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The bulk of a caravan trudged its way through the desert sand, of which heated by the warm sun currently set not far past its peak. At the very end, one of the many Mekhanites traveling kept his pace, and even further behind him was one of the Nälkän.Derdekeas turned his gaze to his friend, who was straggling behind himself and their followers, significantly further than he had stayed prior to last night. It was fairly odd behavior, as Nadox had not frequently traveled behind the rest. The Klavigar did not even appear to be looking at them, or anything. Bandages covered the holes in his skull where human eyes once were, and no hands seemed to be facing ahead, not a single one with or without the pale eye at the palm. For as long as they had walked the deserts, he had been one to speak often with the Mekhanite, regardless of their deferring opinions, and yet, as of late, he had remained aloof. They had discussed this last night, or rather, they had meant to. That was Derdekeas’ intent. Not that he wished he had interrogated the not-quite-man, just that the thoughts shared were inconsequential at best. Any prying would be predicted, therefore futile.Unlike The Sage, one man was determined to continue gabbing with—or rather at—Derdekeas.“By the Scar- ack!” A swift movement from a metal elbow kept Fang from finishing the name of his King, but he continued his sentence, holding a hand over whatever bruise was left by the Mekhanite, “We will make it to Hyperborea in a single fortnight with how much we’ve been walking!”
“And my ears will rust and fall off with how much you’ve been speaking…”
“I didn’t catch that?”
“It was nothing, thinking aloud.” The Mekhanite turned back around to face correctly. There was no sight of civilization, only the dunes of sand and the occasional shrub. The only punctuating detail was their community, a group of those wishing to learn information that had been collected through many visits to towns, long walks through the sand, and occasional stops at the oases dotting the land. While the group was composed of many, most were practicing sabaism, considering, having one glance at their scrolls, many of their nights were spent mapping the stars. Heretics, in the Mekhanite’s eyes. Those fleshly, a curse his body had long since escaped, worshiping the dots in the sky, believing those held use beyond a map. It was illogical. However, they were companions. One could even imagine he cared for them all the same, if only in the way the serpent cared for the mice that fed it.“I just don’t understand. Is it such a loss to camp in the same area and spend a day resting?” A good query that, in truth, Derdekeas had no answer to.
“I am sure Nadox would let us rest if it was an option,” when had a white lie caused harm? “It will be dust soon, you may rest then, Fang. Ask to share a tent, and keep your own bagged.”
“You think someone would?”
“No.”
“Oh…” The man frowned, then huffed and straightened his back, that of which had been hunched for the past few hours. The sudden change in position causing his bag to bounce up and shuffle. “I can make it.”
“Then I assume you can also make your whining stop.” Derdekeas reset his gaze once more, this time on Fang, who chuckled as though this was cordial humor, ignorant to the animosity Derdekeas held towards him, that he continued to try to make blatantly clear. The naïveté. “Well, one cannot place the blame on me, now can they?” A rhetorical. Derdekeas did not answer, and on went the conversation: “Have you spoken with The Klavigar, as of late?”
“Last night, yes. Whilst he was charting.” The Mekhanite looked forward again. His sensors identified a thorny lizard, scampering across the hot sand to avoid being crushed by the wheels and hoofs of the camels that carried this journey. Many companions had stopped walking, growing tired this late in the day and settling on the caravan’s many dromedaries. He did not. Even if he owned any, the majority of their animals were likely not fond of heated metal legs resting on them.“He has withdrawn,” Fang observed, turning his body to spot Nadox, if only for a brief moment. Walking blindly for long would make anyone trip in the sand.
“Loquaciousness was always in his nature, you’re correct.” He spoke but had not been paying much mind to his own words, instead watching as the lizard made it past the edge of the group into the quiescent sand.
“Did he tell you why last night?” Derdekeas was not aware Fang had seen that, he paused for a moment before replying:
“No.”“Surprising,” Fang took out his flask and drank mid-sentence. The other moved to the side to avoid any stray droplets that may rust him should they fling, “I thought you were close.”
“We are,” He shifted back over when the water was safely away, “But his time is not anyone’s to possess but him. Least of all me.”
“Yes, but it is the suddenness of such a change. I have been here, what, twenty years? Traveling with you, with us all. He has always been more… Well, present.”
“A being as old as him, I doubt, changes as little as a human over their life,” Derdekeas pondered his own words for a moment. He had never learned his companion’s age. How much had the man changed? Did the Mekhanite truly know what Nadox was like? Was this reclusiveness the norm? Had he simply been the witness of a phase in whom he liked to consider his friend’s life? The Klavigar was, of course, significantly older than himself.“I am sure of that, but so suddenly?” Fang remarked, rolling his eyes as he fixed his posture which had begun to slump yet again, “But, as you said, that’s not our time to dictate.”Derdekeas, in some ways, wished it was.
