les pro Akilia étaient présents en minorité à la Citadelle, et mal vus par beaucoup - car soupçonnés de fomenter des complots - ils étaient néanmoins admis en ces lieux. Premièrement, car nombre d'entre eux étaient membres des clans les plus anciens, de l'époque de Melkiar, et faisaient partie des Maraudeurs les plus puissants et craints. Deuxièmement, car les conflits entre les différents clans étaient depuis toujours monnaie courante, et qu'il était implicitement admis qu'aucune dissension ne doive jamais mettre en danger la société maraudeure. Troisièmement, car la Citadelle était le foyer de tous les Maraudeurs, et qu'en être définitivement bannis représentait la peine la plus lourde qui soit... Le Tryker rajouta cependant que le plus important, et ce sur quoi tous se rejoignaient, était le combat pour la survie et contre les kitins. Imaginer que la société maraudeure doive sa cohésion, et donc son existence, à la présence d'un essaim monstrueux aux portes de la Citadelle, me parut tristement ironique...

Finalement, je terminai ma soirée en racontant à des enfants l'Histoire du Culte du Grand Dragon. Ce fut un vrai bonheur que de voir leurs yeux à la fois émerveillés et terrifiés devant les aventures de Liriope. Je ne pensais pas trouver des enfants ici, si près du danger. Je les imaginais tous à Sentinelle, mais c’était une erreur. La Citadelle était le cœur des maraudeurs, là où battait la vie. Et en voyant ces enfants de maraudeurs, je pensai au mien...

Azazor gave me back my logbook. And saved me.
This isn't the first time I've written this, but I had given up hope of writing here again. And once again, we made it through. You have to believe that something is watching over my old skin. A Power? Or just plain luck. Just like when you spin the wheel of good old Brotherhood of the always more Fortunate Gubani.

So the Marauders gave him back my writings. That is to say that they trusted him. Not like they did with me. And because of me, we find ourselves like fugitives, on top of this mountain.

He no doubt read.

But I'm going to rewrite from the beginning, from when we arrived at Sentinel.
We were stopped by the Marauders, numerous and heavily armed. Separated, deprived of our belongings. It seems to me that they treated Azazor better than me very quickly... And they asked me stupid questions. What clan I belong to. Then I realized that my crystal was a problem. What I am doing here. I thought I could play the smartest with them. But I was not able to get any information about the Horizon Surveyors clan. As a result, they transferred me to The Citadel, tied up, with the convoy that was taking Azazor away. As for him untied and free. When I got over there, they hung me up by my feet in a broom closet. If I'd had an axe at hand, I'd have made you a Marauder's mash... upside down, I don't know how long. A few hours, a few days? They finally took me away to be questioned by several Marauders. Probably high-ranking, maybe even the homina who runs the Citadel, the Regent, as they call her. But I wondered why they were so interested in my case. It seems that the Marauders are spying on each other, and the clans are stabbing each other in the back to gain some power, to make their opinions known. Maybe they thought I was one of those spies. There, with them, I played it straight, and told the whole truth. I will never know if it worked, if they would have released me or killed me. From what I understood later, I would probably have been left in a cell until I starved to death, the Marauders having other kitins to worry about.

And it actually happened what I didn't expect, but then not at all...
I thought maybe Azazor, having arranged things for me, would show up with guards to free me before I set off again. Chained as I was, I saw no other possible way out. But it was Arid who arrived. A helmeted homin, alone. I understood later that he had not acted alone, but I have not had no contact with anyone else. He knocked out a guard, opened the door, freed me. I could have fallen in love, if he was not a Matis, and not so young. But I was not at the end of my surprises. He told me he knew my name, my taste for shookie—he even offered me one. I didn't even have the presence of mind to ask where it came from, but I understood that it was something rather rare in The Citadel. It's quite conceivable that this skill has come back from the New Lands, and that they produce some of it, somewhere in a camp in the Scaterred Desert.

Arid, Rapid Arma, Marauder and Seeker of Elias, exiled in the Old Lands for some twenty Jena years. He showed me his face, something Trytonists normally don't do back in New Lands. He didn't tell me his real name, and I wouldn't have asked anyway. So he knew me when I was a young legionnary who had doubts and had just turned his back on the Kamis. He especially knew Lopyrèch... Icus, my mentor, my friend. The one who made me a seeker of truth, the one who made me open my eyes to so many mysteries, to all that the Powers hide from us... The only other Fyros, with Azazor, to whom I gave myself up... Once, thanks to alcohol. One more thing I didn't tell to almost anyone, here... And ramèch, this is the result. A Fyrossa who abandons her kids and lies like she breathes. Lopy... If you were still alive, you'd slap me a lot worse than Azazor wants to slap me every day. And you'd be right. Or you would just tell me to hide the truth more intelligently... I realize that if it was useful in the New Lands, where the Powers are hunting us down, where we make such a fuss about the insipid power games between nations, it is something totally stupid and useless here, in the absence of the Powers and the political powers. But when I think about what I can answer to a question, only the most improbable and untruthful option comes out of my mouth... I have to change that.