What? No, that was not true. It was more so he had hoped The Klavigar had a preference for his company over solitude. Had he offended him? No, that thought was lulled away in the evening of the day prior, with what little of a discussion they had. He felt something akin to pain as he realized how nugatory the conversation had been. On the occasion the Mekhanite was unwell, Nadox was of great help, he did much to ameliorate the Mekhanite’s distress. However, being The All-Seeing, as the Nälkäs often called him, Nadox always knew what was wrong.Derdekeas did not have that gift, which had become apparent given the situation. He could not return the support Nadox had given him, which was a disadvantage. Perhaps another discussion may prove more lucrative.Which is why, much later in the night, as the rest of the caravan had begun to fall to Hypnos, the Mekhanite went to converse with Nadox, who had Settled on a dune a distance away from the group, robes only covering the main, more human, part of his body. The rest? In plain view. Arms sprawled out across the sand, many awry, mapping out the stars on paper, clearing the sand from other papers, and those with eyes pointed towards the sky. His head, where his eyes were not, was lowered. Though it may be unnecessary, Derdekeas decided to avoid his presence.“Klavigar.” It felt wrong to call him such, yet using a more familiar term did not seem proper at the moment.
“Legate.” The feeling appeared to be mutual as he heard his title repeated by a voice in his mind. Not his own, yet known all the same. The Klavigar turned his head, lips unmoving. “I see you are in a sob.”If this were any other conversation, Derdekeas would have laughed. An old joke, to place emotion on a face such as his; metal was not quite as animated as flesh. He stepped closer, past the arms, which had ceased charting, to sit himself beside his friend.Were they friends? Nadox did not seem fond of him. Not anymore.“I would like to first apologize for my…” Coming to Nadox, feeling guilty, once again. Where did the joy gained from his presence go? “Feh, my tone, and demeanor, before.” In some ways, that was a lie. It was freeing; to outwardly portray his bitterness. The Legate had rarely expressed himself through the straining of his vocal chambers, not since said chambers were built, but by that, he was not prone to it prior to his departure into the desert. Something about the long isolation, the days wondering when the sand may finally compact to soil, before engaging in battle with Nadox made him less careful with how he sounded. Why? Only Mekhane knew.“It is of no matter.” Turning his head towards the sky once more, Nadox shared words without speaking, “I also admit that I was not kind.”And why not? Did you not want me with you? Is that why you were upset? Derdekeas felt the urge to frown, yet he had no muscles to, no matter what his brain tried. He often wondered where they had taken that fleshy thing, no matter how illogical the question might be. Maybe it hadNo. This was a conversation that his mind must stay present for.“Forgiven,” his body started to hum as he shifted his gaze to the sand, which his hand had decided to push around and sift through.
“I take it that you wish for me to explain my distance… again.” Unlike the Mekhanite, Nadox could frown, and he did as his companion nodded. However, the stitching restricted his movement to an extent. The two were analogous in that aspect.
“I do not mean to pry,” yet he also did, “I simply do not wish…” wish… What didn’t he wish to happen? To be without Nadox? A heretic? He almost hurt. Not like the pains of a battle-torn body, no. In an unfamiliar way. The other not-quite-man did not interrupt him, a few hands closing around something that was not there. Not anymore. Derdekeas was almost tempted to take it.“I wish that we do not cause a split in our followers.”Nadox did not respond. He did not even point an eye in Derdekeas’s direction. Perhaps he had decided to not interrupt the noise of the air? As though his “voice” would have done anything to the physical plane. The silence would have been comforting, as it used to be around the other, if not for the worry that seemed to poison the atmosphere. Neither spoke for a time, but when Nadox finally did, it was as dismissive as the night prior:“It will be midnight soon,” his many arms brought the pages to his equally many eyes, “I must get the locations down.”Last night Derdekeas had been rather disturbed at the dismissal, upset. With the gift of foresight, he realized that it was mostly frustration. The Klavigar had made his willingness, or lack thereof, to discuss what was going on apparent. There was nothing more to be done. There was nothing more to be argued, and that was evident as soon as the reed pens started moving on the various sheets of papyrus.Nothing more was said as the Mekhanite stood and retreated back towards the camp, gazing to the ground if only for the purpose of not tripping on a rock or hand. Sand crunched under his feet as he found himself more aware. This time he was not mad. This time he had expected it, and so he focused on the wind, the lifting heat of the sand that would return by sunrise. What he made sure to avoid was the sight of the moon. Finally, the flicker of hope that a “good night” may be offered was snuffed out as he stepped into his tent at the opposite end of the camp. He would have laid down immediately, cut the power to his head, if it weren't for a familiar man resting in his loft,Fang had apparently taken his suggestion and found someone else's place of rest to use for the night, which happened to be Derdekeas’. The Mekhanite sighed, whatever energy he had for such trivial matters leaving him as he lay down in the sand by the entrance flap, praying the Mekhane that it not sneak its way into his gears. His eyes began to shut off, just in time for him to catch a glimpse of a singular hand reaching out from the sand in front of him.The world faded as, for once in many centuries, he did not reach out for it.