So I owe my freedom to this Matis. He even took the time to get my belongings, and to provide me with another blue Marauder armor. The one I had on when I arrived would have attracted too much attention. He gave me a pike and a shield, in addition to my hatchet and my amplifiers that he had been able to recover. A pike! The only weapon effective against some kitins. I'd broken the last one in I don't know what fight. Food, enough to last a few days. He didn't ask for anything in exchange, I couldn't have offered him much. Except to keep alive the belief of a freed hominity. We left in the early morning from the cache where he had brought me and resumed this game of hide-and-seek with kitins' and Marauders' patrols. I didn't expect this from The Citadel. It's not a city, it's a battlefield, where a constant war with the kitins is going on. The Marauders here are almost like the Rangers back home, minus the "I love everybody" aspect. Here, it's sink or swim, it's the door that holds the next swarming of hell behind the mountains. Well, I shouldn't exaggerate either. He also told me that The Citadel is full of places to live: inns, schools, training facilities, armories... They live here, but everything has been designed over time to be moved around easily and to stay safe from the Kitins. I wasn't offered a tour, I replied, laughing.

Before leaving, he also told me about his journey to get here. About the same as we did, but with a larger group with quite disparate origins. This did not prevent him from seeing several of his companions fall, especially during the crossing of the Sea of Wood. When he arrived, the former Subject of the Kingdom that he was had to serve several years at the Cloudy Cliff Outpost before he could be considered trustworthy and allowed to join their ranks. After that, he was finally able to join The Citadel. Some of his companions are still here, some, especially the older ones at the time, remained on the island of Oflovak.

I also learned something very interesting. I had understood that Marauders use Karavan items, looted from abandoned cruisers for example, to power their own technology. How, that remains to be seen, but the contact I had with them is not going to help me find out more. On the other hand, what I didn't know is that the Karavan is still present in the area, in some way. Not much on the ground, but mostly in the sky. Arid explained to me that sometimes Karavan ships attack the kitins. They call it a "strike" here. Powerful spells, sent from their ships, presumably above the Canopy. Probably when the kitins are too concentrated in one place, sometimes right outside the gates of The Citadel. Or, more often, directed against certain specimens in particular, those famous flaming ones we had heard about.

No Kami in the area, on the other hand, Arid told me. At least, not that he knows of. It is said that in the time of Melkiar, some clan leaders had contact with them, but it has become almost a legend nowadays. Not this surprises me, in fact it confirms a lot of old theories. But that the Karavan, along with the Marauders, is still trying to contain the kitins is astonishing information. He told me that Karavan agents are sometimes seen at The Citadel, during important meetings, usually reserved for clan leaders. No one knows, except for these clan leaders, whether these ambassadors remain permanently at The Citadel. He also let me know, without wanting to say more, that the technology of the Marauders was partly linked to that of the Karavan.

So I asked... If the Karavan wasn't here, would the Marauders be able to hold the kitins back? Do they really work together? It seemed to me that his vision of the Karavan was no longer the one we Seekers of Elias might have in the New Lands. But Arid couldn't really tell me much more than that, as we were already late for be present at Azazor's departure.

Then something probably went wrong. His plan was to follow Azazor's convoy, and give him a few hours head start. As Arid had planned, the guards who had accompanied Azazor to that steep path had stayed there for a while after the Fyros had left, and when he was no longer in sight, they scattered into the crevices of the canyon. After a few seconds, from the watching point where Arid and I were positioned, it was impossible to detect the presence of a single homin. The Matis seemed tense. We waited again, and then he showed me the way, telling me that he was going to follow me at a distance. Being careful not to let anyone see me. "If anything goes wrong for me, hide, and let me handle it. We'll only get through this if I'm not seen with you. If you're spotted...run. I'll see what I can do." I asked him to leave from now, to teleport if he could. He had taken enough risks. He nodded without really saying what he was going to do. I hope he didn't get in trouble. Then after thanking him one last time, I headed off in the direction he had pointed me.

After a few minutes, just as I was about to cross a relatively uncovered area, a hubbub began to be heard, similar to the one caused by the swarm of kitins I had crossed a few days earlier. I hid as best I could in a crevice of sawdust, and waited a good while, trying not to panic, for the commotion to pass. It lasted, and I got lost in my thoughts... What if my release compromised the safety of the Trytonists of The Citadel? What if, because of me, attention was focused on them, to the point that they were incriminated? When I came out of my thoughts, the noise had stopped.

As I emerged from my hiding place, despite my cautions, I came face to face with a Marauder, alone, and armed with a spear. My clan, what am I doing here? I didn't lie, and told him I was hiding from the kitins, picking up my spear and pretending to put it back on my back. With a quick movement, I stuck it under his helmet, right into his neck. A sharp, fatal blow, for a homin who wasn't expecting it. "With Akilia's regards." I said while striking, without really thinking. His body dematerialized. Toub de toub... At the time, I had found nothing better to divert their attention. If they think that I am a spy of the Ashes Clan, they will perhaps forget about the Trytonists.

It took me several hours of climbing before I could see Azazor from a distance. The damn guy is doing pretty well, I must say. He's in much better shape than at the beginning of our trip. I stayed at a distance, so he wouldn't see me. Not yet. I had to give him a day or two head start. Luckily, he seemed not to look back. When he set up camp for the night, I tried to sleep on the sawdust in a crevice of the cliff, thinking about how to get in front of him.. What could I say to him... To play it down, now that The Citadel was behind us, I thought... "Aza! 'ren pyr, how's the climbing going? Hey, it's invigorating here. Shall we throw down knocks to each other now or save that for later?"

I guess I always succeed in my arrivals. The next day, he took a break after his hazardous crossing on a rope bridge. I waited on the other side until he wanted to resume his walking, again to give him a head start. It was then that I realized, by chance because I was trying to hide from him, that some Marauders, below, were climbing up pursuing me. They had seen me, and were hoping to get to me noiselessly. I had no chance to hide from neither one nor the others. Fighting was not a good idea, so I dashed across the bridge with my stuff on my back. Azazor was surprised, I thought he was going to send me into the chasm. But he waited for me to cross, then gave a great blow with his axe on the bridge ropes to cut it.

He no doubt read.

I told Azazor everything. No more lies. Anyway, I have nothing to hide from him anymore… I don't have much left. They took everything. All the experiments I had planned, no longer possible. No more poison, to test if kitins' reactions are here the same as they are in the New Lands. No more goo, no more filtering helmet, and it's not here that I'll manage to make some. No more empty vials, I won't be able to bring back fragile samples either… Forget about poisons and secretions of local kitins, or other residues I might find in Coriolis. Anyway, I'll decide, when the time comes… It will take a lot of courage to carry something more, with no mektoub…
It's a miracle that I still can write, and that I've got my notebooks returned to me. The Marauders took a copy of them, according to Azazor. At this point, everything could have been worse.

I didn't even ask Azazor why he didn't say or do anything to get me out of this ramèch situation. I owe him that much. He had his reasons, which I respect. I screwed up. Maybe I shouldn't have listened to Mazé'Yum, but if it wasn't for him, if it wasn't for that crystal, I really would have ended up in the belly of a monster from the Wide Puddle. Maybe I should have just told him. Who's right, who's wrong… We are both doing well to put aside what has rotted our relationship since Azazor discovered that vial of poison so long ago.

Who said going up the ridge would be fun? The path we took to get to the top was certainly shaped by homins in the past. But when we reached the top, almost nothing left. We progress as we can, avoiding the crevasses, sometimes compelled to make a detour of a few kilometers to cross. And sometimes, a staircase or a ladder has been installed. Perhaps we are simply losing track of the few arrangements that have been made, as the path is so little used. I especially hope they haven't set up a Zinuakeen further down the path we're following. The Marauders could simply be waiting for us, weapons in hand… Azazor seems to have heard that only a few red dragons hunters and a few Rangers still venture in this direction… They probably have something else to do than chasing us. I guess we are not that important to them.

According to the indications Azazor received, we have a few weeks of walking to do before reaching Coriolis. We are walking on the lookout for any game, any edible plant. When we will be in Coriolis, we will have to find a way to go down the ridge, very carefully. Avoid falling, and avoid being spotted by the kitins. Who knows what we'll find… Maybe nothing, maybe the answer to so many questions.
If we don't starve to death by then.

Below, we can see the hell that has invaded the desert of our ancestors. When we're not walking, the view we get of the kitins' movement is impressive. But the farther we get from The Citadel, the more we can see that they don't cover the whole area, far from that. They move in groups, much larger groups than the ones we can see in our New Lands. But some areas seem to contain fewer kitins, or none at all. Perhaps these are areas devoid of game or food? Or are they areas that kitins avoid for other reasons? Do they move from area to area, depending on the season? Or depending on the food they find? It seems to me that despite their distinct group movements, some kitin herds tend to move closer to the ridge during the day, and further away in the evening. Maybe to find the coolness? We will see, but we may have to go down to Coriolis at night. The desert stretches as far as the eye can see, and we can only see a small part of it, so it would take us a few more days watching these same areas to determine if they are the same groups, or if larger movements are taking place. From here, it is also relatively difficult to distinguish which species are involved, nor to get an idea of the size of these areas. We are so far from the ground, so close to the canopy, without it being accessible. To see the world from so high gives a mixed sensation, between victory, vertigo and infinite anguish. And the more we advance towards Coriolis, the more our impatience turns into feverishness.

Coriolis, the land of our ancestors, where, while digging, they awakened the kitins' swarming. Or Fyrak, perhaps… Perhaps the place where the Powers hide their most terrible secrets.